#airlocks are supposed to be LOCKED

[braisedhoney]

Booty McTooty

don’t look at me, pal, we don’t know either.

[sol91]

Alone

LOG ENTRY: SOL 90

It occurred to me today that someday someone from earth might actually listen to these logs, so I figure I should record a needlessly expository one to get everyone up to speed.

My name is Lena Luthor.

It's been 90 martian days since I landed here with the rest of the crew. That's what, 92 earth days? Mars spins just a little on the slow side.

On sol 6 a dust storm was going to knock over the rocket we brought to take us home, so the rest of the crew went home and left me behind to die. Well, they thought I was already dead and left. To be honest, not their fault at all.

So I'm alone here on mars, no way home, no way to communicate, only enough food for a year, and everyone thinks I'm dead. Which sounds miserable but luckily I do have this disco music to listen to, courtesy of Commander Lewis.

And, if I can get these potatoes to grow in martian soil, which I definitely can, then I can survive long enough for the next mission to arrive.

Which should be in about 4 years.

Which does honestly sound like a long time to be alone. But I've been alone before. Most of the time, to be honest, it's how I do my best work.

I don't know, maybe I could have done things differently. Asked out that reporter when I had the chance. Not gone to fucking mars.

On the plus side, if I do make it home, she'll be so impressed she'll have to go out with me. I'm pretty sure the president is basically obligated to deliver a eulogy for every astronaut who kicks the bucket up here so everyone in the country must know my name by now. They'll probably show the satellite images and everything— actually, I wonder if they've figured out I'm alive by now. What else do all those NASA technicians even do all day?

Anyway, that's basically the situation. Feel free to keep watching these if you want to hear about my adventures cleaning solar panels and fixing the water reclaimer. Yeah, that'll sell movie tickets.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 91

Fuck. Oh god. Okay. Something just opened the airlock from the outside. There's no locks on it, because why the fuck would there be? There's not supposed to be anything else on this planet. I have like 30 seconds before that airlock opens and I have no idea what to do. Obviously there's no windows in the airlock for structural reasons, I guess the engineers back at NASA didn't consider the hab might be invaded by space aliens. Alright. If this is my last message I have some things I want to say. Commander Lewis your music is awful. Lex you can rot in hell. Kara I always thought you were hot.

Oh shit here we go—

Kara?

Kara Danvers stepped into the hab. She was wearing a button down shirt and khakis, no space helmet. "I've never held my breath that long, that was crazy." She said, panting slightly.

"Kara, what—" Lena began. But before she could finish forming a sentence, Kara was hugging her.

In the hierarchy of times you wanted to run into your crush, not having showered in 3 months in a room full of manure was pretty much bottom of the list. But right now, Lena didn't care. The hug lasted at least 30 seconds before Lena pulled back.

"Kara, what the fuck is going on? How are you here?"

"Oh! I'm Supergirl" Kara said simply.

"That… actually makes a lot of sense"

"I was at the office when I heard you were still alive and I just—" She shook her head. "NASA had some complicated plan to get you home, but I just thought, how far away can Mars really be?"

Lena laughed.

"You ready to go home?" Kara asked.

"Very." Lena was already crossing the room to don her spacesuit.

"Also, I was wondering" Kara said, more hesitant now. "Do you have plans for dinner tomorrow?"

Lena turned to look at Kara. "Do I have plans for dinner tomorrow?" She repeated, smiling. "Kara, I live on mars."

"I— right. Do you want to have dinner with me tomorrow?"

"I would love that."

"Great!" Said Kara, "It's a date! I promise it'll be—" "Don't you dare say it." interjected Lena. "—out of this world."

[aenais]

Hunger | Kuroo Tetsuro Chapter 1

Part 2 of The Train's Coming (link to masterlist)

Pairing: businessman!Kuroo x fem!reader

Summary: You're colleagues and you're screwin'

Ao3 Link | Word count: ~2.2k

Tags/Warnings: Explicit smut, friends-with-benefits, Timeskip!Kuroo, sexual tension, dry humping, banter

“Fuck, Kuroo!” you cried, locking your arms and legs around him as he slammed your back against the wall. He ground his clothed cock against your bare heat, groaning as he watched the crotch of his best pair of work pants grow damp beneath you.

“I did good, right Y/N? Waited patiently all day, didn’t I?” His breath fanned heavily across your face as he whispered the words. He pressed feverishly hot lips against the side of your neck, burying his face into your skin. “But I can’t take it anymore—fuck. I need you.” 

8 hours earlier

The morning train into the city was like an airlock between home and work. It was a bridge between the solitude of your one-bedroom apartment and the restless, simmering energy of the corporate world. After all these years on the job—as a sports promoter for one of the nation’s top companies—you’d come to love the hustle and the grind. You thrived on it. And you knew, better than most, how easy it was to lose yourself in the work. 

Perhaps that was why the quiet routine of your commute felt as comforting as it did. There was a unique tranquility in watching the landscape speed past the tinted windows, the suburban condos morphing into towering high-rises as you sped further downtown. Alongside the shifting scenery, you’d feel yourself shift, too: from muted, to expectant, to hungry for the challenge and the spoils of a new day. The train’s low, mechanical rumble was your only company as you transformed. This was your time to clear your mind—to cultivate the razor-sharp focus which made you so good at what you did—and you treasured it. 

Then, he came along. 

“Morning, Y/N,” Tetsuro Kuroo drawled, looking up from his laptop as you took the seat across from him. 

“Hi,” you replied. 

“Ready for the big day?” 

“As I’ll ever be.” 

His white button-up was crisply ironed, as always, but today there was also a suit jacket folded neatly over the arm of his chair. “That’s cute,” you said, pointing at it. “You got all dolled up.” His canine flashed in a crooked smile as he silently stared at his computer. 

You’d been at the company for a couple years already when the Promotional Division hired Kuroo. Quick enough, everyone realized that he was a fucking force of nature: charming, ambitious, and wickedly intelligent, he climbed the ranks faster than anyone you’d seen before, and soon enough, he held the same position as you. You saw a lot of him after that. He was a workaholic. Partnered with him on new projects, you recognized the perfectionism—his need to do more, do better, to prove himself. You had that in common, you supposed. It was the reason you found yourself building easy rapport with him all those months ago, and now, it was why you were glad he was the one presenting the big proposal with you today.  

“Wanna run through the script again?” he asked.

You groaned. “How many more times, Kuroo? You might as well tattoo it behind your fucking eyelids.” 

“Hey, I want to nail this, alright?” He snapped his laptop shut, leaning forward in his seat. “Y/N, if they like this idea, we’re gonna be—” 

“Promoted. Right. You keep saying that—”

“Unstoppable,” he corrected. “We’re gonna be unstoppable.” 

Gold-rimmed irises bore into you. They glittered with anticipation, with intent. You stared right back into them—knowing. Understanding. 

The hunger had crept in. 

After all this time, you’d come to realize just how alike you and Kuroo were. He, too, was married to his work and addicted to the drug that was success. You were both a little bit neurotic in exactly the same way, and you liked that about him. You liked him. 

Yeah, you were fucking—but you were friends too, of course. 

Neither of you had what it took to commit to a relationship right now. You were both prioritizing your careers, and the sex had become a way to release all that stress at the end of the day. So it had always been a casual thing: you went home together after late nights at the office, and Kuroo pounded you into your mattress. You fucked on his kitchen counter in the morning before work. Sometimes you gave him fast, messy head in an empty conference room during lunch break. You were both a bit insatiable. A bit.

But Kuroo was…more than just a fuck-buddy. He was a friend—a real friend. He made you laugh, he bitched about your other coworkers with you, and, more than anything, his ambition continued to inspire you. He understood you on a wavelength that few others did. You remembered the first time you saw him on this train—the first time you met on relaxed terms, outside the office. It was complete luck: you boarded the train that morning, having barely rubbed the sleep from your eyes, and there he was, already seated. You were both cordial at first, you talked work stuff. Then, “I’m so sick of driving to the office,” he’d finally admitted. “I was this close to becoming an actual menace on the road.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, man,” he replied. “Rush hour in this city is insane. How’ve you not lost your mind yet?” 

You chuckled. “Well, I’ve been taking the train for years,” you sighed. “Honestly,” you lowered your voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “this is my way of giving car-dependent infrastructure the finger.” 

You remembered the way he smiled wolfishly at that. “Fuck car-dependent infrastructure,” he agreed. And you spent the rest of the ride talking anything but work stuff: college and the transition to the corporate world. How Kuroo used to play volleyball in high school and the fact that you wanted to adopt a cat one day. Colleagues melted into friends so quickly, and you wondered how you’d ever tolerated the lonely silence of the train ride before. 

Now, here he was before you: brimming with anticipation for the day ahead, when you’d finally hatch the brainchild you’d been creating together over weeks of planning and diligence. There was no one you’d rather have done it with than Kuroo. Together, you really were: 

“Unstoppable, then,” you said. 

Kuroo gazed at you with those gleaming eyes, a smile playing on his lips. You matched him with your own grin. Sunlight flashed through the window periodically, streaking across his face as the train sped along, and you couldn’t help but stare as it happened. He looked beautiful. 

Was it time? Finally? You thought it might be. You’d been waiting for the right moment to ask. And right now, it was perfectly calm and quiet; you were gazing at each other like you were the only two people in the world. It certainly felt right.

You clenched your palms in your lap, working up the nerve to say it. “Kuroo,” you began. “If the board likes the proposal…and if they decide it is worth a promotion—” 

“Not if,” he interrupted. “When.”

“Fine. When.” There it was—that brazen confidence that never failed to electrify you. It made you want to believe that everything would work out, that the odds would always turn in your favor eventually. Right now, it made you feel brave enough to ask the question you’d been afraid of for weeks. “A promotion would mean a management position, Kuroo. For both of us. And…there’s something I’ve been wanting to, um, ask you. In case that happens.” 

His eyes narrowed slightly, in a way that told you he noticed your hesitance. But he didn’t remark on it yet. “Alright,” he replied. “Shoot.”

You swallowed. “What if…what if we try to leverage a position as co-managers? Of the Promotional Division?” you finally said. “I just—I mean, Washijo’s had the job for years and he’s practically senile at this point. We might have a shot at replacing him, if we play it right. Co-Heads of Promotion, Kuroo. And then we could run this place the way we want.” 

His mouth hung open in surprise. He said nothing for a moment. 

“I know,” you blurted frantically, scared you’d laid it on too quickly. “I know. It’s ballsy—and I know we can't afford to make any mistakes in front of the Board, but I just. I have a good feeling about this. And, I mean, obviously there’s no one I’d rather share the position with than you—hey! Don’t smile at me like that,” you snapped, for his lip had quirked up a bit at that last part. “We’re the two most competent people in the whole fucking department, you know that…and we make a good team. At least, I think so. I’ve always thought so. I dunno. Fuck,” you said, feeling your face burn hotter the longer he stayed quiet. “Forget it, Kuroo. I…I’m sor—” 

“Y/N!” 

Your name burst from his mouth like water breaking a dam—like he’d been holding it back this whole time. “Jesus, Y/N. Slow down,” he said. The embarrassment could’ve lit you on fire. 

“What are you sorry for?” he demanded. 

Your gaze snapped to him. That—the crackle of concern that edged the words—that was not what you expected. You expected howling laughter in your face. Or a declaration that both you and your harebrained idea were insane. 

But Kuroo didn’t do any of that. Instead, he made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “You’re incredible,” he said. “You know that?” 

You blinked. “What?” 

“You’re fuckin’—” Before you knew what was happening, Kuroo leaned in and cupped your face in his hands. He hovered mere inches away from you. “You’re unreal.”

There was nothing else in the world right now. Nothing but his warm breath, gusting across your skin. His warm palms against your cheeks. His warm, hazel eyes. He was close enough that you could bump the tip of your nose against his if you wanted to. Or you could lean in and kiss him. 

“Um,” you lisped out as Kuroo smushed your cheeks together. “Thanks. Wait. What?” 

“That is,” he breathed, “an exceptional idea. Holy fuck, Y/N. I’m mad I didn’t think of it first.” 

How did he do that? you thought. How did he manage to make everything okay, every time? He said yes. You could’ve leapt with joy. Now, in hindsight, you wondered why you’d even been afraid to ask him in the first place. You should’ve remembered that he and you were inextricably synced. He’d never have said no. 

“God, I could kiss you,” he murmured, stroking your skin tenderly with one thumb. For the first time this morning, you looked at him properly, without anything else on your mind—not the proposal, not what would come after. You gazed at his fawn skin, always so stark in contrast to that dark, ruffled hair. The smooth line of his throat bobbed slightly as you raked your eyes over him. All of a sudden, he shifted his grip—catching your jaw in one, large hand. 

What are you staring at? he asked with his brows. Electric tension sizzled in the air between you. 

Your gazes met. He had you pinned with that deep, smoldering stare, that look that you knew so well. God, it made you want to burn. 

“Kiss me then, Tetsuro,” you said.

He exhaled sharply. And—

“ATTENTION PASSENGERS!” 

The automated female voice rang out, and you both jolted. “The train will be arriving at its destination in approximately one minute.” You giggled, pulling yourself from Kuroo’s grasp. 

“Well, so much for that,” you sighed, leaning back in your seat. “C’mon. Time to put on that cute little jacket.” You began to gather your things. When you rose to your feet, he was still seated. 

Oh, wow, you liked this.

He was staring up at you stupidly: open-mouthed, with color darkening his cheeks. What a pretty fucking sight, you thought, and you knew what it stemmed from, of course. You rarely said his given name. Usually, he had to coax it out of you—spear you open on his cock until that name clogged your senses and rotted your mind from the inside out. 

“‘S’matter?” you murmured. “Go on now.” 

A moment passed in silence. He rose. His eyes never left yours, and you had to tilt your chin incrementally—up, up, and up until he stood at full height in front of you. He grabbed the jacket and looped his arms into it, slowly. Languidly. The train was skidding to a halt now, whining softly against the tracks, and he caught the upper guard handle to balance himself. You leaned against the armrest behind you. And as the force of slowing velocity sent him tipping gently into your body, you felt it. Rock-hard, brushing against your inner thigh. 

“Your fault,” he whispered in your ear. 

People began filing past you out the vestibule door, but the two of you stayed put, leaning into each other. 

“Eight hours, Kuroo,” you said, letting a grin break across your face. He mirrored it, those catlike canines glinting. “Then I’m all yours.”

Click to read Part 2!

Thanks so much for reading!! Requests are currently open. Follow @eashn for more!

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Grey 71

First / Previous / Next

The atmosphere aboard the dreadnought was tense. There were a few moments of negotiation about whether Penny would go over to Gord's ship, or Gord to Penny's but in the end, Gord blinked first. Probably because he knew that Home still had their stardrive pointed at Penny's ship.

The ships connected, Gord and Chloe came over and were led to a conference room right off the airlock. A steward - knowing they were both AIs - offered them coffee or tea, and to her immense surprise, Gord accepted. A few moments after the coffee was delivered, Penny and Zhe came in. As she stepped in, a guard attempted to follow them, and Zhe stared at him and shook her head. His eyes flicked to Penny's and she nodded, and he saluted sharply and stepped back out.

"That was the 'this is insane, but you are the commander, so I will do what you say' salute if I ever saw one." Gord said, grinning around his coffee. Penny looked at Gord, surprised. Zhe just smirked and flicked her ears.

As they both sat Gord put his coffee down. "Feeling a little overwhelmed, Empress? It's okay, we're among friends here."

Penny glared at Gord for the barest split second, then her shoulders slumped and she leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. "I have no idea what I'm doing." She said to the ceiling. Penny continued, "Fen left on the expeditionary force - I told her she didn't need to go, but she insisted, then we get an emergency beacon from the K'laxi of all people saying that they're breaking away from the Empire, oh and not only that they are fighting against the nanites - which the general public didn't know about - but now they do, and that there isn't an Empress anymore and what can we do but assume she was killed along with the expeditionary force!" She tilted her head just enough to see Gord, "they were destroyed I assume?" He nodded once. She looked back up at the ceiling. "I immediately declare myself Empress - along with about a dozen other people across colonial space and now it's a race to see who can build the largest coalition of support and-" she sighed "-probably fight a couple of civil wars before the new leader of humanity is declared." She sat up and locked eyes with Gord. "Then, I scramble to get whatever ship will let me on out to Home so I can go ask the AIs - who just recently came back and said they were willing to work with us - for help figuring out what the fuck is happening, and I get ignored and sure, maybe I overreact a little and sent a couple shots over your bow to get your attention. Someone from out past Jupiter tells me to stuff it, and then Home aims their stardrive at me. So yes Gord, I am feeling 'a little overwhelmed'" She trudges over to the sideboard in the conference room, pours a water, downs it in one gulp, pours another, and then sits back down. "So then, Gord and Chloe, representatives of the AI faction, what do you want to discuss."

Chloe shifts awkwardly in her seat. "Well, we-"

"Did you know I was a spy?" Penny said, unprompted. "My aim never was for power. I was assigned to watch Fen, keep my superiors apprised about what she was doing - mostly with her K'laxi black projects team - and to try and steer her away from any actually damaging courses of action. I wasn't supposed to fall for her!" It was practically a wail. "I know she holds a candle for her dead wife and will probably never actually love anyone else, doesn't matter I still loved her! Now, she's gone, and I don't know if she's alive or dead, and the Nanites are acting real strange and the whole thing is going to crash down, and if I survive the next year it'll be an Ancestors provided miracle." She stifled a sob and took another sip of water and sniffed. "So, if you have any idea where Fen went, please, please tell me."

Gord looked at Chloe. There was a second of them staring at eachother. Communicating? Just staring? Zhe wasn't sure. Finally Chloe blinked and scoffed. "Fine." She said.

"Well Penny - Penelope - Empress..." Gord said, kindly. "We don't exactly know... anymore."

****

Fen drifted in and out of conciseness. Her suit had her partially reclined, and she was well supported, and the suit was warm and quiet and she was so tired. So very tired. Was she sleeping, or was she passing out? Did it matter? She blinked and the gray of the virus took up a small portion of the nebula. She blinked again, and half the nebula was gray. Blinking again, it was all gray. Shit, this was bad. "Suit?" She said. "How long has it been since we linked here?"

TWENTY STANDARD SOL HOURS.

Nearly a day. Didn't feel like it. She ached, her limbs felt tired and cold and she wasn't hungry. Shouldn't she be hungry? She drank a little water from the straw near her mouth, and suddenly her mouth was incredibly parched. She sucked the water in greedy slurps until the pouch was empty. It would refill overtime from expelled moisture from her breath, and processed waste, and even from the spare oxygen and hydrogen it could capture from interstellar space, but, she might get one more pouch of water that way. If she was going to survive she needed to do something.

"But what, Fen? What the fuck do I do now?" She said to herself. There was nobody near, nobody who knew where she was - unless Gord or Chloe thought to scan for the backpack's link signature. Supposedly that was possible, but it was difficult, and not terribly accurate and would... require them knowing... she left. Dammit. Chloe knew she left, Fen thought, but she had cut her comm.

Wait a moment, the backpack had enough power for two trips, one 'there' and one 'back.' She brought up the link backpack's overlay and... yes, it could link exactly one more time.

But where?

She could link back to Sol, but would anyone be able to find her in time? Did the backpack have a directory of common locations? If she linked in the middle of the shipping lane for Parvati, would they see her, or would she just be another bit of debris destroyed by the stationkeeping lasers of a Starjumper linking in? Scrolling through the settings, Fen saw that it didn't really have a directory. The backpack was clearly one step above a prototype. There was a log of previous addresses, but they didn't detail where they were. Her only option was to wait here, and hope Gord or Chloe put two and two together and got six, or link back to Sol, and scream on comms until she died, or was rescued.

Fen sighed. Was it even a choice?

She toggled the return, and the backpack linked her away from the white hole, and the remains of the nanites.

Fen sat on the forest floor, hugging her knees. Ma sat next to her, leaning her head on Fen's shoulder. "You should be proud hon. You did it." She straightened up. "Not only that, but you did it yourself, with your own idea. It wasn't Gord's idea, or Zhe's, or Penny's or mine. It was yours."

Fen smiled as she clutched her knees. "I am pretty awesome, aren't I?"

"You know I know you are." Ma said, her ears flicking.

"But Ma, what am I going to do now? Defeating the nanites was just the start. If I get picked up, If I survive, If we can figure out the K'laxi..."

"All decisions you have the privilege, the honor to make, because you took the step to stop the nanites. Humanity is in charge of their destiny again. The other stuff?" Ma nuzzled Fen's neck. "That's just details."

Fen was in space still, but this was different. For one, the yellow-white light of Sol shone on her, warming her suit, not the sharp blue white of the white hole. For another, her comm lit up with dozens of frequencies, all clearing for the emergency trill of her rescue beacon. For a third... three quarters of Fen's view was taken up by the colony ship the AI called Home, only a couple hundred kilometers away.

Of course. She was on Gord's ship before and that was right next to Home. She'd return to the same location, and would naturally still be next to home. Fen sighed and drifted off as red and white sparkles of emergency ships soared towards her.

[whumpshaped]

this has been sitting in my drafts unfinished for ages... it was supposed to be the first of my robot drabbles to go up but here we are. i hope i'll have spoons to write more for these guys... i'll post some picrews sometime for the cast and also make a masterlist and give the story a title

masterlist

content: robot whumperee (literally whumpee and whumper in one i don't know how to describe it any other way), sci-fi setting, implied systemic whump, morally dubious caretaker, living weapon

Szoren grabbed the closest rag and did a cursory wipe-off on his tools before turning towards his robot: the Self-Sufficient Riot Control Unit, the very first one they'd ever created. SSRCU-01. Zaps, as they'd affectionately nicknamed it. An absolutely magnificent piece of machinery, something Szoren and his colleagues had been working on for years before they managed to get it to function properly.

Well, as properly as they could at the time. If he didn't count the unfortunate shocking incident from the first week, and the even more unfortunate airlock incident from the second week, he could say Zaps was doing a fine job of only hurting those it was meant to be hurting.

Which, of course... Szoren didn't like that his poor baby was made for such a brutal purpose... But he couldn't change the reality of it, and he was just glad to see his creation performing well.

"So, what seems to be the problem?" he asked cheerily, adjusting his glasses as he looked over the custom murderbot.

"The central processing unit seems to be malfunctioning, sir," it said, monotone as ever. Szoren didn't mind. He wasn't good with emotions anyway.

"Malfunctioning? How? I'll run diagnostics, but you can talk to me in the meantime." He hooked up Zaps to the computer, hoping the 'malfunction' would be easy to spot and solve. At least it wasn't the motor functions this time — he really didn't need another injury.

"The reactions are delayed, sir. I hear the orders and I see the mistakes I'm meant to be fixing, but the body locks up before I can carry out the task. It almost allowed one of the workers to run away."

Szoren frowned. Zaps was entirely okay from the looks of it, or at least the computer didn't find anything wrong with it.

"I'll take a look myself. Maybe it's something to do with the joints and not the CPU."

"The joints are fine, sir," it said firmly.

"It can't hurt to check—"

"The joints are fine, sir."

Szoren felt a chill run down his spine. There was no discernible emotion in Zaps' voice; it wasn't capable of conveying human emotion. There shouldn't have been an intensity to its stare either... But for some reason Szoren felt like he couldn't push it. That wasn't a nice feeling when it came to something he himself had helped design and create.

"Zaps... I'm going to take a look at your joints now." He didn't want to do something without the robot's consent; but to be entirely fair, the robot not consenting wasn't something that had ever even crossed his mind. It was equipment. A tool. It didn't consent to being worked on any more than the screwdriver consented to being worked with.

For a long moment, Zaps didn't react. Then the light behind its visual sensors seemed to dim as it obediently popped open all cosmetic panels that were hiding major joint connections. "Yes, sir."

"Good robot," Szoren murmured, relieved. "You said they'd 'lock up'?"

"Yes, sir."

"It sounds like something that some oil should fix, but... Evidently, it's not. All of these joints are perfectly oiled."

"Yes, sir."

"And it only happens when carrying out orders? What if it's something like... Bad wiring, something triggered by the electrical impulse..."

"There are other malfunctions, sir," it interrupted, and Szoren looked up. "I'm unsure how to describe those. It is akin to a virus. Someone might have tampered with the programming."

"What's the malfunction?"

"Sometimes I get false orders to hurt my superiors, sir. While carrying out my regular tasks is difficult, these false orders are at times incredibly difficult to resist."

"What?" Szoren turned back towards the computer, frantically trying to find something in the code that could explain this. This was alarming. This was dangerous! Possibly lethal! If Zaps ended up hurting someone important, the whole tech department would be on trial; and not a favourable one. "What are these orders like? Are they like your regular orders? Maybe it's something about the target list, maybe... Maybe someone tampered with that."

"Sir?"

He barely glanced at the robot. "Yes?"

"What is the purpose I have been created to fulfil?"

Szoren stopped. "You know your purpose."

"To punish workers who fail to comply with the rules set out for them by the Seventh Earth Council." At least it remembered that line. Szoren had drilled it into its head before anything else. "But is that..." It... trailed off? It had never done that before. Robots didn't trail off.

"Is that?" he prompted, more and more concerned.

"Is that all I've been created for?"

Szoren inhaled sharply. That was a loaded question, and one he didn't really want to answer yes to. It was the truth, though; Zaps had been created to punish and execute.

"Yes," he breathed, acutely aware that if the robot disliked his answer, it could very well turn its weaponry against him. It shouldn't be able to, but clearly, it was doing a lot of things and having a lot of thoughts it shouldn't have been able to.

It stared at him for a long, tense moment. "Understood, sir," it said eventually. Szoren exhaled.

"I'm going to switch you off and ask Kiki for some help in fixing you. How's that?" He tried to go back to his cheery attitude from before, but his voice came out strained and a little scared. Zaps didn't seem to mind.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

~

tags: @whumpsday

[meli-writes]

Mechismo - No. 01 /// Shore-Girl

The red-boots girl circles the 180-Dock, prances over fuel and vomit spills.

Your shore-girl — ‘cos pilots know civvies won’t ever get it. Your machine does, but you can’t fuck the machine — least per new regulations, and field-issue tech. So you take the closet thing; their warm, cock-waving, hole-haver flesh-hearts, and settle for that.

And civvies are soft, and weak, and… even over the smoke and oil she smells good.

You’re still in the combat-romper, short-short at the shoulder and thighs — mount-points for the gun show; her hands run on its centre-torso, over coolant hose that weaves into spooled intestine. No point in extra effort — ‘cos it’s never real with a civvie.

And she’ll just want a knight, in oil-stained armour, to strut her into the fanciest do on the station’s promenade and let her pouted lips sip on 200u cocktails — as if she’s bored.

“Who’s it now?” you ask, as if you’ll take her back when you’re on a merc’s pension.

“Repairman, see ‘em on C12-Deck on commute sometimes,” she says, matter-of-fact and eye-fucks the silverwear set worth more than rent. “Bigger than you, gets more scars from vending machines than you do yours—” There’s a pleased purr to the peg-lower. “—Waitress at Amputel — shit-hole dive on 270-Dock. Small like me, locs down to the ass. Think I could tangle up in her till neither of us can get free. And the—”

She runs on — down till you’ve hit the C-Deck Airlock — each ‘rival’ is hotter and richer than the last. They got fake at some point; maybe when they got better than you — but that’s near enough all of them.

Like she’s not worse.

“Do I have to remind,” you snarl at your H-Deck sump-rat — who owes dinner, boots, and half-rent to daddy. Owes you. “Why you’re supposed to wait for me?”

She stares past, at a passerby that looks you up-and-down, then her. You squeeze her hip, tight, as if to screw suspender bolts into your machine’s lower-torso.

She squeals sweeter than it does, “I did.”

The civvie gets a smile, different ones from both of you. You hover, interposed, till they’ve decided she’s yours, and crossed the lock in the opposite direction, then lift her up and onwards.

She’ll never get as high as the machine can; isn’t as good, “So where’s my gratitude?”

Lance-mates bark over your shoulder when your phone pings; confiscate it, and howl at her nudes and the closet moon while one falsettos out her texts in-between leering asks.

Shore-girl likes to be sweet, doesn’t it?

You like it?

Lance Sirocco’s got a new girl.

How fuckin’ tight is it?

Should ask her out. She’s real.

How’d you make it do that?

“I’ve paid enough for this ass,” you tell both, breathing on her tits as they stutter with her till she’s backed into her door. “Did all the fuckin’ work. I know-you-know you owe it to me.”

You stare at the cabochon that crowns her wreathed neck, at its reflection.

“Come on then — jockie-girl,” she bites. “Claim it.”

So your hand slides down, lifts her till she’s braced on the door and wrapped around you. Her fat oozes under the red velvet crop-top, like guts spilled from the pile-driven centre-torso of that dumb kid who should’ve ejected into the now-pink snow.

And she’s soft, and weak… when you press your lips to hers.

“And apologise,” she mutters into your mouth, and reaches for the door control. “You make me wait far too—” Zhweep. You fall into her quarters — on top of her, “Owww.”

It still wouldn’t hurt if she wasn’t soft, but it’s nice.

Your faint smile is target-locked, and she giggles; has to break character at last, and her roommate shadows the doorframe, “Ol’ Candlish called me, worried sick. Said you’d been accosted by a nair-do-well.”

She snorts, “Hey.” And rolls you over, ass-to-the-carpet. It’s not soft.

“So have I met your fabled pilot-girlfriend at last?” her roommate teases, it doesn’t seem to hurt. “Ya know, the one you can’t seem to shut up about?” Though there’s a bloom in her cheeks, the same colour as her top.

“Yes,” you cut in, in giggles too, before she says 'no.' An engineer would rip that soundbite outta the CCTV and make it loop in your machine on boot-up. You’d choke them out for it.

Get reprimanded.

Do it again.

“Guess I’m gonna go see Belle,” her roommate responds. “I heard she’s got the Core League footie on video. Ta-ta!”

It takes one hand to haul your girlfriend up.

She nestles in close, looks down; feels soft, and real. It’s nice to have someone to ground you, 'cos the machine won’t; to ground into the pillows, tell her what each new scar earned to spend on her. So she can be weak; herself. So the machine doesn’t take it all.

She reels back, still looking down — at the romper you’ve worn all night.

“Is that your strap under there!?”

---

(Masterpost) / (Next)

originally written 15/07/2024 on cohost, in response to Making-up-Mech-Pilots' prompt:

Mech Pilot who wants what you have. Not the Machine.

for additional context, there was a running theme on cohost and its gorgeous, prominent mech fic about civilians never 'getting it' and this was a fun ode to/spin of those by making it exactly what a pilot might want. also i saw horny battletech art ngl that too.

[xiii-e]

FOOTAGE: Harrison Armoury Flashclone Project UNLUCKY XIII-E Abrev. Project Thirteen-E. Monitering status post early recall. Log #1

Audiovisual transcript attached.

[ Ship docking prodecure finalised. Airlocks opening. From inside the docked ship to the station, two figures acompany a stumbling third into the main hall of the station. A fourth is already waiting in said hallway, dressed in business casual in contrast to the obvious uniforms of each other figure. Only one of the visible figures are immediately recognisable; the stumbling one appears to be XIII-E with heavy bandaging across their visible body. Their accompaniments appear to be a medical officer in a white coat, and an armed guard in uniform. ]

[NOTE: for ease of description, unnamed personnel will be refered to here as: MEDIC // GUARD // AID ]

AID: [ A casual salute as the group disembarks and steps into sight. ] Officers. Safe trip I hope; I've been given temporary custody over Project XIII-E, not for long but-

MEDIC: [ Evident frustration ] Oh for crying out loud, have they still not cleared Helios-8 for duty? It doesn't need to take this long, he has a wobble like this every couple months or so.

AID: Yeah yeah I know sir, but the Admin wanted to be thorough with all the new Union regs coming down on us. He'll still be on standby, just can't be seen ferrying them around like usual. Can't go trusting company prototypes to an unstable FC and all that, sets a bad precident.

MEDIC: Fine, sure. Whatever. Just make sure he's there once they're delivered to their quarters, they're having one of those difficult episodes.

AID: ... uh- sorry, difficult episodes? I was told they're one of the more passive--

GUARD: [ flat-toned ] Not that kind of difficult.

MEDIC: Yes, yes, XIII-E's obedience is examplary. Usually. However occasionally after either a lengthy or difficult deployment they'll- oh how to put it. Lock up, I suppose?

AID: I.. I see? So is that why they're all-

[ AID gestures vaguely at XIII-E who has not moved of their own volition over the course of the coversation. Their eyes are out of focus, and they don't seem to react to the sudden movement in front of them. AID squints and goes to poke them. ]

GUARD: Hey. Don't.

AID: Alright, alright just- hell. Not really sure what to do about this, I was just told to see them to their quarters. Helios-8's the tech who deals with all the weird FC quirks.

MEDIC: Yes I know, that's why I expected his review to be wrapped up by now. We don't spend weeks on it when a goddamn sparkplug acts up we just fix it and get back to work-

GUARD: Sir. Can we hand them off now.

MEDIC: Oh bloody hell, yes, yes... [ sigh ] I've done the necessary maintenance checks and logged the issues to be addressed. Projected repair period shouldn't exceed a month, as long as the proper tech is returned to his damn job.

AID: Sir I can assure you I will personally make sure Helios-8 is cleared to fix this just so I don't have to deal with it. Promise. [ A mirthful smile ]

MEDIC: Whatever gets it done. Now-

[ the AID is directed to hold XIII-E by their left wrist, avoiding any of the major breakages. He is informed he will have to lead them slowly, as they will follow if pressed but are liable to stumble if pulled too fast. At no point do they react beyond a quiet wince when propelled forward by their accompanying GUARD to get them moving. Eventually, they are led out of the camera's field of view down the hall. ]

[mykingdomforasong]

Skysolo: “quick, kiss me!”

[prompt list]

Han thought the Rebellion might be a good chance to get closer to the young man he'd turned his entire life around for, physically and emotionally. In his experience, military downtime was the perfect opportunity for some ... bonding.

But he hadn't had much bonding time with Luke. The war kept them pulled in different directions, and some days the closest they could get to a conversation, let alone flirting, was making eye contact during a strategy meeting.

They hadn't been totally abstinent, thank the maker. Luke seemed eager to kiss him whenever Han looked at him a little too long, or touched his hair a certain way. Han had even gotten a hand down his pants once (but that didn't last long). But every kiss felt like a chance encounter, a surprise bit of good luck, not a habit.

This reconnaissance mission seemed like the perfect opportunity though. They were undercover now, as they trudged through the low levels of Coruscant, pretending to be lost tourists on their honeymoon. A stroke of genius so good Han couldn't believe he hadn't come up with it. Two womp rats, one shot, as Luke would say. Rebellion heroics and an excuse to be real sweet to Luke.

Han held his hand as they walked, talking in hushed voices about the intel they needed, and then talking in loud voices about the sights and sounds. It wasn't hard for Luke to look so amazed; his blue eyes had been wide with wonder since they landed on the Imp-ridden planet. Han smiled every time he looked over and caught Luke staring up at the hovercars and skyscrapers above him, mouth open in wonder.

"You're good at this tourist act," Han teased.

Luke shoved him. "There's a lot of the galaxy I haven't seen before," he defended.

"You know if you had taken my offer, you'd've seen a lot more of it by now," Han said.

"I'm sure that after a few long hyperspace trips with me, you'd throw me out of the airlock," Luke said.

Han let go of his hand in favor of swinging an arm over Luke's shoulder and pulling him in close. "You? Never." He switched to a more obviously affected, theatrical voice. "You're the love of my life, hubby."

"Hubby?" Luke asked.

"Too much?"

"A bit, I think," Luke said, a smile on his lips.

They walked along the damp sidewalks, illuminated by neon signs advertising cheap restaurants and strippers (some at the same time), until they heard the familiar sounds of plastoid armor clunking its way around the corner.

"There's at least six of them," Luke said, suddenly worried. The two of them were hardly noticeable in their street clothes, but there wasn't a crowd for them to blend it. All the locals had disappeared inside. He turned to try and get into a noodle shop, but they'd locked the doors behind them.

"Kiss me," Han said, "quick."

Luke blinked fast at him. "That never works!"

"It might work!"

"No your plans never work. You get around on luck --"

"It's not luck! I know what I'm doing --"

"--we're stuck alone down here and --"

"--I didn't have anything to do with that --"

Their disagreement turned into a shouting match quick. It had occurred to Han more than once that both Luke and Leia were expert arguers, bypassing whatever the argument was about to get right to his soft, vulnerable, emotional underbelly. Just Han's luck it seemed.

The sound of their shouting and the ambient noise of the city completely distracted Han from the approaching footsteps. He only registered the stormtrooper presence when one of them said: "It's just a lovers quarrel, leave them to it,"

Han and Luke looked over to see three of the troopers turning away from them quickly to march forward.

Han leaned in. "Did we give anything away?"

Luke shook his head. "That worked out better than kissing."

Han pouted. "Maybe, but it wasn't as fun."

Luke smiled. "I had fun."

"I thought the Jedi were supposed to be all peaceful and shit," Han complained, turning to keep walking.

"I thought you didn't believe in the Force," Luke countered.

"Yeah but you do, and as long as you do, I'm gonna help you stay on track ... religiously and all that," Han said.

"And kissing is the way to do that?" Luke asked.

"You never know. Could be," Han said.

"You know ... we're close to the ruins of the old Jedi temple ... we could look for an answer," Luke offered.

"No detours," Han said.

"It's not," Luke protested. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a holo from Leia. "Direct instructions to me."

Han shook his head in confusion. "I wasn't told."

"I figured you wouldn't sign up for the mission if you knew hokey old religions were involved," Luke said.

"I would have, for you," Han argued. "And you could have told me sooner."

"You were bound to find out," Luke said.

Han reached down and took his hand again. The streets were still empty, so it was hard to say this was for their cover. "So ... you wanted me on this mission?"

"Figured you were the best one to pretend to be married to," Luke said, a forced casual tone in his voice that Han noticed right away.

"The best one?" Han Laughed. "Out of how many?"

"The whole base I guess," Luke said. It was rare to get Luke blushing, but he was. Han could almost skip with glee.

"Well --!"

"Han, please, drop it," Luke said.

"Why?" Han asked.

Luke almost seemed to squirm. "Just don't want to joke about it, alright."

Han sobered. "Alright kid," Han said. They walked in silence until they reached the end of the block. "You know, I'm not just messing around with you," Han said. "or trying to hurt you."

"What do you mean?" Luke asked.

Han turned to him. They were standing close enough that Han had to look down just a little to meet his gaze.

"Stop that," Luke said.

"Stop what?"

"Looking at me like that," Luke said.

Han played dumb. "Why?"

"You know why." Luke pressed his lips together tight; Han could see the tension in his brows, but his blue eyes were still looking right into Han's, until they weren't. He glanced down for just a second - to his lips, Han had to assume. And then back up, and then back down, this time lower.

"You can if you want to, baby," Han said. Luke's face relaxed a little. "I want to too."

Luke rediscovered his bravery and leaned up to kiss him, pressing their mouths together in almost the same moment he tangled a hand in Han's hair, another one in the fabric of his shirt. Han was nearly thrown off balance by Luke's enthusiasm, but he managed to match it soon enough.

"Glad to see you two made up," the robotic voice of a Stormtrooper said. They nearly jumped away from each other. "Nothing to worry about," the armored-man assured them, before carrying on.

"Kissing does work," Han said in a hushed voice.

"That was luck," Luke said. Han couldn't disagree.

[thatoneautismwithgreenhair]

please tell me all about your hyperfixation/srs

dude, like I'm so interested now.

the second i saw i got this in my inbox, my laptop shut down, which is a pretty accurate representation of what happened to my brain.

I HAVE SO MANY WHERE DO I EVEN START WOFBORB

idk which you mean so ill simply chapter them :]

I'll also put a list of trigger warnings beneath each chapter name.

Chapter 1: Mouthwashing

TW: R*pe, forced pregnancy, suicide, murder, hallucinations, alcoholism, body horror, injuries.

For those who are unaware, Mouthwashing is a indie game made by Wrong Organ. It follows 5 crew members upon a cargo spacecraft called the Tulpar, run by Pony Express. Curly, the captain, a respectable and intelligent man who's blinded by his own loyalty. Jimmy, the co-pilot, a deeply mentally unwell and dangerous person who's been friends with Curly for presumably years, and Curly is who got him the job at Pony Express. Anya, the nurse, who failed medical school but had enough training to be hired for the job. Swansea, the mechanic, an older man who's stern and surly and frankly quite rude. And Daisuke, the intern mechanic, the youngest in the crew who's mom got him the job so he'd do something with his life. We'd be here for hours if i talked about the symbolism and foreshadowing, and i will include some but not all. Anya is repeatedly sexually abused by Jimmy, to which she tells Curly. However, whether it be he's blinded by his loyalty to Jimmy, know's Jimmy's mental state and therefore pities him, or simply can't comprehend his best friend would do something so disgusting and vile, he unfortunately doesn't do much to stop Jimmy, merely attempting to seperate them as best he can whilst juggling all his other responsibilities. Before the crash of the tulpar, there's a scene between Anya and Curly where they're sat together in the lounge, staring at a large tv screen that takes up a majority of the wall, which displays a fake night sky. Anya describes she actually enjoys coming out to look at the night display, and says that if you look very closely there's a dead pixel in the top right corner. Curly tries, but cannot see it, noting he's used to looking at the bigger picture. Anya then asks when they'll reach their destination, and Curly approximates it to be 237 days, to which hauntingly Anya immediately knows is nearing 8 months. She then asks why Curly thinks Pony Express placed a lock on the medical wing door but not the sleeping quarters, to which Curly responds ''I suppose for the same reason they put a lock on the cock-pit. Safety.'' An unfortunate and rage inducing blindness to Anya's situation, that she 'should' feel safe in the sleeping quarters near her abuser. Later, Anya tells Curly that she's pregnant, hence her asking how long it will be until the journey is over. Curly begs her not to tell Jimmy, that he'll do it. But, she tells him, and she takes a locked box containing a gun that only the captain can open out of fear of Jimmy finding it. Curly doubts this, however he finds Jimmy in the cock-pit, and after searching and failing to find the gun, Jimmy had smashed the control panel. Curly runs to the control panel, only to be hit with the strongest force of the crash of the Tulpar. Curly is left without hands or feet, or skin, only features remaining are one of his eyes and his teeth. Jimmy becomes the new captain, lying saying the now incapacitated Curly was the cause of the crash. Anya does her best to administer him medicine, however she cannot handle the disturbing sights and screams of agony from him. Jimmy takes over this job, but he is rough and violent with the man, saying 'I hope this hurts' whilst forcing the pills down Curly's throat. Swansea refused to let anyone into the utility closet, saying its filled with foam meaning that foam is covering an airlock breach and if anyone goes inside they could all die. I'm running out of space o_o So, i'll have to post this and continue. hehe.

[melindaaskblog]

SMI received a new assignment without much fanfare. 

Another contact testing, as the researchers call it. It was nothing new: An entity was deemed either too dangerous or otherwise difficult to handle, and the researchers wanted it off their hands. The contact was for testing the waters, see if SMI could take over some of the more hazardous work. It made sense - they were designed to handle things human employees feared.

Melinda. SMI very soon learnt the name of the amorphous inky, from the thin, heavily redacted document that offered minimal information for things to work. It’s sentient. Easily agitated. Prone to lashing out. To the surprise of no one, cannot be allowed near human proximity, for reasons unspecified. SMI chalked them down to the usual complications of being kept at Blacksite.

The near-zero toleration towards light was new. It meant SMI’s screen would have to be shut off for the duration of the contact. It’s strange, having to communicate without a face, but they supposed that make them and Melinda to be on equal footing.

— — — — —

“Just do what you do best. Go in there and make a friend.” Was the dry comment SMI heard from the supervisor, before they were sent into the airlock. A list of questions was already downloaded into their mind. SMI was permitted to go off-script, if only slightly; so long as it doesn’t set the entity off.

The inner containment door slid open with a hiss, and the cold air hit immediately. The temperature of the cell was far too cold for a human, but comfortable for SMI. Their internal fans whirred lazily, the cool air a relief to the overworked systems. They stepped inside, and the door sealed them in.

The cell was shrouded in almost complete darkness. SMI scanned the cell, and soon their sensors locked on the only moving object in a room, a pile of blanket. They called out carefully.

- Hello, Melinda.

(Hi hi! excited to finally interact with Mel, hope this is comprehensible and not too wordy.)

(@voice-o-fallacy)

(NONO ITS BEAUTIFUL AND I LOVE IT)

[Melinda would startle from their nap as soon as they heard the faintest noise of the researcher speaking, it's eye rings popping open as it hesitantly peered out from its blanket pile.]

◇... Am I talking to a computer-? You know what? I'm not one to judge. Anyone can be sentient if they want to be.◇

[Melinda's expression would go from mild surprise back to drowsy quickly. Shuffling a bit before sliding a note across the floor.]

`I'm surprised you even came inside the cell. Most scientists are too scared to even go into the first door of the airlock.`

[The void mass would raise up a bit to appear more present, their eyes tilting to the side like some strange cat.]

`I can't tell if you're some kind of computer-based experiment, or just some guy with the least protective mask in the world. Though it doesn't really matter. I'm assuming you're just here to ask another round of pointless questions I won't answer.`

[The blob would cross two tentacles like arms.]

`It's getting painfully dull, you know? Children's toys only go so far, be sure to tell your researcher buddies that.`

[The void mass would gesture to the various toys scattered across the cell floor. A drum, xylophone, colorful rubber ducks, blocks, even a rattle, which seemingly had the most use of all considering the several dents in it. Actually, no, that was probably just from angry throwing.]

[naavispider]

What if Spider never got captured in the forest, and instead winds up in the net with Lo'ak, Tsireya and Tuk in the battle of Three Brothers Rocks?

Part 1

Part 2:

Spider was dragged away across the deck, his feet scraping the hard floor as he tried to dig his heels in, resisting with everything he had. He wouldn't leave Lo'ak and Tuk. What was even happening? That avatar - the one that asked his name - he sounded so much like...

No. It couldn't be. Miles Quaritch was dead.

He hissed as one of the soldiers dragging him away shoved him so harshly that he fell forwards. Immediately, he took advantage of the lack of hands on him and scrambled to his feet, ready to- what? What could he do? He was surrounded by RDA thugs, on a ship in the middle of the ocean. He couldn't make the swim overboard by himself because he couldn't call for an ilu.

He was screwed.

The soldiers quickly grabbed him back, and for a moment Spider was so wrapped up in thinking of an escape plan that he forgot to fight them. His senses quickly caught up though.

"Vonvæ!" He yelled. "Txìm! <Let me go!>" he shouted, throwing every insult under the sun at the ripped RDA grunts.

They ignored his verbal attack, focusing only on the physical, until they eventually shoved him inside an airlock. It was an awkward wait for the pressure to equalise - a tense standoff. "You gonna sleep well tonight huh?" Spider goaded, unable to stop himself, squaring up to the most annoying looking one of the soldiers. His hands were bound behind his back; he knew he was being dumb. "Rest easy knowing you kidnapped kids? With your big guns?" If he wasn't still wearing his mask he'd have spat at the ugly man's smug face.

"Ahh!" he hissed as the soldier shoved him wordlessly out of the airlock when the green light lit up. Spider stumbled into a cold corridor, one with tall sides and glass doors leading off into multiple other rooms. He didn't have much time to look around him though as the uniforms were already pushing him down the corridor. They got to a flight of stairs and descended, then down another - tinges of anxiety sparked in Spider's chest. They were surely below sealevel. He'd never been on a ship before. Was this even safe? How was anyone supposed to find and rescue him down here, so deep in the belly of the demon ship?

He tried to swallow his fear.

Finally he was brought to a small room with no windows. The soldiers shoved him inside and with one last panic-induced ditch effort to fight, Spider flung himself under one of the soldier's outstretched arms.

But to no avail. The other grunt caught him by the shoulders and wrestled Spider into the room, eventually pulling his pistol out from its holster to keep Spider in place.

"Stay down!" the man shouted, as he backed up and away from Spider, leaving him on the floor, alone and scared, as the door swung shut to the cell and the sound of the lock clicking from the other side left a pit of anxiety deep in Spider's chest.

A long time later it seemed to Spider, he heard footsteps coming from the other side of the door. He stood, and pressed himself back against the wall, wishing he at least had the use of his hands to brace himself against the threat.

The lock clicked, and the door opened. When had Spider's breathing got so heavy?

The man that entered the room was 10 feet of lean blue muscle, crouching to fit inside and staring lasers down at Spider. Spider stared straight back.

"How the hell d'you end up here, boy?" The avatar spoke slowly, seriously.

Spider hissed. He wasn't gonna entertain this.

The avatar's mouth curled up in a smirk - it was disturbing. It sent a shiver down Spider's spine. He felt like a piece of prey about to be eaten.

"You really think you're one of them don't you?" The man's eyes roved over Spider's blue stripes, his loincloth and his jewelry. Spider wanted to melt into the floor. "Well don't worry. We got you now. It's time you came home."

Spider's eyes widened. No. "I'm not going anywhere with you, asshole!"

"Is that right?" The man's eyebrows raised. "I suppose I haven't introduced myself... Miles Quaritch, mark 2."

He had been expecting it. He could tell from the videos he'd seen of his father that this was an avatar of his likeness. But Spider still desperately hoped he'd been mistaken, that it couldn't possibly be him. He stepped back even further against the wall.

"That's right Miles. So you see now why you're gonna come back to Bridgehead with me."

Spider shook his head. "Go to hell."

Quaritch took a deep breath, contemplating his next move. "You can come willingly, or you can come... unwillingly. You're gonna learn how to be a decent human instead of a savage, and you're gonna be grateful for it by the end... trust me."

"Fuck you." Spider said in a low voice, terror rippling through him as he fought to keep his voice steady.

"Now that wasn't very nice." Quaritch only needed to take one step closer to grab hold of Spider's face in one hand, leaning down ominously and whispering the next part right next to Spider's ear. "I don't take insubordination."

Spider gasped a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, before Quaritch slammed his head back against the wall, crashing Spider's skull into the metal and causing him to see black spots that covered his vision. He felt something warm where the impact had been, but Quaritch was still holding him by his hair, and he couldn't even raise his bound hands. "You'll soon learn." Quaritch growled, though more to himself or Spider, Spider couldn't tell.

Finally, the man roughly released him and Spider fell to the floor. He desperately wanted to feel the back of his head. "Don't go anywhere!" Quaritch said over his shoulder as he strolled out of the cell, and once again the lock from the other side of the door sealed Spider's fate.

[tagsecretsanta]

From @gumnut-logic

From @gumnut-logic to @gordonthegreatesttracy

Prompts:

Gordon Tracy - living legend, the true story of my Olympic triumph as told by me!

The worst day of Gordon's life.

Stranded on a dessert (not a typo! Bring on the cake) island.

It's not obvious which prompts are making it in because this is just part one of four. Christmas lead up was totally insane so the rest will have to follow after. I hope you enjoy this part in any case ::hugs::

Oh, and language warning. Gordon gets ticked off.

-o-o-o-

Gordon crossed his arms and flipped out of Thunderbird Four, into the dark depths of the Southern Ocean.

The underwater observatory was little more than a shadow at these depths. The South-west Australian continental shelf was a threatening cliff disappearing both above and below.

Gordon might have been miffed at the siting of the habitat, but these were his kind of people - marine scientists delving into multiple lines of enquiry, from pollution through to shark migration in the Leeuwin Marine Ecoregion.

As he swam closer, his headlamps lit up external sensor equipment equivalent to the average aquanaut’s dream. Thunderbird Four was, of course, far superior, but this…this was seriously cool stuff.

Too bad it had no power.

Likely had something to do with the massive boulder sitting on top of half the structure.

“Thunderbird Two, we have containment breach. Looks like a nasty landslide. Poke Johnny and see if there might be any aftershocks? I don’t feel like being pancaked. Check for tsunami threat, too.” He scanned the airlock and found it working and secure. Good. A good, old fashioned wrench with his hands and the lock creaked open.

“FAB, Thunderbird Four. Five is way ahead of you. Quake epicentre has been located and John is monitoring. No tsunami threat at this time.”

“Thank you, Thunderbird Two. I am entering the habitat now.” He sighed with relief when the automatic pumps kicked in and drained the airlock and released the far door. They had emergency power at least. The tension in his shoulders relaxed just a little. At this depth, any power was a sign of hope.

The lack of communication was still a major worry. Johnny had not been happy at all. Worse, he had trouble getting any lifesign readings. Gordon was going in expecting the worst.

He thumbed his external comms as retracted his flippers and he stepped into a deserted, poorly lit hallway. “Seabold, do you read?”

The same silence that Two had received on approach. All Five had was a single shout for help and then nothing.

“Anyone, Seabold Observatory, can anyone hear me? International Rescue, responding to your call.”

Left or right? Dull strip lighting went both ways. He pulled up the base plans on his HUD. Command was to the left.

So he went left.

It was eerie. Windows were few and far between and the darkness, likely broken by strong external lighting on a non-disaster day, was oppressive and unrevealing.

And there was no-one.

“I repeat, anyone aboard Seabold, do you hear me?”

“I hear you! Oh, thank god!” And there was suddenly a guy just there, in Gordon’s face.

The aquanaut yelped and jumped back a step.

“International Rescue? You’re here to save us?” A helmet hid their face and the emergency yellow of their drysuit obscured any identification.

But Gordon was a professional. Yes, yes he was. “Yes, we’re here to help. How many of you are there?”

“Four in total. This way!” The figure turned and ran, leading him down the dark hallway.

Gordon followed at pace. Only four? There were supposed to be almost fifty. Gordon had been following this project in his journals. It was a fantastic venture. He had intended to see if he could visit sometime, maybe take Sam or even Penelope. She would have loved this project.

“Only four?”

“Fortunately, it’s Christmas. Just about everyone is on leave. If it wasn’t for Mary, we would have left with the rest of them.”

They turned a last corner and hurried through an open airlock and into a large room.

There was no doubt this was command. A good-sized window leaked darkness on one side, and on the other…there were three survivors huddled around a console.

“Mary! International Rescue are here to save us!” Two of them looked up, hope in their eyes. None of the three had their helmets on, though they were clearly in their emergency suits. The third was fully focussed on the control panel before her. “Mary!”

“Not until we release Betty.” She punched a few buttons, glaring at the console as if to set it on fire.

“Betty? Who’s Betty?” So five rescuees.

Mary, a dark woman, almost as dark as the ocean outside, glared at him. “I’m not leaving Betty. It’s our fault she is here.” The bulkheads above them creaked as if in warning.

Okay, they needed to start moving. “I repeat, who is Betty?”

The helmeted figure beside him animated. “A great white shark.”

Gordon blinked. “You have a great white shark captive?” Was that even possible?

“Not captive.” Mary was glaring at her instrumentation. “She’s was only supposed to be in the pen for a matter of minutes, enough for a tag and GPS relay. If this damned rock hadn’t…goddamnit!” She thumped the console. “There’s no power!”

Gordon’s lips thinned. “Show me.”

Mary looked up and frowned at him a moment before waving him over. “She’s there. On the far side of the complex. The pens escaped damage, but their power has been cut.” She grabbed his arm. “If we leave her, she will die. She can’t get out.”

Gordon was doing calculations in his head. “Thunderbird Five, I need to know the power requirements for the facility’s pens.” Before John could ask him what the hell he was talking about, he threw him a scan of the details on the console.

Pens weren’t in the original plans for this project.

Moments later Eos returned the numbers he needed. Yes, if he plugged Four in to this port, spliced a few wires to give John access to these systems, they should be able to get the gates open.

“Okay, we’ve got this. We’ll rescue Betty. But first I need you four in Four.”

Four puzzled looks.

“My Thunderbird, we need to get you out of here.”

“I’m not leaving Betty.” Mary’s stance rooted to the floor.

“Mary, you have my word that I will do my upmost best to free Betty.” He put everything into communicating his sincerity. “I promise.”

“If she stops swimming she will drown.”

“I know, there’s a qualified marine biologist under all this rescue equipment. I get it, I do. But you’re first.”

For a moment he feared she might refuse, but… “You can do this?”

“I can, but I need you safe first and we’re wasting time.”

Her eyes closed as if in prayer for the briefest of moments. Under her breath, “Okay.”

“Are you the only four aboard?”

A single nod as she reached for her helmet. “The rest are on Christmas leave. The four of us stayed back to shut the base down. We were supposed to depart tomorrow, but then Betty turned up and it was the perfect opportunity…until the quake.”

He gathered the four of them like ducklings, each fastening helmets as they moved. Mary looked back at the console one more time, but was then all business.�� “I’m the leader of the expedition. She gestured as they moved down the dark corridor towards the airlock Gordon had used earlier. “That’s Joseph, Joshua and Ralph…” She pointed to the tall, helmeted man who had initially startled Gordon. “He’s our deep dive specialist.”

Didn’t hurt to know that. Gordon approved. A small smile in her direction before they finally reached the airlock. Fortunately, it was big enough for all of them at once and checking individual equipment at speed, Gordon was grateful to get a comms connection with all of them. The lack of contact prior still sat eerily in the back of his mind, but it would have to wait. In any case, when the outer door was cranked open and they were freed to the sea, Gordon only felt relief.

Four sat not far off, her lights and brilliant yellow glow a beacon in the darkness.

For once, there were no rescuees sporting any injuries, and this was a group of professionals in their element. Definitely his kind of people.

“Thunderbird Two, I have four rescuees. We are returning to Four. There is a fifth rescuee who needs attention before we surface.” Did Virgil need to know he was rescuing a great white shark?

“FAB, Thunderbird Four. Any injuries?”

“None reported.” With all four aboard, he activated the pumps that would drain the airlock. His heart beat to the throb of his ‘bird at work.

As the inner airlock opened, he gestured a little grandly. “Welcome aboard Thunderbird Four, best little sub on the planet. Please keep your helmets on for safety. We will get underway shortly, but first we need to go save Betty.” A smile and he caught Mary staring at him. He gestured again. “Please take a seat and secure yourselves.”

He eyed them as they locked themselves in. Once set, he flipped himself into his cockpit and with a flex of his wrists, launched them off the ledge.

Four’s spots broke up the darkness as he darted nimbly around the partially destroyed habitat. They lit up crumpled living quarters and…his sensors spat static for a moment before clearing again. “What the hell?”

He didn’t have time to think twice as the pens abruptly came into view. It became very clear why the setup was not on the original plans. They were obviously jury-rigged, a collection of giant cages.

In one of them a huge shark was swimming in circles.

Under his breath, he cursed. “Mary, what the hell are you doing out here?” He flicked his comms. “Thunderbird Five, are you getting this?”

“Affirmative, Thunderbird Four. Recording.” The frown in John’s voice was satisfying to hear.

“Keep at it, Five. I need to go save me a shark.”

“Gordon?”

“Got one more rescue. Won’t take a moment.” And it shouldn’t. He brought Four around and activating one of her arms, pulled up her external connector and plugged her into the system. “Five, you should have control.”

“Receiving.” That frown in John’s voice was getting deeper.

“Can you release the hatch?”

“Working.”

It was Gordon’s turn to frown.

“It’s receiving and acknowledging commands but I can’t get a positive response. Give me a moment. Eos, could you please give me a hand?”

Gordon waited, staring up at the trapped shark. Stats on the vulnerabilities of great whites spun through his head. No-one had ever managed to keep one of the huge hunters in captivity, much less in such a confined space for an extended period of time. Getting her out was a major priority. He could understand why Mary was so…determined.

“I’m sorry, Four, response is negative. We can’t get the hatch open.”

He had already done the calculations. Four was too big to fit between the tangle of cables and cages.

“FAB, Thunderbird Five. I’m on it.”

“Gordon, that is a very large shark-“

“Yeah, isn’t she beautiful?”

Virgil cut into the conversation. Gordon had been wondering at which point he would get the predictable mother-henning on the issue. “Gordon, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Saving someone who needs help.” Holding up his arms and leaning forward, he triggered the command for his exo-suit. The robotics unfolded from the cabin walls, fastening the selected kit to his drysuit. A moment later, he crossed his arms and flipped out backwards through his airlock.

As always, the water welcomed him. A swift kick with the ultra-long flippers and he was flying towards the cage.

“Gordon, I don’t like this.”

“Calm down, big bro. Betty’s cool, aren’t you girl?” Floating outside of the cage he was dismayed to discover that he hadn’t been quick enough to prevent injury. Betty’s snout appeared to have borne several impacts with the cage bars. Goddamnit, Mary, what were you thinking?!

“It’s okay, lovely, we’ll get you out.” Balling his right fist, Gordon deployed his laser sword. Well, Brains called it a U-cutter, but ‘laser sword’ was so many kinds of cooler.

The metal bars holding the gate didn’t stand a chance.

Steam boiled off his cutter and he was ever thankful for the exo-suit’s extra protection. A slash or two and the gate fell away. He retracted his sword.

And was faced with the sharp end of a very agitated great white shark.

There was only a split second of realisation before Betty swooped past in a panic, her pectoral fin catching him and throwing him into a spin chaotic enough he couldn’t avoid her tail.

He had one moment of gratitude of being missed by her mouth only to receive a solid whack to his mid-section which sent him flying. Before he could curse himself for being too stupid to move out of the way fast enough, he slammed into another of the cages and something in his back…

…cracked.

Fuck.

His body locked up in pain, the focus radiating out from his lower back, up his spine and around his ribcage.

Oh god.

He couldn’t move. Everything hurt oh so much. A litany of profanity bounced around in his head.

Fortunately, Betty didn’t seem to care. She didn’t even look back as she darted out past Thunderbird Four and into the darkness.

Gordon began to drift in her wake.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

The water pushed him deeper into the mess of pens and all their connecting cables.

Okay, calm. You are fine. You’ve worked through this before.

Just not in the middle of a rescue.

His shoulder brushed up against one of the cages and his back flared. He cried out.

Goddamnit! Now was not the time for tears in his eyes. They blurred his vision and he couldn’t rub his face.

“Gordon?” Virgil’s voice was worried.

“Hey, Virgil.” He did his best to keep the gasp out of his voice. His medic brother had sixth, seventh and eighth sense when it came to injury.

“Thunderbird Four, report your status.”

Shit.

“All good. Just taking a moment.” How much could his brothers read off his suit sensors? Did Virgil have a ‘Gordon has triggered his long-term spinal injury and is in some serious pain’ indicator amongst all those buttons on his dash?

No. His brother had probably just noticed his lack of movement.

Movement.

Movement would be nice.

And a warm bath.

A bucket of medication wouldn’t hurt.

He was still drifting away from Thunderbird Four. Now was not the time to regret not including his propulsion unit with his exo-suit this time. He really hadn’t had to swim very far to reach Betty. Not far at all.

But now Thunderbird Four was so, so far away.

He couldn’t stay here.

“Gordon, what’s wrong?” Virgil’s voice was soft and the ever-caring big brother, despite the mission at hand.

“I’m good. Betty has been released.” And? Virgil didn’t need to ask for Gordon to know the next question. “Heading back to Thunderbird Four now.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Four.”

Was Virgil convinced? Gordon hoped so. If he couldn’t get out of this stupid predicament...

His slow drift brushed him up against another cage, but before he could collide with it proper, his fingers wrapped around a bar and he brought his drift to a halt.

Pain flashed through him. Shit.

Harsh breathing and the pumping blood in his ears.

Four so far away.

Fuck.

-o-o-o-

TBC

[thecoffeenebula]

Jennifer the energy drainer

Strange New Worlds

Scotty Fanfiction

Warnings: none

You have been working with a difficult person for the past few weeks and you are done with it. You walk up to your boyfriend Scotty who is trying to calm you down from the whole situation.

“ARRGGHHHHHH” you come walking into the engineering room. Scotty almost fell of his chair as you entered.

“Jesus Christ, are you alright?”

You give him the side eyed look. You were frowning. Everything you frowned you at two small wrinkles above your eyebrows, which sometimes made it look as if you had two extra sets of eyebrows. Scotty always found that very cute.

You did not even respond to his question. It made him stand up and follow you around the room. You noticed of course but tried to keep him in the background. You were angrily grabbing the stuff you needed for your next job.

“I am going to throw her out of an airlock.”

Scotty chuckled. All the pieces fell together for him now.

“Ahh, Jennifer.”

“Yes, Jennifer. If she says one more word…”

“Then what?” Scotty chuckles softly.

“Then she better run.”

Scotty thinks it is adorable when you are angry. Scary but adorable. He knows not to mess with you when you are angry. But to see you so furious about some stupid girl who has nothing on her makes it very adorable. He tries to turn you around, grabbing your upper arms. At first you refuse as you just want to focus on the task ahead, as frustrated as you are now. But after struggling for a few seconds you let him turn you around to face him.

“Why do you keep letting her into your head? She is not worth your energy.”

You drop your tricorder onto the table. “I know, she just makes it very difficult…” her eyes lock onto Scotty’s eyes.

“Nothing I do is good enough. ‘you have to keep it higher otherwise it won’t work.’ ‘No, don’t put that on, that won’t look good’ ‘would you do that.’ ‘oh has she not done that yet, I will go tell her to’… it drives me crazy. You know how many times I wanted to hand her all my stuff and tell her to do it on her own.”

Your eyes become watery. “As long as her back is free that everything is okay. Everything she says and does is so empty. There is literally nothing to it. She is such a narcissistic bitch!” You throw the equipment in your other hand to the panel opposite to you.

It shocked Scotty that you were throwing with stuff. He really noticed that you were done. You had been working with her for more than a week. She was supposed to stay for only one week, but due to a stupid malfunction she sticked along. You and Scotty figured out that she was not the smart one of the group, as she knew nothing about fixing it.

“How is she an engineer? She does no engineering work… we have to do all the works, she just commandeers us around! And she is not even the commander, Scott! She is not!”

You burst out into tears, your bucket has become full of working with a person like this. She only cared about herself, her looks and her image, everything else she did not bother to care for. She walked around like she was everything, like she had her back free of stuff.

You knew she was insecure. It was undoubtedly the problem. Her insecurity shined through so brightly. But she was one of those people who could not bare to see other people thrive so she kept blewing out their candles.

Scotty wraps his arms around her, as you were in dire need of a hug. You were sobbing. Sobbing so hard that it was difficult to grasp for air.

“It’s okay” he softly kisses your head.

“It’s okay to be upset about it. She is a witch, a horrible wicked witch of a person.”

“Witch…. More like bitch” you said softly. You both chuckled.

“What a bitch, she is.”

You looked up at him.

“If she is such a bother, why do we not report it to captain Pike. He notices her behaviour too, he should now about how much this is bothering you. This is not a healthy work environment for you right now.”

You nodded.

“We could do that, but I just want to be capable of standing up to myself.”

“I get that, and you will. I can train you.”

You smiled at him

“You would do that?”

He nods “For the cutest girl of the ship, I most certainly would.”

It makes you blush even more.

“Thank you.”

Scotty moved closer to her. “But only on one condition…” he smiled brightly. You knew instanly what it meant.

“If that is all…” you moved in closer to and kissed him. As you pulled back Scotty pulled you back in again. “No, just a little more.” You smiled.

After the kiss Scotty still told her he was going to make a notice of it at captain Pike, as it was distrupting his duty as well. You agreed with him. The both of you walked out and had a drink at the deck. Talking about how you could defeat this ‘Jennifer’ with the power of you.

[jpitha]

Just a Little Further 9

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Standing in front of the line of us waiting for the airlock to cycle, I don't think I've ever been this nervous! Even during my graduation, waiting to find out if I was selected for FarReach's mission, nothing was as nerve wracking as this. But, I had to be strong. I was going to represent humanity and K'laxikind here. I took a deep breath, held it for two, and let it out through my nose. Here we go.

The outer lock door cycled and the first thing that I noticed was the smell of the umbilical. It wasn't bad so much as it was unfamiliar. My nose was inundated with smells I've never smelled before. Starbases have a smell about them. They're self contained units where sometimes thousands of sapients will live work and play together, of course they're going to smell. Doesn't matter how fastidious you are about cleaning, something just permeates the walls. This was list that but...different. The smells of thousands of sapients I've never seen before.

The second thing I noticed was how warm it was! It was warm and moist like a hot summer day. We don't normally keep our Starbases this warm or moist. Moisture promotes corrosion and heat is cheap to make, but expensive to dissipate. It was odd.

I walked down the short umbilical until I reached the door to the Starbase. Like ours, it was an iris type door. Maybe that's universal. "FarReach, you're sure the gases on the other side are breathable?" I asked, one last time.

"Sensors indicate that they're pretty close to Earth and K'lax, Melody." FarReach said kindly. "The specific gas mixture is a little different. A touch more xenon than what we use, maybe just a bit less carbon dioxide. Oxy levels are fine though, you can breath it no worries."

"Okay then, here goes..." and I touched the pad by the iris.

With a whoosh, it snapped open. That's way faster than home, I was startled. I looked out, surprised and I saw them.

It was a group of 6 sapients in front, with a small crowd behind them. Three of them had iridescent feathers! They looked almost like gigantic birds! They had wings even! I wonder if they could fly. The other three were more like they were a sea creature long in their past. They had tentacles they stood on, and looked like they had no bones. If you squinted, maybe they looked like Octopuses, but they didn't really look like octopuses. Just the tentacles and the lack of bones and the large, wet eyes, though they weren't dripping or anything. They were standing apart though. With a large space between them. That's odd. I would have figured that they would be all together.

One of the bird looking ones took a step forward and said "Welcome! This is Reach to the Might of Vzzx. I am Starlight on a Moonless Evening, this is The Smell Of The Ocean and there is Rapid River Roaring."

They took a step back and then, one of the octopus people took a step forward. "Welcome from us as well! I am Vivvix, this is Zemmlin and over here is Ottarn."

Then, Vivvix took a step back and waited. This must be some kind of ritual. Mentally, I shrugged and took a step forward. I took a breath and said "Thank you for your warm welcome! My name is Melody Mullen, with me is my Captain Selem Q'ari, our linguist Fer’resi Perinem and one of our engineers, Omar Adel." At each mention of their names, everyone nodded or did something to indicate which person I was talking about. Fer'resi did a little wave even!

After I finished and the ritual seemed complete, I took a step back. Only then, did I notice how they reacted.

Maybe the nano bots programed me with some extra ability to tell facial expressions, but everyone seemed shocked.

Like, if they were humans, they'd be jaws on the floor shocked.

Uh oh. This keeps happening.

One of the bird people, The Smell of the Ocean I think, spoke. "S-So, you can understand us?" They asked haltingly.

I nodded, then realizing they might not know that gesture said "Yes, I can understand you..." Was I not supposed to be able to? "Can you understand me?"

The Smell of The Ocean's feathers ruffled. Maybe they were embarrassed? They were uncomfortable about something. "A bit, yes. But you are..." They stopped. Their head rotated slightly. Their eyes are more forward on their face than Earth birds so they must have binocular vision but for the life of me it looked like they were trying to get a look at me out of both eyes. Maybe an ancient instinct that has turned into body language. They took a deep breath and started again. "I am speaking my people's standard spacefaring tongue. You can understand me?"

"Yes" I said, puzzled.

They did their version of a nod. I wonder how I knew that? They spoke again "Now, I am speaking the language of the Northern Continent of my people's home planet. It hasn't been spoken outside of legal briefings for five thousand cycles. Today, it is more a ceremonial language than anything. Only people like me can understand it, and even then only haltingly. I was a student of it, and so can speak it fluently. There are fewer than one thousand of us." They stopped and stared at me. "Do you understand me?"

My eyes went wide. "Y-Yes, I understand you." I answered quietly.

With an expression that I could only describe as their version of raised eyebrows, Zemmlin looked at them, then at me, and spoke. "I see what they are doing, let me try. I am speaking my people's home planetary language. My... colleague The Smell of the Ocean here does not understand it. Do you?"

Horror dawned. "Y-Yes, I understand it." I whispered.

It was my turn to reply. "When you speak to me, and I reply, am I replying in your language, or the same language every time?"

Starlight on a Moonless Evening replied this time. "Every time you speak, you are replying in the Holy Tongue."

I blinked. The what?

"I'm sorry, the what?"

Starlight made a gesture that I knew was a shrug. I couldn't tell you how I knew though. "The Holy Tongue. The language of the Gods. The words of the Builders."

That last one struck a chord. "Do you mean the builders of the Warp Gates?"

Rapid River Roaring laughed. "Who else would we mean, Holy One?"

Ugh, and I thought being called Lieutenant was bad.

Vivvex came forward now and said "It seems we all have something to learn from each other. We would like to learn how you came to us though the Warp Gates which we thought were long deactivated and are speaking The Holy Words and you... probably have things to ask us too. Do you take food? Come. It's meal time for us. We can eat and speak afterwards."

"L-let me talk to my companions for a moment please."

Vivvex nodded and took a step back. I turned around can faced everyone. "Okay, how much of that did you get?" I asked.

Fer'resi was the first to reply. "Um Melody, how many languages do you know? I noticed they kept taking turns talking to you in clearly different languages and you replied every time."

"I think I know... all of them" I said awkwardly. "I know, it sounds crazy, but they said I'm speaking "The Holy Tongue."

"The what?" Omar asked, incredulous.

"I know, right? I think they mean the language of the builders of the Warp Gate. Oh! They also said they thought the Gate was disabled until we came through it."

"Disabled?" Captain Q'ari said, thinking. "Given what we saw at the previous address, I hope we didn't unlock the door for something to come through here."

I didn't even think of that. "Oh shoot. I hope you're right." I clicked my radio "Hey FarReach, Gene, please keep an extra sharp eye out for anything following us through the Warp Gate. The locals say they thought it was disabled until we came through it."

"You got it Melody." Gene replied. "How's the meet and greet going?"

"I don't know Gene. I think they think I'm a living God."

"In a good way, or a bad way?" Gene asked in that joking but not really tone that humans use sometimes.

"Too soon to tell." I said honestly. "We're about to go to lunch I think,"

"Ooh, tell me if you eat anything good, tell me and I'll try it when I get to go ashore."

"Will do Gene. You take care. FarReach, I admit this is a long shot but how's the language model coming?"

FarReach chuckled. "I was just chatting with Fer'resi. It's tough to build a language model when you can understand everyone but keep replying in one language. We're getting something though. Fer'resi thinks it might be enough to be understood. We're going to be replying in your language though. If they really think it's a Holy Tongue, they might be uncomfortable at that. They must have translators though, let's see if we can buy or borrow one. That'll help."

"Good Idea. They invited us to lunch or something, so I'll ask then."

I turned to Captain Q'ari. "They want to invite us to lunch. Do you want me to say yes?"

Selem's ears twitched in a way that signaled resignation and frustration. Hah. I think I can tell K'laxi expressions better with these nano machines helping too! "We should probably accept, yes." She turns and looks at us. "Did everyone bring their portable mass spectrometers?"

We all have a small mass-spec on our wrists. It can scan food and drink and make sure there aren't any obviously poisonous things or K'laxi allergens in it. It won't tell us if things taste good, but it'll tell us if we can eat them without going into anaphylactic shock or ruining our livers.

Nods of yes all around. "Go ahead and accept the invitation Melody." Huh. She didn't call me Lieutenant Mullen. Interesting.

I turn back around. "After a little deliberation with my team, we would be grateful to accept your invitation to dine together. Please lead the way."

Again, they are taken aback at my speech. I have a hunch that they're just not used to someone speaking to them in the language I'm speaking to them in. It's like a language they have only read or studied in school and here I was talking to them in it like it was normal.

At least they mostly understood me, and I can apparently understand them in any language they speak.

Starlight bowed low and spread their wings and said "Wonderful. Please follow me."

They lead us away from the dock and as we walked I looked around.

The Starbase was different than the Joint K'laxi/Human Starbase I lived on before embarking. It was more...organic? Maybe it was a function of the fact that I think it was built out of an asteroid, but it definitely felt more grown than built in places. There were curves and smooth walls and dark grey and browns. The lighting was more organic feeling than back home too. It was warm and bright and led an airiness to the Starbase that it would be lacking otherwise. We were pretty far from this system's star and we were not in orbit around a planet, so the cheeriness was appreciated.

And the people! All kinds of people. I saw more of the bird people, more of the octopus people and so many others. There were these large bipedal beings in very complicated looking pressure suits. Maybe they're from a world that uses a different breathing mixture than here. There were ones with long legs with knees that were almost parallel with their heads! They had large segmented eyes like an insect and it always felt like they were watching us as we walked by.

Come to think of it, everyone was watching us as we walked by.

They weren't too happy about it.

My newfound ability to know everyone's body language was ringing alarm bells. Everyone hated to see us. Especially the Bird and Octopus people.

We turned a corner and came upon what I figured was the main promenade.

I nearly lost my footing I was so startled. It was gigantic! Far larger and more dense than any city I ever visited on Meíhuā. I've never been to Earth, but I bet this was more crowded than some Earth cities! It was so tall too. More than 200 meters straight up if I had to guess. There were windows and lights and signs all the way up.

While we were walking Fer'resi was trying his best to speak with The Smell of The Ocean. I could understand both of them, so it was a little odd to hear.

"Um, what about this. Hello?"

"Oh, I got that one! Hello!"

"Amazing! Try this: My name is Fer'resi, what's yours?"

Ocean shook his feathers sadly "I didn't get that, friend."

Fer'resi made notes in his pad. This time, his translator spoke "Do you understand this?

Ocean rippled surprise. "I do understand it. But your accent is very thick. How did you do that?"

Fer'resi smiled. "Our Ship, FarReach helped. We're working together to build a language model. If you have a translator we can purchase or borrow, we can refine it further."

Ocean made an expression that I knew was a nod. "We do have them. I'll make sure you get one, yes. You can even keep it to help refine your language model, provided you provide us with an update so we can update our translators as well."

Fer'resi frowned and made more notes. "I got the majority of that, but I missed part of it. Oh well. We'll get more accurate with time."

I had a thought. "Hey Fer'resi. Speak to me in English."

"Um okay." He thought a moment. "Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of the party."

"Coming to the aid of what party?" I asked, confused.

He chuckled. "It's apparently old filler text that people used to use on mechanical type writing machines. It's nonsense. But, you did understand it?"

"I did. It was easy."

"I have a feeling Melody, that you now can understand every language. I have no idea what those nano machines did, but they clearly edited the language processing part of your brain. I wonder what the limitations of it are. We should experiment later."

"Sure Fer'resi, we can do that."

Vivvix turned back to me "Holy One, why are you armed?" We notice the weapons on your back."

ughhh, I hate that. "Please don't call me Holy One, my name is Melody. I'm armed because we weren't sure what to expect and we wanted to come prepared. I'm the only one armed because I'm the best shot here, and we didn't want to come across as warlike with us all being armed. It was a compromise."

Vivvix's skin subtly changed color, a nod. Neat! "I see, thank you... Melody. Will you be armed in future visits?"

I shrugged. "I don't know yet." I said carefully. If everyone is... not a threat then... I don't see a reason to come armed next time."

Vivvix gave their version of a smile, but I was able to tell it was fake. "That's very nice to hear. Thank you"

Now that sounded menacing. I think I'm going to continue coming to this Starbase armed.

Rapid River Roaring led us towards a large stone looking building near the center of the promenade. It was either very old or meant to look very old. In front were a fountain and a statue of a being in a pressure suit looking out onto the promenade making a grand gesture. The fountain and the statue were carved in the same stone of the Starbase. "Here we are. It's the administration offices for Reach of the Might of Vzzx. There is a cantina here that offers many different kinds of food. I'm sure we can find something pleasing for you to consume here."

As they approached the building Captain Q'ari stopped dead. She was staring at the statue and was clearly frightened, almost shaking. Fer'resi, noticing her, followed her gaze and also immediately was frightened. "M-Melody." Fer'resi said, his voice catching. "Look at the statue."

I turned at looked at it and gasped. Omar noticed us, followed our gaze and softly said "holy shit."

It was a human woman.

Part 10

[tobiasdrake]

Going to unpack this mystery. Hopefully it will start to make more sense as we move deeper into the Labyrinth.

Oh cool, Vivia's spiritual awareness allows him to retain his knowledge within the Labyrinth. That means he probably will remember our conversation. He'll know exactly what happened when somebody dies.

Awkward.

If we see weird spirit phantoms of Fubuki and Vivia, we'll know Yakou did it. The phantoms always take the form of people who are obstructing the truth of the case. If our fellow Master Detectives are in here, then they're hiding something about Yakou.

Yomi, I fully expect to see here. His determination to close the case with little regard for accuracy is definitely obstructing.

Okay, our first question is....

Blank. Our first question is blank. There is no question.

Y'know what? Sure. Given what a gigantic WTF this case has been thus far, that makes sense.

That fits, actually. Most cases, we go in and begin looking for answers. But much of this case has been spent wandering in the dark trying to figure out what the questions even are. Before we could find what we don't know, we had to figure out what we don't know.

It naturally follows that before we begin to answer questions, we must first decide what questions to even answer.

This is where we're starting? It's a good place to start. The Most Locked-est Room Ever presents a great deal of question marks to be unwrapped.

It's either Jawline or Yakou. We shouldn't settle on an answer just because it feels right.

Amaterasu insider who was selling company secrets with Huesca either hired Jawline or is Jawline. We don't even know for certain that Fink the Slaughter Artist ever set foot on the premises. The details don't quite match his M.O.

There's some doubt. I think the Fink Knife we found with Yakou was bloodless. But I'm not 100% on that one. We don't have a picture of it in our Solution Keys, so I may have misinterpreted that detail.

Okay, I know Kodaka likes to reference various pieces of popular anime and video games, but that is shamelessly Sephiroth. Not even subtle about it.

So, first challenge of the Labyrinth: Did Yuma kill Dr. Huesca?

Uh. No.

Somebody was in the lab. There is no question about that. The killer knocked Ama Pal over, leaving a shoeprint on its head, so they could get out without being spotted by Ama-Pal's camera.

They then ???. I thought before that they concealed themselves behind the heavy security door. But now I think they sprinted all the way down the hall and threw themselves into an airlock decontamination vent. You can't use it to travel but you can use it to hide.

They remained in there while Yomi and his crew entered the lab. Then, once the coast was clear, snuck out and ran into....

Either they were Jawline and they ran into Yakou or they were Yakou and they ran into Jawline.

Bingo. I thought it seemed like an awfully long jog to make without being seen, but Ama-Pal is so slow that I suppose it would be possible.

That explains how they got out, but not in.

The biggest unsolved question mark is being asked outright. Okay. I do not know the answer, but none of these seem right either. How. Ever.

Okay. So.

"Deactivated security by cutting power." Nope. That's impossible. Inner lab is on its own power grid. The blackout wouldn't have done that.

"Invited in by Doctor." What, to die? Huesca was paranoid that someone was out to get him, specifically someone shady. Absolutely not. Plus, the security log says he never deactivated the system in 90 days.

"Never entered in the first place." That. Seems. What? We just proved he was in the lab.

This is an impossible choice. But I'm going to go with "Never entered". It feels the least wrong. If that makes sense.

I have no idea where Yuma is going with this. Unless we're splitting hairs between Jawline and Yakou, and this is an elaborate way of saying Yakou did it. I dunno.

That is not what Yuma's saying.

...that better not be what Yuma's saying. Walk with me to this pier. The doctor killed himself. Then he kicked over Ama-Pal. Then he hid in the decontamination chamber. A perfect solution!

Oh, is that what we're doing? Not picking the answer that's right but proving why each of the available options is wrong? That makes way more sense.

...or did I simply make bad choices?

No, I do not know why Zeus is flashing us. I can't think about that right now.

Super hard to do that to yourself.

But even harder to posthumously assault the next person who comes through that door.

So that leaves us with "Deactivated security by cutting power" which is wrong and "Invited in by doctor" which is wrong.

Let's try the Deactivated Security door.

No, he did not. Separate power grid. Lab's security system was unaffected by the blackout.

There was a blackout. Jawline was down in the electrical room setting that up. He killed the main power, forcing the system to rely on backup power for a while. But to what end, we have no idea, because it didn't help anyone access the inner lab.

By process of elimination, this means Huesca must have invited the killer into the lab! Except a) he wouldn't, b) he didn't, and c) what?

Not without killing the security measures via the shutoff switch, he wouldn't.

The security measures that haven't been killed in 90 days. If Huesca invited someone in, they would have been gassed, electrocuted, and died. Though Huesca wanted to see that happen so maybe he would, just for funsies.

BZZAT All three answers are as wrong as they appeared to be! Nothing is possible! Of what we have here, anyway.

We have no idea how the killer entered. But we have a highly comprehensive understanding of how they didn't. Too bad we're playing prosecution, not defense.

What do we have this time? It's not the blackout. It's not the shutoff switch. And it's not a suicide. The killer got in somehow.

He had no way to disable security, which only fuels my theory that he didn't. He got gassed and now he's dying. In a room full of his colleagues, while Halara tries to give him CPR.

What. How. What. That's not a thing you can do. Spectral Projection doesn't allow you to touch, be heard, or possess bodies.

Also, if the killer (which in this case would be Vivia) could somehow enter via Spectral Projection, why wouldn't they leave the same way?

...well, not necessarily true that it would be Vivia. Yakou might be able to project too, given that weird moment where he talked to us. This still feels... weird, though. It violates the established rules of Spectral Projection. It wouldn't be possible.

Right. The reason this seemed entirely out-of-left-field IMPOSSIBLE is because it's incredibly super-impossible. This was a crack theory and I have no idea why the Labyrinth chucked it at us.

Also, Huesca clearly saw his assailant in the room with him. Ama-Pal felt the assailant exit. There was nothing ghosty about this.

The problem is that we're trying to figure out how the killer beat the traps. But he didn't. He's dying from them as we speak.

...at least in theory. I still don't know how Yakou or Jawline would have made it past the panel room.

It has to be Yakou. The true answer isn't manifesting because, subconsciously, Yuma doesn't want to think about it. He doesn't want to follow that thread to where it leads.

Whoever walked through the gas chamber would be dying right now.

Only someone with access to Fubuki can beat the panel room. She was with us when the murder happened. But maybe she helped Yakou crack it beforehand, then hung around and waited for us to create an alibi.

...but that still doesn't work, because Yakou went the opposite direction from the inner lab when we split up. He had no way to pass by us. That's the fatal flaw in the Yakou Did It theory, which we still haven't answered.

It makes more sense than not that Yakou killed Huesca but it doesn't seem possible.

And then, only using Fubuki's rewind ability. The panel room fries Ama-Pal if it steps on the wrong panel so it's hardly better than going in person.

But Robot Researcher only had one functioning Ama-Pal, and that's the one we used. Whoever used Ama-Pal would need to have learned the trick in adv--

Wait a second. Tick tick tick oh. Robot Researcher can't be Jawline, but he could be Jawline's client. If he's Huesca's co-conspirator then that might explain his intense vitriol.

The reason all of the Ama-Pals aren't functioning could be that Robot Researcher used them to brute-force the panel room passcode. Then passed that information along to Jawline when putting out the hit.

Our one functioning Ama-Pal is simply the one that finally found the right combination.

[helianskies]

Alone

They sit on opposite sides of a door.

"I'm not leaving," one says, leaning against that which cruelly separates them. "I am not going to leave you here alone."

"You have to," the other replies, muffled, solemn. "It's my fault, I should have been faster."

"No," the first returns. He feels anger, but only towards himself. "I let go. I let go of your hand…"

"…I don't blame you for this. Not for any of it, okay?" the second concludes. "Please don't stay for me. You have to go on for all of us, Tonho."

And just like that, Antonio starts to cry. It feels impossible, the end of the road. His eyes well up, his cheek twitches, he clenches his fists, his chest burns, and he tries not to make a sound. He does not want to succumb to his frustration, just as… he does not want João to picture his sadness through the mechanised door that has locked, and split them up for good.

This fate is not the fate that João deserves. None of them have deserved this. And now, thanks to a dangerous hiss and a protecting shove, Antonio is the only one who is still alive from their humble crew of seven.

"I don't want you to be here," João then starts to say. Unlike Antonio, his own pain is not masked, and it only breaks the other's heart more. "I don't want you to be here when this module is… is disengaged, do you understand?"

"No," Antonio protests again, however. "I told you, I— I am not leaving you here alone. I— I-I—" 

A wave hits him. He has to stop, hand smacking against metal, and try to swallow it down before his grief consumes him and steals his voice. But it is hard. It is so, so hard. 

They have known each other for so long, and so deeply, that for this to be how they say 'goodbye' to each other feels like death. And it is death. It is inevitable, and more terrifying than Space itself.

How it has come to this remains a mystery that Antonio fears may never be solved. A malicious computer virus, a sentient programme, a sadistic piece of malware—whatever it is, it has spent the last hour slowly picking them all off and now—a severed oxygen supply, an airlock release, and even a fatal crushing—… and now only Antonio, a lone technician, remains.

They have been up there, sailing amongst the stars on the space station, for a week. The whole mission itself was supposed to last six months—an unthinkable period of time. Earth has never felt so far away as it does now…

"I can't do this," Antonio finally squeezes out, throat aching, eyes sore. "I can't do this without you, a-and I won't!"

"Tonho, please. Please, just do as I ask," João pleads with him all the same. His voice seems to draw nearer, as though he is right up against the door—right up against Antonio's cold ears. "I know it's hard—I know, okay?" There is a fresh tremor to his words, a wound. "And I know, I-I know you want to stay, b… but you can't. You can't…"

His head hits the door in denial. "I can," Antonio cries out to him, "I can stay. I can stay with you—!"

"I don't want you to hear—"

"I don't want you to die!"

It feels like death, and it is death. It breathes against the back of his neck as he breaks under the weight of so many things unsaid, and that he struggles to say now when they matter most. The cracks leak endless tears and violent sobs as the emergency lighting switches on around them both. 

The red taunts him. It means they are not alone.

He tries to control his shaking.

"Tonho…?"

His vision is blurred by his pain. His fingernails scratch at the metal panelling between them.

"Do you remember what we were talking about yesterday?" João asks him. "Last night, in the lab?"

He does, but the memory feels like only another rope around his neck. 

"Remember the stars," the other goes on,  nevertheless, "and how beautiful they are? You… always used to dream of seeing them as a ki—"

"I don't want to think about the past," Antonio warns.

João hums and states quite finally, "There… isn't really anything else left for us now, Antonio…"

It hurts. It hurts so damn much that the crack widens and Antonio punches the door. He does not fight the yelp or tears that are earned.

It just isn't fair. And João, of all people, deserves so much more—deserves life. He… He wasn't sure about this mission when it first presented itself, but it had been Antonio who had convinced him to go, who had told him, the stars will look so beautiful, and who had held his hand when they had taken off and left everything they'd known behind them. And now, there is no turning back. There is no reset. There is no… no amount of apologies that will fix it all…

"…João…?"

"Yes?"

"Do you… regret this?"

"Which part?" he asks. "Us? Or the stars?"

Antonio could have smiled at how stupid but wondrous those words are. Maybe he even does, for just a tiny moment—maybe he remembers after all the lingering gazes, the private conversations, the kind and guiding hands, the love he's known for years—but if so, it does not last, even if he wants it to. Even if he wants nothing else for the rest of his short life.

"Zone 2-A disengaging in one minute."

It sends him into a frenzy, wild, rabid.

"No no no no no! Y-You can't do that—don't do that, please!"

"Tonho—"

"I can't lose you! I refuse to lose you, too!"

"It's okay," João almost coos to him, "i-it's okay!"

But how can it be? Before they know it, João will be jettisoned off into open, endless space with no way to escape, no supplies to survive, and only enough oxygen for maybe a few minutes once the module is severed from the internal systems. So how can it be okay? How can anything be okay?

"Listen to me," the other continues to say through Antonio's panic, "none of this is your fault. I-I've loved every moment of it," João says like it's a promise, "just as I've loved every moment with you."

The tears restart. The pain strikes again. "I wanted us to— to grow old together," Antonio tells him. "I wanted to sail around the world with you, a-and follow your dreams, too!"

"And we will, one day," the other claims. "I know we will. This isn't the end."

"It is! It is the end!" Antonio persists, nevertheless. It is the end, and it feels like death, and it is death. "God, I— I-I'm so sorry, João, I'm sorry—"

"It's okay."

"—I-I thought we were invincible—"

"I love you."

"Zone 2-A disengaging in thirty seconds."

"—we were supposed to survive—"

"I love you…"

"—you— I—" Antonio swallows. "I love you, too. I-I love you, too, João…"

"Then stay brave for me," the other gently requests of him—a near-dying wish. "You… You know what you have to do… don't you?"

And he does. Of course he does. But the thought is frightful when he must walk that path alone.

"Chin up, benzinho. I know you can do it. You know you can do it."

"I'm scared, I-I don't want to go… I don't want it to end…"

"Zone 2-A disengaging in fifteen seconds."

"Neither do I. But it has to," João urges, "and when it does, I will be waiting for you."

Antonio bites back a sob, a splutter. His palm falls flat against the door, wanting to reach through to the other, and it is as though he can feel João doing the same. He can feel his warmth, his comfort. 

"Do you promise…?" Antonio asks, his voice so, so quiet.

And João, his everything, says, "I will always wait for you."

"Zone 2-A disengaging. Goodbye, Commander."

"João!"

"Go, go! I-I love you!"

"I love you, too!" Antonio cries out as mechanisms hiss— "João!" —and locks break off— "João!" —and metal clinks and clatters— "João!" —and steals away the only good thing left in his life.

His tears are unstoppable, much like his screams. Everything leaves him—his energy, his resolve, his will to go on. It feels like death, and it will be death if he follows protocol and completes the mission that no one could have imagined them having.

He knows he has to do it. He swears he can hear João yelling at him still, to go, go, go! It is impossible. And yet, it is real. It is so real, and the lingering voice—the aching pleas begging him to move—somehow, by some miracle, even through his grief, soon brings him to his feet.

The pain is still raw. His throat still burns, it still aches. Tears are far from slowing. Fingers still grasp at the door  in the vain hope it could open and reveal João, still there, still with him…

…but João is right. He's always right. And right there and then, alone on a space station, there is only one thing left for Antonio to do: get to the command module and initiate emergency protocol: Erasure. 

It will feel like death, and it will be death. But at least… at least João will be waiting for him, no…?

The red lighting eases. It does not vanish entirely, but it eases, like a sudden hand on a shoulder, or the eye of a storm.

"Zone 2-A has been successfully disengaged. Tell me, sir, how would you like to proceed?"

Antonio does not provide an answer. Instead, he whispers a final apology to someone he prays will hear him, be it now or in another place, and he starts to walk himself, slow, begrudging, anxious, towards his ultimate goal. Go, João cheers him on, and be brave.

That is how Antonio chooses to proceed. That is how Antonio intends to put things right.

[ final wordcount, 1699 words; also on ao3! ]