Yana fic
Title: Necessity
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: Professor Yana
Rating: PG
Word Count: 365
Summary: Professor Yana learns that the rules are different on Malcassairo.
Notes: I'm assuming (for the length of this fic, anyway) that Yana's memories are real and weren't constructed by the chameleon arch.
Malcassairo was a bit of an awakening for Yana. He'd been on one refugee ship or another most of his life, and he'd long since gotten used to that. Ancient ships that should have been scrapped centuries ago and that all had their quirks-he could deal with those. He was good at keeping the engines and life support running; he helped out, and in return, they left him alone. Malcassairo was the end of the line, though, and the ship was to be taken apart for scrap. He'd expected that. Then they told him that everything non-essential that would burn had to go into the furnaces that fed the generator for the atmospheric shell. Non-essential meaning anything that wasn't clothes or blankets or food. Non-essential meaning his books.
He only had half a dozen or so, hoarded over the years and well-read before his hands had ever touched them. Two of them had been given to him by the engineer who'd nicknamed him 'Professor' when he was far too young for the title, a joke that he'd pretended to hate but secretly been fond of. The same engineer, in fact, who'd taught him to diagnose problems by sound and feel and gut instinct. From the sound of that generator, Yana suspected that they'd need what he'd learned if they wanted to live more than another month or two. He figured he'd talk to the lieutenant, fix the generator, and they'd let him keep his books. Because they'd burn in seconds. Wouldn't do any good anyway.
The lieutenant looked at him appraisingly, and took him not to the generator, but the furnace. He was opening his mouth to argue when the lieutenant told him firmly to be quiet. There was a small group of people in the room, and it took him a second to realize that they were near the end of a funeral service. The rite ended a few minutes later, and the body was consigned to the furnace. The lieutenant turned back to the professor, looked at him expectantly, and Yana handed over his books without another word.
The lieutenant nodded once, said, "You'll do," and took him to fix the generator.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: Professor Yana
Rating: PG
Word Count: 365
Summary: Professor Yana learns that the rules are different on Malcassairo.
Notes: I'm assuming (for the length of this fic, anyway) that Yana's memories are real and weren't constructed by the chameleon arch.
Malcassairo was a bit of an awakening for Yana. He'd been on one refugee ship or another most of his life, and he'd long since gotten used to that. Ancient ships that should have been scrapped centuries ago and that all had their quirks-he could deal with those. He was good at keeping the engines and life support running; he helped out, and in return, they left him alone. Malcassairo was the end of the line, though, and the ship was to be taken apart for scrap. He'd expected that. Then they told him that everything non-essential that would burn had to go into the furnaces that fed the generator for the atmospheric shell. Non-essential meaning anything that wasn't clothes or blankets or food. Non-essential meaning his books.
He only had half a dozen or so, hoarded over the years and well-read before his hands had ever touched them. Two of them had been given to him by the engineer who'd nicknamed him 'Professor' when he was far too young for the title, a joke that he'd pretended to hate but secretly been fond of. The same engineer, in fact, who'd taught him to diagnose problems by sound and feel and gut instinct. From the sound of that generator, Yana suspected that they'd need what he'd learned if they wanted to live more than another month or two. He figured he'd talk to the lieutenant, fix the generator, and they'd let him keep his books. Because they'd burn in seconds. Wouldn't do any good anyway.
The lieutenant looked at him appraisingly, and took him not to the generator, but the furnace. He was opening his mouth to argue when the lieutenant told him firmly to be quiet. There was a small group of people in the room, and it took him a second to realize that they were near the end of a funeral service. The rite ended a few minutes later, and the body was consigned to the furnace. The lieutenant turned back to the professor, looked at him expectantly, and Yana handed over his books without another word.
The lieutenant nodded once, said, "You'll do," and took him to fix the generator.