Fic: Expert Opinion (B7/DW)
Title: Expert Opinion
Author: lost_spook
Rating: PG
Word Count: 738
Characters/Pairings: Servalan, The Master
Notes/Warnings: None.
Summary: They both leave a trail across the galaxies that the other can see only too clearly...
For liadtbunny in the 500 Prompts Meme: #81 Across the worlds (Servalan & The Master, B7/DW). This prompt is one of those that could so easily have been an epic, but I turned it into this. It's probably as well, really...
***
The first time she heard of him was on Olthos. He was posing as a Federation official and diverting the mineral ore from the planet directly into his spaceship and away from its proper channels. She didn’t see him or speak to him, but she saw his file and sentenced the inept Governor who had failed to spot what were obviously forged credentials. Really, the impostor had hardly even made an effort. Anyone fooled by that deserved their fate - and the Supreme Commander was a great believer in justice.
She discovered him next on Lennoc Prime. He seemed to have successfully brainwashed one of the guards into carrying out his crimes for him this time - robbery and assault. The authorities had apprehended him and were holding him pending her arrival. It appeared that whatever methods he had used on the guard were more effective than some of the Federation’s own, and that Servalan found intriguing.
By the time she’d reached the prison to interrogate him, he had vanished.
He was caught on security cameras in the middle of the annual Starbirth Ceremony on the distant colony of Hynarian. She despatched reliable agents to find out more, but too many of the witnesses had apparently been celebrating too hard. All her agents could get out of them no matter what methods were applied, were tales of people being turned into dolls and a vanishing sideshow stall.
When something arrived in her office by means that could only be described by teleportation, she had to smile. She knew of only one group of people who had access to working technology of that kind. And, she thought, rising from her chair, it wasn’t even her birth anniversary.
However, it was a statue that had arrived, not a rebel - presumably it contained (or was) a destructive device of some kind. (Really, she would have expected something more personal from Avon these days. She was almost hurt.) She was about to summon the guards to remove the dangerous object, when someone whose image she was becoming familiar with stepped out of it. He was still wearing his stolen official’s uniform, but Servalan didn’t blame him for that. It suited him.
“Madam President,” he said, giving her a formal bow. “I heard you wanted to talk to me - and who am I to deny your wishes?”
She kept her distance, but gave a small smile, giving him credit for style and she made no move to call for help, nor did she display any fear. “I was curious, I confess. You seem to possess talents that could be useful to us.”
“No, I think not,” he said. “I believe that’s false modesty, coming from you.”
Servalan raised an eyebrow. That was, she thought, something of a fresh accusation.
“There’s nothing for me to do here,” he said. “You’ve already accomplished so much. I’ve merely been admiring your handiwork.”
She appreciated flattery, but she would not be distracted by it. “And stealing Herculaneum ore.”
“Well,” he said. “A little, perhaps.”
“And helping to arm the Degrayans, who massacred our troops on Hynar II last month.”
He gave her an innocent, enquiring look. She didn’t trust it for a moment.
“And someone has been repeatedly trying to encourage the aliens to renew their war against us.”
“How terrible, Madam President,” he said. “If that is so, let me assure you it won’t happen again. As I said, you leave so little scope for, ah, improvement here. We shan’t meet again.”
“Oh, I think we shall,” she said, pressing the button on her desk for the guards. “In a cell, after certain methods of persuasion have left you rather more co-operative.”
He glanced at the door, but he seemed amused. “I may have taken certain precautions,” he said, and then - style again - presented her with one flower. “A fitting tribute, I think.” Then - and this was the part she was uncertain of - he and the statue vanished again.
When the guards arrived, they found her turning over a rare black kia bloom (they grew only in the poisonous miasmas of Helvas), smiling over some irony. She merely sent them away again, and they just shrugged to themselves. Madam was known for her odd whims and fancies and a soldier who wanted to stay alive didn’t question them.
So nobody questioned, either, why she kept the odd flower on her desk for as long as it would last.
***
Crossposted from Dreamwidth -- Comments there:
Author: lost_spook
Rating: PG
Word Count: 738
Characters/Pairings: Servalan, The Master
Notes/Warnings: None.
Summary: They both leave a trail across the galaxies that the other can see only too clearly...
For liadtbunny in the 500 Prompts Meme: #81 Across the worlds (Servalan & The Master, B7/DW). This prompt is one of those that could so easily have been an epic, but I turned it into this. It's probably as well, really...
***
The first time she heard of him was on Olthos. He was posing as a Federation official and diverting the mineral ore from the planet directly into his spaceship and away from its proper channels. She didn’t see him or speak to him, but she saw his file and sentenced the inept Governor who had failed to spot what were obviously forged credentials. Really, the impostor had hardly even made an effort. Anyone fooled by that deserved their fate - and the Supreme Commander was a great believer in justice.
She discovered him next on Lennoc Prime. He seemed to have successfully brainwashed one of the guards into carrying out his crimes for him this time - robbery and assault. The authorities had apprehended him and were holding him pending her arrival. It appeared that whatever methods he had used on the guard were more effective than some of the Federation’s own, and that Servalan found intriguing.
By the time she’d reached the prison to interrogate him, he had vanished.
He was caught on security cameras in the middle of the annual Starbirth Ceremony on the distant colony of Hynarian. She despatched reliable agents to find out more, but too many of the witnesses had apparently been celebrating too hard. All her agents could get out of them no matter what methods were applied, were tales of people being turned into dolls and a vanishing sideshow stall.
When something arrived in her office by means that could only be described by teleportation, she had to smile. She knew of only one group of people who had access to working technology of that kind. And, she thought, rising from her chair, it wasn’t even her birth anniversary.
However, it was a statue that had arrived, not a rebel - presumably it contained (or was) a destructive device of some kind. (Really, she would have expected something more personal from Avon these days. She was almost hurt.) She was about to summon the guards to remove the dangerous object, when someone whose image she was becoming familiar with stepped out of it. He was still wearing his stolen official’s uniform, but Servalan didn’t blame him for that. It suited him.
“Madam President,” he said, giving her a formal bow. “I heard you wanted to talk to me - and who am I to deny your wishes?”
She kept her distance, but gave a small smile, giving him credit for style and she made no move to call for help, nor did she display any fear. “I was curious, I confess. You seem to possess talents that could be useful to us.”
“No, I think not,” he said. “I believe that’s false modesty, coming from you.”
Servalan raised an eyebrow. That was, she thought, something of a fresh accusation.
“There’s nothing for me to do here,” he said. “You’ve already accomplished so much. I’ve merely been admiring your handiwork.”
She appreciated flattery, but she would not be distracted by it. “And stealing Herculaneum ore.”
“Well,” he said. “A little, perhaps.”
“And helping to arm the Degrayans, who massacred our troops on Hynar II last month.”
He gave her an innocent, enquiring look. She didn’t trust it for a moment.
“And someone has been repeatedly trying to encourage the aliens to renew their war against us.”
“How terrible, Madam President,” he said. “If that is so, let me assure you it won’t happen again. As I said, you leave so little scope for, ah, improvement here. We shan’t meet again.”
“Oh, I think we shall,” she said, pressing the button on her desk for the guards. “In a cell, after certain methods of persuasion have left you rather more co-operative.”
He glanced at the door, but he seemed amused. “I may have taken certain precautions,” he said, and then - style again - presented her with one flower. “A fitting tribute, I think.” Then - and this was the part she was uncertain of - he and the statue vanished again.
When the guards arrived, they found her turning over a rare black kia bloom (they grew only in the poisonous miasmas of Helvas), smiling over some irony. She merely sent them away again, and they just shrugged to themselves. Madam was known for her odd whims and fancies and a soldier who wanted to stay alive didn’t question them.
So nobody questioned, either, why she kept the odd flower on her desk for as long as it would last.
***
Crossposted from Dreamwidth -- Comments there: