Freaky.
Couple things to mention this time around, kiddies. This shall forever be known as the chapter of SAP... since there is much WAFF. Almost too much, if you ask me. I don't know where it all came from, suffice to say that I must be a dopey romantic at heart.
I hope no diabetics are reading.
Still, hopefully it's all in good taste. The gears are turning, and the story is all planned out. Don't know how many chapters we got left, but I know how it's ALL gonna end.
Now you guys are in for a treat, because another devoted and immensely talented fan as contributed to the small stack of fanart I have received to date. The talented Ninkira has contributed two bits of delectable fanart, one picturing Vic, Tig, and Nis in their confrontation aboard the doomed shuttle... of doom... and the other of Dib tending to his wounds just after dragging Vic's unconscious body into the Dreadnought. A note on the second pic, yes we know that Dib's wound was cauterized, so it wouldn't have bled as depicted, but it helps to show that Dib is in fact, wounded, and a certain level of creative license is allowed, right?
Plus it's friggin' awesome, so I forgive much.
Anyway, Ninkira's pics can be viewed at (here comes that encoded URL again, break out your decoder rings)
www(dot)fanart-central(dot)net/pictures(dot)php?pid(equalsign)158623
www(dot)fanart-central(dot)net/pictures(dot)php?op(equalsign)picture&picture(equalsign)158213
Enjoy, and comment please. Authors and Artist both are fragile creatures, and the gears of creativity are greased heavily with words of constructive criticism.
Not to mention praise where it is due.
With that being said, on with the show!
"Another place, another time. Another face that looks like mine. Another soul for all to see. Is this reality? If I could only find the words, I'm sure that they would go unheard. With one exception I can see. Is this reality? Oh, if I could only make time stand still for a moment. Capture a memory and live it one more time, but I believe. That I would really change a thing. A second chance to get it right. I think the end is close at hand, I had a vision I don't understand. Don't you see? I was made for you, and you for me. Close your eyes, are you ready for a big surprise? Oh, hold the clock, say the words to make it stop. Now, slam, bam, Thank you Ma'am. Wasn't it a pleasant life we shared? Who really cares, why pretend you don't remember? Wipe it clean and start again, hope to see you in the summer. Another place another time. Another face that looks like mine. Another soul for all to see... Is this... Is this..." -Oingo Boingo, Is This...
The days pass by.
People heal, you know? It's a fortunate fact of life. Nobody stays broken forever. Not and go on living. I've never been one to believe in old platitudes... cliches, but to be honest... how does something get to be a cliche?
It happens so much that people take note of it. It becomes mundane.
Fact of life.
So yeah, that which does not kill us, makes us stronger.
It's been about a week since the last few bandages came off the two of us... Irkens heal ridiculously fast, which I suppose just goes to show how badly injured Vic really was. Despite that, lemme tell you, being mothered by a four and a half foot worried green female has its... ups and downs.
Especially when they have no idea what mothering means.
I can't say I blame her though. There is something very needy about Vic... about the way she thinks. Paradoxial... at least, when she was still with the Irken Empire. All she ever wanted was to be left alone... because interaction with other Irkens was at best distant and at worst, painful, but she NEEDS people. Needs to feel useful. To be honest, I might as well say the same. Misfits. Heh.
So she mothers me, and I let her. Just as long as she doesn't get irritated when I do the same.
Neither of us is quite ready to admit how much the prospect of living alone on this dirtball scares us. It's a testiment to our... rapport that some things don't have to be said between us.
In the meantime...
"So... what do you think? Crab, or elephant?"
"Um... which one is the one with the claws again?"
"That would be the crab." I smirk slightly.
"That one."
I squint at it furiously. Then raise an eyebrow.
"Really?"
I hear her move slightly, but I don't glance in her direction. "Well I have no idea... I do not know what either of them LOOKS like, but I think I see claws on that one."
"Huh. Ok, if you say so."
"Why did you ask if you already knew the answer?" She sounds slightly irritated.
I smile slightly, but she can't see it. "Don't get all upset over it... you're just looking at it upside down."
She huffs slightly. "Stupid... this is stupid, Dib. I have never seen these animals before, so how can I possibly pick out OHH!"
I blink. "What?"
"That one looks JUST like a class 3 Vortian Dreadnought."
I turn my head slightly to look at her. "I think you're missing the point of cloud watching, Vic. I have no idea what a Vortian Dreadnought even vaguely looks like."
She grins slightly. "Well trust me, if you had ever seen one, you would agree with me." She frowns.
"What is that... aroma?"
I sigh and sit up, stretching and placing my forearms on my knees. "That's me."
I was mistaken about the whole lack of a nose meaning no sense of smell by the way. Turns out the Irken antennae isn't as specialized an organ as the human equivilent is. Irkens both smell and hear out of their antennae, not to mention gather a large portion of their depth perception. Which of course, is why Irkens place so much importance on antennae positioning. You can usually tell their mood by what their antennae is doing.
She blinks and sits up with me, looking in my direction, her antennae wavering uncertainly, which denotes embarassment.
"Oh... well I did not mean it was unpleasant..."
"No... no... you were right the first time, I stink." I sniff and scowl. "Geez it's friggin' hot."
Of course it doesn't help that it's SO damn hot that I'm not wearing a shirt. The odd thing about Dirt is that it can be hazy and overcast and still hot... like a layer of pollutants traps the heat or something. I don't know how long days are here, but we are definately in the middle of summer, and I can't wander around in water resistant clothing that doesn't breathe at all in a summer like this.
Vic is affected equally by the heat, or at least, she SAYS she is, but she doesn't sweat so I have no idea if she's telling the truth or not. She might just be humoring me. In any case, she has taken to not wearing her outer smock like coat thing, and leaving her one piece uniform unzipped down to her collarbone and rolling up her sleeves, an act which would have scandalized any Irken who might happen to see her, or so she says.
Me, I just think it's kinda cute.
Well, in an, "yeah you're another species, but you're the closest thing to female for several light years", sort of way.
God I need help.
In any case, she sits there looking half boiled and I'm sweating like Bloaty the Pizza Hog. Which isn't a pleasant way to expend water, let me tell you.
"You know, the Dreadnought has environmental controls..." She starts.
"Yeah, and no way to power it. You said so yourself, the Dread jettisoned it's old power core sometime during the crash, and the back-up generator on the Smeeting Room isn't operating at nearly enough of a capacity to do anything constructive."
She sighs. But she doesn't apologize and she doesn't cower in on herself.
Way to go, Vic. I'm proud of you.
Still, it would be nice. I mean, if we could get the computer systems up on the Dreadnought, who knows WHAT we could do? It's just a pipe dream, though.
"What about Pak batteries?" I ask, idlly.
Her antennae curl in and she grimaces. "Eww... Dib, I really wish you would not use those things. It's like... it's like stringing Irken viscera up as decorations. Besides, it's a different type of power entirely. Not compatable. Nor sufficient."
I shrug, a little put off by her vehement denial of my idea. Well, back to the drawing board.
I frown, then collapse onto my back and sigh at the sky.
"Ok, let's look at this from a different angle. What do we need? We need an Irken power core. A spacecraft certified one, or it's nearest equivalent."
She sighs, shaking her head. "If we were back in the Armada, we would not have these problems. That Dreadnought is decades out of date... technology has been refined since then. The old model Dreadnought power cores always were finicky... and HUGE. These days we can make a generator a tenth it's size that can do everything it can do, and more besides."
I roll my eyes. Techno geeks and their toys. Not that I should say anything, seeing as how I AM one as well. "Well that doesn't really help us now..."
I frown and sit up suddenly.
"Wait a minute. Who says we DON'T have something like that?"
She looks somewhat startled. "What?"
"The shuttle! I mean, I know it can't ever fly again, but if the power core in it was damaged, wouldn't it have exploded even bigger than it did?"
She shakes her head. "Not necessarily... it has several fail safes..."
I growl. "Well it's worth a shot, right? Is it compatable?" I am starting to get a little excited.
She remains the pessimist. "Well... theoretically, yes... it could be adapted for such a use, but Dib... even IF it works, how would we transport it? It's not as big as a Dreadnought power supply, but it's not SMALL... it has to be at least..." She looks up for a moment, doing the calculations in her head. "800 pounds..."
I grin, standing up and brushing myself off. "Look, you just figure out if it's intact, and if we can use it. Let ME worry about how we're gonna move it 500 yards."
I hold out a hand.
She looks up at me, her face unreadable.
Then she takes it.
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"So? Is it good?"
As much as Dib has become an immutable part of my life's equation, I swear to... to something, that if he asks me that question again, I am going to do something very unpleasant to him. I raise myself from the charred and ruined hole that was the maintenance compartment for the shuttle's power core and stare at him from the upside down position I have to be in to do what I must do.
My biomechanical Pak legs help with this immensely.
"Dib... for the last time... this IS NOT a routine check-up on an elderly Irken. This is a delicate and complex checklist of maintenance procedures that must be followed exactly, or it could lead to at BEST, system failure, and at WORST blow us both right off the side of this planet. Your constant interruptions are not helping it move along at all."
He looks contrite. He shuffles his feet like an embarassed smeet. Then he looks up and adjusts his glasses. "Er... sorry, Vic. Um..."
I raise an antennae and narrow one eye at him. "What?"
"Is it... you know... will it work?"
I sigh and shake my head. "Dib... at a first glance... yes. Probably. It does not appear to have sustained catastrophic damage. Right now I am attempting to disconnect it so that it can be transported, but Dib..."
He had started to turn away, excitement clearly visable even to ME on his face. He turns, concern flooding his features. "What is it?"
I drop down, my arms covered in blackening soot, along with my face. "This sort of maintenance is always done in freefall conditions, with numerous emergency crews on standby in case anything goes wrong. These things are delicate and touchy... we can't just drag it to the Dreadnought. How-"
He puts a finger on my lips and I stop, startled. He bends down to my level. Then he closes and opens one eye in a gesture I believe is called a wink. "Shh. Trust me. I have an idea."
He frowns in concentration, then brushes some of the soot off my cheek with his thumb and rubs it off on his pants. He suddenly shakes his head as though clearing it, then stands up and runs away, towards the Dreadnought.
I touch my cheek where he brushed it, bemused. That was a very... odd reaction. It feels as though my heart is going to burst out of my chest. I shake it off myself and climb back into the ruined shuttle.
I hope he knows what he is doing.
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God, I hope I know what I'm doing. More than anything right now, I wish my dad was here. He's the inventor in the family. He'd have probably BUILT a damn power core. Me, I just have to rely on my admittedly limited knowledge of physics.
That, and hope I don't blow us both to hell.
While we're on the subject, it was always like that, you know? My dad and me. It's not like I WANTED to disappoint him all the time, but I just couldn't do what he wanted me to do... be what he wanted me to be.
Oh sure, I was smart... smart enough to understand what he was building once he built it, but that particular spark of genius that is the true mother of invention?
Not there.
I don't think dad really understood that. I mean, for him it was so easy... something he'd been able to do all his life. He just didn't understand that normal people, even really smart normal people, didn't THINK that way. So he never really noticed that everything I ever invented was just a clever way of doing something with the materials I had available.
I mean, look at my inventions to date. Don't have a grenade? Turn an Irken Pak battery into a suitable substitute. No transmitter? Frankenstein yourself up one out of dead Irkens. No Night Vision Goggles? Irken eye jewels...
You know, now that I think about it, the Irken body has more uses than the indians got out of Bison.
Ok, that was a remarkably morbid thought.
Still, dad never understood why I wouldn't follow in his footsteps, but it's not so remarkably difficult to understand. I mean, how would you like to live your life in the shadow of a genius? To be smart enough to realize how smart he has to be to do it, to see the miracle of true invention right in front of you, but forever be unable to touch it...
Right.
I look at Vic, who stares at me dubiously. "Alright, we'll break this down into phases, so it's easier to accomplish. First things first, we have to get this power core out of the shuttle. That being said, we'll designate that as phase 1. Agreed?"
She takes a deep breath, then lets it out without saying anything. "Agreed."
"So, any ideas?"
She looks thoughtful. "Well, the problem isn't getting it out of the shuttle... it's upside down, so if we release the bolts on it it should just fall out. The problem is, I don't think it can survive the ten foot drop to the hard ground... and if it doesn't survive, neither do we."
"Right." I mutter, thinking. "Well, here's my idea on that. When I crashlanded here I landed in a pile of old snack bags. I mean a veritable sea of them."
Her eyes widen in recognition. "You mean..."
I nod. "Yup. That pod was how I ended up here. Anyway, those snack bags saved me then... any reason why they couldn't cushion the power core?"
She looks thoughtful. "We would require a huge pile of them.... just to be safe."
I grin. "Then we'd better get started."
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"Alright Vic, everything looks good down here. How about you?"
"A moment, Dib. I am getting into position and it is very... cramped up here."
It is. I have to wedge myself into the small space between the bulkhead and the power core chassis. Even shutdown for transport, I imagine I can feel the hum of power from the magnetic bottle containing the single antiproton. A single antiproton that if it were to be released and allowed contact with any matter, would result in an explosion several MILES in diameter.
I am understandably nervous.
"Dib, I am in position. I will release four of the bolts one at a time, then the last four simultaneously, so that it should drop levelly. Just be sure you are clear when it does fall."
His voice is equally nervous, but steadier than mine. "Alright... I'm out of the way. Whenever you're ready."
It is cramped and an awkward position. I am braced with my upperback against the bulkhead, and my legs on either side of the power core. My four biomechanical manipulators are busily unscrewing the first four bolts one at a time.
I take it slow. I have no idea what the shear rate is of a stressed power core bolt, so it could drop at any moment. Once all four of the first bolts are removed I let out a sigh.
"Ok Dib, I am releasing the last set of bolts... get clear."
"Right. I'm clear... take it slow."
It happens so suddenly that I nearly fall with it. The bolts come loose and the whole assembly just drops with heartpounding suddenness. I hold my breath and wince.
The sudden simultaneous death of a thousand nacho chips as the ponderous weight settles down on it creates a teeth grating crunching noise...
It stops.
I open my eyes. From my position I can see the top of the power core several feet below me.
"It worked! It actually worked, Dib!" I beam.
No answer.
"Dib?"
Oh... oh no...
"Dib!" I scuttle out from inside the generator room and on top of the power core, frantically looking for him. I can't see him anywhere.. oh no... no no no no no no--
"Um... a little... help... Vic."
I glance down, my heart in my throat and see the unlikely image of Dib Membrane straining to keep the oblong, 800 pound cylinder that is an Irken power core from tilting over.
"Oh... oh... thank Irk... I thought..." I start, almost bone softeningly relieved.
"Help." he says in a very small voice.
I start. "Right... Um, hold on..."
Somehow we prevent it from tipping over, myself digging the uneven side lower, and him straining to keep it level.
Still, that was close...
And we are not even half done.
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We cluster thick as thieves around the cleared spot of dirt I've made for the occasion. I draw with a stick, laying out my plan for my Irken companion.
She is... understandably skeptical.
"You are insane." She says with utter finality.
"Come on, it's not THAT bad. It won't ever be more than a couple of feet off the ground, and with the right application of physics, the load shouldn't be all THAT hard to counterweigh. All we'd need is something that weighs around 500 pounds... give or take. The pod would do, don't you think?"
She shakes her head. "Dib, what if the lever arm breaks? What if the cables fail? The counteraction would be tremendous, not to mention even a two foot drop might breach the containment field..."
"What if I drop dead of an aneurism right here, right now?" I snap.
She looks hurt and pensive. "Don't... don't say that. Please."
Damn it... that was low. I sigh. "I'm sorry, Vic. Look, I'm not saying it's without risk, Vic. What I'm saying is, it's worth the risk to get this working. What else are we gonna do, sit around and bake every year? Until our food supply, which IS finite I might add, runs out or one of us gets sick?"
She looks troubled still, looking down at the ground, staring at nothing. I sit down next to the chicken scratches outlining my plan.
"Vic... Vic, look at me..." I cup her chin and gently force her to meet my eyes. She does so, reluctantly.
"Are you with me on this? Because I can't do it without you. I NEED your support."
She narrows her eyes slightly, but the reaction isn't the same with Irkens as it is with humans. I don't really know what she's thinking.
You know, I never noticed before, but there's something... strangely beautiful about her features... fragile lines, like a sculpture or a porcelain doll, well, a green glazed one anyway. Her eyes are like two crimson jewels... like a butterflies'...
I don't know why I ever thought Irkens were hideous. There is a subtle... fine-ness to them, I suppose.
What would I do if this ended up injuring her? I mean, SHE'S the medic... all I know are some half-assed first aid techniques, and for humans at that. What if she got injured beyond my capability to help her? Or worse...
I shake my head, clearing the cobwebs. "Vic, if you don't think we can do this, we won't ok? Maybe you're right, maybe it IS too dangerous."
She reaches up with one slender black gloved hand and takes my large, clumsy human one in it, taking it from her chin, but still looking in my eyes.
She doesn't let go of my hand.
"This is... this is very important to you, isn't it?" She asks softly.
Not as much as you are. I think, but I don't... don't say it out loud.
Did I just think that? Wait, are we having a moment? I'm not even going to go down the list of things inherently wrong with that...
Who's going to care? Who's LEFT to care?
Christ, where is this coming from?
She takes my confused silence as assent. "Let's get started, then. But we are going to load test the lever, and we ARE going to load test the cables and... Dib..."
I blink. "Yes?"
She releases my hand and turns around. "We... have to be careful."
I nod. "That's a given."
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"Alright, we're ready." I call out, having completed the task assigned to me.
"We're ready?" He calls back, looking over the back of the ruined pod. The makeshift buckles clink and clatter as he shifts his weight.
I nod.
He lowers his body and takes several deep breaths, lowering his head in concentration.
"Alright Vic, on three, one... two... THREE..."
We heave.
I feel somewhat bad about this. I mean, there he is, like an animal buckled into a lead, straining to pull a 500 pound piece of junk up a muddy hill, and all I have to do is turn a makeshift crank. Still, even if I was grunting and straining next to him, I wouldn't have contributed much strength to the effort. I am much more useful where I am at.
Not too mention, the ground is still somewhat muddy out there, and falling down would be a bad, not to mention painful, idea.
It's rather ingenious, really. Several cables counterweaved together to form a chain, then wrapped around a post with a gear set up on it and driven into the ground and attached to the pod. Turn the crank, and the "chain" gets tight, slowly pulling the whole bulk up the slick, muddy hill while Dib pulls, adding the sheer manpower needed to manhandle the pod up the hill.
I turn the none too smoothly turning crank slowly in time with his heaving, his boots digging into the wet earth, head down, breath coming in snorting gasps, large muscles in his legs straining under his pants. The cable impresses deeply into his thin bare chest, his arms strain to continue his forward motion, gloved hands tight on the cable...
There is something magnificent about it all... humans are many times stronger and hardier than Irkens, while at the same time more fragile... it is an odd mixture of strength and weakness.
Like a natural force in motion. I am spellbound.
"Vic.... keep... turning..."
I blink and blush in embarassment, then continue turning the crank, so fast that the pod almost catches him in the back.
"S-sorry, Dib..."
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"So... now... what?" She asks, panting against the side of the pod. Equally exhausted, I lay on top of it, breathing like I just sprinted up a 300 yard muddy hill carrying a 500 pound piece of junk.
Which I have.
"Now... we rest a bit. Still, the really hard part's over, right?"
She sighs. "Yes... now just comes the really dangerous part."
"We just take it slow... double check our work... it'll be a piece of cake."
I can't see her from the way I'm resting but I can tell she's moving. I frown and try to move my head to a position where I can see her better.
"Vic?"
Something cold that wobbles lands on my chest with a Plat! noise and I yelp. "What the?!"
I sit up and look at her in astoundment.
She doesn't giggle or snicker but from the set of her features I can tell she's amused. I give her a mock annoyed, mostly amused snort and pick up the plastic baggie filled with water. Lifting it carefully, I drink my fill, then let the rest wash over my hair and upper shoulders.
God that feels good.
She watches me with rapt fascination... not unlike how a mouse would watch a snake.
"Does that... does it hurt?" She asks.
I glanced at her, somewhat confused, then I put two and two together. Carefully, I squeeze the water out of my hair away from her.
"Nope. Feels good, actually."
She shakes her head as though she doesn't totally believe this. "Not even a little bit?"
I raise my eyebrows and grin at her. "Vic, my body is over 90 water... on my planet we used to swim in it."
She shudders slightly, then looks pensive, as though she's thought of something unpleasant.
"What is it?" I ask, confused by her expression.
"Nothing. Nevermind." She shakes off the question and sit down next to me.
She is careful to avoid any water.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"Alright, have you got it secured?" He asks.
I check the knots carefully... they look secure. This is the exact same set up we used during the test loads, but this time... if one of the knots fail, we could very well end up as disassociated bits of errant energy.
Not a pleasant thought.
"Yes... it's ready over here."
"Great... now get down so we can get this bitch moving."
I nod and slip down from the top of the power core, stepping over next to Dib. It was extremely difficult, getting this to work. He looks exhausted, and I can not blame him, considering that most of the heavy lifting was accomplished by him. The principle is simple in it's application, but also backbreakingly difficult. That he came up with it at is simply a testiment to how resourceful my hum-... er Dib is.
Essentially, we have created a crane of sorts. A simple application of physical law... Tie a lever to a large object, then place a fulcrum under the lever with less distance from the heavy object to the fulcrum than from the fulcrum to the other end of the lever. Dib calls it an "unequal seesaw effect." In theory, with a long enough lever, Dib could lift even this 800 pound object by himself.
Of course,the longer the lever, the greater the chance that it will break under the strain, and we aren't just trying to LIFT the object, we're trying to move it. So what this translates to is we only have to lift it a few feet, then swing the lever around on the fulcrum until the power core is where the pod started at.
Then we break down the contraption, drag the pod into the new position, and do it again.
And again.
And again.
Dib looks up at the five hundred pound object suspended just next to his head. In order to make this work we had to tie the lever to the two objects while they were still level with one another, than place the fulcrum under the lever and jack it up (using a very simple jacklike piece of equipment used for holding hunter destroyer mechs in place while a leg is replaced). We calculated the exact point on the lever where 500 pounds will just barely not lift 800, and put the fulcrum there. As the jack was raised, the pod was lifted into the air.
Now all we have to do is put it into practice.
I am terrified.
"Ready?" He asks, setting his feet.
I nod. "R-ready."
He nods then jumps up, his hands catching the upper end of the pod. Straining, he pulls himself up until he is bracing his upper body on the pod. He lets out several strained huffs of breath.
Slowly, the pod lowers to the ground...
The power core rises up...
And it holds.
I dare to breathe again.
"Ok... Vic, start swing it around." He says.
I nod then press my pitiful weight against the now nearly touching the ground Pod side. Fortunately the cables used to secure the lever to the fulcrum do not provide too much resistance, otherwise this might have been futile. Slowly, carefully, we switch the pod and the power cores locations.
Finally, after about three minutes of labor, we have done it.
The power core is now 10 yards closer to the Dreadnought.
490 to go.
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After about eight hours of back breaking labor, we break for a meal. The air has started to cool off, and a glorious, pollution caused sunset is in effect.
We have about 30 yards to go before we can attempt phase three... which is trying to lift the power core up onto the Dreadnought, then lower it in without blowing ourselves to hell.
I muse this problem over as I munch on Irken snacks and Greenstuff.
I am exhausted, but now that we've started, we can't stop. If it rains while the power core is outside of a shielded area, or one of the random trash dumps starts, we risk having the power core blow up. Like it or not, we have to finish this now.
I look over at Vic. She disconsolantly munches on her own meal, looking at the power core like its an immovable object. She looks even more exhausted than I do.
"We're almost there, Vic... I mean, look how far we've come."
"Eh." She grunts, her eyes somewhat glazed.
I frown, looking at her. She shivers unconsciously.
"Are you ok, Vic?"
"Eh." She grunts again. "Tired." She says after several beats.
I sigh. This isn't good. Time for drastic measures.
Hmm... well, I suppose it couldn't hurt...
I won't lie and say I have any clue what I'm doing, but some part of me wants to comfort her.
I sit down just behind her and stretch my legs out to either side of her, putting my hands on her shoulders.
That snaps her out of it. She tries to turn around. "Dib!? W-what are you doing?!"
Come on... before you lose your nerve. "Shh... trust me."
She quiets, but trembles slightly, uncertain.
I start very carefully, with just thumbs and forefingers, testing the limits. Pinching carefully, I begin to massage her shoulders.
She hisses and tightens up, and I relax the pressure just a bit, carefully finding her limits.
"Dib what are you.. oh... OH."
Apparently that was the spot. She starts to relax, then she starts to lean into it, her head lolling. "What... what ARE you doing... that's..."
I grin. Like a big sappy dope. "Well.. I figured since you have a somewhat similar bone structure, it might be possible to do this and have it work as intended. Feels good, doesn't it?"
"Y-yes... Oh... that's... that's better..."
Suddenly she freezes.
I stop.
"What?"
I can't see her face but her body language looks... well I don't want to say scared, exactly, but... pensive... confused. A little nervous, all of the sudden... maybe a little embarassed.
"Vic... what... what's wrong?"
She shrugs loose and stands up suddenly, wrapping her thin arms around herself. She looks lost.
Now I'M a little worried. "What? What is it?"
She shakes her head and lets out a single shaky breath, watching me with a strange, undefinable emotion on her face.
"Nothing... it's nothing, Dib. I... thank you... for the..."
"Massage?" I mutter, watching her curiously.
"Yes... for that, it wa... was most... um... enjoyable."
"Then why are you suddenly acting like a cat who got it's tail stepped on?"
She looks away, then shifts her weight uncomfortable. "I don't..." She clears her throat. "I mean... I do not know."
Wait a minute... think, Dib. You may not be a genius about foreign relations, but you've seen this before... on a movie or something.
Ha! Oh... OH...
Oh.
I blush. "Maybe a little... um... too enjoyable?"
She doesn't answer.
I shake my head and stand up, brushing myself off. "Well... back to work, then?"
She stares at me for a moment, then nods shortly, relaxing. "Um... right. Let's get this over with."
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Getting the power core up onto the dreadnought was almost anticlimatic after the events immediately before it.
Um..
I do not know what he was thinking... in fact, I hardly registered it until he was already behind me, I was so tired. Still, I must be very familiar with him, since I didn't even start until he put his hands on me.
It hurt at first, and I... I was a little scared, but I told myself this was Dib, and then...
Then it was...
I've never felt anything like it. To be honest, it scared me. I thought something might be wrong with me.
At first, it felt like my body was relaxing... and that was... pleasant. Then... then it started to get hot, and this indescribable... welling up of... something... in me... from the very center of me...
It was not a painful sensation. Far from it. But it was entirely biological and entirely unknown to me...
I panicked.
We Irkens rely on our Paks to define our existence. Emotions are unwanted... a nuisance, but an unavoidable one. Best ignored.
Let the Pak define everything. It's safer that way.
Then along comes this human, and suddenly I don't WANT my pak to tell me how to feel.
Because it understands what's going on even less than I do.
I feel as though I am falling into something... some unexplored territory that is a primordial part of the biological part of every Irken... we didn't always have Paks.
It is a frightening, and at the same time... exhilerating feeling.
I watch him as he moves, putting the makeshift pulleys into place, four of them, and tightening down the clamps to the four corners of the large hole we opened in the top of the Dreadnought. The power core shaft is huge, to accomidate the ridiculously huge containment core the dreadnought used to need for power. To be honest, a shuttle produces more power than it needs, but since a single antiproton generator produces inconceivable amounts of energy, more than twenty dreadnoughts would ever need, every generator in the Irken armada produces exactly the same amount of power.
They just get smaller and more and more safe.
Well, as safe as something as unstable as antimatter can get.
The plan is simple... remove the stretched out jack that holds the power core out of the hole, then slowly lower it with cables down the sixty foot shaft to the floor of the dreadnought generator room. After that, it's just a matter of splicing it into the system.
There is SO much that can go wrong.
He looks down at me. "Let's do this."
I nod up at him. In order to make this work, I have to be in a position to watch it lower. He's the only one strong enough to operate the crank mechanism this time, and someone has to watch it's descent for obstructions and complications.
Unfortunately this means I have to be UNDER it while it lowers.
Which of course means I'm terrified.
The things I do for Dib...
Carefully, I release the pressure on the jack. It retracts, then falls down the hole, clanging with startling finality on the generator room floor.
I wince. Then look at the power core.
It wobbles, and the cables are taut, but it holds, having dipped only a couple of inches.
I scrabble down on biomechanical limbs, spiderlegs Dib calls them, though I have no idea what a spider is. The power core looks impossibly heavy and large suspended over me.
Dib slowly starts to let the crank go.
The power core slowly lowers into the shaft.
"Careful... careful..." I yell.
He slows down.
It is nerve wracking.
Then it happens.
It starts with a single word.
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"Shit!" I mutter. The crank lever slips out of my grasp and I panic.
"VIC, SHIT, GET OUT OF THERE!" The crank turns at a breakneck speed. I look around frantically for something to jam it, then grab my metal pipe out of my bag and jam it into the gears.
The crunches to a halt.
I wince, praying everything is ok.
"Vic! Vic! Are you ok?"
Please god, please god, please god...
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I stare up at the power core. It hangs wobbling back and forth, five inches in front of my face. I. Will. Not. Faint.
"Um... Dib... I'm fine... just... careful now."
"Vic, get outta there! I need your help."
I have never heard words like that sound so beautiful.
Nor does he have to ask me twice.
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"Alright... pull it out." I mutter, bracing myself.
Vic gives me one last dubious look, then works the torn up end of the pipe free of the gears. I strain to hold it steady, then slowly start to lower it the rest of the way.
Vic looks like she's praying to something. Maybe sometime later I'll ask her who that is.
Four feet...
Three...
Two...
One...
Clank.
We look down. Then we look at each other.
Then she smiles.
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"So what do I do, just press the button?"
I sigh. There is so much more to it than that. It took an hour to make all the proper connections and test them. Still, what it boils down to is yes, all that is left is just to start it.
Still, it is pointless to tell him that, he is not a technician, so he can not really understand what is involved.
"Yes. We should know immediately... the lights will come on... at least, the ones that still work. Then the automated systems will go through a five minute warm-up sequence, and the ones that still work will come online."
"Really?"
I nod.
"Cool." He grins.
I grin back. "Hopefully. Bear in mind that I have no idea how many systems are still operational, so this might not be as great as we hope it will."
He rolls his eyes. "Man, you are such a pessimist. Anything is better than nothing."
I frown at him. "There is nothing wrong with being realistic... it has been dormant for decades."
He shakes his head and then pats the top of my head. I really dislike that. I cross my arms.
"Right, shorty." He cracks his knuckles, then places his finger over the button. He frowns, then looks back at me. "So... is there a chance this could... you know, explode?"
"Don't be ridiculous." I scoff.
He breathes a sigh of relief.
"It would implode FIRST, THEN explode."
"Vic!" He roars.
"Just press the button, human." I chuckle.
He shakes his head. "No sense of humor, my ass. Well... here goes nothing."
Click.
A deep, resounding whir that fades into nothing... then...
Nothing.
His shoulders slump. "Damn."
"Hold on... maybe I just got one of the minor connections wrong... it might not-"
The sudden flicker of lights coming on startles us both.
The computer flickers on, Irken symbology flickering across it in a start up pattern.
I breath again. "It works."
Dib does not move.
"Dib?"
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"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
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I am suddenly accousted and lifted several feet into the air, and spun around so quickly that I think I am going to vomit.
"Ack! D-Dib! Put me down!" I cling to his arms in a panic.
He dances around wildly yelling his fool head off, spinning me dangerously close to various obstructions.
"HA HA HA HA! We DID IT! We pulled it off!"
"Y-yes we did, now put me down, Human! Before you drop me!"
He grins. "Not a chance, Irken."
He wraps his arms around me. Rather than feel scared, a strange sense of comfort... of belonging fills me.
The mood changes subtly.
"Vic... I... couldn't have-"
"Dib... you are-"
We stop. I feel the awkwardness starting to rise between us.
I do not want this moment to end.
I wrap my arms around his neck.
He is startled, then looks into my eyes. "V-Vic?"
I blink slowly, shaking my head wonderingly. "I do n-... don't know... but I-"
A sudden mechanical clicking noise and a whir freezes us both. The automated boot up sequence is complete, and with it....
A defensive laser turret drops down from the ceiling and orients on Dib's back.
An emotionless, booming mechanical voice lays down the ultimatum. "Scan complete. Unauthorized lifeform detected on the bridge! Beginning defense protocol in 5... 4... 3..."
"DIB! GET DOWN!!"
"2... 1..."
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A/N: Ain't I a stinker?