[ZEX/Capt] Untitled, 2/?
Title: Untitled, Part 2/?
Wordcount: 881
Notes: DAX and ZEX are a ton of fun to write. Which is strange, because the other twenty million times I tried to write ZEX fic, I couldn't get a handle on his voice at all.
This all was written in a day. I'm quite stunned that I got it all down so easily... but the banter seemed to write itself.
Still looking for title... *sigh*
---
"I'm going to die," the ensign whined, "this is the end of everything."
ZEX had curled a tentacle to his forehead, laughing very quietly at DAX's visible impatience.
"I'll never be able to go home, now, or rise in rank. Running!" She flicked a contemptuous look down at DAX. "Sub-Commander, sir, I'm seriously contemplating registering a formal complaint--"
"Be quiet, you silly child," DAX growled, jabbing sharply at her wound with the disinfectant pad. "You wouldn't advance anyway, not with that attitude. Why do you think you were sent out here?"
"DAX, no," ZEX said suddenly, "Don't be cruel." DAX sighed and subsided; his admiral addressed the ensign. "You studied me in school."
Though it wasn't a question, she blinked yes.
"As a tactician, I approve of DAX's tactical withdrawal. It was a very sensible manuver, and indicated a willingness to go against custom in favor of efficiency and preservation of the chain of command." He subtly leaned towards her, giving her his full attention. "'He who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day.' Do you understand?"
Her sullen reply was an insincere "Yes, sir," and an angry silence-- even DAX's rough treatment of her wound didn't evict a single hiss of pain from her.
When DAX finished-- her wound cleaned, slathered in medicinal salve, and sealed with a fast-drying liquid bandage-- he turned to ZEX, bringing the medical kit with him. Leaning in close to examine ZEX's head injuries (bad enough that, even conscious and lucid, he couldn't walk steadily), he hissed near-silently, "I think we should let her go back. Shover her out the airlock, let her navigate by herself."
ZEX looked amused. "I've trained worse, if you recall. There's a certain lieutenant they had put under my care, that was nearly a commander by the end of the war..." He tapped a tentacle against DAX's chest. "Bad-tempered fellow, if I remember correctly, with a boring name."
"Heh. So boring, you couldn't recall it if you tried for a year?" DAX began to gently disinfect a gash at the base of ZEX's top-left tendril; ZEX flinched, then waved his tentacle in a universal "don't worry" sort of gesture when DAX pulled away.
"Oh, it wouldn't take a year, I'm sure. In truth, it's right at the tip of my trunk." With a cheerful curl of his tendrils (excepting the one DAX was tending), he mused, "Was it DEX? DAZ? No, that can't be right..."
"I'm sure it will come to you, sir." DAX slid the disinfectant pad off his tentacle and took up the salve.
ZEX looked fondly up at him. "Hee! Perhaps, Sub-Commander."
"Where are we going?" the ensign snapped, quickly and abruptly; she hastily tacked a "sir" onto the end. "Our heading is out of VUX space, not into."
"Ensign-- what's your name, ensign?"
"VIP. Sir."
ZEX blinked. "Ensign VIP. Why do you think you were sent to Alpha Cerenkov, sent to serve in my flagship?"
"I don't see what this has to do with--" She caught the way ZEX was staring at her. "I... uh... I scored well in my tactical classes?"
ZEX sighed. "I believe you might have had a few demerits, some disciplinary action taken against you-- insubordination, most likely. Am I correct?"
She hunched her shoulders up defensively. "You couldn't possibly know that. You didn't even know my name."
"I didn't need to know your name. Your... charming... personality makes it quite clear." He said it lightly, to take the bite out of the jab. "My hero's exile was the perfect excuse to ship undesirable crew away from the main fleet; officers who could think for themselves, liberal crewmen pushing for change, conservative crewmen resisting it... rebellious children who didn't stop being individuals during training." VIP flinched. "For all that I've contributed my life to our species and our military, I'm not well-loved at home, publicly or by the council. They'll be perfectly happy thinking I've died, honestly."
DAX sat on the bench to ZEX's left and began to clean a long scratch down his tentacle.
"As it is, I have no desire to stay; there's nothing left for me there. So we're going to Zeeman. I have an acquaintance in that area; he'll help us on our way to our next stop... for a small fee, of course."
After a long moment of silence, VIP said (in a very small voice), "What's our next stop?"
ZEX appeared to be on the edge of a dramatic declaration, so DAX slid into the conversation with a derisive "Sol, most likely. Humans."
"... your talent for ruining a moment is astounding, DAX."
"I'll take that as a compliment, sir. As it was surely intended."
Laughing, ZEX leaned against DAX's shoulder. "DAX is right--" ("Always.") "-- we're headed to Sol III."
VIP looked stunned, and a little disgusted, leaning away from them as if they had a nasty disease. DAX ignored the attitude she was projecting. "Now, sir, if you don't want your gills to get infected, I should treat that back wound you've been ignoring."
With a mock sigh, ZEX turned. "You can see right through me, as always. What would I do without you?"
Die, probably, was the thought that flit across DAX's mind. "I'm sure I don't know."
Wordcount: 881
Notes: DAX and ZEX are a ton of fun to write. Which is strange, because the other twenty million times I tried to write ZEX fic, I couldn't get a handle on his voice at all.
This all was written in a day. I'm quite stunned that I got it all down so easily... but the banter seemed to write itself.
Still looking for title... *sigh*
---
"I'm going to die," the ensign whined, "this is the end of everything."
ZEX had curled a tentacle to his forehead, laughing very quietly at DAX's visible impatience.
"I'll never be able to go home, now, or rise in rank. Running!" She flicked a contemptuous look down at DAX. "Sub-Commander, sir, I'm seriously contemplating registering a formal complaint--"
"Be quiet, you silly child," DAX growled, jabbing sharply at her wound with the disinfectant pad. "You wouldn't advance anyway, not with that attitude. Why do you think you were sent out here?"
"DAX, no," ZEX said suddenly, "Don't be cruel." DAX sighed and subsided; his admiral addressed the ensign. "You studied me in school."
Though it wasn't a question, she blinked yes.
"As a tactician, I approve of DAX's tactical withdrawal. It was a very sensible manuver, and indicated a willingness to go against custom in favor of efficiency and preservation of the chain of command." He subtly leaned towards her, giving her his full attention. "'He who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day.' Do you understand?"
Her sullen reply was an insincere "Yes, sir," and an angry silence-- even DAX's rough treatment of her wound didn't evict a single hiss of pain from her.
When DAX finished-- her wound cleaned, slathered in medicinal salve, and sealed with a fast-drying liquid bandage-- he turned to ZEX, bringing the medical kit with him. Leaning in close to examine ZEX's head injuries (bad enough that, even conscious and lucid, he couldn't walk steadily), he hissed near-silently, "I think we should let her go back. Shover her out the airlock, let her navigate by herself."
ZEX looked amused. "I've trained worse, if you recall. There's a certain lieutenant they had put under my care, that was nearly a commander by the end of the war..." He tapped a tentacle against DAX's chest. "Bad-tempered fellow, if I remember correctly, with a boring name."
"Heh. So boring, you couldn't recall it if you tried for a year?" DAX began to gently disinfect a gash at the base of ZEX's top-left tendril; ZEX flinched, then waved his tentacle in a universal "don't worry" sort of gesture when DAX pulled away.
"Oh, it wouldn't take a year, I'm sure. In truth, it's right at the tip of my trunk." With a cheerful curl of his tendrils (excepting the one DAX was tending), he mused, "Was it DEX? DAZ? No, that can't be right..."
"I'm sure it will come to you, sir." DAX slid the disinfectant pad off his tentacle and took up the salve.
ZEX looked fondly up at him. "Hee! Perhaps, Sub-Commander."
"Where are we going?" the ensign snapped, quickly and abruptly; she hastily tacked a "sir" onto the end. "Our heading is out of VUX space, not into."
"Ensign-- what's your name, ensign?"
"VIP. Sir."
ZEX blinked. "Ensign VIP. Why do you think you were sent to Alpha Cerenkov, sent to serve in my flagship?"
"I don't see what this has to do with--" She caught the way ZEX was staring at her. "I... uh... I scored well in my tactical classes?"
ZEX sighed. "I believe you might have had a few demerits, some disciplinary action taken against you-- insubordination, most likely. Am I correct?"
She hunched her shoulders up defensively. "You couldn't possibly know that. You didn't even know my name."
"I didn't need to know your name. Your... charming... personality makes it quite clear." He said it lightly, to take the bite out of the jab. "My hero's exile was the perfect excuse to ship undesirable crew away from the main fleet; officers who could think for themselves, liberal crewmen pushing for change, conservative crewmen resisting it... rebellious children who didn't stop being individuals during training." VIP flinched. "For all that I've contributed my life to our species and our military, I'm not well-loved at home, publicly or by the council. They'll be perfectly happy thinking I've died, honestly."
DAX sat on the bench to ZEX's left and began to clean a long scratch down his tentacle.
"As it is, I have no desire to stay; there's nothing left for me there. So we're going to Zeeman. I have an acquaintance in that area; he'll help us on our way to our next stop... for a small fee, of course."
After a long moment of silence, VIP said (in a very small voice), "What's our next stop?"
ZEX appeared to be on the edge of a dramatic declaration, so DAX slid into the conversation with a derisive "Sol, most likely. Humans."
"... your talent for ruining a moment is astounding, DAX."
"I'll take that as a compliment, sir. As it was surely intended."
Laughing, ZEX leaned against DAX's shoulder. "DAX is right--" ("Always.") "-- we're headed to Sol III."
VIP looked stunned, and a little disgusted, leaning away from them as if they had a nasty disease. DAX ignored the attitude she was projecting. "Now, sir, if you don't want your gills to get infected, I should treat that back wound you've been ignoring."
With a mock sigh, ZEX turned. "You can see right through me, as always. What would I do without you?"
Die, probably, was the thought that flit across DAX's mind. "I'm sure I don't know."