FIC: Lunch at Stravaigin
Lunch at Stravaigin continued ...
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
He was standing against a wall listening to Brody describe what work they’d done so far, what they were planning on doing and what effect it might have on Destiny’s systems. Brody looked hopeful as did Volker and Park. Rush spared TJ a brief glance but otherwise didn’t acknowledge her or Greer.
He said impatiently, “Well, get on with it then. You don’t need my permission to sneeze.”
“Colonel Young said …” Park put in hesitantly.
“Then by all means run it past Colonel Young,” Rush said with a wave of his hand. “I have better things to do than be your little messenger boy.”
Ouch.
Volker, Park and Brody looked glum. Rush let out an irritated breath.
“Look,” he said. “Brody, do you know what you’re doing?”
“Yes,” said Brody, stung.
“That’s what I thought,” Rush said. “You were hired because you’re a good engineer: go engineer.” He turned to Volker and Park. “You two are clearly having the time of your lives: go have fun.”
The three of them brightened but were still hopeful. Rush looked exasperated then threw up his hands.
“Right, fine,” Rush said. “What do you need?”
Your approval, you idiot, TJ said silently.
As Brody explained what they wanted, Rush folded his arms to listen. To TJ’s mind he knew what they wanted to do as soon as Brody began explaining it but instead, he engaged them in a discussion. Greer nudged her and she nodded. This was Rush the teacher, allowing his team to come to their own decisions. Rush asked a couple of questions, gently pointed them in the right direction by saying, “Hmmm, what about …?” and “Maybe” and “Yes, but” a couple of times, and said that he’d leave them to it.
Park said hastily that they could use a bit of help; Volker suggested that Rush direct them from the control interface room and Rush immediately responded that Volker needed the experience on Destiny’s systems. He’d switch on the doohickey. He didn’t use the word doohickey, of course, that was TJ’s substitute for whatever it was he did say. This was apparently the easiest job since it meant just taking a panel off a wall and flicking a switch.
“Give us twenty minutes,” said Brody.
“Shouldn’t take longer than ten,” said Rush.
Brody held his ground.
“Twenty minutes,” he said.
Rush gave a faint smile.
“Twenty minutes,” he agreed. He waited until they left and said, “Do you need something, Lieutenant?”
His voice was courteous and she turned to Greer. “I thought you said he was being horrible to everyone.”
Greer gave a shrug. Rush narrowed his eyes.
“Are you my keeper now?” he asked, a hint of temper immediately evident.
“Apparently,” said TJ. “There’s a New Year’s Eve party tonight; are you coming or are you going to skulk in your room?”
“I think I’ll skulk, thanks,” he replied with a snap. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
He turned on his heel and stalked away. They followed him to an anonymous corridor away from everywhere else and into a small alcove. There was nothing there, just an empty space. He leaned against the wall and sighed when he saw TJ and Greer behind him.
“For god's sake,” he said. “If I promise to be a good little boy will you both piss off and leave me be, please?”
“You’re right,” TJ said to Greer. “He is more polite.”
“What?” Rush said, annoyed and puzzled.
“Nothing,” TJ said. “Have you eaten today?”
“Yes thanks, Mum,” he said with complete vitriol. “I ate my gloop and washed my plate afterwards.”
Greer gave an unhelpful chuckle.
“You don’t like New Year’s, Doc?” he asked.
“No,” said Rush. “Waste of time.”
“Well, other people like it,” said TJ firmly.
“I don’t care,” said Rush. “I’d prefer to do some work.”
He glanced at his watch. All of a sudden, TJ was completely fed up with him.
“You know, I get that you would prefer to be here rather than on Earth,” she said. “Destiny’s the best place ever. You like it here. Maybe you don’t like anything on Earth, I don’t know. But I have a family. I have my Dad and my sister and her two kids. I spent my entire day on Earth at the SGC so I could learn more about medicine than the measly amount that I do know. I didn’t call my Dad or my sister, I didn’t go see them because, of course, I wasn’t in my own body. I sent an email and lied about how I was safe but I couldn’t just come home when I felt like it. I lied and said how I decided not to take up the scholarship I got, that I had resigned my commission for, that I worked really hard for; I told them I decided to stay in the military because I was having such a great time despite having said previously that I was thoroughly miserable and I just wanted to get out. I’m not supposed to be here; I mean really, I was supposed to be in Seattle studying two weeks before Icarus blew up but you had to go fetch Eli so I missed my ride.”
His face closed up and he said tightly, “Yes, I am totally aware that this is all my fault.”
“I’m not …” She wanted to strangle him. “I didn’t say it was your fault.”
“Except it is,” he said bluntly.
“Would we be dead if you hadn’t dialed the ninth chevron?” she asked.
“Yes, no, maybe,” he said. He was staring at the panel in front of him. “I don’t know.”
“Isn’t there anything you miss about Earth?” she asked. “Anything at all? Or are you just happy to spend the rest of eternity in this spacegoing shipwreck?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he went to open the panel in front of him. It didn’t open. He pressed all around it. Nothing.
“Bugger it,” he said. He turned, frowned, and said, “Your escort seems to have deserted you.”
Greer had disappeared, no doubt during her rant. Bastard. Rush kept on trying to open the panel but couldn’t. She didn’t offer to help. Finally he stood and kicked it.
“That’ll help,” TJ said laconically.
“Fuck. Off,” Rush said emphasizing each word.
“Nice,” said TJ.
There was a little silence then he said, “Celtic Connections.”
“What?” she asked, at the non sequitur.
“Celtic Connections,” he said. “It’s a music festival in Glasgow in January each year. Practically every single Celtic music group goes.”
“Okay,” she said hesitantly.
“Scottish National Opera,” he said. “Any opera; any violin concerto; any choral work, any live music at all.”
He kicked the panel again, drawing in a noisy breath and letting it out.
“Hiking on Skye,” he said.
“What are you …?” she asked, puzzled.
“I like my work, Lieutenant,” he said, his voice angry. “I’m not going to make any secret of that, okay? Destiny is a scientist’s dream job; yes, I like it here. I’m not going to say I’m sorry for it. Hob Nobs.”
“Hob Nobs?” she asked.
“Oatmeal biscuits,” he said. “The chocolate orange ones.”
“They sound nice,” said TJ.
“Gillespie’s,” he said. “That’s a stout like Guinness only Scottish and better. Sixteen-year-old Lagavulin whisky. Macallan whisky. Bruichladdich whisky. Any bloody whisky at all as long as it’s single malt. Getting completely pished at my local after seeing Partick Thistle lose at Firhill on a freezing day, snow coming down.”
He looked down at the panel; it had a dent in it.
“Hogmanay,” he said. “It’s no’ New Year’s; it’s Hogmanay. Scotland’s biggest fucking party of the year. December 31st.”
She suddenly understood what he was telling her; in his own way apologizing for being in a shitty mood.
“What about haggis?” she asked.
“Can’t stand the stuff,” he said. “Islay scallops; Ayreshire bacon; Angus beef; sea trout; West Coast mussels; going fishing for salmon in the Orkneys.”
“You like fishing?” TJ asked.
“I hate fishing,” he said.
He shrugged. He knelt to try the panel again and said into the radio, “The panel’s stuck; I’m trying to get it off.”
“Okay,” Park’s voice came through cheerfully. “We’ll wait for your signal.”
“What else?” TJ wanted to know. “What’s the best thing about Glasgow?”
“It’s no’ Edinburgh,” he said immediately. “Charles Rennie MacIntosh. Sauchiehall Street. St George’s Square. All the gardens. All the museums. All the art galleries. Neeps and tatties.”
“Neeps …” she said.
“Swedes and potatoes,” said Rush. “Lunch at Stravaigin. God, I miss having lunch at Stravaigin.”
He suddenly kicked the panel again. And again and again and again and again.
“Not being able to speak in a Glaswegian accent,” he said viciously in what she presumed was actually a Glaswegian accent. Rolling words, musical, thick as mud. He kicked the panel. “Not being able to speak in a Glaswegian accent because none of you fucking muppets can understand it; instead, I have to speak slooooowly and precisely, so I sound”-kick-“like some fucking middleclass” -kick-“fucking wanker” -kick-“from fucking Edinburgh!”
The panel fell off. He let out a breath, knelt and said into the radio in what she had thought was his normal accent, “The panel’s off.”
“Thank you!” said Park sounding very happy.
“Switching it on,” said Rush.
He pressed something inside the panel and stood, lifting the panel, which was thoroughly dented. He tossed it to one side.
“I’ll skulk in my quarters, thanks,” he said.
Part Five
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
He was standing against a wall listening to Brody describe what work they’d done so far, what they were planning on doing and what effect it might have on Destiny’s systems. Brody looked hopeful as did Volker and Park. Rush spared TJ a brief glance but otherwise didn’t acknowledge her or Greer.
He said impatiently, “Well, get on with it then. You don’t need my permission to sneeze.”
“Colonel Young said …” Park put in hesitantly.
“Then by all means run it past Colonel Young,” Rush said with a wave of his hand. “I have better things to do than be your little messenger boy.”
Ouch.
Volker, Park and Brody looked glum. Rush let out an irritated breath.
“Look,” he said. “Brody, do you know what you’re doing?”
“Yes,” said Brody, stung.
“That’s what I thought,” Rush said. “You were hired because you’re a good engineer: go engineer.” He turned to Volker and Park. “You two are clearly having the time of your lives: go have fun.”
The three of them brightened but were still hopeful. Rush looked exasperated then threw up his hands.
“Right, fine,” Rush said. “What do you need?”
Your approval, you idiot, TJ said silently.
As Brody explained what they wanted, Rush folded his arms to listen. To TJ’s mind he knew what they wanted to do as soon as Brody began explaining it but instead, he engaged them in a discussion. Greer nudged her and she nodded. This was Rush the teacher, allowing his team to come to their own decisions. Rush asked a couple of questions, gently pointed them in the right direction by saying, “Hmmm, what about …?” and “Maybe” and “Yes, but” a couple of times, and said that he’d leave them to it.
Park said hastily that they could use a bit of help; Volker suggested that Rush direct them from the control interface room and Rush immediately responded that Volker needed the experience on Destiny’s systems. He’d switch on the doohickey. He didn’t use the word doohickey, of course, that was TJ’s substitute for whatever it was he did say. This was apparently the easiest job since it meant just taking a panel off a wall and flicking a switch.
“Give us twenty minutes,” said Brody.
“Shouldn’t take longer than ten,” said Rush.
Brody held his ground.
“Twenty minutes,” he said.
Rush gave a faint smile.
“Twenty minutes,” he agreed. He waited until they left and said, “Do you need something, Lieutenant?”
His voice was courteous and she turned to Greer. “I thought you said he was being horrible to everyone.”
Greer gave a shrug. Rush narrowed his eyes.
“Are you my keeper now?” he asked, a hint of temper immediately evident.
“Apparently,” said TJ. “There’s a New Year’s Eve party tonight; are you coming or are you going to skulk in your room?”
“I think I’ll skulk, thanks,” he replied with a snap. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
He turned on his heel and stalked away. They followed him to an anonymous corridor away from everywhere else and into a small alcove. There was nothing there, just an empty space. He leaned against the wall and sighed when he saw TJ and Greer behind him.
“For god's sake,” he said. “If I promise to be a good little boy will you both piss off and leave me be, please?”
“You’re right,” TJ said to Greer. “He is more polite.”
“What?” Rush said, annoyed and puzzled.
“Nothing,” TJ said. “Have you eaten today?”
“Yes thanks, Mum,” he said with complete vitriol. “I ate my gloop and washed my plate afterwards.”
Greer gave an unhelpful chuckle.
“You don’t like New Year’s, Doc?” he asked.
“No,” said Rush. “Waste of time.”
“Well, other people like it,” said TJ firmly.
“I don’t care,” said Rush. “I’d prefer to do some work.”
He glanced at his watch. All of a sudden, TJ was completely fed up with him.
“You know, I get that you would prefer to be here rather than on Earth,” she said. “Destiny’s the best place ever. You like it here. Maybe you don’t like anything on Earth, I don’t know. But I have a family. I have my Dad and my sister and her two kids. I spent my entire day on Earth at the SGC so I could learn more about medicine than the measly amount that I do know. I didn’t call my Dad or my sister, I didn’t go see them because, of course, I wasn’t in my own body. I sent an email and lied about how I was safe but I couldn’t just come home when I felt like it. I lied and said how I decided not to take up the scholarship I got, that I had resigned my commission for, that I worked really hard for; I told them I decided to stay in the military because I was having such a great time despite having said previously that I was thoroughly miserable and I just wanted to get out. I’m not supposed to be here; I mean really, I was supposed to be in Seattle studying two weeks before Icarus blew up but you had to go fetch Eli so I missed my ride.”
His face closed up and he said tightly, “Yes, I am totally aware that this is all my fault.”
“I’m not …” She wanted to strangle him. “I didn’t say it was your fault.”
“Except it is,” he said bluntly.
“Would we be dead if you hadn’t dialed the ninth chevron?” she asked.
“Yes, no, maybe,” he said. He was staring at the panel in front of him. “I don’t know.”
“Isn’t there anything you miss about Earth?” she asked. “Anything at all? Or are you just happy to spend the rest of eternity in this spacegoing shipwreck?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he went to open the panel in front of him. It didn’t open. He pressed all around it. Nothing.
“Bugger it,” he said. He turned, frowned, and said, “Your escort seems to have deserted you.”
Greer had disappeared, no doubt during her rant. Bastard. Rush kept on trying to open the panel but couldn’t. She didn’t offer to help. Finally he stood and kicked it.
“That’ll help,” TJ said laconically.
“Fuck. Off,” Rush said emphasizing each word.
“Nice,” said TJ.
There was a little silence then he said, “Celtic Connections.”
“What?” she asked, at the non sequitur.
“Celtic Connections,” he said. “It’s a music festival in Glasgow in January each year. Practically every single Celtic music group goes.”
“Okay,” she said hesitantly.
“Scottish National Opera,” he said. “Any opera; any violin concerto; any choral work, any live music at all.”
He kicked the panel again, drawing in a noisy breath and letting it out.
“Hiking on Skye,” he said.
“What are you …?” she asked, puzzled.
“I like my work, Lieutenant,” he said, his voice angry. “I’m not going to make any secret of that, okay? Destiny is a scientist’s dream job; yes, I like it here. I’m not going to say I’m sorry for it. Hob Nobs.”
“Hob Nobs?” she asked.
“Oatmeal biscuits,” he said. “The chocolate orange ones.”
“They sound nice,” said TJ.
“Gillespie’s,” he said. “That’s a stout like Guinness only Scottish and better. Sixteen-year-old Lagavulin whisky. Macallan whisky. Bruichladdich whisky. Any bloody whisky at all as long as it’s single malt. Getting completely pished at my local after seeing Partick Thistle lose at Firhill on a freezing day, snow coming down.”
He looked down at the panel; it had a dent in it.
“Hogmanay,” he said. “It’s no’ New Year’s; it’s Hogmanay. Scotland’s biggest fucking party of the year. December 31st.”
She suddenly understood what he was telling her; in his own way apologizing for being in a shitty mood.
“What about haggis?” she asked.
“Can’t stand the stuff,” he said. “Islay scallops; Ayreshire bacon; Angus beef; sea trout; West Coast mussels; going fishing for salmon in the Orkneys.”
“You like fishing?” TJ asked.
“I hate fishing,” he said.
He shrugged. He knelt to try the panel again and said into the radio, “The panel’s stuck; I’m trying to get it off.”
“Okay,” Park’s voice came through cheerfully. “We’ll wait for your signal.”
“What else?” TJ wanted to know. “What’s the best thing about Glasgow?”
“It’s no’ Edinburgh,” he said immediately. “Charles Rennie MacIntosh. Sauchiehall Street. St George’s Square. All the gardens. All the museums. All the art galleries. Neeps and tatties.”
“Neeps …” she said.
“Swedes and potatoes,” said Rush. “Lunch at Stravaigin. God, I miss having lunch at Stravaigin.”
He suddenly kicked the panel again. And again and again and again and again.
“Not being able to speak in a Glaswegian accent,” he said viciously in what she presumed was actually a Glaswegian accent. Rolling words, musical, thick as mud. He kicked the panel. “Not being able to speak in a Glaswegian accent because none of you fucking muppets can understand it; instead, I have to speak slooooowly and precisely, so I sound”-kick-“like some fucking middleclass” -kick-“fucking wanker” -kick-“from fucking Edinburgh!”
The panel fell off. He let out a breath, knelt and said into the radio in what she had thought was his normal accent, “The panel’s off.”
“Thank you!” said Park sounding very happy.
“Switching it on,” said Rush.
He pressed something inside the panel and stood, lifting the panel, which was thoroughly dented. He tossed it to one side.
“I’ll skulk in my quarters, thanks,” he said.
Part Five