#better quality things to come I prommy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ibis-gt · 3 years ago

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HA. FINISHED IT. 7256 words. here’s what boots is doing in alien au. warning that the first bit is kinda heavy but he gets better i prommy. henjoyyyy

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In the deep, dark void of space, a tiny craft floated aimlessly along. Ninety percent of its electronic functions had been switched off to conserve power. All it was doing now was generating enough warmth and oxygen to keep its single occupant alive. He sat in the pitch black hull of what would undoubtedly become his coffin and thought to himself.

Had it been twenty four hours yet? He’d gotten pretty good at guessing this lately, often within minutes of the exact time. It was his only fun these days, now that he had to keep the ship’s AI powered off for most of the day. His hand crept across the console. He knew every button and switch on the thing by heart now, didn’t even need his sight to find the one panel he needed. His finger hovered over it for a second. He counted to five, then closed his eyes and hit it.

His vision behind his eyelids flared red as the lights came on, the perfect silence of the ship disturbed by the electronic humming of power flowing to the console. He cracked one eye open and read the display in front of him.

08:05:03.

Boots sighed. He’d gotten 08:02:42 yesterday, his best time yet. Soon, he was sure, he’d hit right on 08:00:00. He just needed more practice.

“Day 68 since the attack,” Boots said into the microphone in front of him. “I’ve taken to leaving the craft drifting, only using the propulsion features when I need to shift around space debris. Nothing out here could do me too much damage, anyway. I’m thinking about lowering the temperature of the craft a couple degrees. Of course the only way I’d really save energy is by dropping from 70 to 40 at minimum, but I want to ease myself into it at first. Rations are holding up okay. Got a little surprise for myself tomorrow, can’t wait to see how I’ll react. If I make it.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “I’ve started putting out the SOS signal every five hours instead of every three. Someone’s got to come around eventually. Probably. Hopefully.” Boots paused and stared at the wall. “I mean, I’m only in the third most dangerous patch of space in the galaxy. Surely there’s tons of, oh, I dunno, wealthy merchant vessels with zero qualms about picking up random drifters down on their luck. Just gotta hold out a little longer, one’s due any day now. Any day now. Any day now. Any…” He trailed off. “Anyway. Townsend out.”

He hit the button to end the recording and watched the little file zip off into the ship’s databank. Someone’s going to have a great time listening to me slowly go insane in here when they finally find this piece of shit lifepod, Boots thought. I mean, they’re going to start a drinking game and everything. Take a shot every time I repeat myself. Take a shot every time I cut another quality of life feature to prolong my existence a little longer. Take a shot every time I fantasize about rescue. Die of alcohol poisoning by day fifty…

He smacked his face lightly with both hands, trying to break himself out of the spiral. No death talk. Can’t start down that road. Gotta keep active, gotta keep positive. Time to send out the SOS again, and then power down the ship for a bit. He pulled the radio towards himself and fiddled with the dials til he got the frequency right. He ought to just keep it set to the right channel all day, but scrambling it and resetting it when it was time to broadcast again was something else to do.

“SOS. SOS. SOS.,” he repeated in monotone. “Lifepod drifting in quadrant Zed Alpha 23, last known coordinates 235532.4234, 399324.3234, 100434.3942, relative to the system’s third star. Attack by space pirates left one known survivor. Requesting immediate pickup. Message repeats. SOS. SOS. SOS…” He repeated this a few times and switched the radio back off. He’d given up on waiting for a response a couple weeks back. Boots powered down the console and sat back in his chair.

Now the waiting game. Something tickled at the back of his mind. Had he said the numbers right in the SOS? 235532.4234, 399324.3234, 100434.3942, right? Or was it 235632.4234, 399325.3234, 100534.3942? Or 335532.4234, 399324.3234, 100434.3942. Or were all of them wrong. Or did he not know where the hell he was. When did he last do his readings? They were stored on the computer right in front of him. He could power it back on and look.

Boots bit his lip. He could power it back on and open up the chess feature. He could power it back on and open the drawing program. There were lots of ways to keep him busy and all of them would drain what little power he had so, so quickly, and leave him to die in the vacuum of space. No death talk. Think about something else.

He got out of his chair and paced the length of the ship. It was thirty steps exactly from the console at one end to the airlock at the other. Ten steps from either side of the short end. Windows lined each long end, letting him glance out at the vastness of the abyss around him. He didn’t like to stare out for too long. He’d spent the first couple days trying to count all the stars out there, but it did something strange to his head, and he’d lose all sense of time, all sense of space, all sense of himself. Movement was good, it kept him from getting lost in his own head. He didn’t exercise too strenuously, but it was probably a good time to start his basic stretches now, keep him limbered up.

He sat down and extended one leg out, tucked the other in, and reached for his toes. Hold for a count of thirty, then switch legs. Hold for a count of thirty. Switch so that one leg was tucked under his body, the other extended behind him. Hold for a count of thirty. Switch legs. On and on, he cycled through pose after pose, held, and switched. It hit him that he was probably going to be in better shape physically after this than he’d been in a while, just because now he had a regular routine. He couldn’t help it. A fit of giggles overtook him, and he lost the pose he was holding, collapsing in a twitching heap on the floor as he laughed. Oh god. He’d really lost it, hadn’t he.

It was a few hours later by his best guess, and about time to send out the next SOS. Boots’s hand hovered over the panel, he counted to five, and he turned on the ship’s console. 1:15:53. Not bad. Just as he reached for the radio, the ship’s AI spoke for the first time in days.

“Alert! Incoming vessel! Titan-class, threat level maximal. Evasive maneuvers highly recommended.”

Boots gaped at the screen in front of him, displaying a pixelated version of his surroundings. In the middle lay a tiny green dot that represented his craft. The entire left side of the display was taken up by a massive blue shape, closing in on his location with a slow, deliberate pace. It was so much to process all at once that all he could do was stare while his mind tried to catch up.

Why hadn’t the AI alerted him before - it was turned off. Of course. Proximity sensors had been designated obsolete on day twelve. This vessel must have heard his SOS. A good thing? Or a bad thing? Titan-class vessels were nearly all designed for combat. More importantly, they were designed specifically for giants. Space-faring species were given class designations based on size, and Titan-class vessels could hold anywhere from class five to class twelve species - beings that stood between twenty to a hundred feet tall. Boots remembered the basic size sheet plastered in practically every ship’s manual and shuddered, remembering how miniscule humans looked at class two compared to the rest. The ship in front of him was no doubt teeming with sixty foot tall behemoths armed to the gills. So much for the kind-hearted merchants he’d dreamed of. They were scavengers, probably, vultures here to pick his carcass clean. Boots let out a little involuntary laugh. Good luck, boys, there’s nothing here of any value. Except -

His eyes darted to the cabinet that held tomorrow’s surprise. Well. He wasn’t going to make it to tomorrow to have it then, was he? Might as well have it now. Boots stumbled over, shock making his legs go wobbly and weak. He yanked the cabinet open and pulled out the little flask that held his secret stash of whiskey, kept safe all those years since he’d pulled it out of the wreckage of some party yacht.

Boots wandered over to stand in front of the windows, gazing out at the approaching vessel. It was so huge he couldn’t see all of it at once, could only make out a row of lights and the edge of some massive energy cannon. It was drifting inexorably closer. They’d be upon him in minutes.

“To 69,” Boots said, holding the flask aloft. “And 420. And all the other funny numbers.” With that, he tossed back the ounce of amber liquid, savoring the burn as it cascaded down his throat and settled in his gut.

A numbness hit him as he took in his fate. It was inevitable, wasn’t it? If he was lucky, they’d power up that cannon and blast him into space dust. If he was unlucky, they’d take him aboard to have some fun with him. His mind’s eye filled the vessel with dozens of huge, mean space pirates, all eager to get their hands on the piddling little human and pull him apart like taffy. No death talk. Look on the bright side. At least something was finally happening.

He flinched as a bright green beam shot out from the vessel, engulfing his lifepod entirely. Since he also wasn’t incinerated instantly, he assumed it was some kind of tractor beam rather than a laser cannon. His assumption was proved right when the front of the vessel yawned open like the titanic maw of some great whale and his tiny lifepod was pulled into it.

The pod settled on the floor of the vessel’s loading bay, and Boots pushed his nose up to the glass to get a look at his new surroundings. Huge metal crates lashed with thick ropes sat on all sides. He squinted at a marking stamped on the side of the nearest crate and the pit of his stomach dropped. Those were Service symbols. He’d been caught by the stars-damned space police.

Boots chewed his lip and tried to think. Had he been involved in anything big lately? There was that fuel heist the other month, but surely everyone had forgotten about that by now. Anyway, he’d only helped with intel, there was no way they knew he even had irons in that fire. Unless someone ratted him out? No, the crew was too tight-knit for that. But who knew what had happened while he’d been lost out here? He was so out of the loop, they could have found all kinds of info. Wait, there was no way they even knew it was him. He didn’t put his name or any identifying information in the SOS, and even if they had some voice recognition software, his had grown weird and cracked from disuse, and the radio was shit. It had to be too distorted for anyone to recognize. No way they knew it was him. No way.

Boots was shaken from his reverie, literally, as the whole ship rattled, a massive THOOM echoing through the loading bay. It was followed by another, and another, growing steadily closer. He shoved his face to the glass again and saw a gigantic pair of boots thudding towards where his piddling little lifepod sat. He scrambled for something, anything, he could use as a weapon, but of course it was fruitless. He hadn’t had time to grab a blaster in the mad dash for the lifepod back on the ship so many weeks ago, and even if he had the behemoth coming towards him was too huge for it to have any effect. Could he try to hide? Play dead? It would be absurd, of course, they’d clearly heard his cry for help. But if he just didn’t come out, what would they even do?

His train of thought was abruptly derailed as the footsteps stopped and the being called out to him. The voice was so loud and so deep it vibrated through Boots’ chest. “Hey, you okay in there?”

Boots was frozen, staring out the window at the toe of a boot the size of a small spacecraft. The giant waited, probably expecting him to hop on the radio and broadcast a response, or step out and talk to him. His mind raced, trying to find a way out of the situation.

“Hello? We got your distress call, are you still in there? Are you hurt?”

Boots’ eyes darted from side to side. Think. Think think think. Why was his mind a total blank? All the times in the past he’d come up with some genius plot to get him out of certain doom, and now it was like a bowl of mush up there. That’s probably what nearly seventy days of total isolation does to you, but still! The boot creaked and the light was blotted out as the being crouched down to inspect the lifepod more closely.

“Huh,” the voice continued, now sounding almost like the giant was talking to themself. “That looks like a Harlequin-class lifepod. Couple modifications to it, too. Those fins aren’t standard… And that radio array… Hm.”

Shit! Shit! Shit! All those definitely illegal mods were not going to leave a good impression. He needed to do something to distract them, and fast.

“I’m going to pick up your lifepod now,” the voice boomed, back at full volume. “I’ll be as careful as I can, but please hold on to something to secure yourself.”

Finally, Boots’ body kicked into gear. He flattened himself against the wall next to the window, hopefully hidden from view from the giant. A quiet thud reverberated through the lifepod as the giant’s hand wrapped around the hull. Boots could see the tips of their fingers through the other set of windows, and the sheer size of the huge blue digits made him shiver. If the giant wanted to, they could crush his pod like an empty beer can. His stomach churned with the thought and with the motion as he was lifted up into the air. He could just imagine the giant’s eye on the other side of the glass right next to him, scanning through the little vessel. What would they see? An open cabinet, empty food containers strewn across the floor, but otherwise no signs of life. And then what would they do?

Boots got his answer as the giant turned the lifepod around in their hands and looked in the other side. He was caught like a deer in the headlights, clearly visible through the windows opposite him. Ah. Well. So much for that.

The giant appeared to be a deep blue-green all over. All Boots could see was part of his face and his eye, which was a completely blank milky green color, no iris or pupil visible. It still seemed able to see him, the muscles around it contracting slightly as it widened in surprise upon spotting him. The lid settled back down and the giant spoke again.

“Please exit your craft and submit for questioning.” Most of the concerned, caring tone was gone. This was a brusque, official order. Boots swallowed hard, but his fear was evaporating in the face of a sudden wave of anger. He hadn’t survived all on his own for two months just to turn himself in quietly. He pushed himself away from the wall, fury making him bold.

“Like hell I will!” Boots screeched. “You’ll never take me alive, you bastards!” He held out his middle finger and waved it at the giant. Then he tried a couple other rude hand gestures for good measure, in case it didn’t understand the first one. The eye narrowed. Ah good, it had gotten the message.

The floor under Boots’ feet tilted as the giant turned the ship on its side, and he first slid, then tumbled head over heels down towards the console, smacking into it hard enough to daze him for a moment. He watched, sprawled out on his back, as the other end of the ship was crushed between the giant’s fingers and ripped away, leaving a sparking hole in the hull. He felt the ship begin to shift again and he scrabbled for a hold on the console as it tipped the other way. He’d barely managed to get his arms around a monitor before he was dangling in the air over the hole in the ship. He could just make out some huge blue-green surface waiting just below the opening, and had enough brain power not dedicated solely to fear to be utterly incensed that the man was trying to dump him out like the last tic tac.

As if to compound this mental image, the ship began to shake gently up and down, then more insistently, and finally Boots lost his hold on the monitor and went plummeting down to the surface below. He expected to smack into a hard surface and break something, but found himself bouncing on something soft and leathery. Boots pushed himself up on his elbows and glanced blearily around. Ah. Of course. It was a hand. Presumably the same hand that had torn his ship apart like wet tissue paper. And here he was, completely at its mercy, a little drunk on fear and alcohol. Well, he wasn’t about to go out without a fight. He got unsteadily to his feet and whirled around to face the being, and his screams of defiant rage died in his throat.

Huge blank eyes half as tall as he was glared down at him out of a face the size of a house. It bore an expression of disgusted bemusement, like Boots was something small and pitiful and half-dead that a pet had dragged in. A pair of goatlike green horns sprouted from the man’s head and swept back in an arc. His thick beard and hair were a deep, rich blue that almost hurt to look at after being stuck in such low light for so long. A jagged scar cut through his left eye, extending from just above the brow to down below the cheek. A silver symbol on chest clearly marked him as the captain of this vessel.

The captain tucked the remnants of Boots’ lifepod in the chest pocket of his uniform. Then he extended a finger and pinned Boots to his palm as he brought him in closer for inspection.

With just the tip of his finger he’d rendered Boots completely immobile. No amount of squirming could get him free, so he was helpless as the man took in his rumpled clothes, his pale, wan face, his tangled mop of hair. The captain’s nose scrunched and he pulled back a little. Oh, yeah. He hadn’t had a shower in a few weeks. He’d grown used to stewing in his own juices while trapped in that little ship, his own sense of smell shutting down to protect himself forever ago.

“No insignia or mark of rank,” the captain murmured, and even speaking quietly his voice vibrated through Boots’ chest. “Buuuut…” The finger lifted and prodded him in the side, flipping him over onto his back. “A-ha. Thought so.”

Oh, shit, Boots thought. The jacket. The decal on the back. The one that loudly proclaimed him as a member of the galaxy’s most notorious junker gang.

“That’s, uh, not mine,” Boots lied. “Found it in the lifepod.”

“Uh-huh,” the captain rumbled. “Sure. Is your name Townsend, by chance?”

Shit. That was also on the decal. “Y - no. Not at all. It’s, uh… Frank.” He got nothing but scathing silence in return. Boots rolled over, shoving the man’s finger aside. “You can’t prove anything. I plead the 17th.”

“Look, Frank,” The captain began. Boots couldn’t be sure, but he thought he rolled his eyes when he said it. “I’m not here to arrest you or whatever. You’re protected under Distress Law, even if you had a warrant on you I couldn’t do it. But I’ve got my eye on you, junker. Anything on this ship goes missing, I’ll know who did it.”

“Oh, sure, pick on the guy who’s been lost in the void of space for three months,” Boots spat. “One hell of a rescue.”

“We’ll get you cleaned up and fed, set you down on the first space station we come across,” the captain said, ignoring him. “We’ve got a human on board, you can borrow some of his clothes, probably. You look about the same size.”

“How the hell would you know,” Boots grumbled, but under his breath. His senses were starting to come back to him. Even if he were protected under whatever law, pissing off a guy the size of a skyscraper wasn’t a smart move. But Boots had been making smart moves for three months now and he was exhausted. As the captain turned to lumber out of the airlock and towards the rest of the ship, it hit him. He’d done it. He’d survived. He’d been rescued.

Relief, grief, and euphoria in equal measure spread through his body like a wave. An uncontrollable giggle burst out of him, just a short, hyena-like bark at first. He slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle it, but more came, wracking his body, and soon he was laughing and sobbing all at once, convulsing uncontrollably as the captain stared down at him in concern.

“Are you… good?”

“I’m great,” Boots sighed, and fully passed out.

He came to slowly, in a haze, lying facedown on some hard metallic surface. High above him, the voice of the captain rang out as he argued with someone.

“... a little thief, some junker, I don’t want him roaming around the ship on his own. I’m not saying we throw him in the brig but he needs an escort or something.”

A pause as they responded, but whoever it was, their voice was too quiet to hear.

“No offense, Algers, but you’re not exactly… have you ever been in combat? Had any practice with that stun gun you’re carrying? Hand to hand combat, de-escalation training, anything like that? …Yeah. I don’t want you following the hardened criminal around. You’re more likely to be a hostage than a captor. Ow! Hey! I am the captain of this ship, you know.”

That last bit sounded nearly coy and playful. Boots shook his head and tried to sit up. A bone-deep exhaustion permeated his whole body. It took every ounce of willpower he had to slide an arm under him and lever himself up on his elbow. He managed to glance muzzily around and took in the scene. He was laying on the console of the captain’s chair in the main command center. The chair was set up on a dias overlooking a swath of computers and monitors lining the wall against the front window of the vessel, showing the stars as they raced past at just under light speed. The captain himself was standing some distance away, talking to seemingly nobody. There were only a few other crew members in the room, mostly manning navigational consoles. They were all huge, but none were quite the size of the captain. No one was looking at Boots.

Ha. An escort would’ve been a great idea, Boots thought, because I’m getting the hell out of here right now. He got one leg under him and pushed himself up to his knees. His head swam with the motion and he nearly toppled over backwards. He felt horribly lightheaded and top heavy at the same time, like his head was stuffed with cotton balls but his neck wasn’t strong enough to support his skull. It gave him a queasy floating feeling, like he was being tossed around on ocean waves. Boots swallowed hard to quell the nausea and got to his feet, legs shaking ever so slightly. After the dark, cramped confines of his lifepod, the huge open space and bright lights of the cockpit made his senses scream with overstimulation. But like hell was he going to stick around and wait to see which giant monster would be his babysitter. He’d commandeer another lifepod - this one at least would be more spacious than the last - and get himself back to headquarters to report the loss of the vessel.

Movement to his left caught his attention, and he turned just in time to see two massive paws place themselves on the console. Boots stared into a huge pair of curious canine eyes, with several smaller sets of eyes around them. A big wet nose snuffled in his direction. A giant mouth opened and panted happily, letting a huge tongue loll out and splat onto the console. Then it lunged for him. Boots didn’t even have time to scream.

By the time he’d realized what had happened, he was being carried by the back of his jacket through the corridors of the ship, dangling some fifteen feet off the ground. The dog-like alien that had nabbed him was joined by two others that tried to duck their heads under his captor’s chin to sniff and nip at Boots. He kicked at them as they got near, but only succeeded in making himself twist and spin, once nearly falling out of his jacket altogether. From then on he opted to hang on for dear life.

At last he was lowered to the ground and let go, but before he could move, those noses were on him again, sniffing and snuffling, mussing up his hair, his clothes, nearly knocking his glasses off. He curled into a ball and tried to play dead, but one of them nudged him over onto his back and licked him. Immediately he was drenched in slobber, and knew he had to act before this went any farther.

“Okay, okay, okay, okay! Down! Back! Get away! Bad dog!” Boots scrambled to his feet and held his hands out, backing away from the three giant alien dogs staring down at him. They whined and tilted their heads, one holding up a front paw like it was going to take a hesitant step towards him. He pointed at that one and said “No!” as firmly as he could. The paw lowered slowly.

“Right. Okay.” Boots wiped as much of the slobber off his face as he could and shook his head, trying to get the stuff out of his hair. “No more of that. Ugh, it’s everywhere…” He shook his arms and swiped at his clothing, knocking more of it away.

The dog aliens whined softly and made sad eyes at him. Now that he wasn’t in danger of being licked to death, Boots got a better look at the pack. They were huge, each about twenty feet tall at the shoulder, with vaguely canine forms. They had six legs and long, thin tails that curled and flicked behind them. The one on the right was solid green, the one in the middle was a greyish blue, and the one on the left was green with lighter splotches. Rightie had folded ears, while Leftie’s were bolt upright, and Middle had one up, one down. They all had weird gadgets and gizmos strapped to them, too. Rightie had a set of goggles over their main set of eyes and a pair of saddlebags on either side. Middle had a single eye scanner and a pack that looked to be full of pipes and wires. Leftie had no goggles and a toolbox slung on their right. All three bore collars with the Service insignia and a speaker on the front. Just as Boots started to wonder what it was all for, Leftie spoke.

“Human?” The voice crackled out of the speaker on their collar. “New human? We have a new human?”

“Smells funny,” Middle chimed in. “Lots of smell. Smells a lot.”

“For us do you think? Captain’s smell on him. New friend? New family?” Rightie’s tail started to wag, and the other two perked up, Middle dancing in place.

“New family! New family!” The three of them repeated over each other, riling each other up. Boots tried to back up again, but before he could get far, Leftie lunged forward again, this time bowling him over and smushing him between their face and the floor. The other two joined in, trying to push each other out of the way to scent mark him.

“Okay! New family! That’s enough!” Boots yelled, managing to get a hand on the nearest snout. He pushed with all his strength, but it wasn’t until the alien gave in and pulled back that he was able to get upright again. “A little breathing room, please.”

The dogs obliged, laying their faces down mere feet away from him. He could see their whip-like tails wagging away and could only imagine the damage those things could cause. Huh… there was a thought.

“I’m… part of the pack now, huh?” Boots eyed them carefully. They seemed to be doing what he said. Maybe they’d recognized his natural leadership abilities and designated him the Alpha of the group. It made perfect sense. He grinned. “Okay then, listen up. Here’s what we’re going to do…”

Boots wasn’t much of a tactician, but he figured he didn’t need to be if he had three giant alien dogs at his command. He’d mounted up on Middle, whose name he learned was Y, and had X - Leftie - and Z - Rightie - follow on either side. His plan was simple: rush the command center, take out the captain, and take control of the ship. All they’d need was one well-aimed bite to the jugular and it was all over. These things had viciously sharp teeth, he’d learned. Once he’d proven he could best the biggest guy on the ship, everyone else would fall in line. That’s how it always worked in junker circles, anyway.

They reached the door to the command center. Boots gave the signal to wait, calling out a quiet “whooaa, there,” and pulling on Y’s collar. The three obediently ground to halt, X and Z looking up expectantly at him.

“Okay, remember the plan,” Boots said. “On my signal, Z, you trip the door, and Y, you make straight for the captain. We do this quick and clean.”

“Yes! Yes! Surprise Captain!” Y’s collar said, and they yipped happily.

“Shh!” Boots hissed. “Stealth mission, remember? X, you be ready to take out anyone near the door who might try to stop us. We only get one shot. Ready?”

The dogs gave him a huff and a nod. Boots took a deep breath to steady himself, raised an arm, and swept in down in an arc.

“Go!”

Z hopped up on their hind legs and hit the open door button with a paw. X burst through the door first, surprising a tall, gangly orange creature who’d been loitering next to it. Boots grinned as he heard them yelp in surprise, falling over backwards under a ton of excited dog alien.

“Now, Y! ATTAAAAAAACK!”

Captain Mersharc whipped around, staring in open-mouthed shock at his incoming doom. Boots smiled grimly, ready for the bloodshed to come.

Y trotted up to Captain Mersharc, tail a-wagging, with precisely none of the expediency or viciousness Boots had demanded. Mersharc glared at the human who was kicking his heels furiously into Y’s side and yelling. He knelt down and plucked Boots up by the back of his jacket, holding him up in the air while he gave Y some quick chin scritches, finishing with a ruffle of the ears and a pat on the head. Then he stood and regarded the struggling human with tired exasperation.

“Did you get it out of your system yet?” Captain Mersharc asked. “I can let you kick the air a while longer if you want.”

Boots quit kicking and glared right back at Mersharc. He folded his arms, trying very hard not to look like a pouting child and failing miserably.

“Anyway, before you made your little daring escape, I was going to have Luther here be your escort around the ship.”

Boots glanced around for whatever horrifying giant monster was called Luther, but was surprised to see the Captain gesture at a figure perched on his shoulder. A human man sat there, legs hooked into a pair of fabric loops to keep him secured. He waved at Boots and shrugged.

“Took him forever to wear me down on that, too, so great job letting all that effort go to waste,” Captain Mersharc continued. “Instead, I think I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

Boots opened his mouth to protest, but couldn’t get a word out before he was unceremoniously dumped in the same chest pocket that had once held his lifepod, although that was now thankfully absent. He tumbled down the side of the fabric chute, landing with a soft ‘oof’ at the bottom. The pocket was dark, with only a sliver of light filtering from the opening up top, and it practically pulsed with the huge, slow THUMP-THUMP, THUMP-THUMP of the captain’s heart beat. Just as Boots struggled to his feet, a firm pressure slammed him against the brick wall that was the Captain’s chest. It let up, then squeezed him once more, hard enough to force the air out of his lungs. He slid to the bottom again, dazed, and realized Captain Mersharc must have patted his pocket to secure him. Suddenly Boots felt far less inclined to act out. The Captain had been remarkably gentle with him, all things considered, and he didn’t want to find out what it was like when he was being rough.

“Careful,” he heard a small voice say. It must have been Luther up on the captain’s shoulder. “Humans are delicate, remember?”

“He’ll be fine,” Mersharc grumbled. His voice had vibrated through Boots’ chest before, but now that he was pressed up against the man’s chest it practically rattled his teeth in his skull. “He’s probably survived worse.”

“He can hear you!” Boots shouted. Mersharc chuckled, and Boots’ whole body shook again.

“See? He’s fine.”

“Hmm. Can I talk to him?” Luther’s voice sounded closer now, like he’d moved along the captain’s shoulder.

“C’mon in!” Boots called.

“All right, but.. Be careful, eh?” Mersharc murmured. If he was trying to keep Boots from overhearing, it was pointless.

Boots saw the tips of Mersharc’s fingers dip into the pocket, forming a little ramp that Luther clambered down. Boots patted the fabric next to him, inviting Luther to take a seat, and studied the man carefully. Short, curly brown hair, big sweet hazel eyes, a smattering of freckles, and a big round nose. Just as he’d suspected. The man was unbearably cute. Boots resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Luther didn’t seem to notice his disdain, fishing in his pocket for something.

“The captain asked me to look through the lifepod and bring you any personal effects but there kind of… weren’t any. Except this?” Luther held out the flask that’d held Boots’ whiskey. It had his full name and an illustration of a pair of boots hanging from a wire engraved on one side. Boots took it reverentially and tucked it in his jacket pocket.

“Thanks. Thought I’d lost that when the big guy ripped my ship apart. Got some sentimental value.”

“I found it wedged behind the console,” Luther offered. “Hunear did a sweep of the floor in the airlock just in case, too. Sorry the captain, uh… got a bit rough with your ship. He can have a kind of short temper at times.”

“Hmph. Especially if he’s already decided what kind of person you are,” Boots grumbled, folding his arms. He hunched up and looked away, biting his lip to try and smother the little pang of grief that shot through him at the thought of his ship. It was probably beyond repair at this point, which meant its AI wasn’t recoverable. It’d helped keep him sane for half his voyage, running chess games, popping up fun science facts, even holding brief conversations. It wasn’t advanced enough to have a whole personality, but it was all he had until day thirty, when he’d had to shut it off to conserve power. As soon as he got another drink he’d pour a little out for it.

“Well, from what I heard, you flipped him the bird, the qaronk, the wheel, and the flitz,” Luther counted on his fingers, “plus a few others he didn’t know, and said he’d ‘never take you alive, copper’?”

“Uh… close enough” Boots muttered. “It wasn’t my best moment, sure. But that’s no reason for him to treat me like a criminal.”

Luther’s eyes darted to Boots’ jacket, and he gave Boots a Look. “Uh huh.”

“Look, it’s not like that!” Boots protested, spreading his hands out in front of him. “Okay, okay, I’m involved in some shady stuff, but I don’t do the actual stealing, I’m just the fence!”

“You’re knowingly transporting stolen goods, and you think that makes you better than the people you work with?”

Boots scoffed and shook his head. “It’s a rough galaxy out there, kid. We don’t all get to choose to keep our hands clean. I don’t kill anybody, and I don’t steal from people who can’t afford it. That’s as good as it gets.”

The comment seemed to strike a chord with Luther. He looked away and fidgeted with his wrist communicator, avoiding Boots’ eyes. “Well… maybe this is how you get out of it. I’ll put in a good word with the captain, maybe we can take you with us. I’m sure you’ve got some skills we could use - tenacity and survival, if nothing else…”

“Ha! Like hell. I’m sure if it weren’t for whatever law he’d’ve thrown me out the airlock by now.”

“You’ve got him all wrong. He’s just very protective of his crew. Any perceived threats make his hackles rise. And people on this ship get very… attached very quickly. You get someone on board to like you, he’ll warm up soon enough.”

“I got the dogs, didn’t I?”

Luther winced. “Yippers. They’re called Yippers. And you immediately tried to use them to mutiny, so I don’t think that put you in his good books. You’re going to need someone else to vouch for you.”

“Someone like you?” Boots raised an eyebrow.

“Well. Yes.” Luther brushed his hair out of his eyes, looking sheepish. “The captain and I do have a certain… understanding.”

“Huh.” Boots looked critically at Luther for a minute. “You two dating or something?”

Luther went red as a beet. “N-no! I mean! We’re just! We’re very good friends. It’s not like - I mean, he’s my superior officer, and all, it wouldn’t be appropriate, and anyway it’s none of your business!”

“So you are dating.”

Luther was saved from stammering out another reply by a massive blue finger and thumb that snagged the back of his uniform and lifted him out.

“That’s enough of that,” Captain Mersharc rumbled. “Back to your post, Officer Algers.”

Boots blew a strand of hair out of his face and smirked, leaning back against the side of the pocket. Ah. So it was like that, was it. Mister big scary alien had a soft spot for the cute little human. He’d have to remember that in case he could leverage it somehow later. Boots and Luther looked fairly alike, at least in that they both had chin-length brown hair and fair skin. But Luther was all soft roundness where Boots was sharp angles, and maybe that had something to do with it. He’d just have to perfect his innocent eyes and hope for the best.

He scratched at the patchy beard that’d grown in during his isolation. Hey, there was a thought. Wasn’t he supposed to get a bath at some point? And the Yipper slobber didn’t count. He stood up and yanked at the fabric against the captain’s chest.

“I’m not letting you out so you can terrorize my communications officer some more,” Mersharc said without looking down.

“I want a bath!” Boots yelled. That got the captain’s attention. He glanced down, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh? Okay, we can probably facilitate that.” He started to reach into the pocket, but Boots smacked his finger as it drew near.

“I’m sick of getting hoisted around like a sack of potatoes! You dangle me in the air one more time, I swear I’m gonna barf on you.” Boots had been ready for an argument, but he wasn’t expecting the captain to burst out laughing.

“Alright, alright, fair enough,” he said. “Here.” He reached in and curled his index finger around Boots’ back, pressing his thumb against his middle to keep him secure. Then he lifted Boots out and set him in his other palm. “How’s that?”

Boots blinked in the sudden light. He craned his neck to either side, taking in his surroundings, and noted that Luther was back on Mersharc’s shoulder. Presumably his post, then.

“Yeah, this’ll work. So about that bath? And I need to shave.”

Mersharc hmm’d for a second, rubbing his top lip with a finger. “Spose you could use the sink in my quarters for the bath. Algers, you got your multitool?”

Luther pulled a small silver rod from his belt and pushed himself forwards, sliding off the captain’s shoulder. Without missing a beat, the captain moved his hand over so that Luther landed neatly on his palm next to Boots.

“Here. It’s got a shave function.” Luther held the tool out to Boots.

For a half second, a possible future flitted through Boots’ mind. He could reach for the tool, but feint and pull Luther into a hold that would only take the slightest of twitches to snap his neck. He’d be in the palm of the captain’s hand, but he’d have all the power. Mersharc wouldn’t dare make a move for fear of losing his precious human. He could hold the whole ship hostage, get them to go anywhere, take whatever he wanted, and ride home in style…

The moment passed. Boots took the tool from Luther with a nod of thanks. He glanced up and caught the look on Mersharc’s face. He’d expected Boots to make a move, and he was genuinely surprised he hadn’t. Boots gave him a wry smile and flipped his hair out of his face. “I clean up nice,” he said, winking at the captain. “You’ll see.”

Maybe he could make it work with this crew after all.

#writing #g/t #giant tiny #cam and luther #alien au #beauregard orlando townsend #cam mersharc #luther algers #WORK WITH ME ON THIS ONE i ran out of steam.#and expect a morning reblog it's Late #also patch notes: cam's like 100 ft tall now bc i decided i wanted him Bigger.

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roughentumble · 4 years ago

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I would like to hear.. your silence of the lambs series opinions......

series as in, the new clarice tv show that's out? haven't watched it yet. series as in, those old movies that feature anthony hopkins as hannibal lecter? surely!

fair warning, i probably dont have anything new to say that hasnt been said before, considering these are all long since classics, and my thoughts might be a little disjointed.

it's difficult to sum up opinions about it on the whole, since the movie quality honestly varies so wildly, and as i recall basically every single movie had a different director lol. also like, there's definitely a reason silence of the lambs stood out as The hannibal movie that got talked about and went into The Annals Of Film History n' all that. there's something about jodie foster's performance that's particularly electric(though that could be nostalgia talking, i suppose)

the opportunities she had, as an actress, to really show emotion on her face, like the claustrophobic close-ups we got were really intimate and interesting, added to the sense we were getting into her head. that HANNIBAL was getting into her head. i've already used the word intimate, but really, the long drawn out conversations/monologues between her and hannibal are just that-- intimate. you have to have stellar performances to pull off that much dialogue, and shots that intensely focused, where a face takes up so much of the screen. but it works! because hopkins and foster are fantastic actors, and jonathen demme is a good director.

there's a reason a lot of people didn't like the switch to julianne moore, and i would say it isnt entirely moore's fault. ridley scott, for one, is simply a different director with different ideas of shot composition, which changes how the character feels pretty drastically when the style so heavily informed your feelings for her. but also, in general, the film just kind of approaches clarice from a different angle, which is pretty bumpy territory to go into on the tail of switching your lead actress. not only is moore just really different from foster, but we've gone from this kind of invasive intimacy with hannibal probing her in confined spaces, to her being on the chase. in particular what sticks out to me is a chase sequence where she's trying to find hannibal in a crowded mall.(i think it was a mall?? its been a minute since i last watched the film haha) despite how the crowd might lead to a sense of claustrophobia, these are wide open shots with lots of spinning and movement, no time for introspective face journies. it's a chase in a totally different sense than before, and that i think is major difference in tone. which isn't to say it's a bad choice, or a loss, or that it's worse, just that it's fundamentally very different material that moore was given fo work with. of course her performance differed from fosters!

i still think jodie foster did it better, but some folks were too hard on julianne moore. if anything, hold beef with the writers and new director for pivoting tonally(although, dont do that either, i think it was an interesting shift. the scene with her and hannibal, where hannibal fries up that dude's brain was SO GOOD, i loved loved loved the return to a twisted sense of intimacy for that scene, and a few others, and that sense of return wouldn't have hit the same were the whole movie to follow the same tone as demme's work.)

also quick sidebar, when i watched hannibal(the movie from 2001) i was BLOWN AWAY by realizing, in retrospect, just how absolutely perfectly micheal pitt nailed the role of mason verger in hannibal(the tv show). vocally, he sounded almost identicle to the og performance, WHAT!!! major props, i love micheal pitt. so cool

manhunter 1987 or whatever year it came out is garbage and we dont talk about it. it was physically painful to watch. my poor mother made us stop watching hannibal movies for the rest of the day because it literally put her in physical pain. it's so 80s i want to vomit. do not recommend.

red dragon was pretty good, and if you entered the series of films armed only with knowledge of hannibal nbc, gave some really fascinating context to some of the events therein. edward norton's performance was fine-- didn't blow my mind, but i do love to watch him on screen. anthony hopkins' portrayal of a free hannibal, on the run, who still can't help but taunt the police and stick his nose into investigations was shockingly compelling, despite how much of a cliche trope that's become in recent years. can't say i recall anything interesting to say about the directing, but it certainly doesnt hold the same intimacy of the previous films-- but then again, we've lost the intimate character of clarice, swapping her out for graham(who simply isnt as close, or interesting, or compelling, when he isnt on nbc and shaking like a wet chihuahua)

hannibal rising, the last film in the series, was very very very bad. BUT, unlike manhunter 198whatever, it managed to be fun about it! lots of very goofy deaths and things to make you roll your eyes, stupid character motivations and odd acting choices. but it seems aware, on some level, that it's the last and the silliest of the entries into this particular film series, which earns it some good will. whether or not its worth a watch comes down to how much you're willing to consume everything with the name hannibal on it, and whether you can abide by a hannibal that isnt played by sir anthony hopkins.

OK. ok. we're getting to the end of my thoughts here, kids. i prommy.

it's also, despite every single part of it that i enjoy and that brings me joy, almost unforgivably racist and transphobic. the weird exotification and obsession with asia(and japan in particular), especially when none of those elements felt important or relevant to the story was consistently shocking, and consistently present in essentially every single hannibal movie, ESPECIALLY ones that dealt with his childhood. it didn't ever feel like a natural part of the story, where they happened include people from another culture or anything, it felt like the author's fetish. i never truly understood how these reoccuring themes and symbols were meant to tie in with the rest of the story, even after an entire film set in the past, showiing hannibal's childhood and how he came to live with a japanese woman. it was weird! it was uncomfortable! it was bad! even hannibal nbc couldnt make it not weird. i'd love a hannibal movie with a japanese person in it who WASNT treated really, really, really weird. but i dont think i will ever get that.

and like. wrt transphobia-- do i even need to say it? buffalo bill's been talked to death. we all know the issue there.

if a japanese person, or a trans woman, came to me and said "shawn, everyone says its a classic, but i cant bring myself to watch [insert hannibal movie here]" i would not blame them. it isnt the whole movie, but its enough to feel real bad, scoob.

its not enough to make me fall out of love with silence of the lambs, or hate hannibal(the film, god thats a confusing name), or even hate the film series, but its something that deserves tl be talked about. i've heard lots of discussion on the transphobia, but basically none on the racism, which is a real shame. sometimes it feels like no one else even noticed it, and it really leaves me floundering, because its like-- its RIGHT THERE and its so weird and bad. thomas harris, what the fuck

OKAY I THINK THATS ALL MY THOUGHTS FOR NOW?????? i could maybe come up with more, *shrugs*, but i'd need more time at least.

summary:: very problematic, and not because he eats people. but overall some of the films are fantastic, and silence of the lambs does hold a special place in my heart. and even if i didnt like it nearly as much, i'll defend hannibal(the film with julianne moore) till im blue in the face, because even if it didnt quite capture lightening in a bottle it still brought some interesting things to the table. decent enough movie series with enough variation in film tone and quality to make watching them all in a row enjoyable, because it keeps things from getting stale. (could probably have done with SOME consistency tho, lol, they were really flying by the seat of their pants. they had hopkins and that was IT, only thing that carried over from production to production lol)

#im exaggerating wrt that last line abt hopkins #they couldve had other people in the staff that worked on multiple films in the series #i havent looked THAT much into it

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