By Any Other Name
By Anna McLain
Rated: PG
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to Tribune. The rest is mine.
Archive: No.
AN: This was written in response to the Starfish Challenge Exchange Project on the Slipstream BB.
My challenge, created by szhismine, was to: Write a story where Harper crash-lands on a planet, but he is severely injured and has about four hours to live. (You can make up why.)
~~~~~~**~~~~~~
Okay, my first idea when I read this was mundane and probably already written in some way by a lot of Harper writers. So, I decided to be a little different. I hope you enjoy it. Feedback and coffee are wondrous things!
~~~~~~**~~~~~~
By Any Other Name
By Anna McLain
^j^
Vroo scurried through the throng, trying desperately to hurry. Her long arms quivered in anticipation. Her three fingers trembled in fear. As Royal Interpreter and Seer, it was her duty to contact the monster, an act that always terrified and thrilled her. The mob parted like the Candan Sea before her.
There it was; a monstrous mountain of twisted and charred metal, still smoking from the crash a few hours before, still popping from fires inside.
First Son Bindan waved her over, his huge mouth set in a dissatisfied frown.
She dashed toward him, slipping in the deep mud, ignoring the cold drops of rain slapping at her hairless head. She dropped to one knee before the First Son.
He waved a green hand at her in distraction, eye focused on a patch of flattened grass a few feet away. "Stand, stand, Vroo. Over there. It's over there. Go. Do your duty."
Vroo leapt to her feet, nervously following The First Son's pointing finger. It was big. Huge. But then, most monsters were. Anything that flew a craft the size of this monstrosity would have to be enormous.
She licked her lips and swiped at the rain soaking her skin, taking cautious steps toward the creature. It appeared to be unconscious. Good. The better to contact it. It also seemed to be hurt. As she drew near, Vroo could smell the metallic bite of blood. She frowned. Could it be dying?
A clang nearby startled her. She whipped around. Others in the Community peeked out from inside the wreckage. Already salvaging treasures.
She studied the creature. How odd it looked. She'd never seen a creature with white skin before, and two eyes. TWO! It had some sort of fur on its head, poking out at all angles. Strange. Surely a creature this size wouldn't need fur to warm it. A deep crimson stain darkened its midsection, a piece of metal glinted in the ambient light. Yes, injured and most likely dying, she assessed. She leaned closer; inspecting the alien now that she was certain it was unconscious due to its injuries.
Behind her, the First Son cleared his throat, urging her on.
She glanced at him, bowed slightly. There was no time to waste. She bent over and placed both hands on either side of its head, on bare skin. She still wasn't certain what function the fur played, but didn't want to touch it.
Instantly, images assaulted her. She squeezed her eye shut.
*Noise. Shrieking. Screeching. Claxons. Bells. Smoke. Choking. Blinding. Not now! Damnit! Not now! Spinning, spinning. Points of light lost in clouds. Bang! Falling. Spinning. No! Nonononononono...." *
Vroo, ripped her hands away, breathless. Too many emotions. Too many images. Too vivid and real. She didn't understand all of what she saw. Didn't understand the alien words. But, she knew the terror well. She gazed down at the creature sympathetically. It was afraid to die and now it would. Their healers could not save it, she was certain of that.
"What is it, Vroo?" Bindan snapped.
She shook her head. "I don't... I don't know yet. It was cast down from the sky."
A murmur went through the crowd.
The First Son frowned and looked around nervously. "Slave or god?" he whispered.
"I don't know yet."
He sighed loudly, impatiently.
Despite her trepidation, she placed her hands on the creature again, splaying her three fingers across its stubbled and bloodied face.
Impressions, more images assaulted her.
*Laughter. Smiling faces.
"Ah, come-on, Dylan, let a guy do what he's good at."
"Would that be surfing, Mister Harper?"
"Of course. Just one of my many talents. Give me a shore leave and I'll have Andromeda purring like a milk-fat kitten with improvements just as soon as I get back."
Dylan crossed his arms over his nearly bare chest, tilting his head back regally. "Deal. You have one week. And watch out for plasma storms. Rommie says this sector has a lot of them."
"Will do and you won't be sorry." *
Vroo gasped. The tall creature was even more enormous than this one. Could it be...? She concentrated as the scenes, the memories shifted.
*Water everywhere. High waves crashing down. Excitement and anticipation. Joy. Soaring in the air atop towering waves. Power coursing beneath the soles of his feet. Confidence. Conquered water. Droplets danced through the air. Wind howled in his ears. He laughed. At home.*
Vroo sat back on her heels, shaken. She stared at the prone form, so white, glistening with raindrops. Eyes closed.
"Vroo?"
She swallowed hard. "It is he. It really is."
"What are you babbling about, woman?"
"Hepa. He is Hepa." She turned slowly to find the First Son staring in awe and reverence at the prone form. He didn't question her pronouncement. She was always right. Her gift came from the ancestors themselves.
"The god of water?"
She nodded slowly, turning back to the prone man. "I glimpsed the great Sky Castle. Another god called him by name."
"Which one?"
"I'm not certain. It felt like Seka, though, he had taken this strange form also. He was towering, regal and Hepa deferred to him."
"What is Hepa's mission? Does he require a sacrifice? What does he want with us?"
She reverently rested warm hands on Hepa's swiftly cooling skin. Overhead, thunder rumbled basso and a slight breeze carried the smoke to pool like fog against the nearby trees. The crowd shifted nervously.
The pooling smoke shifted, seeming to take the ghostly forms of long-dead ancestors, laying like a crowd in wait amongst the soaring trees.
*"Sucker!" Harper crowed as Dylan strolled away. "I'll win that surfing trophy, get the babes and finally be recognized as the god I am! And, the rest of you losers will be at some stiff necked, fancy dress crap halfway across the galaxy. Booorrring!"
Rommie crossed her arms over her chest. "Typical, Harper. Face it, you may win the trophy, but you'll never be a god and..." She stalked past him, trailing long fingers down his arm. "You'll never get the girl."
"I will!"*
A sudden cry from deep inside the ship startled Vroo. She jerked back, breaking contact.
"What's happened! What's happened?" She leapt to her feet.
Bindan waved her back. Suddenly, a round green head popped out of the smoking wreckage, brandishing a can that sloshed brown fizzy liquid. "The nectar! The nectar of the gods! It's here!"
First Son Bindan wove through the twisted metal and snatched the can away. He shook it. It fizzed. He sniffed it and looked surprised. He gave a nervous glance at the gathered throng, then tilted his head back and tasted the auburn liquid. After a long moment, he looked uncomfortable, then let out a loud belch. And smiled.
And it was good.
He raised the can high and the crowd let out a cheer. "Salvage it all," he told the workers. "And any other treasures gifted to us."
Beside Vroo, the creature began to shudder and moan. She reached out to it, to Hepa. He was in pain, so she offered him the only gift she could; compassion. Freedom from pain. His last few minutes were spent pain-free, imagining himself home amongst the gods in the sky castle. It was an easy illusion for one as skilled as Vroo.
When he finally passed on, she sat back onto her haunches and regarded him silently. The vibrant images he'd left in her mind would stay with her a lifetime, and be passed along in the oral tradition to every generation to come.
Later, the tiny Nesarvic's marched past the clear coffin containing the preserved corpse of the Andromeda's engineer, each dropping a tiny blue blossom with crystal stamens to pile in the crypt. They murmured prayers and asked blessings, some reaching out reverent, desperate hands to brush the glass.
Day after day. Month after month.
At long last, Seamus Harper had indeed, become a god.
^j^ ^j^ ^j^
The End
^j^ ^j^ ^j^
By Anna McLain
Rated: PG
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to Tribune. The rest is mine.
Archive: No.
AN: This was written in response to the Starfish Challenge Exchange Project on the Slipstream BB.
My challenge, created by szhismine, was to: Write a story where Harper crash-lands on a planet, but he is severely injured and has about four hours to live. (You can make up why.)
~~~~~~**~~~~~~
Okay, my first idea when I read this was mundane and probably already written in some way by a lot of Harper writers. So, I decided to be a little different. I hope you enjoy it. Feedback and coffee are wondrous things!
~~~~~~**~~~~~~
By Any Other Name
By Anna McLain
^j^
Vroo scurried through the throng, trying desperately to hurry. Her long arms quivered in anticipation. Her three fingers trembled in fear. As Royal Interpreter and Seer, it was her duty to contact the monster, an act that always terrified and thrilled her. The mob parted like the Candan Sea before her.
There it was; a monstrous mountain of twisted and charred metal, still smoking from the crash a few hours before, still popping from fires inside.
First Son Bindan waved her over, his huge mouth set in a dissatisfied frown.
She dashed toward him, slipping in the deep mud, ignoring the cold drops of rain slapping at her hairless head. She dropped to one knee before the First Son.
He waved a green hand at her in distraction, eye focused on a patch of flattened grass a few feet away. "Stand, stand, Vroo. Over there. It's over there. Go. Do your duty."
Vroo leapt to her feet, nervously following The First Son's pointing finger. It was big. Huge. But then, most monsters were. Anything that flew a craft the size of this monstrosity would have to be enormous.
She licked her lips and swiped at the rain soaking her skin, taking cautious steps toward the creature. It appeared to be unconscious. Good. The better to contact it. It also seemed to be hurt. As she drew near, Vroo could smell the metallic bite of blood. She frowned. Could it be dying?
A clang nearby startled her. She whipped around. Others in the Community peeked out from inside the wreckage. Already salvaging treasures.
She studied the creature. How odd it looked. She'd never seen a creature with white skin before, and two eyes. TWO! It had some sort of fur on its head, poking out at all angles. Strange. Surely a creature this size wouldn't need fur to warm it. A deep crimson stain darkened its midsection, a piece of metal glinted in the ambient light. Yes, injured and most likely dying, she assessed. She leaned closer; inspecting the alien now that she was certain it was unconscious due to its injuries.
Behind her, the First Son cleared his throat, urging her on.
She glanced at him, bowed slightly. There was no time to waste. She bent over and placed both hands on either side of its head, on bare skin. She still wasn't certain what function the fur played, but didn't want to touch it.
Instantly, images assaulted her. She squeezed her eye shut.
*Noise. Shrieking. Screeching. Claxons. Bells. Smoke. Choking. Blinding. Not now! Damnit! Not now! Spinning, spinning. Points of light lost in clouds. Bang! Falling. Spinning. No! Nonononononono...." *
Vroo, ripped her hands away, breathless. Too many emotions. Too many images. Too vivid and real. She didn't understand all of what she saw. Didn't understand the alien words. But, she knew the terror well. She gazed down at the creature sympathetically. It was afraid to die and now it would. Their healers could not save it, she was certain of that.
"What is it, Vroo?" Bindan snapped.
She shook her head. "I don't... I don't know yet. It was cast down from the sky."
A murmur went through the crowd.
The First Son frowned and looked around nervously. "Slave or god?" he whispered.
"I don't know yet."
He sighed loudly, impatiently.
Despite her trepidation, she placed her hands on the creature again, splaying her three fingers across its stubbled and bloodied face.
Impressions, more images assaulted her.
*Laughter. Smiling faces.
"Ah, come-on, Dylan, let a guy do what he's good at."
"Would that be surfing, Mister Harper?"
"Of course. Just one of my many talents. Give me a shore leave and I'll have Andromeda purring like a milk-fat kitten with improvements just as soon as I get back."
Dylan crossed his arms over his nearly bare chest, tilting his head back regally. "Deal. You have one week. And watch out for plasma storms. Rommie says this sector has a lot of them."
"Will do and you won't be sorry." *
Vroo gasped. The tall creature was even more enormous than this one. Could it be...? She concentrated as the scenes, the memories shifted.
*Water everywhere. High waves crashing down. Excitement and anticipation. Joy. Soaring in the air atop towering waves. Power coursing beneath the soles of his feet. Confidence. Conquered water. Droplets danced through the air. Wind howled in his ears. He laughed. At home.*
Vroo sat back on her heels, shaken. She stared at the prone form, so white, glistening with raindrops. Eyes closed.
"Vroo?"
She swallowed hard. "It is he. It really is."
"What are you babbling about, woman?"
"Hepa. He is Hepa." She turned slowly to find the First Son staring in awe and reverence at the prone form. He didn't question her pronouncement. She was always right. Her gift came from the ancestors themselves.
"The god of water?"
She nodded slowly, turning back to the prone man. "I glimpsed the great Sky Castle. Another god called him by name."
"Which one?"
"I'm not certain. It felt like Seka, though, he had taken this strange form also. He was towering, regal and Hepa deferred to him."
"What is Hepa's mission? Does he require a sacrifice? What does he want with us?"
She reverently rested warm hands on Hepa's swiftly cooling skin. Overhead, thunder rumbled basso and a slight breeze carried the smoke to pool like fog against the nearby trees. The crowd shifted nervously.
The pooling smoke shifted, seeming to take the ghostly forms of long-dead ancestors, laying like a crowd in wait amongst the soaring trees.
*"Sucker!" Harper crowed as Dylan strolled away. "I'll win that surfing trophy, get the babes and finally be recognized as the god I am! And, the rest of you losers will be at some stiff necked, fancy dress crap halfway across the galaxy. Booorrring!"
Rommie crossed her arms over her chest. "Typical, Harper. Face it, you may win the trophy, but you'll never be a god and..." She stalked past him, trailing long fingers down his arm. "You'll never get the girl."
"I will!"*
A sudden cry from deep inside the ship startled Vroo. She jerked back, breaking contact.
"What's happened! What's happened?" She leapt to her feet.
Bindan waved her back. Suddenly, a round green head popped out of the smoking wreckage, brandishing a can that sloshed brown fizzy liquid. "The nectar! The nectar of the gods! It's here!"
First Son Bindan wove through the twisted metal and snatched the can away. He shook it. It fizzed. He sniffed it and looked surprised. He gave a nervous glance at the gathered throng, then tilted his head back and tasted the auburn liquid. After a long moment, he looked uncomfortable, then let out a loud belch. And smiled.
And it was good.
He raised the can high and the crowd let out a cheer. "Salvage it all," he told the workers. "And any other treasures gifted to us."
Beside Vroo, the creature began to shudder and moan. She reached out to it, to Hepa. He was in pain, so she offered him the only gift she could; compassion. Freedom from pain. His last few minutes were spent pain-free, imagining himself home amongst the gods in the sky castle. It was an easy illusion for one as skilled as Vroo.
When he finally passed on, she sat back onto her haunches and regarded him silently. The vibrant images he'd left in her mind would stay with her a lifetime, and be passed along in the oral tradition to every generation to come.
Later, the tiny Nesarvic's marched past the clear coffin containing the preserved corpse of the Andromeda's engineer, each dropping a tiny blue blossom with crystal stamens to pile in the crypt. They murmured prayers and asked blessings, some reaching out reverent, desperate hands to brush the glass.
Day after day. Month after month.
At long last, Seamus Harper had indeed, become a god.
^j^ ^j^ ^j^
The End
^j^ ^j^ ^j^