Sojourn
by sunshiner
http://home.cfl.rr.com/reminiscentbay/blog.html
Summary: You would never agree to be the tool I need.
Author Notes: Thanks to Deneba for last minute beta. About time I wrote a snippet without it turning into a full-blown story.
Story Notes: Takes place between Promises and Natural Election
Scorpius understood how the others could be so ignorant, but he was disappointed in Crichton. The Human should have realized he knew more about this Leviathan than even the Pilot.
--Fraudulent. Yes. Very perceptive, that one. Not as bright as she pretends. But. Useful.
The DRDs fell silent, shut down by verbal command. A moment of manipulation within the conduit panel and the door slid open with barely a hiss. This cell was not meant to hold an intelligent being of his capacity. But they wouldn't know that.
--If you suspected half of what I know, you'd break your promise, wouldn't you?
He was careful in the corridors, slinking in silence, pressed against Moya's ribs even though most of the crew would be asleep by now.
Most. But not all.
The Nebari, who crept through these passageways as often as he did was his only real concern. His only real threat of discovery. However, there were ghosts in her eyes and she had missed him so many times already.
--What haunts you? We should talk sometime about ghosts.
The portal to Command was open and he fit himself against the wall, into a notch already darkened by shadow. He was right on time.
Crichton stood at the center control panel, palms flat on the surface. Leaned heavily on his arms so his shoulder blades nearly met in the middle. Faced the expanse of space beyond the forward view screen. Spoke aloud in bare whispers. "Three. Two."
The space distortion blossomed outside, electric blue and more beautiful than anything he'd ever seen. A twisting disk like a Locmar flower. Scorpius nearly forgot he wasn't alone and stifled the gasp before it gave away his presence.
Unnecessary. Crichton was just as enraptured and gasped for him.
--What do you see in those wormholes now? Still a way home or have I succeeded in killing that dream?
It was a peculiar sort of lust. Nothing so base as sexual desire. Nothing that could be satisfied with physical acts. This was love forged through science. A relationship bound by shared obsession.
Seasoned with terror. Tempered in madness. Sealed with blood.
He understood Crichton too well and imagined the reverse was true. Perhaps, had they met within pleasant walls, through mutual interest, over theory and supposition, they could be friends.
--No. You would never agree to be the tool I need.
Almost too soon, the wormhole flared and collapsed in upon itself, sucking liquid space like water down a drain. Scorpius swallowed disappointment, forced his eyes away from the screen. Needed to see the creature standing before it.
Crichton lowered his head, dropped forward on his elbows. "Damn."
--You can call them, but you can't make them stay. Not yet.
It was no longer his sole objective to possess the information within the Human's brain. Scorpius suspected this ability was more than just knowledge put into symbols and equations. It was intuitive. A trait of the species itself.
It would explain so much if only Humans had this power.
--It would explain my failure.
No, it wasn't feasible to merely take the technology.
Data was useless without the machine to read it. A pilot worthless without a craft. A rifle harmless without chakan oil.
To possess one, he needed to possess both. Human and knowledge alike.
Crichton straightened and turned suddenly, drawing the pistol that hung low on his thigh. Extended it forward, grasped in both hands. "Who's there?"
He pressed deeper into his recess, confident of the Human's substandard vision, the Leviathan's lowered lighting.
--You can sense me. That's good. I'm more a part of you than I hoped.
Microts passed before the pistol was lowered, before the creases above Crichton's eyes smoothed, jaw slackened, and shoulders eased. The gun snapped back into its holster.
Scorpius watched, still and serene, waiting for Crichton to go back to work before returning to his cell.
--You need time to work. I need time to gain your trust. Fortunately we both have time.
fin
by sunshiner
http://home.cfl.rr.com/reminiscentbay/blog.html
Summary: You would never agree to be the tool I need.
Author Notes: Thanks to Deneba for last minute beta. About time I wrote a snippet without it turning into a full-blown story.
Story Notes: Takes place between Promises and Natural Election
Scorpius understood how the others could be so ignorant, but he was disappointed in Crichton. The Human should have realized he knew more about this Leviathan than even the Pilot.
--Fraudulent. Yes. Very perceptive, that one. Not as bright as she pretends. But. Useful.
The DRDs fell silent, shut down by verbal command. A moment of manipulation within the conduit panel and the door slid open with barely a hiss. This cell was not meant to hold an intelligent being of his capacity. But they wouldn't know that.
--If you suspected half of what I know, you'd break your promise, wouldn't you?
He was careful in the corridors, slinking in silence, pressed against Moya's ribs even though most of the crew would be asleep by now.
Most. But not all.
The Nebari, who crept through these passageways as often as he did was his only real concern. His only real threat of discovery. However, there were ghosts in her eyes and she had missed him so many times already.
--What haunts you? We should talk sometime about ghosts.
The portal to Command was open and he fit himself against the wall, into a notch already darkened by shadow. He was right on time.
Crichton stood at the center control panel, palms flat on the surface. Leaned heavily on his arms so his shoulder blades nearly met in the middle. Faced the expanse of space beyond the forward view screen. Spoke aloud in bare whispers. "Three. Two."
The space distortion blossomed outside, electric blue and more beautiful than anything he'd ever seen. A twisting disk like a Locmar flower. Scorpius nearly forgot he wasn't alone and stifled the gasp before it gave away his presence.
Unnecessary. Crichton was just as enraptured and gasped for him.
--What do you see in those wormholes now? Still a way home or have I succeeded in killing that dream?
It was a peculiar sort of lust. Nothing so base as sexual desire. Nothing that could be satisfied with physical acts. This was love forged through science. A relationship bound by shared obsession.
Seasoned with terror. Tempered in madness. Sealed with blood.
He understood Crichton too well and imagined the reverse was true. Perhaps, had they met within pleasant walls, through mutual interest, over theory and supposition, they could be friends.
--No. You would never agree to be the tool I need.
Almost too soon, the wormhole flared and collapsed in upon itself, sucking liquid space like water down a drain. Scorpius swallowed disappointment, forced his eyes away from the screen. Needed to see the creature standing before it.
Crichton lowered his head, dropped forward on his elbows. "Damn."
--You can call them, but you can't make them stay. Not yet.
It was no longer his sole objective to possess the information within the Human's brain. Scorpius suspected this ability was more than just knowledge put into symbols and equations. It was intuitive. A trait of the species itself.
It would explain so much if only Humans had this power.
--It would explain my failure.
No, it wasn't feasible to merely take the technology.
Data was useless without the machine to read it. A pilot worthless without a craft. A rifle harmless without chakan oil.
To possess one, he needed to possess both. Human and knowledge alike.
Crichton straightened and turned suddenly, drawing the pistol that hung low on his thigh. Extended it forward, grasped in both hands. "Who's there?"
He pressed deeper into his recess, confident of the Human's substandard vision, the Leviathan's lowered lighting.
--You can sense me. That's good. I'm more a part of you than I hoped.
Microts passed before the pistol was lowered, before the creases above Crichton's eyes smoothed, jaw slackened, and shoulders eased. The gun snapped back into its holster.
Scorpius watched, still and serene, waiting for Crichton to go back to work before returning to his cell.
--You need time to work. I need time to gain your trust. Fortunately we both have time.
fin