A response to a challenge in nostalgia's livejournal. I was high on
Novocaine when I wrote this. I'm not sure what the hell happened. Uhm... What a crazy
debut in the Star Trek fandom.
Pairings: A/T'P A/Tu A/R A/M A/Ph A/S S/R (and all in 888 words! AHAH!)
Warnings: slashiness (my first ever! O_O), hetness, sexual stuff (not too much) and curse
words
This was semi-inspired by Marilyn Manson's rendition of "Tainted Love" It was
good inspiration
In the paraphrased words of Orson Scott Card: There's layers if you wanna look for them,
but just reading the story should be enjoyable enough.
supreme echelon __________________________________ It all started with Ensign Sosa. Mess hall had been a new frontier and he readily accepted the challenge. Dining with the crew vs. space. Explain the difficulty in choosing, please. How could anyone wonder why he ate with only two? Obviously, Chef couldn't prepare anything well if it was for over three people. Obviously. He wasn't sure what the mysterious substance on his plate was, but it was too horrifying to demand even a scientific analysis. If he'd been up to it. Was walking to rid of the offending item when he heard it. Ensign Sosa and Crewman Walker were discussing. Him. Discussing him. Suddenly, he turned into a radar satellite, absorbing all sounds emitting from the two women's mouths and trying to look inconspicuous at the same time. Only a master could accomplish. Or desperation. He wouldn't bother to think of which. They were oblivious to his prying ears the size of Enterprise's hull. "Me and Jane were talkin' bout this earlier." Crewman Walker. He thought. Couldn't see the insignia from this far. "Yeah? What exactly?" She snickered. "Jane thinks he's screwing the Alpha bridge crew. I think she's right. There's 89 people on this ship: why do only six go on away missions?" Ensign Sosa laughs. He frowns. "You gotta be kidding me!" Ducked her head conspiratorially. "If Archer screwed his way down the crew's rank, he wouldn't make it past the Sub-Commander." Crewman Walker laughed. He didn't find it funny. At all. Wouldn't make it past the Sub-Commander. Ha! He'd show them! Finding the Sub-Commander was not difficult. Meditating, predictably. Had to be quick: had to be fast. Had only 24 hours in a day. "You like bluntness." "It is appreciated, but it appears that humans cannot-" Never realized she talked so much. "We have unresolved sexual tension." "What?" Squawked: very unVulcan-like. His name was the Sagittarius. The Hunter. The Killer. Had Hunted her for longer than a track should be made. And he got her. Her passion frightened him and he forgot his quest for a moment. But Pride refused to be back-burner. He left her gently. Where was that Vulcan strength now? Engineering became his next target. "Commander?" "Jon? What're you doin' down here?" Bright cerulean eyes reminded him. He didn't think to relive the events before. Wouldn't make it past the Sub-Commander. For different reasons though. Not physically tired. Mentally, but mentally. "Do you remember certain aspects of Australia?" Eyes went wide. Rushed into Commander's crash quarters. "Why you bringin' up that Jon? It's behind us." Revealed his Quest and the Commander laughed. And laughed. And laughed until there was tears and it stopped being laughter. "One last time, and we'll forget about it." Blue eyes were skeptical. Windows closed and he submitted. And it hurt. Hurt. It hurt. Numbness was presented to the Red solider. Surprisingly there was predilection for that. When stoic flesh pounded against the deadened Lieutenant, he thought of someone else. And so did the Lieutenant. Neither voiced the thoughts. Thoughts hid beneath the wet noise and formed a time capsule. No one would open this capsule. "I'm sorry." Felt ill. Sick. Used. But he had been using. "For what?" Ahh. So it was forgotten. Not remembered. Who believed that shit? Turned to a new friend, one that would view this not as agony but a new experiment. One that would take unbiased interest in the event. Always wanted to study mating rituals, he replied when the offer was made. And he found out why the Denobian had two wives. And he found out that Denobians were snake-like in the unhinging of their jaw. And he found out that he had underestimated Ensign Sosa. It was a deliberate tactic. She wanted to kill him. Aliens would find the dried husk of him. His death was not physical. He killed his crew with love. And then, he killed himself. Mass genocide. Suicide. Never had he met a person who talked as much as the upside-down Ensign. Who revealed that this was common practice amongst the Boomers. "Oh yeah! We do that all the time!" He spoke doing copulation and wouldn't shut the hell up. Ensign must get more Bridge speaking time. Shut the hell up Ensign. "You know, it's ironic." "Hmm?" Turned to see a slim figure gracing the window he'd been staring out of. "I left to be closer to people. How much closer could you be than on a starship? But I find myself farther away from people than I've ever been." Pain crossed the expressive face. Open. Completely, insanely open. Water doused the dark pupil of her eyes. "I hate the Security Officer." "Why?" Getting too close. Distance was the key to completing this task. But he had to protect her. The innocent one. The baby. Had to save. "Kare wa haruka desu." "I don't know Japanese." "It doesn't matter." To save her, he pretended. He played her game. And when she named him not his name, he forgave her. Watakushi wa muishiki desu. Ensign Sosa was dead. Archer stared at the pistol he had stolen from Malcolm Reed's locker. It had fired. And Ensign Sosa was dead. Accused of attempted homicide. Accused of successful genocide. Without any bodies. Accused of deviousness and success. Success. An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. la fin ... don't ask. email me at angelfire2996@yahoo.com with any questions. if you want translations to the Japanese I used, just email me. i'll tell you. |