Chapter 6
My sincere apologies for such a long delay. Holidays, family drama and a case of writer's block really held up work on this chapter.
Also, another correction. It was pointed out in a previous review that Elizabeth was able to figure out in the movie that David was the one who poisoned Charlie, so this fic will proceed with her also having come to that conclusion (I'll have to go back and edit the previous chapter). That's what I get for writing a fanfic when I've only seen the movie once :P
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She awoke with a soft groan, every muscle in her body aching. As she tried to move, she quickly realized why. She was still sitting upright, head awkwardly pressed against the Engineer's chest, the creature's huge heavy arms still pinning her in place. She raised her head groggily, wondering how much time had passed, and if it had been long enough that she wouldn't feel guilty waking him up, or trying to wiggle out of his arms. She felt the almost irresistible urge to stretch out. Sleeping like this had been comfortable when she'd fallen asleep last night, but now she was starting to feel rather cramped.
Almost immediately, a large, heavy hand came down and gently smoothed her hair, and she almost jumped. He was awake. How long had be been awake? Had he actually been waiting for her to wake up?
She raised her head hesitantly, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious, and saw he was looking down at her with soft, almost sad eyes.
She gazed back up at him with sympathy, knowing that a good night's sleep (if he'd even slept at all, anyway) certainly wasn't going to do much to alleviate the grief he was feeling. Even now, there was a glazed, faraway look in his eyes, as if he were only half-present, the rest of his mind far away, walking the streets of his long-gone homeworld or conversing with his dead relatives.
She smiled up at him feebly, not knowing what else to do but try and cheer him up with her affections. He responded by stroking her hair again, in an almost offhand way. His other arm tightened around her slightly. He still didn't seem like he was interested in getting up…or in letting her go.
Understandable, of course, she reminded herself, but…they couldn't sit here forever. She hated to intrude upon his grief, but…
But what?
She was a little hungry and thirsty, but not uncomfortably so. She was feeling little cramped, but she could hold out a bit longer. And while they did need to get going on a plan to escape from here, they still had plenty of time. And he had been awfully patient with her while she recovered from her injuries yesterday. Perhaps she ought to extend him the same courtesy.
His expression changed slightly, a touch of concern entering his dark eyes, and she realized she was probably letting some of her guilt…or even her impatience show in her expression. She instantly replaced that look with a smile once again, determined to keep up her cheery demeanor for his sake.
This time she saw his expression…harden, as if he were suddenly trying to keep it frozen and not doing a very good job. She looked up at him in concern, suddenly wondering if he was going to start crying again.
Instead, his stoic, stony features broke into an extremely reluctant smile and Elizabeth suddenly felt her surroundings almost vibrate as the sound of a rumbly chuckle filled her ears.
He was laughing?
He was laughing at her?
Both embarrassment and indignation flooded through her in equal parts. So much for trying to be sensitive to his pain…or for trying to be upbeat for his sake. She apparently was so bad at it that he could see right through it…and found it hilarious.
He was now looking at her with open affection, his smile a bit less reluctant, his expression a bit more alert. He gently stroked her hair again, then leaned over and nestled his face in the long, soft strands. She could feel the softness of his breath against her neck, and the sensation made her giggle, her brief annoyance forgotten. He chuckled again and then she felt him kiss the top of her head.
She was helpless to stop the huge grin that appeared on her face when he did that, although she at least attempted to justify it by assuming it was due to the discovery that Engineers also kissed the way humans did. That was surely a profound discovery that was bound to have implications for the study of-
He nestled her close, nuzzling her a bit with his bold, sturdy nose, then placed another kiss on her forehead.
No longer able to help it, she squealed in delight and was rewarded with yet another deep, rumbly chuckle from him. She wrapped her arms around him as best she was able and snuggled against him, smiling as he caressed her. She realized she was almost…regressing, behavior-wise, as if she were a child and the big Engineer an adult she was trying to charm with her cuteness, and she felt a prickle of embarrassment at the idea, wondering why she suddenly felt the need to act so silly. Was she still trying to cheer him up by appealing to him with her small size and vulnerability? Was she secretly delighted to have been finally accepted and cherished by this being she had so desperately wanted to matter to? Or were the two of them just so relieved to find a moment of solace together after all the horrible things that had happened that they had actually embraced a brief moment of silliness?
She supposed it didn't matter much. Stealing a brief moment of happiness couldn't be wrong, whatever the reasons behind it. Still, she knew that the two of them couldn't stay like this forever. The outside world, with its grief and fear and the dreary needs of survival still awaited them. Were they ready to face it?
Perhaps after breakfast, she decided as her stomach rumbled again. And maybe a shower too…and a change of clothes. Vickers was bound to have some clothing stashed around here somewhere. It would probably be too big for her, given the other woman's height, but it would still be better than running around in her underwear.
She looked back up at the Engineer and saw that he was looking forward with a slightly faraway look in his eyes. Perhaps grief had snatched him back to reality while her attentions were diverted. She knew all too well that fresh grief was always waiting nearby, ready to pounce, as soon as distractions ceased appearing. She almost wished she could comfort him with another bout of silliness, but knew that that would just be delaying the inevitable. They did have to get up and face the day eventually.
She gently tugged on his arm to get his attention, the action making her feel once again like she was a child and he her parent. He looked down at her and seemed to pull himself back from someplace far away. He gave her a weak smile, and she fought the urge to hug him once again.
Instead, she pointed to her belly, trying to communicate that she was still hungry. His brows knit together in puzzlement for a moment, and she repeated the gesture. He remained puzzled a few moments more before a touch of comprehension filled his eyes. He reached down and gently placed his hand on her abdomen, feeling the last remnants of the wound there.
"No, no," she said gently, shaking her head rather forcefully to try and help him understand. "It's not that." Her wound still felt a little tender today, but the sharp stabbing pain of the last two days was finally gone. She suspected she was almost fully healed, which was a relief. "I'm hungry," she told him. When his bewildered expression did not clear, she pointed to her open mouth. "Hungry," she said a bit louder, miming scooping up imaginary food with a spoon and then putting it in her mouth.
This time he seemed to understand, and he began to get to his feet. To her surprise though, he didn't set her down, but instead hoisted her into his arms and carried her with him as he opened the door and headed out into the hallway. She opened her mouth to protest, finding this method of transportation to be a bit undignified, but decided against it, not wanting to go through the bother of communicating all that to him. It wasn't far, and she could put up with being lugged around for a few minutes more. After that though, she was going to try to start pulling her own weight a bit more. Now that her stomach was mostly healed, there was no need to have the Engineer wait on her like she was an invalid.
Soon he had re-entered the living area and set her gently down on the couch. Then he got down on his hands and knees and started fishing out the various cans and boxes of food she'd stashed under there yesterday. Her stomach lurched at the thought of eating more peanut butter and crackers or dry cereal. She wanted something more substantial. Something cooked.
Well, they had time didn't they? And there was a small kitchen unit in the corner near the bar. A two-burner stove, small oven, and a microwave. And the bar itself had a sink and plenty of counter space. There were probably dishes and silverware somewhere. Everything she needed.
She got back to her feet, smiling. She was going to cook them something! The best breakfast it was possible to whip up on a life-raft with minimal supplies. Beside her, the Engineer looked up curiously from the box of cornflakes he was opening.
"No, no, not those!" she said excitedly. She took the box from the Engineer's hand, the humanoid too baffled to resist her. She slid it back under the table, then turned back to him and said "wait here, okay?"
She hurried back toward the doorway, but paused when she heard him get up. She turned back toward him and saw that he had started to follow her, still looking at her with dark, confused eyes.
"No, no," she said again. "Wait here." She pointed to him, then to one of the couches. He looked at the couch with misgiving, then back at her. His confused expression deepened.
She was too excited to even be annoyed. Quickly crossing the room back to him, she took his hand and guided him to the couch and sat him down like he was some sort of senile elderly relative. Once she had him situated, she held out both palms toward him, hoping he understood the gesture for stop. That was probably pushing things a bit though. For all she knew, for Engineers, two palms held out was the equivalent of a raised middle finger.
He certainly didn't act like he thought she had just flipped him the bird though. His expression was still confused, but he was staying put. Hoping that was good enough, she turned and scampered toward the door once again.
The storage room was as she had left it the previous night, with the exception that the box of chocolate bars she'd brought was now open, and, from the looks of it, empty. Candy bar wrappers lay strewn about the area where she and the Engineer had been sleeping. Well, at least now she knew what he'd been up to while he was waiting for her to wake up. She bit back her laughter at first, before she realized there was no need to, with the Engineer in the other room.
Now cackling hysterically, she began rummaging through the contents of the shelves, looking for something breakfasty. At first she found only the canned and dry boxed food the Engineer had found yesterday, but finally, toward the back of the room, she found what she was looking for. The freeze-dried foods. Meats, potatoes, eggs, vegetables, desserts. There were even entire meals in cans, and she gave a little cry of delight when she saw a can containing scrambled eggs mixed with pieces of bacon. Perfect!
She grabbed one of the coffee-can sized containers off the shelf and tucked it under her arm, then continued to scan the shelves until she happened upon the powdered drink mixes. She snatched a couple of packets or orange juice mix off the shelf too, then, deciding that she had the makings of a decent breakfast, started back toward the living area.
The Engineer was standing in the hallway when she emerged from the storage room. He wore a hesitant expression, as if he'd been considering going after her to see what she was doing, but it immediately brightened when he saw her coming toward her.
"Breakfast!" she chirped pointlessly at him, gesturing toward the can under her arm. He gave it a dubious look, but followed her back into the living quarters and over to the stove.
She set the can and pouches down on the counter and began rummaging around in the cupboards and drawers for pots, and other cooking utensils. She found them in a large cupboard under the bar. Soon, she had filled a large cooking pot with the eight cups of water specified on the back of the can and turned on the stove.
As she turned back to the Engineer, she saw that he was leaning over the other side of the bar and watching her expectantly, and she suddenly felt the desire to ask him "what'll it be, buddy?" and jokingly offer him one of the many booze bottles located behind the bar. She decided not to though, since he certainly wouldn't understand the joke and it seemed rude to tease him or make even innocent jokes at his expense when he had no way of comprehending of them.
She gave him a smile instead and set about rummaging around for something to stir the food with later. The first drawer she opened seemed to be a junk drawer of some sort, with pencils, pens, paper, scissors and other odds and ends, but the second drawer revealed all sorts of silverware and other cooking utensils Including a much needed can-opener.
As she was opening the top of the large can, she suddenly felt him standing over her. She looked up see he was leaning over and peering into the can curiously, as if wondering what on earth was so special about this type of human food compared to the others he'd wanted to eat. He didn't appear to be reassured by the lumpy yellow pellets and dried out chunks of meat he saw in the can.
"Eggs!" she said to him, pointing into the can. He looked back into it and his expression didn't lighten.
"Eggs!" she said a bit more clearly while pointing a bit more forcefully, almost as if she were trying to coax a baby to say his first word.
He looked positively bewildered, but must have decided to humor her, because he finally gave her a phony smile and nodded eagerly, as if feigning excitement.
She fought the urge to laugh again, although this time, it was directed at herself rather than him. The freeze-dried lumps didn't look anything like eggs, and even if they did, he probably didn't even know what an egg was. What was the point in trying to explain it to him, let alone trying to get him to say the word?
Then again, the idea of an egg didn't necessarily have to be a foreign concept to his culture. There were certainly animals where he came from, and some of them could lay eggs to reproduce. The idea wasn't that far fetched, after all. Hell, if there were giant humans living off somewhere in the galaxy, then who was to say there weren't also giant chickens, or lizards, or any other type of egg-laying creature? Perhaps she could make him understand.
Suddenly filled with a single-minded purpose, Elizabeth opened the junk drawer she'd found earlier and took a pen and pad of paper out of it. It wasn't so much that she cared about whether he knew what an egg was, more than it was a desire to see if she could communicate a simple concept to him. They had to start finding an easier way to communicate eventually. The charades were time-consuming and a bit frustrating.
She looked up at him, pointed once again to the contents of the can and said "egg," as clearly as possible. Then she drew an oval on the sheet of paper, pointed to it and said "egg," again.
He just stared at it in confusion, looking like a child who has been called on in class when he wasn't paying attention to the lecture.
She sighed heavily. Was everything she tried to get him to understand really so difficult for him to grasp? She tried to cool her sudden irritation by reminding herself that the cultural gap here was quite a large one. Plus, she supposed her picture wasn't exactly clear. For all she knew, eggs on his planet were spheres, or cubes or dodecahedrons or some other impossibly strange shape. Hell, even if they were oval like the kind on earth, that didn't necessarily mean her drawing still looked like one. For all he knew, it could have been any number of oval-shaped things.
She looked at it for a moment, wondering what she could do to make it look more like an egg. Maybe show it hatching? She added a few artistically placed cracks near the top of the egg.
This time he definitely understood…something. His eyes widened and for a moment, she thought she saw revulsion, perhaps even horror in them. He looked back up at her with open alarm, as if he'd just realized she'd been spying on him in the shower or something. She could only look back at him sheepishly, wondering what she'd done to startle him so badly.
This was not going well.
He looked down at her crude drawing of an egg with misgiving once more, then flicked his eyes back toward the open can. A moment later, his expression cleared and she was surprised to see not only relief, but amusement in his eyes, as if he'd briefly considered, but ultimately rejected some ridiculous idea. A moment later, he gave a chuckle and patted her affectionately on the shoulder.
She set the pen down in frustration. She'd hoped that drawing might be helpful, but it seemed like it was just as complicated and incomprehensible as playing charades. She guessed the two of them were doomed to only be able to communicate the simplest of concepts to one another, at least for now.
Simple concepts like names?
She brightened immediately, recalling her musings from the previous day. They could at least find out each other's names. That didn't seem like something that was too complicated to communicate through the language barrier.
She looked back up at him and saw that he was staring down at the pen and paper with a dull expression, that faraway look back in his eyes.
She cleared her throat and his eyes darted back up to meet hers. When she had his attention, she pointed to herself and said clearly: "Elizabeth."
His eyes dropped down to where she was pointing and his expression changed to confused and slightly uncomfortable. Her face reddened when she realized she was pointing to her breasts. She gave an awkward laugh and then got up and held both hands out besides her. She gestured with them up and down the sides of her body, as if outlining herself. Then she once more said "Elizabeth."
This time he seemed to understand. He gave her a nod, comprehension filling his dark eyes.
Elizabeth wasn't quite satisfied yet though. She wanted him to say it. "Elizabeth," she said once more, pronouncing each syllable as slowly and clearly as she could.
He paused for a moment, seemed to consider, and finally indulged her. "Leezabet," he said, pressing his lips together afterward as if the unfamiliar syllables had left a funny taste in his mouth.
"That's close," she said encouragingly. "Let's try it again. Elizabeth," she said once more, placing emphasis on the syllables he'd butchered the most.
He tried again. "A-leezabet," he rumbled. A touch of self-consciousness had entered into his eyes.
"Close!" she told him, still trying to remain cheerful and encouraging. Two more attempts yielded no improvement though. He appeared to have difficulty saying the "th" sound at the end of her name. Did his language not use that sound?
She opened her mouth and touched her tongue to her two top front teeth in an attempt to demonstrate the sound. "TH!" she said to him. "ElizabeTH!"
"A-leezabeTH!" he said so forcefully that her face was suddenly covered in a fine spray of saliva. He clapped a hand over his mouth in horror as Elizabeth blinked stupidly a few times, wondering if she should get up and look for where the napkins were kept.
She settled for wiping off her face with her forearm. "That's…uh…close enough," she told him, deciding a perfect pronunciation wasn't worth another spittle shower. "You did very well," she reassured him, patting him on the hand and grinning at him.
He seemed to consider for a moment, but finally reciprocated the smile. She didn't know if he was actually pleased with himself or just humoring her, but it didn't really matter. He finally knew her name. Now it was his turn.
"And what's your name?" she said, after a moment had gone by without him volunteering the information. "YOUR name," she said again, pointing to him.
He seemed to get the idea. He gestured up and down the length of his body the way she had, and then said "Mala'kak."
"Mala'kak," she repeated.
He brightened a bit, as if pleased with her pronunciation, and Elizabeth couldn't help but feel ridiculously proud of the fact that'd she'd done better than him at learning an alien name. Not that it mattered. She really ought to stop with the silly score-keeping. She didn't need to prove herself to him anymore. He had made it clear that he liked her.
But did he respect her? Did he view her as a person or an adorable little pet? She suspected it was the latter, and that her animated and childlike behavior today hadn't done much to change that view. Of course, that couldn't be helped, since the language barrier necessitated fairly simplistic and animated gestures and behavior to communicate concepts. If the two of them had been able to talk normally, perhaps his opinion of her would be higher.
She sighed softly. As much as she hated David, she actually kind of wished he were still around. A translator would be extremely useful right now. Not that Mala'kak would likely stand for such a thing. He'd made his own dislike of David quite clear. Of course, Elizabeth didn't actually know why he hated David so much. She didn't know if he objected to the android himself or if David had said something to anger him. She didn't actually know the exact message that Weyland had wanted David to tell Mala'kak…or if he'd actually said the scripted message at all. For all she knew, he had called Mala'kak's mother a whore. That almost seemed like something David would do, just for the fun of it. Maybe he wouldn't have made such a reliable translator after all.
Still, unreliable was better than nothing. And he had still been operational after his head was removed from his body. Of course, two days had passed since her last communication with him, and she didn't know how long he could last with his head detached like that. Her suit and its attached communication equipment had been missing after Mala'kak had removed it from her, and she hadn't been able to figure out what he'd done with it, so she'd had no way to check if David was still operational. Still, there was a good chance he still was…
"Hmmm…" she said softly to herself, considering…
If he was still operational, could she go back to the ship and get him? Could Mala'kak take her? If so, would he tolerate David's presence here in the escape pod? Would she be able to tolerate it? She strongly suspected he was responsible for Charlie being infected, and that in and of itself made his very presence even more offensive to her than it had been to Mala'kak. Could she put up with him for the sake of easier communication? Could she even trust him to be a reliable translator? The last thing she needed was for David to tell Mala'kak that she was planning on murdering him in his sleep or something.
She almost jumped when she felt Mala'kak's hand touch her own. She looked back up at him and saw his expression had grown a touch concerned…and slightly indignant as well. She realized that he was probably a bit confused as to why she had gone so quiet and gained such a dour expression after he'd taught her his name.
"It's a lovely name," she told him with a huge smile, hoping she hadn't offended him. Well, it was suitably alien, anyway. It was certainly going to be nice to finally have something to address him by.
A rhythmic bubbling behind her told her that her water was finally boiling. She got up and turned off the heat, then dumped the contents of the can into the hot water. A few minutes later, she was stirring smooth, creamy scrambled eggs and chunks of bacon. The smell was heavenly.
Soon she was spooning eggs into a regular bowl for herself and a large mixing bowl for Mala'kak. She stuck a large serving spoon into his portion and set it in front of him. As he picked up a spoonful of eggs and sniffed it experimentally, she set about mixing up the orange juice. Once finished, she poured it into two glasses, regretting that she didn't have anything larger for Mala'kak. He would just have to refill it a lot. Which would probably be like drinking your orange juice out of a shot glass, but there was no other alternative. She brought it over to him and saw that he was already wolfing down his breakfast, a fact which surprised her. If he had brought her a bowlful of yellow blobs and the meat from some unknown alien creature, she was sure she'd be a bit more reluctant about digging in. Then again, she doubted that a boxful of chocolate bars stuck with a person for very long, so he was probably starving.
Her stomach rumbled loudly, reminding her that she was starving too. She found herself a fork and dug in.
She was surprised to find that the dish tasted fantastic. It was amazing what they were able to do with freeze-drying technology nowadays. Of course, given the intended occupant(s) of this escape pod, perhaps this was some sort of top of the line, gourmet freeze-dried food. Only the best for snobby Vickers and rich old man Weyland. And his pet android.
The thought of David pulled at her again. Could she really go back to the crashed ship and get him? Should she? He was, after all, dangerous and untrustworthy. Did she really want to risk him putting her in further danger…or letting him hurt another person she cared about?
She swallowed another bite of scrambled eggs, no longer really tasting them anymore as she pondered her dilemma. David was unlikely to be much of a threat without his body. And if he grew too…upsetting to her, she could always find a way to deactivate him. Maybe it was worth a try.
Of course, she would have to find out if he was operational, first. And to do that, she needed Mala'kak to take her to the ship. She looked back up at him and saw that he was refilling his orange juice for the third time.
"Mala'kak?" she asked hesitantly.
He looked up from his orange juice, curiosity, and, surprisingly, a touch of indignation in his eyes. Knowing that it would be too difficult to figure out what she might have done to offend him, she did her best to ignore the look and grabbed the pad of paper she'd been using earlier. She tore the top sheet off, then began to draw on the fresh sheet. She drew a line for the ground, a small half-circle to represent the escape pod, and a large horseshoe shape to represent the Engineer spaceship. Then, standing outside the escape pod, she drew a large stick figure, and then a smaller stick figure standing beside it. She added a scribble of hair to the smaller figure's head. Then she drew a circle around the two of them, and an arrow leading from the circle to the horseshoe-shaped ship.
His eyes widened in alarm, and she swallowed a touch of nervousness, but surprisingly, he didn't do anything other than feign a very badly acted confused look and go back to his breakfast. Which he suddenly seemed quite interested in. Too interested to look up at her.
"Mala'kak!" she said, a bit desperately, wondering what prompted the sudden evasion. He looked back up at her and this time she saw both indignation and a touch of confusion in his eyes.
"Mala'kak?" she asked again, wondering what was wrong.
He looked at her speculatively, as if pondering some sort of strange behavior on her part and she felt herself blushing again. What had she done wrong now?
A twinkle of amusement entered his dark eyes, as if he'd come to some sort of hilarious conclusion about her mysterious faux pas, and he reached for the pad of paper.
Elizabeth watched as he tore off the sheet with the spaceship drawing and began awkwardly (the pen in his huge fingers reminding her of one of those tiny stub pencils that were sometimes provided for score-keeping at bowling alleys and miniature golf courses) drawing what looked like a series of….dolls. At least, that was the closest thing she could think of to compare them to. Elegant and slightly abstract, the series of figures stood facing forward with what looked like stylized arms folded in front of them. They almost reminded her of the Cycladic sculptures she remembered studying in one of her archeology classes-simplistic, nearly featureless statues found in some Bronze Age Greek tombs. He finished drawing five of them and then began drawing a series of smaller but otherwise identical "dolls" standing beside them.
Once the smaller series was completed, he added a few squiggly lines coming off the back of their heads, like stylized hair. No such squiggles were added to the larger figures.
She couldn't help wondering if that meant the smaller figures were meant to represent humans, while the larger ones were Engineers. Were these 'dolls" his culture's equivalent of stick-figures?
He cleared his throat and she looked back up with him. He pointed to himself and said "Mala'kak."
She nodded confusedly, still not understanding what he meant.
He then touched his pen to one of the large "stick figures." "Mala'kak," he said again.
She nodded stupidly again. Was that figure supposed to be him?
He pointed to the next figure. "Mala'kak" he said again.
She watched as the next three were also christened with the name. They were all named "Mala'kak?" No, that was silly. If they were all called "Mala'kak," that meant "Mala'kak" was probably the name of his people, or species, rather than his given name.
She blushed again, realizing she'd been calling him the equivalent of "human," the last couple of times she'd addressed him. No wonder he had looked slightly offended.
He only seemed slightly amused by it now, though, likely understanding that the offense was cause by the language barrier rather than a deliberate act on her part. He smiled at her sympathetically, then pointed to himself and said "Olunnhar."
"Olunnhar," she repeated, forcing herself to swallow a tiny chuckle as she said his real name. It sounded strangely brutish, especially when said in his growly voice.
He nodded, then pointed to the smaller series of figures before looking at her expectantly.
She realized he probably wanted clarification as to whether "Elizabeth" was her given name or the name of her species. Given that he had thought she was asking for his species name earlier, he probably assumed "Elizabeth" was the latter.
Chuckling a bit, she set about correcting him. "Human," she said, pointing to herself. Then she pointed to the smaller figures he'd drawn and named each one of them a human too. Then she pointed to herself once again and said "Elizabeth."
"Leezabet," he repeated and she saw a touch of warmth in his eyes when he said it this time, as if he was happy to have finally learned her name.
"Right," she said, glad the misunderstanding was cleared up. Still, she couldn't help glancing down at the paper with the figures on it in exasperation. She'd thought teaching each other their names would be a fairly simple activity…and yet they'd managed to screw it up quite badly. They really did need David.
She bit back a sigh and looked at the piece of paper she'd drawn the spaceship on. She was going to have to try again. For the sake of both their sanity, if nothing else.
"Olunnhar?" she asked
He looked up from refilling his orange juice.
She held out the spaceship drawing again.
His expression darkened slightly, but this time he didn't pretend to misunderstand. Instead, he shook his head forcefully.
"What…wh…well….why not?" she stammered uselessly, not knowing where to go from there. Why didn't he want her to accompany him? Did he think it was too dangerous? Was there top secret technology in the ship he was afraid of her seeing? It was going to be hard to convince him otherwise when she didn't even know what his objections were.
It might be hard to convince him period, actually. Even if she could explain she wanted to find David, she didn't know if he would even be receptive to that. For all she knew, he'd already found David's severed head during his last visit to the ship…..and "disposed" of it. And if David was still operational, Olunnhar might object to bringing him back. He clearly hated David. Telling him she wanted to go with him in order to get David might actually strengthen his resolve to leave her behind. It might even make it a priority for him to find David's head on his own…and step on it.
No, she couldn't tell him why she wanted to go out there. Which would make convincing him practically impossible. If only there was a way she could go out there and get David on her own. But that was impossible without a suit.
Unless Vickers had one stashed away somewhere…
She paused for a moment, considering. That might actually be a possibility. If there was a spacesuit aboard and if it fit her, perhaps she could go out to the ship on her own. It wasn't far. Then again, she had no idea how to get inside of it once she got there. For all she knew, the doors only opened if you punched in some alien combination. But if Olunnhar did go back to the ship, maybe she could follow him and see how it was done.
"Hmmmm...," she said quietly to herself. Those were all pretty big ifs. How she would be able to do all that without him seeing her remained a huge obstacle. And how she would find her way to David and get back out again…and how she would do it all without accidentally running into Olunnhar….and how she would reveal David's presence to him once they got back to the ship. Those were problems too. In fact, the more she thought about it, the stupider and more hopeless it all seemed.
But, strangely enough, it still didn't seem as stupid or hopeless as an endless string of miscommunications.
She jumped slightly when she felt his hand on her own. She looked up at him and saw that he was looking at her with a sympathetic and slightly ashamed look, as if he felt badly about denying her request.
She couldn't help but feel a touch of guilt. Despite the short time they'd known one another, he did seem to genuinely care about her. Wasn't that what she'd wanted from the start? And now that she finally had it, the first thing she did was plan to go behind his back and lie to him?
But still, what other choice did she have? They needed a translator, and not just to save themselves some frustration. No, they also needed to be able to communicate with one another in order to figure out a way off this planet. Without all that, she would be left with nothing to do but sit on this escape pod and hope that Olunnhar had a plan. Because what if he didn't? What if he were hoping she had a plan? They needed to be able to talk about escaping, and they needed a translator to do so. If he was unwilling to do anything about that on his own, then she was going to have to take matters into her own hands. It was as simple as that.
Hopefully, he would understand…eventually.
She finally gave him a sad smile and nodded, as if reluctantly accepting his decision.
He seemed pleased, and patted her on the hand before setting about refilling his orange juice once again. Elizabeth tried to turn her attention back to her scrambled eggs, but her mind was blasting away at full-throttle, making plans for how she would accomplish her little covert mission. And trying to fend off her guilt. She suspected she was going to have to get used to doing that, no matter how many justifications she used to convince herself she was in the right. But she also knew she had no other choice. Her plan might not have been ideal, but it was the best decision she could make, under the circumstances.
She hoped he would forgive her.
/ / / / / / / / / / / / /
And now for a few shout-outs:
First, I got some more wonderful fanart, based upon the previous chapter. Thank you so much, milky0candy! It's a very sweet picture and I love it so much :D
EDIT: Okay, so no matter how much I try to disguise the links, they aren't working. The name of the site especially seems to be censored no matter what I do :P So to see the fanart, go to a certain website that has "Deviant" in the first part of the name and "art" in the second part. To see milky0candy's pic, type "Tears of a God Prometheus" in the search bar and it will be the first picture that shows up. To see NuclearMetallity's pic that I tried to link in a previous chapter and encountered the same problem with, type "Prometheus pairing ever" in the search bar, and it will be the first pic to come up.
There, fanfiction site whose name I dare not type for fear of censorship. Is that acceptable to you? :P
Ahem, anyway, I also decided to take one of my previous reviews to heart and did a little research on freeze-dried meals to make the food situation a little more realistic, and I'd just like to say our protagonists' breakfast was provided by Mountain House freeze dried foods. Nine out of ten YouTube videos agree that it hits the spot :P
Finally, I'd like to thank BLANDCorporatio for helping me avoid an idiot plot, and NuclearMetallity for the name "Olunnhar."