Assignment 11: Careers Advice 3: write about Oliver Wood
A small guide, for those who know Trek:
Captain Kirk - Oliver
Spock - Percy
Bones - Cedric
Uhura - Angelina
Scotty - Charlie
Checkov - Justin
Sulu - Ernie
Belgorians (OCs):
Aela, Myal, and Earia - three rulers
Xatha - aid
It starts when they're sent to the planet of Belgor. They're a new species, only just warp capable, and the Federation wants, at the very least, a treaty. Belgor, as it turns out, has a large number of dilithium mines — far more than are necessary to power their small fleet of warp-capable ships.
Except that the Belgorians have rejected every Federation envoy sent to them so far, and no one can figure out why.
Enter the Federation's flagship Enterprise, with Captain Oliver Wood at her helm.
"What do you think?" Oliver asks his First Officer, Percy — or at least, he goes by Percy. His full name is unpronounceable to humans. Percy is Vulcan, and, as far as Oliver is concerned, the best damn first officer in the Fleet.
"There is insufficient data to come to a conclusion, Captain."
Oliver smiles at him. "Figured as much."
Percy looks at him, face impassive but eyes alight. "The Belgorians are largely an unknown entity. That they are warp-capable so soon is unexpected, thus we lack sufficient observation time to understand their cultural practices."
"So what you're saying is we don't have a damn clue what they're going to do when we beam down there?" Cedric, the ship's doctor, has always had a talent for turning Percy's long winded speech into its simplest terms.
"That is… not incorrect, Doctor."
Oliver sighs. He turns to Angelina, his communications expert. "What are your thoughts, Lieutenant?"
"Frankly, Captain, you're lucky their language is even included in the universal translator. Even then, it's likely to have some issues, since we've had no direct Belgorian input. Culturally? The planet is a blank slate. That's not even considering the fact that they've asked specifically for the "three top officers" to beam down."
"Right," mutters Cedric. "Because that's not concerning at all."
"On the contrary," says Percy. "I find this of great concern. To ask for the Captain in a first contact is not unprecedented, but to ask for three of the ship's ranking officers is to leave the Enterprise quite vulnerable."
Cedric rolls his eyes fondly; Percy never really did get the hang of Terran sarcasm.
"But we can't really risk pissing them off from the start," Oliver says. "So. Commander Percy, Lieutenant Weasley and I will beam down and talk to them." Charlie Weasley, their Chief of Engineering, is their longest serving officer. He's a bit nutty about the Enterprise, but he's also the best engineer Oliver has ever met.
"Not beaming down without a doctor," Cedric says firmly.
Oliver rolls his eyes, expecting this argument.
"Honestly, Cedric. What trouble do you expect us to get into with a semi-first contact with a peaceful species that the Federation has already talked to and come away from unharmed?"
"I know better than to assume peaceful when you're involved," Cedric grumbles.
"Statistically speaking," Percy says, "You do have a 12.58% higher chance of getting yourself into dangerous situations than other Captains. However, data is insufficient to conclude cause and effect."
"I hate when you guys gang up on me," Oliver says, but he is grinning. "But fine. You can come babysit us, Ced."
"As neither the Captain or I, nor Lieutenant Weasley, are infants, I find your use of the word 'babysit' unclear."
Oliver smiles at him. "Don't worry about it," he says.
"I am not worried. To presume that I am worried is to presume that I am expressing any emotion at all, let alone one so unnecessary."
"Right, then," Oliver says. "On that note, meeting dismissed. We reach the planet tomorrow. Get some sleep before then."
…
"We're set to be in stable orbit in five minutes, Captain," Macmillan, their helmsman, calls out. Finch-Fletchley, sat beside him in the navigator's chair, is bouncing in his seat.
Oliver finds himself looking out the viewfinder at the stars, glittering silver in the sky they travel through. He never tires of this. It's been a decade since he first left Earth's surface and he's still just as in love with space as he was that day.
"Right," says Oliver, shaking himself out of his nostalgia. "MacMillan, you have the conn. If this is, in fact, a trap, I trust you know what to do."
"Disregard all regulations and come down after you, sir?"
Oliver sighs, but he can't deny it's what he would do.
"I am not authorizing that," he says instead.
"Right, of course, sir," says Macmillan, which means he's completely ignoring Oliver's words.
Oliver just shakes his head and moves toward the turbolift, Percy on his heels.
They meet Cedric and Charlie in the transporter room.
Percy nods at them, while Oliver is grinning madly.
"Are you guys ready to go see a new planet?"
"Captain, the planet is 2.68 billion years old. That is in no way new." Percy's eyes are dancing in that way that means he knows he's taking Oliver's comments too seriously. Percy's been interacting with mostly humans for over a decade, and even before that he had experience with his human mother. He's no stranger to Terran humour. He just sometimes pretends to be.
Cedric glances between the two of them, and says, "Nobody get themselves killed. That's all I ask."
Charlie seems upset at being torn away from his precious engineering department, but he climbs the steps to transporter pad without complaint.
"Take care of my ship," he tells Padma, one of their engineers and currently the person manning the transporter controls.
"I think it's my ship," Oliver says. Charlie just laughs. Cedric shakes his head at them as Padma programs the transporter and their very molecules begin to dissolve.
…
The fauna on the planet is a bright, lime green that Oliver has to blink a few times to get used to. The beaming coordinates they were given are in a small clearing in a forest, which feels odd — but he's faced more secretive species before. He just hopes that's all it is.
A woman — or Oliver's guessing, anyway — steps out from between a series of bushes.
"Hello," she says, and there's their evidence that the universal translator is at least partly working. "I am Xatha, of the planet Belgor. We welcome you."
Her skin is a pale yellow that reminds Oliver of jaundice, and her hair is a red even brighter than Charlie's. She is about seven feet tall, towering over even Percy, who is the tallest of their landing party. Her skin is stretched tight over her bones, making her look half-starved. But she is largely humanoid — with a torso, a head, and four limbs, though each hand features only four fingers.
Oliver steps forward. "I am Captain Oliver Wood, of the planet Earth. We thank you for your welcome. This is my First Officer, Lieutenant Commander Percy, of the planet Vulcan. Our Chief Medical Officer, Lieutenant Commander Cedric Diggory, of the planet Earth. And our Chief of Engineering, Lieutenant Commander Charlie Weasley, of the planet Earth." It's always a mouthful when everyone's full titles have to come out, and Oliver hates all of the diplomacy, but that doesn't mean he's not good at being charming when he wants to.
"You are…" she says, and then makes some kind of crackling noise that the universal translator apparently doesn't have a clue what to do with. He turns to Percy, but Percy just raises an eyebrow at him in that way that means he has no idea either.
"Sorry," Oliver says cheerfully. "No idea what that means."
She inspects them closely, before nodding. "Very well. We will find out soon enough."
Because that doesn't sound ominous at all.
"Follow me," she says, and her voice leaves no room for argument, and so when she turns and makes her way into the verdant trees, they naturally slip into a single file line and follow her down the narrow path.
Within minutes, the forest opens up and they find themselves standing on the edge of a massive, towering city. The architecture is fascinating — most buildings are constructed of a pale blue material that shines like the sun. They favor triangles rather than squares, and Oliver suspects that if they could see it from above, the city would be a lattice of interlocking triangles.
It's beautiful and foreign and everything Oliver loves about meeting new cultures.
A small contingent of aliens stands at the edge of the city, ready to welcome them. The one in the center holds herself with such command of the room that Oliver can tell instantly that she is the one in charge. Her skin is a darker yellow than Xatha, but otherwise they bear a strong resemblance.
Oliver bows his head, hoping that they see that as deference rather than impolitic. "It is an honor to meet you," he says, before introducing himself and his crew.
She stares at him, unblinking, clearly evaluating. And then, after a moment, she says.
"Welcome, those that command. I am Aela." She follows that with something that the translator can't decipher.
Oliver tips his head. "I'm sorry. What came after your name?"
She has not blinked. Oliver is beginning to wonder if she has eyelids at all.
She repeats the sound, and then says, "It is a… title, if you will. It means both warrior and princess."
Oliver nods. She looks at him, and then at his officers, spread behind him. She frowns, sort of — it's more of a weird pull of muscles in the lower half of her face than a twist of her thin lips, but Oliver thinks it's a frown.
"You are…" she says, and then makes a series of sounds that somewhat resembles what Xatha had asked, Oliver thinks. He's not sure it has any vowels — more like a click-click-whirr sound.
"Sorry, we don't know what that means," Oliver says again.
Aela looks at him, and then looks at Percy, who is standing, as always, at his right shoulder as if he belongs there, as if he's always been there and always will be. At his left shoulder is Cedric, who is always steady and even despite his perpetual grumbling.
Charlie is on Percy's other side, eyes wandering. He's not used to leaving the ship, and he always wants to see everything and question everything. He's half-bouncing in place.
She makes a small noise that Oliver can't interpret and says, "I think you may be. We shall see."
And without any further ado, she turns and leads them into the city.
…
It starts, as it often does, with a banquet.
Over the years, Oliver has realized that this serves a myriad of purposes. It's not just a way of saying welcome, look what gracious hosts we are. It's also a way of saying, look what riches we have. Look what splendor. It's a way of saying, we don't need you and we know it.
He's seen planets that were near-destitute throw banquets they couldn't afford for the sake of dignity.
So he shows awe where it's appropriate and he keeps attention on him so they don't notice that his first officer, who is a vegetarian like all of his people, is only eating half the dishes and trying to figure out what was once animate.
Usually this works. Oliver likes to think he's a very engaging person, and Percy, despite his strangeness, is good at fading into the background.
Except these people have not taken their eyes off Percy. Or Cedric. The only one they seem to be unconcerned with is Charlie, which is… confusing, because Charlie is insane, which makes him a fascinating dinner guest.
Except not a single one of them is listening to Charlie ramble on about the beauty of the untamed wildness of the engines of the Enterprise. Instead, they are watching as Percy carefully slices his food with the odd flatware they've been given and doesn't touch any of it with his hands.
"Are you displeased, First-Officer-Lieutenant-Commander-Percy?" Xatha says it all as one word, and Percy turns to her, face calm. "My name is merely Percy. The rest are titles," he says.
Xatha tilts her head and says, "I see. In that case, are you displeased, Percy?"
"I am not," he says.
Xatha's face contracts, and Oliver is nearly sure by now that that is a frown.
"Yet you do not partake of all the dishes?"
Oliver cuts in naturally. "Percy's people are vegetarian. They don't eat… well. The way they describe it is anything with an animate spirit."
"Have we offended you?" Xatha asks.
"You have not," Percy says. "It is a personal choice, and we do not cast moral judgement upon those who do not make the same choice."
"Thank god for that," mutters Cedric, taking a large bite of something that vaguely resembles steak. Oliver smiles fondly at them both.
After that, Xatha makes a point to let Percy know what dishes are made from anything that moves, which Percy says works well enough as a distinction when he can't actually tell if anything once had a spirit. This lets Oliver relax a bit, seeing that they aren't going to cause an interplanetary incident quite so easily.
He relaxes a little too much.
He's not sure what causes it but something he eats triggers his all-too-familiar allergies and suddenly he's gasping as his airways close, falling out of his chair, hands scrabbling at his throat as he tries to breathe.
Percy, who was sitting beside him, is on the floor on his knees, two fingers on Oliver's wrist, telling him in an even voice to stay calm. Cedric, who was sitting across the table, is somehow at his other side, holding a hypo at his neck and saying, "Dammit, Oliver, what the hell did I say about checking everything you put in your mouth?"
The hypo forces the epinephrine into his system with a blast of pressurized air, Cedric's gentle hands keeping it from hurting.
Oliver takes a last, desperate breath and feels his throat relax. He inhales, and his lungs fill, the air cool and clear and sweet.
Cedric rocks back on his heels, relief clear in his posture. "Don't do that to me, you ass."
Oliver huffs out a laugh. "Sorry," he says, his throat raw, the words raspy. "Try not to."
"Do better," Cedric says.
"I find that I am in agreement with the doctor," says Percy.
Oliver smiles at them both and takes Cedric's hand, letting the doctor help him into a sitting position.
"You have the weirdest near-death experiences," Cedric says easily.
"Why do you think I keep you around?" Oliver jokes back.
"Figured it was for the joy of my company," Cedric says, deadpan.
"That is illogical," Percy says, and his face is dead even but his all-too-human eyes are laughing, and Oliver doesn't know what he would do without them, these two men who have always been by his side.
He hauls himself to his feet and retakes his seat to find the entire banquet hall staring at him.
"Er," he says.
Aela looks at him carefully, and then blinks, once. Which answers the question about eyelids.
"So you are," she says, and then makes that click-click-whirr sound. "Your Federation has sent us two ships that were not. We do not trust those that are not click-click-whirr, for they are lacking in balance. If command lacks balance, the whole civilization will topple. But here, you are proof that the Federation does welcome those that are click-click-whirr, even if they are not the only way."
Oliver has no idea what is happening. Percy has a hand on one of his shoulders and Cedric has a hand on the other and Cedric looks just as lost as he does. Percy looks impassive, but his eyes are curious. Charlie is staring at Aela in pure alarm, still seated on the other side of the table.
Aela blinks at them slowly, once more, and then takes the sides of the two aliens on either side of her.
"This is Myal," she says, gesturing to the one on her left. "And this is Earia," about the one on her right. "Together we are click-click-whirr. We are balance. We are beloved. This is the only way to rule. Because you are also clearly balance, clearly beloved, we see that you know how to rule. You know that no one individual can rule alone. She must have her dearest two at her side, to rule with her. To keep her wise. To keep her strong. Because you know this, we will entrust you to treaty with us on the part of the Federation."
Oliver takes in her words.
He's stuck on beloved.
He's stuck on dearest two.
He's pretty sure that Aela is seriously misinterpreting the relationship between he and Percy and Cedric.
They are his best friends. They are his rocks, and he does not know who he is without them. And yeah, he's more than a little in love with them both, but that's because he's Oliver Wood and he falls in love too easily. He always has.
That doesn't mean anything. He's been in love with them. But Percy is his first officer and Oliver worked damn hard to gain his friendship despite their differences and Oliver will not ruin that. And Cedric's been his best friend since the Academy and is the only one who knows about his past, his whole past and has never run away screaming. Oliver will not risk that.
She's wrong.
But her wrong assumptions seem to be the only reason she trusts them.
Seem to be the only reason she will treaty with them.
Oliver isn't sure what to do with that.
If he says, no, you've got it wrong they may lose any chance to ever treaty with the Belgorians. If he says, yes, that's right, and the Belgorians find out that it was a lie — well. They may start an interplanetary war.
In the end, his personnel file doesn't say, brash and reckless for nothing.
"You honour us," he says. He knows they are being watched carefully. He also knows that Cedric and Percy will follow his lead, as they have been doing for over a decade now.
"You honour us with your words and with your trust. We only hope that we will not disappoint you."
Aela looks at him, and then at Myal and Earia.
"Let us finish our meal without talk of politics," she finally says. "We will discuss the terms of the treaty tomorrow."
Oliver nods, and Cedric moves back around the table to resume his seat — which is when Oliver notices the disruption of plates in front of him.
"Ced," he says. "Did you… vault the table?"
Cedric looks at him, and then at Percy, and then back at him. Raising an eyebrow, he says in a perfect imitation of Percy, "It was only logical, Captain."
Even Percy's lips twitch, but Oliver? Oliver laughs so hard he cries.
…
The Belgorians give them two rooms, except that they escort Charlie to one and Percy, Oliver, and Cedric to the other.
Charlie grins at them after Xatha, who has guided them, leaves. "Enjoy your honeymoon," he says with a wink, before disappearing into his own room.
Cedric scowls after him. "Why the hell is he third in command anyway?" he asks. Oliver shrugs.
"He's been in the 'Fleet longer. Besides, you looked like you were going to punch me in the face when I tried to put you in the actual line of command."
"I've got enough to worry about in my sickbay," Cedric says.
"Exactly." Oliver turns to Percy.
"Sorry, I know you're probably not a huge fan of this plan."
Percy seems to contemplate that for a moment, before saying, "On the contrary, Captain. I did not see a logical way to disconfirm their assumption without making any attempts at a treaty impossible."
"I thought lying was illogical," says Cedric.
"It is never illogical to do what is necessary."
Oliver looks around the room. It's large, decorated with walls full of lush tapestries embroidered in blue and silver. The bed is in the middle, on a platform. The sheets are pale grey and the bedding is a dark blue and there's a definite theme to their favorite colours here.
There is only the one bed.
He and Cedric have shared before — drunken nights in the Academy where neither of them felt like moving. Percy is different. Percy is more reserved.
"I can sleep on the floor," Oliver says.
"Don't be stupid," Cedric says. "We're grown ass men, we can share a bed."
"I can meditate, Captain," Percy says.
"I didn't mean it like that. I mean, the bed's big enough for all of us," Oliver points out.
"Need I remind you that I do not require the same amount of rest as a human?" Percy enquiries.
"You still need some," Cedric says. "We've got a treaty to negotiate tomorrow."
"If it will not disrupt your sleep to share space…"
Oliver shrugs. "I actually sleep better when I'm not alone, as long as it's someone I trust."
Oliver sleeps with his back to the wall, because that's where he feels safest. Cedric is in the middle, sprawled on his stomach — he sleeps like the dead in a way that Oliver hasn't been able to since… well. Since Kodos, if he's honest with himself.
Percy sleeps on the edge of the bed, laying on his back, his limbs pulled into his sides.
Oliver aches with how fiercely he wants this. He wants this to be reality. Not something to deceive an alien race.
He sighs, and measures his breaths carefully, eventually slipping off to sleep.
…
Myal and Xatha come to get them in the morning. The planet's dual suns are low in the sky but one is rising swiftly.
Myal is dressed in something long and flowing, dark emerald green.
Oliver takes the chance to ask, hoping not to cause offense, and learns that Myal is neither male nor female. They smile at Oliver and thank him for asking.
Xatha, at Myal's side, is wearing the same thing in silver, which makes her pale yellow skin look even more sickly by human standards.
It's always interesting to see the differences in beauty standards.
They are heading from their sleeping quarters at the edge of the city to meet Aela and Earia in the heart when suddenly everything goes wrong.
Myal, in front of Oliver, drops from standing to laying in the street in an instant. Oliver pulls out his phaser but before he can get a lock on where the threat is, the world goes dark and he is falling.
…
Oliver wakes up in the dirt, behind bars, with only Myal for company.
He groans. "I gotta say, Myal. Not that you're not great, because you seem like a lovely Belgorian. But I can't believe I'm sitting in space jail with you of all people. I really figured it'd be Cedric's turn. Hell, it's been Percy at least seven times already."
"You frequently wind up imprisoned with your command team?"
Oliver shrugs. "Really more than we probably should."
Myal stares. They seem flabbergasted.
"Do you know why we've been taken?" Oliver asks.
Myal puts their head down.
"I beg your apologies," they say. "It is my belief that we should have been forthright. There is a faction of our people who are very opposed to the prospect of a treaty. It is likely that they are the ones who have taken us."
"It's fine," Oliver says. He's hoping it will be.
After a pause, Oliver says, "Myal?"
They make a low, humming noise that Oliver takes as a question.
"You and Aela and Earia… is that… common, for Belgor?"
"You mean, those who are three beloved?"
"Yeah."
"It is not common, but neither is it unusual. Those who find their two are considered to be blessed, for the Gods must be smiling down upon us. We are twice-blessed, for many only find one. Is it common for you, in the Federation?"
"Not for Terrans," he says, using the formal name for their species easily in a diplomatic situation. "Not for Vulcans, either."
"May I ask how you found each other?" Myal says.
Oliver slides up so that he's sitting against the rough stone wall. He leans his head back to rest it against the silver stone. The cell is small, maybe five feet by five feet, and empty. Three walls are stone, and one is bars.
There is no one in sight.
"Ced and I went to the Academy together. He was my roommate. He showed up on this shuttle, fresh out of a divorce with this utter harpy who chased him out of the state, just a year after he lost his dad, and his wife wouldn't let him see his kid. He told me all he had left was his bones, and that… I've never seen someone more desolate. I didn't know, back then, what he would come to mean to me." He sighs.
"Percy? Percy came later. We met when I was in Engineering and he was the Science officer on another ship. It wasn't… It wasn't like with Cedric. Percy and I are very different people. At first, it was all sparks and fire. I think the rest of the ship thought we hated each other. But three years later when they gave me the Enterprise, I knew. There was no one else better suited to be my First Officer. He calls me out when I need it. He doesn't let me get away with any of my usual bullshit."
"He is your balance."
And Oliver understands — this is what their people value.
Balance.
In a way, they aren't wrong. It is what Percy and Cedric provide. Cedric is his heart and Percy is his analytical wit and together they are one soul, intertwined.
Without them, he is more reckless and less restrained.
They balance him.
Without them, he is lost.
"Yes," he says. "They are my balance."
"And yet… your people do not value this? Your Federation… Here on Belgor, those that are click-click-whirr are prized above all else. I am blessed beyond the stars to have Aela and Earia."
Oliver sighs. "The Federation is founded on a lot of Terran principles, despite in theory having no real founding member. More than that, it's founded on a lot of North American Terran principles. That means valuing independence and the individual. It is… seen as a strength, to not need help from anyone."
"But… everyone needs help?" Myal looks confused. "No one being can do everything. That's insane."
Oliver shrugs. "Maybe it is. And while we've gotten better — the entire Federation is about interplanetary cooperation after all — I think the Federation as a whole hasn't forgotten that that's where we come from."
Myal looks contemplative.
"Hey, Myal? Can I ask you a weird question?"
"Certainly."
"How do you guys not blink?"
Myal looks vaguely… amused, maybe?
"We have a double eyelid. The first is translucent. In fact, blinking is quite important — it is a sign of approval. When Aela blinked at you, that was the moment our people knew you were accepted."
"Huh," Oliver says.
"In return, may I ask you a question that may be unusual?"
"Shoot," Oliver says.
Myal tilts his head. "With what am I to shoot?"
"Er. Sorry, Terran colloquialism. That is to say, go right ahead."
"Is it true that Terran skin cries in the heat?"
Oliver blinks at them. It takes him a second to realize that the Belgorian is referring to sweat.
"It is," he says. "But Vulcans do not. They're a desert species by nature, unlike us."
Myal makes a humming noise.
"How did you meet your beloved?" Oliver asks, figuring that odds are high that he's going to be here until Percy tears the planet apart looking, Cedric following after with tricorder raised in the air like a weapon. At least, that's what historical precedent says will happen.
Myal's face seems to soften. For a moment, the skin doesn't seem quite so tightly stretched across their bones.
"Earia has been my beloved from a young age. The stars blessed me with her presence before my second winter. She is the fire to my river. Aela is our earth. Earia and Aela came together when Aela needed a new assistant. To find that the three of us were click-click-whirr was to find that we were star-kissed. All of Belgor rejoiced at the news of their next princess."
"Wait… are you saying that Aela only became princess after finding you?"
"So it is," they say. "The ruler of Belgor must be click-click-whirr. We require stability to lead. Thus, Aela's family is vast and many, but only those who are blessed by their beloved may take the throne."
"Huh," Oliver says thoughtfully. "Interesting."
That's when they are interrupted by footsteps.
The alien that comes into view is on the shorter side for their species, only just over six feet tall. The yellow of his skin is so pale it's fairly translucent. His eyes are a bright, burning emerald.
"You got a plan here?" Oliver asks, immediately drawing any attention away from Myal.
He gets a cool look in reply.
"Your ship has been told to leave Belgor, or you will die. That is all."
"Wow. Excellent plan, really. It's not like you kidnapped their fucking captain or anything. Hint for you? They don't like that."
"You will keep quiet, or you will be forced to."
"Are you clinically insane?" Myal mutters from behind him. "Or just really good at being incredibly annoying?"
Oliver shrugs, and whispers back, "I don't know, probably both?"
He makes a decision, meeting the eyes of his kidnapper steadily. "How are you going to make me?" he asks.
It's a miscalculation.
He really only means for it to keep the attention off Myal, because Oliver is fiercely protective and really bad at watching other people get hurt.
Except that then the cage is opening and the alien is stepping through and Oliver is being held by the throat by a being much stronger than him. The alien drags him out, leaving Myal protesting weakly as the cell slams shut again.
Belgor is too much of an unknown.
He doesn't know them. He can barely read half of their facial expressions, and he has no idea what they're capable of.
He feels a shock of fear for the first time since waking up in the cell.
Percy, Cedric, Charlie — I know you're coming, he thinks. But you'd better make it quick.
…
He loses consciousness somewhere around the second hour when they figure out that there's a higher nerve density in his fingertips and that's a good place to cause pain.
…
He wakes up on the same table, Percy's hands on his meld points, his throat raw from screaming his way to unconsciousness. He can't feel his hands, which is probably better than the screaming pain he'd be feeling if he could.
The sad thing is, it isn't the worst place Percy's found him.
How's our ship? he thinks, knowing Percy's probably pulling back from the meld but still there.
Percy's eyes go soft. His words echo in Oliver's mind. She is safe. You are my concern, Captain.
"You're an angel, Perce," he says. "I don't know what I would do without you," his voice is rough, like sandpaper over stone.
Percy looks at him solemnly, and says, "I suspect you would be long dead."
Oliver grins back.
Percy helps Oliver into a standing position, his strong hands gentle. Xatha, Oliver notices, is standing behind him.
"I hope this doesn't put a damper on the treaty," he says to her. His voice comes out raspy, but he grins.
Xatha blinks back. "You are a brave man, Captain. Being brave doesn't mean you go looking for trouble, but it means you face it when it comes."
"Er, thanks," he says. "Do you think maybe it's time to get out of here? Have you found Myal?"
"Cedric and Charlie headed down," Xatha says. "I expect they will meet us at the rendezvous point."
"Well then. Let's move out."
…
"Myal!" Oliver cries at the site of the alien. "I'm glad you're okay!"
"You're a dumbass," Cedric says from behind him. "Don't think they didn't tell me what you did."
Oliver shrugs. "Admit it, Ced. You're disappointed, but you aren't surprised."
Cedric scowls at him.
"I suppose telling you to stop doing stupid shit wouldn't help."
Oliver grins. "Yeah, probably not. But you can fix my hands, right?"
"What the hell happened to you hands?"
Oliver shrugs. "Well. I can't really feel them. Pretty sure they thought the nerves were fun to play with."
"Captain," says Percy. "We should return to the capital now. It would be prudent to leave the demesne of those who wish us harm."
Oliver grins at Myal. Myal looks at him, and then attempts to twist his lips in a facsimile of a smile.
It's close, but not quite right. Oliver claps them on the shoulder anyway.
…
Aela flies out of the capitol building, Earia right on her heels.
"Myal!"
The three of them wind up in an embrace of a sort, elbows locked around each other's necks, foreheads bent together. "I love you," each of them murmur softly, repeatedly. "I love you, I love you." After a moment, Aela pulls away.
"You saved them. You saved our beloved," she says. "Myal tells me you acted on their behalf."
Oliver blinks. He hadn't realized the Belgorians were telepathic.
"I owe you much, Captain," Aela says. "More than can be repaid with a simple treaty. Tell me what you wish, and I shall make it so."
And in the end, that sort of gratitude makes negotiating a new Federation treaty with Belgor easier than any treaty they've ever done before.
Aela and Earia do not stray far from Myal's side the entire time, and neither do Cedric or Percy stray far from Oliver's.
It's the parallel that makes him wonder.
That makes him think about the fact that he never doubted that they would come for him.
And he wonders.
But it doesn't matter.
Because they bid farewell to the Belgorians and they get back on the Enterprise and they head back into the stars that Oliver loves. Cedric fixes his hands and it seems like that's it. That it's over.
And at first, Oliver thinks it's all behind them.
But then Charlie is there, stopping by the table that he and Percy and Cedric are eating at in the mess hall. And Charlie is grinning at them cheekily and saying, "Didn't seem like you three had much trouble pretending to be married. Maybe… maybe you should talk about that."
And then he walks away, whistling as he does and Oliver is staring fixedly at the table.
But then Cedric groans.
"All right. We're all being idiots if even the damn Chief of Engineering can tell, when he rarely even leaves his department."
Oliver looks up at him, stunned.
Percy, too, has his gaze fixed on Cedric.
"What?" Oliver says.
Cedric shrugs, sighs, and then says, "Look, do you two want to date? The three of us? Together? For real, not because the aliens think we are."
Oliver breathes in, deep and steady. "I do," he says. "If you do?"
Then they're both looking at Percy, and Percy is saying thoughtfully, "I would not be averse to a change in our relationship status."
So in the end, it turns out maybe the stars have blessed them, too.
Writing Month: 5927
Moresome May: fake dating!AU; word count: 5927
Character Appreciation: 20. (character) Ernie MacMillan / Disney: Q3: "Being brave doesn't mean you go looking for trouble." / Showtime: 2. The Bishop - (color) Silver / Days: National Space Day - Write a Space!AU / Buttons: D2: "I didn't mean it like that" / Lyric Alley: 20. My own secret ceremonials / AAA: 5. Mind Control - (plot) People can communicate telepathically [Bonus] / Sophie's Shelf: 2. Captain Sham; Alternatively, write about a 'sham marriage'. / Emy's Emporium: 24. Khutulan - write about a warrior princess (can be symbolic)
Photography Month: 3. Astrophotography: Write a Space!AU
Scavenger Hunt: 7. Use the prompt set: looking up at the stars (action), 'I love you' (dialogue) whisper (tone)
Cooking: Parsley; Dialogue: "I can't believe I'm sitting in space jail with you of all people."; Colour: Lime Green
Chocolate Frogs: (Bronze): Uric the Oddball: Challenge: Write about Uric. Alternatively, write about an unusual near-death experience.
Pokemon: the stars collide; 77. Ponyta; Word: Angel; Dialogue: "I don't know what I would do without you."; Action: Smiling
Debate: Fanon: Dialogue: "Are you clinically insane or incredibly annoying?" / "I don't know, probably both."
Love in Motion: PercyOliverCedric
Brand Wars: Dr. Strange: Word Set: time, belief, decision; Plot Point: losing feeling in his/her hands; AU: Doctor
Insane House: word: demense