Puppy Love by Valderys (Animal Challenge)
Title: Puppy Love
Author: valderys
Rating: Gen, G
Characters: Novak, Hermiod
Word Count: 741
Spoilers: Massive ones for SG-1 10:20 Unending.
Warnings: Sadder than I meant it to be, I think.
Summary: Hermiod and Lindsey say goodbye.
“This is for you,” said Hermiod, and pressed a button, his delicate fingers dancing over the controls.
His eyes were always unblinking, but somehow Lindsey thought they might be the tiniest bit more unblinky than normal. She clutched the paper bag in her pocket, and eyed the bottle of water she had petitioned to be allowed to keep by her console in Engineering. No hiccups yet. It couldn’t be that big a deal.
She leaned forward, and her eyes widened as she realised that Hermiod had given her access to his own private files. All his work projects, all his notes. There was even a translation algorithm considerately included. It was most unlike him.
She looked over and clutched at her throat. She had such a bad feeling.
“Is there… Is there something wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing is wrong,” said Hermiod, and was that a tiny lift in his voice? An expression of pleasure? They’d worked together so long, and yet Lindsey couldn’t always read him even now - unless it was irritation with the stupid humans. That was always easy to understand.
Certainly, never before had he seemed to be… happy.
“I am leaving,” said Hermiod, and Lindsey swallowed. Definite happiness.
“My transgressions have been forgiven. My punishment is at an end.”
“Oh, well, that’s… good?” she said, thinking that it explained a lot.
Hermiod did not reply, but still stared at her. Lindsey fought the almost overwhelming urge to blink. The Daedalus hummed around them, extra loud in the suddenly significant silence.
“It has not been… unpleasant working with you,” said Hermiod, “You are relatively intelligent for one of your kind.”
“Oh,” said Lindsey, overcome, “Oh… thank you.”
“All that I have and all that I know, is now yours,” said Hermiod, with distinct formality, and Lindsey found herself giving in, and blinking back a suspicious moisture.
There was another pause. Lindsey stared at him mistily, and wondered if she was allowed to express her feelings more physically. A hug wouldn’t be out of place, would it?
“Umm…”
“You will pay specific attention to this file,” said Hermiod, hurriedly, “It contains an artificial intelligence that I have found to be of particular interest over the centuries. It’s precise designation is untranslatable, but the best approximation I can achieve with your languages would be Fido.”
Lindsey stopped, her mouth open. She shut it again, and said, “Fido? That’s a dog’s name.”
If she didn’t know better, she could swear that the question embarrassed him.
“The intelligence is of a lesser order, it is true - but nevertheless the name is an accurate one. It has been faithful.”
Hermiod turned away, apparently continuing to refine the Daedalus’ energy signature. Lindsey was lost - had Hermiod just given her his beloved digital pet?
“But, why?” she burst out, twisting her hands together in anxiety.
Hermiod turned back, his eyes gleaming, “We are dying. The last attempt to halt our physiological degeneration left each of us with a rapidly progressing disease. It has been determined by the High Council that our legacy is to be given to you, as the Fifth Race. I doubt the wisdom of the decision, but we have very little choice.”
“Crap,” said Lindsay, heartfelt and sincere.
Hermiod just raised the Asgard equivalent of an eyebrow.
“But, really, we could, there has to be something… Hic.” Wildly Lindsey grabbed the water bottle and took a swig - not now! Not now, please.
“While I appreciate your… enthusiasm, nevertheless what makes you think you could have succeeded where we ourselves have failed?”
Lindsey gazed at him, wanting to offer something, anything. She may not always have seen eye to eye with Hermiod, but he had always been there, like a particularly irritable crutch…
“I have been forgiven, I will see Orilla once more. I will have reasoned conversation again at last, before the inevitable end. I ask for nothing more.”
Again, that almost imperceptible happiness. Lindsey wanted to cry properly, sob all over the consoles, to make a proper mess. She restrained herself. Hermiod stared at her, as though he could see her thoughts. Maybe he could.
“Fido needs stimulation. It gets bored easily without new input. If you could…”
“Yes. Oh, yes…”
“Then it is finished.”
She had to say something, surely things couldn’t be left just like that? So abruptly? Lindsey plucked up her courage, and opened her mouth.
“Hermiod, it has been an honour to…”
The beam-out sparkled, leaving her alone.
Author: valderys
Rating: Gen, G
Characters: Novak, Hermiod
Word Count: 741
Spoilers: Massive ones for SG-1 10:20 Unending.
Warnings: Sadder than I meant it to be, I think.
Summary: Hermiod and Lindsey say goodbye.
“This is for you,” said Hermiod, and pressed a button, his delicate fingers dancing over the controls.
His eyes were always unblinking, but somehow Lindsey thought they might be the tiniest bit more unblinky than normal. She clutched the paper bag in her pocket, and eyed the bottle of water she had petitioned to be allowed to keep by her console in Engineering. No hiccups yet. It couldn’t be that big a deal.
She leaned forward, and her eyes widened as she realised that Hermiod had given her access to his own private files. All his work projects, all his notes. There was even a translation algorithm considerately included. It was most unlike him.
She looked over and clutched at her throat. She had such a bad feeling.
“Is there… Is there something wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing is wrong,” said Hermiod, and was that a tiny lift in his voice? An expression of pleasure? They’d worked together so long, and yet Lindsey couldn’t always read him even now - unless it was irritation with the stupid humans. That was always easy to understand.
Certainly, never before had he seemed to be… happy.
“I am leaving,” said Hermiod, and Lindsey swallowed. Definite happiness.
“My transgressions have been forgiven. My punishment is at an end.”
“Oh, well, that’s… good?” she said, thinking that it explained a lot.
Hermiod did not reply, but still stared at her. Lindsey fought the almost overwhelming urge to blink. The Daedalus hummed around them, extra loud in the suddenly significant silence.
“It has not been… unpleasant working with you,” said Hermiod, “You are relatively intelligent for one of your kind.”
“Oh,” said Lindsey, overcome, “Oh… thank you.”
“All that I have and all that I know, is now yours,” said Hermiod, with distinct formality, and Lindsey found herself giving in, and blinking back a suspicious moisture.
There was another pause. Lindsey stared at him mistily, and wondered if she was allowed to express her feelings more physically. A hug wouldn’t be out of place, would it?
“Umm…”
“You will pay specific attention to this file,” said Hermiod, hurriedly, “It contains an artificial intelligence that I have found to be of particular interest over the centuries. It’s precise designation is untranslatable, but the best approximation I can achieve with your languages would be Fido.”
Lindsey stopped, her mouth open. She shut it again, and said, “Fido? That’s a dog’s name.”
If she didn’t know better, she could swear that the question embarrassed him.
“The intelligence is of a lesser order, it is true - but nevertheless the name is an accurate one. It has been faithful.”
Hermiod turned away, apparently continuing to refine the Daedalus’ energy signature. Lindsey was lost - had Hermiod just given her his beloved digital pet?
“But, why?” she burst out, twisting her hands together in anxiety.
Hermiod turned back, his eyes gleaming, “We are dying. The last attempt to halt our physiological degeneration left each of us with a rapidly progressing disease. It has been determined by the High Council that our legacy is to be given to you, as the Fifth Race. I doubt the wisdom of the decision, but we have very little choice.”
“Crap,” said Lindsay, heartfelt and sincere.
Hermiod just raised the Asgard equivalent of an eyebrow.
“But, really, we could, there has to be something… Hic.” Wildly Lindsey grabbed the water bottle and took a swig - not now! Not now, please.
“While I appreciate your… enthusiasm, nevertheless what makes you think you could have succeeded where we ourselves have failed?”
Lindsey gazed at him, wanting to offer something, anything. She may not always have seen eye to eye with Hermiod, but he had always been there, like a particularly irritable crutch…
“I have been forgiven, I will see Orilla once more. I will have reasoned conversation again at last, before the inevitable end. I ask for nothing more.”
Again, that almost imperceptible happiness. Lindsey wanted to cry properly, sob all over the consoles, to make a proper mess. She restrained herself. Hermiod stared at her, as though he could see her thoughts. Maybe he could.
“Fido needs stimulation. It gets bored easily without new input. If you could…”
“Yes. Oh, yes…”
“Then it is finished.”
She had to say something, surely things couldn’t be left just like that? So abruptly? Lindsey plucked up her courage, and opened her mouth.
“Hermiod, it has been an honour to…”
The beam-out sparkled, leaving her alone.