A/N: Thanks again for the reviews. Don't stop! Seriously, I want to know what you think. Improvements, suggestions? Anything. Well, this one got a bit deep out of nowhere.
I don't own Treasure Planet.
096. In the Storm
There's a soft knock on the door.
"Come in, Doctor," the Captain says, not even bothering to glance up from her papers.
The door opens about as slowly as the Doctor is awkward.
Which means, really slow.
"How did you know it was me?" the Canid shuffles in and softly shuts the door behind him.
"Please, Doctor. No one else on this entire ship is as timid as you are. I can't imagine anyone else who would knock on a door in such a fashion," the Captain now looks up at the Doctor and raises a slender eyebrow. "How may I help you?"
"Well, ah . . . I just, I just wanted to say that . . . well . . ."
The Captain is surprisingly patient. She folds her hands together as she waits for the Doctor to sum up his thoughts.
"I apologize," the Doctor says quietly.
"I thought that's what you were here for," the Captain nods.
The Doctor looks up sharply. Here he was trying to be humble and polite, and she's telling him she expected it! But before he can say a word in protest she continues, "I apologize as well."
Oh. Well, now, he didn't expect this.
"I believe I may have been too harsh on you, Doctor. I really do appreciate all of the effort that you've been putting into navigating this voyage. It's not an easy task, and your knowledge has proven to be quite useful. I do not apologize for not choosing to take your proposed route, but I am sorry for the way in which I declined it. So," the Captain rises and extends her hand over the desk to the Doctor. "Forgiven?"
"Ah, yes," the Doctor shakes her hand delicately. He puts his hands in his pockets and then gives a faint smile. "Well, then, I suppose I'll be on my way-"
Suddenly, he is rocketing backward off of the ground and into the wall.
"What in the galaxy?"
The floor is rocking back and forth and it takes the Doctor a moment to realize that the ship is moving.
The Captain is already outside, and the Doctor follows her to the deck, whipping out his spyglass as he runs. There's a bright light off the port bow, and the Doctor trains his spyglass on it. With a gasp he exclaims, "The star Pellucid . . . it's gone supernova!"
Ever one step ahead, the Captain is dashing off towards the helm, shouting for Mr. Turnbuckle to take evasive action.
The Doctor resolves not to say "I told you so." That is, assuming he's alive after this.
Ever one step behind, the Doctor follows after the Captain. Well, you can't blame him, not only is this spacing business a bit foreign to him, but he's never had to deal with evading a supernova before, so he's not entirely sure of what to do.
He's sorely tempted to take out his notebook and jot down a few notes. It really is a glorious sight.
"All hands, fasten your lifelines!" Mr. Arrow bellows.
But the Doctor is too busy taking notes (in his mind, of course, because if the star didn't kill him, the Captain surely would). Besides, to die in a supernova? If that's not a noble death for an astrophysicist, then . . .
Another wave rocks the ship.
Well, time to get to business.
"Doctor, any information you could offer would be much appreciated!" the Captain shouts over the noise. If he's new to spacing, she's just as new to stars exploding without warning.
The Doctor studies the ship's electronic readings and statistics, furiously trying to match up the information he sees on the screens with what information he has in his head.
Type I supernovae are caused by a star accumulating matter from a nearby neighbor . . . no, Pellucid didn't have any neighbor near enough for it to accumulate any matter for a runaway nuclear reaction to ignite. That means it must be Type II, where the star runs out of nuclear fuel and collapses under its own gravity.
But this is terrible, because Pellucid is an absolutely massive star, and generally when stars as massive as this go supernova, they don't leave behind a star, but a . . .
"It's devolving into a black hole!"
A powerful wave of energy has apparently gotten the best of Mr. Turnbuckle. But the Captain is not so easily deterred and rushes over to assume his post. These unpredictable waves are a bit annoying, though, and she says as much.
But the Doctor is seeming to think otherwise at the instrument panel.
They're not at all random.
After realizing this fact and relaying his observations to the Captain, it looks like they have a plan.
"All sails secured, Captain!" Mr. Arrow shouts up.
"Good man! Now, release them immediately!" is her prompt reply.
Arrow can't tell if the near-insane grin that graces her features is indicative of the fact that she has a plan or if she really has just gone mad. But, however the Captain sees fit, aye? "Aye, Captain!"
"Captain, if we're going to be riding that wave . . ." the Doctor begins.
"Mr. Hawkins! Make sure all lifelines are secured, good and tight!"
One step ahead.
Well, that was more like beside.
There's a dismayed scream, and it surely does sound like Arrow, but the Captain shakes it off and focuses all attention to the task at hand. He's more than capable of taking care of himself.
The Doctor looks up from his screens. "Captain! The last wave! Here it comes!"
As she warns the crew to hold on to their lifelines, the Doctor is suddenly feeling very vulnerable without one. He grips the edges of the instrument panel with all his might.
There's a brief moment where they're being sucked into oblivion.
There's no sound. No light. No warmth.
Delbert's blood runs cold.
If this is the end . . . if they somehow didn't make it out of this . . . is he happy? Is he satisfied? If he dies now, can he say that his life was complete?
And the answer is no.
Not by a long shot.
Suddenly, there's an burst of heat, light and sound. The solar sails immediately absorb the energy given off by the wave and the ship jets off, with an added propulsion of the explosion behind them.
The Doctor is propelled into a corner. He finds himself hopelessly tangled in rope, but he can't bring himself to care too much.
He's alive.
He has never been more appreciative of that fact.
A/N: The ending is nothing like I was expecting myself to write. But I wrote it and I'm leaving it. Because I think it's worth leaving in. Are you happy? Are you satisfied? What are you doing with your life? Right now, I'm writing fanfiction, but that's not what I ultimately want to do in life. So maybe I've crossed bounds into the personal, but you can ignore it if you choose. It's really just a rhetorical question. It's also almost 4 in the morning. Excuse me.
Don't forget to review. I mean it.
