more Andromeda.
Watch me react to "Turning the Widening Gyre"! It's fun!
Harper poured some more beer down his throat. He *still* wasn't drunk yet. "Rommie, have I ever told you what a babe you are?" he called out.
"Five times in the past hour," said the ceiling.
"Oh." He grinned up at the ceiling. "Well, it's still true."
"Thank you, Harper. Shall I carry you back to your quarters now or do you persist in thinking you can walk?"
He wiggled his feet, propped up on the table. "Oooh, that sounds like fun. But I resent the implication that I am drunk! I am not drunk! I know my limits and I am nowhere near."
"Whatever you say, Harper."
"I am an anarCHIST! I am an anti-CHRIST! I know how to get and I know how I want it...wait." Harper scowled at the ceiling. "Rommie, is that how it goes?"
"I have no idea, but I doubt it."
"Huh." He tipped the beer into his mouth and found that it was down to the dregs. He tipped his chair back, licking for the last drops.
The door opened. Harper opened his eyes upside down and saw Tyr.
Harper thumped back onto all four chair legs. Tyr settled into the chair next to him, also putting his feet up on the table and looking out the port. He propped a blue bottle between his knees.
"So how are *you* feeling, Tyr?" Harper bent his knees and tossed the bottle between them into the trash portal.
"I've been better, but I have also been a great deal worse, so on the whole I find myself content." Tyr popped the cap off the blue bottle and the knifelike scent of Tar Graz Ar cut through the air.
Harper sniffed openly at the alcohol as Tyr drank. "I've been trying to figure that out. If this is the bottom, you know? I can't decide."
Tyr glanced at him and passed him the bottle. Harper took a giant swig, shivering all over at the hot and cold taste sensation. Trust a Nietzschean to pick a liquor that fought back.
Harper passed the bottle back and looked at the pretty stars. Red, blue, green, whee, and half of them had planets around them. Pretty much any planet had something you could use... and then there were Drifts, fat merchant carriers, colony ships, everything... it was a big fat juicy universe out there. "It's a big fat juicy universe out there," he told Tyr.
"I've noticed." Tyr was *looking* at him.
"I think... when my parents were killed, that was pretty bad. Dunno if that was the worst, though. Maybe it was. I was old enough I shoulda done something." Harper let his head tip back. "But I was alive and it's a big juicy fat-filled universe. Not so much now, huh?"
Tyr pressed the bottle into his hand. "How old were you?"
"Um, fourteen. I think. Maybe--younger. We lost the clock in a raid and then there was a bunch of--running, for a long long time, and...everything looks pretty much the same underground...I was born in the hot summer, and that's pretty much..." Harper took another drink. "Rommie, I think you're right."
"Of course I'm right. What am I right about?" the ceiling said.
"I'm drunk."
"I told you so."
"Nobody likes a snotty starship!" Harper yelled at the ceiling.
"You do."
"Privacy mode, Andromeda," Tyr said.
"Look after Harper," Andromeda said before cutting off.
"Hey! Seamus Harper can look after himself." Harper took another swig from the bottle before Tyr grabbed it back. "Been doing it for--ten, twelve years now...fourteen, twenty, who knows--hey, Tyr, do you know how the song goes? I am an ANARCHIST! I am an ANTI-CHRIST!"
Tyr winced. "That's a song?"
"It is a CLASSIC." He grabbed for the bottle and nearly fell out of his chair. Tyr grabbed him by his shirt and held him there. "Come on, let me go..."
Tyr dragged him closer instead. He wrapped his arm around Harper's chest, supporting Harper between his body and Harper's chair.
It was kind of nice. Kind of snuggly. "Hey."
Tyr ruffled Harper's hair. Harper gave up and curled up sideways, head on Tyr's thigh, boots braced against the back of his own chair. Tyr petted his shoulder. "How come you're being so nice to me?" Harper asked.
"Kindness is a tactic of its own."
"So...you butter me up and then I'm more likely to support you in whatever."
"Exactly."
"You're so full of shit." Harper reached up and unfastened one of the buckles of Tyr's boots.
"That, too." Tyr stroked his hair. "Recently, I was offered fifty thousand thrones to kidnap you."
"Whoa." Harper considered that amount. "Whoa."
"Your reputation as an engineer is spreading. Your knowledge of the Andromeda's systems is quite rare. I considered the offer, of course, but I decided in the end that the opportunity cost wasn't worth it."
Harper blinked. "I'm worth more than fifty thousand thrones on the open market?"
"Much more than that."
"Hey. That's not so bad."
"I thought you might appreciate it. I hope you will also appreciate that we are not likely to let such a valuable asset die without a fight." Tyr curled his fingers, stroking Harper's scalp with his nails.
Harper grinned into Tyr's thigh. "I feel all warm and fuzzy. Of course, that could be the liquor."
"Probably." Tyr took a drink.
"Hey, can I see?" Harper turned onto his back.
"See what?"
"Where the larvae were." He glanced at Tyr's stomach, but couldn't see through the chain mail.
Tyr looked down at him for a long moment, then reached up to his shoulder, unfastening a hidden seam. The mail sagged off his shoulder. He undid another fastening on the same side, under his arm, and the mail came loose altogether. He let it slide off his other arm.
Tyr's skin was smooth as a nanoweld. "Here," Tyr said, placing his hand just below his navel. He tugged the waist of his pants down a little and Harper finally saw a mark.
Tyr leaned back, rolling Harper even closer to his skin, and unbuttoned the top of his pants. There it was--the triangle mark of Magog claws. Harper had the same mark, just bigger and uglier. He didn't heal up nearly so well. "It's really real," Harper said.
Tyr's hand was quiet on his shoulder. Tyr looked out at the stars.
"You ever have those dreams where you're walking and talking and seeing people you know? And they sound like themselves, not like they all have lobsters on their heads so you know they're just dream people. And then you wake up and you don't know if you're remembering or if you just made it all up..."
"Yes."
"Yeah. Me too." Harper closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Tyr's skin.
Tyr sipped at his bottle. He was sweating it out already, the smell of cinnamon and grass overlaid on his skin. "Ever smelled grass?" he asked Tyr. "Ever...run through mud? Or seen a stream? Your stream? Or an ocean?"
"Yes," Tyr said quietly.
"Does it still exist? Your planet?"
"No."
"Mine neither," Harper said, tears coming up in his eyes. "Not for a long, long time before I was ever born, because you know, my planet didn't have Magog."
"Mine was scorched with an atmosphere-eater. Now it's a rock."
"Mine's a dump." Harper closed his eyes tight, but tears leaked from the corners anyway. He could feel the three claw-scars against his forehead, harder than the muscle that surrounded them.
Tyr's bone spurs brushed his skin. "And don't take this the wrong way, Tyr, but my planet didn't have any Nietzscheans either."
"Oh," Tyr said, "I understand completely." He cradled Harper loosely in his arms, feet up on the table, staring out at the stars.
*
I need an Andromeda icon. Preferably one that includes my little hedgehog avatar, but I'm easy. Hm. Must look through screencaps in the morning.
Harper poured some more beer down his throat. He *still* wasn't drunk yet. "Rommie, have I ever told you what a babe you are?" he called out.
"Five times in the past hour," said the ceiling.
"Oh." He grinned up at the ceiling. "Well, it's still true."
"Thank you, Harper. Shall I carry you back to your quarters now or do you persist in thinking you can walk?"
He wiggled his feet, propped up on the table. "Oooh, that sounds like fun. But I resent the implication that I am drunk! I am not drunk! I know my limits and I am nowhere near."
"Whatever you say, Harper."
"I am an anarCHIST! I am an anti-CHRIST! I know how to get and I know how I want it...wait." Harper scowled at the ceiling. "Rommie, is that how it goes?"
"I have no idea, but I doubt it."
"Huh." He tipped the beer into his mouth and found that it was down to the dregs. He tipped his chair back, licking for the last drops.
The door opened. Harper opened his eyes upside down and saw Tyr.
Harper thumped back onto all four chair legs. Tyr settled into the chair next to him, also putting his feet up on the table and looking out the port. He propped a blue bottle between his knees.
"So how are *you* feeling, Tyr?" Harper bent his knees and tossed the bottle between them into the trash portal.
"I've been better, but I have also been a great deal worse, so on the whole I find myself content." Tyr popped the cap off the blue bottle and the knifelike scent of Tar Graz Ar cut through the air.
Harper sniffed openly at the alcohol as Tyr drank. "I've been trying to figure that out. If this is the bottom, you know? I can't decide."
Tyr glanced at him and passed him the bottle. Harper took a giant swig, shivering all over at the hot and cold taste sensation. Trust a Nietzschean to pick a liquor that fought back.
Harper passed the bottle back and looked at the pretty stars. Red, blue, green, whee, and half of them had planets around them. Pretty much any planet had something you could use... and then there were Drifts, fat merchant carriers, colony ships, everything... it was a big fat juicy universe out there. "It's a big fat juicy universe out there," he told Tyr.
"I've noticed." Tyr was *looking* at him.
"I think... when my parents were killed, that was pretty bad. Dunno if that was the worst, though. Maybe it was. I was old enough I shoulda done something." Harper let his head tip back. "But I was alive and it's a big juicy fat-filled universe. Not so much now, huh?"
Tyr pressed the bottle into his hand. "How old were you?"
"Um, fourteen. I think. Maybe--younger. We lost the clock in a raid and then there was a bunch of--running, for a long long time, and...everything looks pretty much the same underground...I was born in the hot summer, and that's pretty much..." Harper took another drink. "Rommie, I think you're right."
"Of course I'm right. What am I right about?" the ceiling said.
"I'm drunk."
"I told you so."
"Nobody likes a snotty starship!" Harper yelled at the ceiling.
"You do."
"Privacy mode, Andromeda," Tyr said.
"Look after Harper," Andromeda said before cutting off.
"Hey! Seamus Harper can look after himself." Harper took another swig from the bottle before Tyr grabbed it back. "Been doing it for--ten, twelve years now...fourteen, twenty, who knows--hey, Tyr, do you know how the song goes? I am an ANARCHIST! I am an ANTI-CHRIST!"
Tyr winced. "That's a song?"
"It is a CLASSIC." He grabbed for the bottle and nearly fell out of his chair. Tyr grabbed him by his shirt and held him there. "Come on, let me go..."
Tyr dragged him closer instead. He wrapped his arm around Harper's chest, supporting Harper between his body and Harper's chair.
It was kind of nice. Kind of snuggly. "Hey."
Tyr ruffled Harper's hair. Harper gave up and curled up sideways, head on Tyr's thigh, boots braced against the back of his own chair. Tyr petted his shoulder. "How come you're being so nice to me?" Harper asked.
"Kindness is a tactic of its own."
"So...you butter me up and then I'm more likely to support you in whatever."
"Exactly."
"You're so full of shit." Harper reached up and unfastened one of the buckles of Tyr's boots.
"That, too." Tyr stroked his hair. "Recently, I was offered fifty thousand thrones to kidnap you."
"Whoa." Harper considered that amount. "Whoa."
"Your reputation as an engineer is spreading. Your knowledge of the Andromeda's systems is quite rare. I considered the offer, of course, but I decided in the end that the opportunity cost wasn't worth it."
Harper blinked. "I'm worth more than fifty thousand thrones on the open market?"
"Much more than that."
"Hey. That's not so bad."
"I thought you might appreciate it. I hope you will also appreciate that we are not likely to let such a valuable asset die without a fight." Tyr curled his fingers, stroking Harper's scalp with his nails.
Harper grinned into Tyr's thigh. "I feel all warm and fuzzy. Of course, that could be the liquor."
"Probably." Tyr took a drink.
"Hey, can I see?" Harper turned onto his back.
"See what?"
"Where the larvae were." He glanced at Tyr's stomach, but couldn't see through the chain mail.
Tyr looked down at him for a long moment, then reached up to his shoulder, unfastening a hidden seam. The mail sagged off his shoulder. He undid another fastening on the same side, under his arm, and the mail came loose altogether. He let it slide off his other arm.
Tyr's skin was smooth as a nanoweld. "Here," Tyr said, placing his hand just below his navel. He tugged the waist of his pants down a little and Harper finally saw a mark.
Tyr leaned back, rolling Harper even closer to his skin, and unbuttoned the top of his pants. There it was--the triangle mark of Magog claws. Harper had the same mark, just bigger and uglier. He didn't heal up nearly so well. "It's really real," Harper said.
Tyr's hand was quiet on his shoulder. Tyr looked out at the stars.
"You ever have those dreams where you're walking and talking and seeing people you know? And they sound like themselves, not like they all have lobsters on their heads so you know they're just dream people. And then you wake up and you don't know if you're remembering or if you just made it all up..."
"Yes."
"Yeah. Me too." Harper closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Tyr's skin.
Tyr sipped at his bottle. He was sweating it out already, the smell of cinnamon and grass overlaid on his skin. "Ever smelled grass?" he asked Tyr. "Ever...run through mud? Or seen a stream? Your stream? Or an ocean?"
"Yes," Tyr said quietly.
"Does it still exist? Your planet?"
"No."
"Mine neither," Harper said, tears coming up in his eyes. "Not for a long, long time before I was ever born, because you know, my planet didn't have Magog."
"Mine was scorched with an atmosphere-eater. Now it's a rock."
"Mine's a dump." Harper closed his eyes tight, but tears leaked from the corners anyway. He could feel the three claw-scars against his forehead, harder than the muscle that surrounded them.
Tyr's bone spurs brushed his skin. "And don't take this the wrong way, Tyr, but my planet didn't have any Nietzscheans either."
"Oh," Tyr said, "I understand completely." He cradled Harper loosely in his arms, feet up on the table, staring out at the stars.
*
I need an Andromeda icon. Preferably one that includes my little hedgehog avatar, but I'm easy. Hm. Must look through screencaps in the morning.