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iffeelscouldkill · 7 months ago

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Fic: the old stars are of no importance

Summary: In which RJ McCabe has more emotions about listening to a drunken group singalong than they'd expected. Set during season 1 episodes 9 & 10 and the aftermath of episode 10.

Also posted to Dreamwidth & AO3, or just keep reading for the fic!

---

Junior Agent RJ McCabe is having a terrible day.

A terrible week, actually. Or make that a terrible career.

RJ is no stranger to hard work – no-one can power through the Academy and get a Junior Agent role at twenty-three without working incredibly hard. But since Park was tak- since Park was rightfully apprehended, it’s not felt like hard work so much as desperately paddling to keep their head above water. All the weird stares, the muttering, the pointed questions from their superiors that RJ answers as honestly as possible while frantically analysing the words for anything that could reflect negatively on them.

They go from urgent briefing to the office to one-on-one report with the Major General to another briefing to the office to home, finally, though they’re barely sleeping. RJ is pretty sure their blood volume is 95% caffeine, lately – thankfully the IGR doesn’t test for that.

In recognition of the awfulness of break room coffee, they brew it at home and bring a big flask with them. Or they would, except that this morning they tiredly fumbled the pot while pouring and scalded their hand, causing them to flinch and drop it, splattering half of the coffee across their tiny kitchen floor. They lost ten minutes to the clean-up and they have half as much coffee as they need, damn it.

All of which is to say that they’re not in the mood for Junior Agent Goodman’s attitude.

“Twelve hours of nothing?” RJ repeats as they stare down at Goodman, whose normal mask of impassiveness has given way to annoyance. He looks tired, but RJ is no stranger to all-nighters, and Goodman shouldn’t be either if he wants to get anywhere in the Republic.

“The crew was mostly asleep for part of it,” Goodman responds. “Is there coffee?”

“It’s dreck,” RJ says. They’re wondering if padding out their stock of coffee with the break room sludge will result in halfway drinkable coffee. It will probably just taint the decent stuff.

“Yes, because I drink break room coffee for the delicate aroma,” Goodman says, his sarcasm acidic, and RJ’s patience snaps.

“I don’t want to write you up for insubordination—”

They listen to Goodman’s rationale for throwing away a full twelve hours of audio, interjecting with pointed questions. When Goodman says, “Trust me,” they almost snort. Trust Goodman. Trust Goodman after his leading questions about Park and his poorly-hidden recording device. After RJ had confronted him about the recording, he’d simply smiled and said, “You can’t be too careful.”

RJ is just taking his advice. They hold out their hand. “Hand me the headphones.”

The audio picks up mid-conversation, and at first it sounds like so much nonsensical rambling, until RJ is able to pick up the thread of what the insurgents are talking about. Edict 1837. Any confession by a known criminal needs to be transcribed, analysed, and examined for veracity – no matter what the contents.

RJ has to suppress a smirk when they realise what Goodman has been dealing with all night. For once, they’re glad they’re the ranking Agent.

They’re tempted to skip over it, but they can at least listen to the entirety of the group’s confessions. Patel and Tripathi’s knowledge of Republic laws and edicts gives them the advantage in creating, if not convincing confessions, certainly detailed ones. Jeeter’s is less elaborate, but would require a qualified Ancient Pre-Crisis Languages expert to verify. The Dwarnian Krejjh’s ‘confession’ is a pure flight of fantasy – no-one rational has believed Dwarnians can shapeshift since at least 2175.

As for Violet Liu – RJ would have expected her to choose a confession oriented towards her history as a Republic scientist. “The lead singer of Birdie and the Swansong” is just silly.

Their finger hovers over the fast forward button as Patel drunkenly challenges Liu to “prove it”.

And then –

Violet Liu starts to sing.

“So long, can’t dodge the dawn, red light shines on and on and on and on and on...”

RJ has heard Violet sing before, during 'Report 1: Violet Liu', but there's something startling about hearing her suddenly strike out into song, a little unsteady but clear and melodious.

The note hangs there for an uncertain few seconds before Patel takes up the next line.

“But it’s not the sea that’s coming for me-”

And then Liu joins back in-

“-and it’s not the storm, no, it’s not the storm…”

Tripathi starts playing a guitar – they’ve heard her idly strumming it in her room during downtime – and suddenly they’re all singing.

“When I go to sea, don’t fear for me,

“Fear for the storm, fear for the storm!”

RJ squints in confusion, forehead creasing. What are they all doing? Is this a taunt? Because they know they’re being listened to? Why else would the whole crew be sitting around singing like they don’t have a care?

(Fleetingly, RJ wonders what it would be like to have that level of comfort with a group. An image of Nan and Ferdy flashes across their mind’s eye before they quickly squash it. They’re getting distracted).

“So gather your charts and your portents,

“Throw them aside,

“The old stars are of no importance,

“They’re not what I navigate by...”

In hours of monitoring, RJ has never heard the crew sing together, yet they harmonise seamlessly like they’ve done it a hundred times.

The words are – nonsensical, just old-world seafaring imagery of seas and charts and stars. But the way the group sings gives them an energy; makes them important. Like they might be the last thing you’ll ever hear.

“Though I may burn, the heavens may learn to fear for the storm...

“Fear for the storm.”

Liu sings the final lines, and then Krejjh exclaims, delighted,

“Oops – I guess we’re all Birdy and the Swansong. What a coincidence!”

The whole group bursts into laughter, and RJ’s finger stabs angrily down on the fast forward button.

“Don’t tell me it’s all like this.”

They pretend not to see Agent Goodman rolling his eyes.

---

The rest of the day blurs past, the usual chain of reports, audio, meetings, exchanging terse words with Goodman (who’s even more sarcastic thanks to his all-nighter), more reports, more audio.

They dismiss Goodman at the end of the workday, even though overtime is the norm in the Republic to the point where the ‘workday’ doesn’t really have a beginning and an end. (This was less depressing to RJ when they thought the agents were all getting overtime pay). He quickly goes, obviously not wanting to wait around for them to change their mind.

Silence descends.

RJ mechanically fills in a few more forms, initials some reports, getting caught up on the endless paperwork that’s generated by active cases. The Rumor audio isn’t being logged as it’s coming in; last night was an exceptional case in the aftermath of the insurgents making contact with the other Violet Liu, but based on the subsequent twelve hours of audio and today’s similar experience, they’ve determined it’s a more prudent use of resources to analyse it after the fact.

So, there’s no reason for RJ to be going over to the bank of audio desks and slipping on a pair of headphones. An audio file has just come in, but RJ pulls up an older file and scrubs through it, looking for the right timestamp.

They’re just double-checking Goodman’s work – making sure nothing was omitted when investigating the insurgents’ confessions under Edict 1837. A missed detail could give rise to a lot of additional paperwork, and their department can’t afford another blot on its track record. They pull an empty notepad towards them and poise a pen over it, ready to take notes.

But the notepad stays blank throughout the confessions, and then the singing begins.

“So long, can’t dodge the dawn, red light shines on and on and on and on and on…”

Maybe the lyrics could be – could contain some kind of code? RJ scrawls, The old stars are of no importance, and then just as quickly scratches it out. Code for who? That wouldn’t make any sense. The words don’t mean anything.

“So gather your charts and your portents,

“Throw them aside...”

RJ has never been one for music or singing (especially in public); they always shrugged Nan off when she tried to cajole them into karaoke. At the Academy, they’d sat on the sidelines during that kind of drunken, raucous group bonding, nursing one drink and wishing they could be literally anywhere else. Eventually, they’d started making excuses about work to catch up on.

Listening to the Rumor crew sing should sound like that – the kind of alcohol-fuelled stupidity that RJ has never wanted to be a part of.

It shouldn’t sound like –

Like family.

“Though I may burn, the heavens may learn to fear for the storm…”

The song ends, and RJ quickly hits ‘stop’. Almost guiltily, they navigate back through the audio to where the beginning of the song would be.

Distant footsteps sound in the corridor, and RJ goes very still, listening. Clark went home hours ago, so it’s not her.

They refuse to look around furtively, because that would be childish and also, they’re not doing anything wrong. They’re just doing their job.

RJ hits ‘play’ again.

“So long, can’t dodge the dawn…”

---

Chaos reigns as RJ, Park, Liu, Patel and Krejjh dash towards the window where Tripathi hovers with the heisted spaceship. The Vre Chel Noke nanoswarm, which had been a thick, shimmering mist around them seconds ago, hovers ominously like a warning.

It’s enough to keep Goodman and the other guards from trying to retaliate as Tripathi begins helping each of them into the open spaceship door. (RJ was tempted to take a potshot at Goodman in the chaos, but they told themself they’re better than that. Also, they didn’t want to waste any time). RJ is keeping their eyes fixed on Park, deliberately not thinking about what they’re doing, just thinking about the next moment. Stay alive. Get out of here. And then – we’ll see.

As Tripathi holds out her hand to RJ, though, they can’t resist a last glance behind them at everything they’re leaving behind. They thought this building would be the site of a long and (hopefully) distinguished career; it was practically their home, their life – until recently.

A line bubbles up in their mind, and RJ stifles the absurd urge to laugh. The old stars are of no importance – They’re not what I navigate by…

RJ turns away and accepts Tripathi’s hand up into the ship.

---

All things considered, it’s not surprising that only a few hours after joining the crew, RJ finds themself in the middle of a group singalong.

The mood is a mixture of tense and exhilarated in the immediate aftermath of their getaway. Everyone is visibly exhausted, Park possibly most of all, but it’s clear they’re all too wired to sleep or rest. They wander around the new ship, acquainting themselves with the layout and the rooms. The Rumor crew all exclaim over the size of the mess hall, which is pretty small to RJ’s eyes, but they guess anything would seem impressive compared to the homemade junk bucket the crew were flying in before.

The crew have a couple of bags stowed away, stuffed with supplies – all that’s left of the old ship. RJ thinks fleetingly of their small, bare apartment. There’s nothing they’ll miss.

Jeeter – Brian – makes some food and crucially, coffee, which is as bad as the break room dreck, but RJ will inhale anything at this point. The group chatters, their voices still surreal for RJ to hear in person and not through headphones.

They glance at Park, who looks more relaxed than they’ve ever seen him. The Rumor crew are sharing details about what happened to each of them during ‘The Plan’; Park volunteers a little about his own part, though there’s a conspicuous lack of detail about anything related to Zone Z. Sometimes the conversation falls awkwardly silent when the subject comes up. RJ isn’t about to push, and can tell the others don’t want to, either.

Trip- Sana and Krejjh determine it’s safe to set the new ship to autopilot, and Krejjh comes into the mess, intensifying the noise and cheerfulness. RJ tries not to stare; they’ve never been in close quarters with a Dwarnian (well, before shooting Krejjh earlier) and have only ever seen them in Republic training footage and, uh, Sh’th Hremreh. But Krejjh seems to find them fascinating, too, gamely questioning them about their ‘sharpshooting’ skills. Apparently sparing their life carries more weight than shooting them in the leg.

Eventually, Krejjh’s attention turns to their fiancé and the wider group, and RJ, no longer observed, lets their shoulders slump. They’ve drained the last of their coffee and want to ask for more, even though they’re practically vibrating. Adrenaline has carried them this far, and they don’t want to find out what happens when they crash and the reality of what they’ve done hits them. Part of RJ feels like they left their body back at Headquarters; or like they’re about to blink and wake up in their office chair with Goodman glaring at them.

“You okay?” Park asks in an undertone, and RJ jolts, upsetting their thankfully empty cup. They open their mouth to reply, but then Sana calls, “Okay, everyone!”

She’s holding a guitar, and RJ stares, wondering how much space that must have taken up in the supply bags. Arkady groans, but she doesn’t look angry. Violet covers her mouth in amusement, and Krejjh cheers.

“I thought we could christen our new ship with a bit of a song,” Sana says earnestly (RJ is learning that ‘earnest’ is Sana’s default mode). Park’s eyes widen, which makes RJ glad that they’re not the only one experiencing slight panic. Is it too late to sneak out? Sana plucks at the guitar strings, twiddling the pegs to tune them. She strums a chord and nods, satisfied.

“What shall we start with? Any suggestions?” Her gaze alights on Park and RJ, and she smiles encouragingly. “McCabe – do you want to suggest a song? You don’t have to sing if you’re not comfortable.”

“Uh…” RJ would like to suggest something less – incriminating, but unfortunately, there’s only one song currently on their mind. “What about... ‘Fear for the Storm’?”

To their relief, Sana doesn’t ask questions. “Good choice!” she says, and RJ feels, ridiculously, pleased. Park quirks an eyebrow at them after Sana looks away, but RJ just shrugs, not wanting to explain.

Sana strums a few opening chords, and Violet and Arkady begin, singing the first line together.

“So long, can’t dodge the dawn, red light shines on and on and on and on and on...”

RJ sits back in their chair and fractionally, begins to relax, letting the singing wash over and around them.

Quietly, too quietly, to be heard beneath the singing, they hum along.

---

A/N: So the idea conception for this fic went something like this:

Me: Okay, I've got this fun idea I want to write about the real lead singer of Birdie and the Swansong listening to the Iris casefiles and reacting to the group singalong-

My brain: I have an even better version of that idea!

Me: Yes?

My brain: What if McCabe-

Me: OH MY GOD

...Go on...

I have one (1) character whose perspective I'm consistently inspired to write from and can do so at the drop of a hat xD (I was trying to write this in a few days for the Small Fandoms Surprise Scramble on Dreamwidth. I succeeded!

The idea that became this idea was sparked off by listening to the full cast version of Fear for the Storm and having some Emotions about it again :D I remember how captivated I was by this song when listening to Episode 9 for the very first time, and so the idea of giving McCabe some of those Emotions was a very appealing one. Poor thing is going through it.

This also gave me a chance to write about the immediate aftermath of Episode 10, which I had not done before!

#TSCOSI #The Strange Case of Starship Iris #my fic #RJ McCabe #Agent Goodman #Jin Seon Park #Starship Iris episode 9 #Starship Iris episode 10 #Starship Iris season 1

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