Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings (The Messenger Archive Book 1) Read online

  [Ashroe: It's pretty late here, and I have work tomorrow. Mind if we call it a night?]

  [Sianor: Oh I keep forgetting! No problem at all! I'll put some notes in the planning doc if they come to me in the night, and we can pick up tomorrow. That OK?]

  [Ashroe: Wonderful :) I can't wait to see them. Good job tonight, if you get inspired without me, feel free to go on. I'm not precious.]

  [Sianor: Sleep well xxx]

  ***

  Chapter Two - Mission: Gravitation

  "Thanks for that," Vadim said, climbing up the steep stairway that lead back into the ship proper.

  "For what, Captain?"

  "Yoinking me out of Awkwardness Central back there."

  "I do not know what you mean."

  "Too right you do, you shiny, snarky sod. But if you want to play dumb to Human interaction--"

  "I believe you mean Human-Hleen interaction, but your presence is actually required on the bridge."

  By now Vadim was too close to the other Hleen on the ship, and there was no way he was going to continue a conversation about his awkward non-talk with Saidhe's twin sister in front of him.

  "Bitey," he said, pointing a finger at the happily snoring bundle of warm, tan fur. "Up."

  Xaix - Mr. Bitey - remained resolutely deaf, his thin tail whipping through the air once, then falling still.

  "I'm serious, you fluffy little crocodile: up. That's my chair."

  "He appears to disagree with you," Saidhe said, trying not to smirk.

  "He's going to find himself airlocked," Vadim threatened.

  That - apparently - penetrated through Xaix's sleeping brain, and the lazy, furry, lizard-cat meowled in annoyance and stretched up onto the arm of the chair.

  "Finally..." Vadim muttered, sliding into the now-warm seat. "If I got you a chair just like this one, you'd still try to steal mine, you little dick."

  An elegant sweep of that whipcord tail, and Xaix let gravity pull him back into Vadim's lap, curling up sleepily and only moving to elicit more head-pettings.

  "We ready to punch out?"

  "Sure are, Cap'n."

  "Do it."

  As Saidhe throttled up the engine, the familiar tug backwards had them pressed into their seats. Xaix didn't stir, and Vadim held onto the arm-rests. Saidhe was taking it easier than usual, trying to be considerate of the crew and passengers.

  "What about the trade deal?" she asked as the ship started to protest the pull of the world below and the thinning of the air as it normally did.

  "Judge will see to that. Rule in favour of reparations for lost business, plus medical fees. Won't be any opposition from them, I think. And if there is, he'll sharp get another Judge to rule it ain't favouritism."

  "Good. After that last deal went sour, we need all the coin we can get."

  "Judge's word's good for a Banker. 'Specially when it comes to medical fees," the Captain replied. "Why we have to go to Ramara, yesterday."

  "When I work out time travel, I will be sure to have already have let you know," Saidhe said. "Now, if you could--"

  "Anomalous reading," Messenger interrupted.

  "Tell me what I'm seeing," the Captain ordered, even as the display screen flickered with a change in direction, plus information overlaid in bright lettering.

  "It looks like... it looks like... debris? But it's strange for such a large amount of space-debris to be so close to a planet like this. And I'm... is that a Whale?" Saidhe's normally even voice rose in alarm.

  "Mes, what the hell is going on? Who lit a rocket up that bloated slug's ass?"

  "Unknown, Captain. The Space Whale is travelling much faster than recorded in a populated area. Perhaps it is in distress?"

  "You're asking me?" Vadim snapped. "I don't speak Whale!"

  "No one does," Saidhe muttered. "We all just guess where they're heading."

  "I would appreciate if people stop telling me things I already know, or things they don't know, and start making the things I don't know turn into... things I do."

  "The Whale is accelerating towards us at an exponential rate," Messenger said. "It is on a collision course with us."

  "What?! They don't... evasive action! Saidhe, you get us the hell out of that fat space-blubber's way. Alert status three: all crew and passengers brace for possible impact. I repeat: brace for possible impact."

  Biann, Loap and the Judge had been on the ship long enough to know not to ask what or why, but Kre was still relatively new to ship-board etiquette.

  "Captain?" the Sianar's voice came over the intercom.

  "Not right now, Fluffy!"

  For once, there wasn't a barely-repressed snort of annoyance at that. Evidently the strain in the Captain's voice was clear enough to quiet her down.

  "Banking hard, hold on to your head-dresses," Saidhe warned, then yanked violently at the controls, flipping the Messenger almost to a ninety-degree angle, turning the ship so she was flying with one wing pointing towards the planet, the other scraping noisily over the Whale's hide.

  Xaix yelped in protest as the ship struggled to dampen the movement and keep gravity constant, his claws digging through the Captain's deep green slacks. Vadim put a calming hand on the Ru's spine, letting him bite ineffectually at his thumb. "Status report."

  "We've taken damage to the port-side wing and impulse engines," Messenger replied.

  "Without them, I won't be confident in taking her back down onto a planet," Saidhe said, disgust plain in her voice. "Not after last time."

  "It looks pretty bad," Biann chirped, over the comm. She sounded like she was trying to smile over worry. "Going to take me several hours to fix it. There's a hull breach that's been temporarily vented and emergency-sealed, but it won't stand up to re-entry. Not without causing massive structural damage."

  "The emergency Whale-hooks engaged," the ship added. She sounded oddly contrite, for an AI. "It was an automatic reaction to the proximity, and I could not ask if you wanted me to over-ride the decision in time."

  "No... it's okay, Mes. You did right. Whale seems to be headed roughly in the right direction, if at a ridiculous speed. And we can't go back down to Antion like this. We'll need to conserve fuel in case we have to find an orbital dock," the Captain said. "Ship meeting. In the mess. Now. Loap, if that woke you up, you can come if you're up to it, but I'm ordering bed rest if not."

  "Yes, Cap'n."

  ***

  [Ashroe: I love having such an ensemble, but sometimes the number is a bit difficult to manage!]

  [Sianor: Oh, I know what you mean. But the characters are what drew me to the show. I know they might seem a bit corny and cliché, but I like them. I think they've got depth, and they don't just go for the caricature they could go for.]

  [Ashroe: Just because something is a trope doesn't make it bad! If we got rid of the main types of character, we'd have no more fiction.]

  [Sianor: You always say things better than me :)]

  [Ashroe: Three years studying Lit at university did that for me. Well. That and over a decade in fandom.]

  [Sianor: Makes me kind of wish we had such specialities early on here like you do there.]

  [Ashroe: I keep forgetting you're still a student.]

  [Sianor: Probably because I'm stuck in the house, lol.]

  [Ashroe: I didn't know that, sorry!]

  [Sianor: Don't be. I'm used to it. Some weeks are better than others.]

  [Sianor: So what drew you to this fandom? I saw on your account how many shows you've written for. It's impressive. I know we're still a little fandom right now, but maybe in season two it will perk up?]

  [Ashroe: Honestly, I don't really know why I pick certain shows or books. They just speak to me, I guess. But this one... it's the world I like. I could witter on for hours...]

  [Sianor: I won't complain! I'd be interested to see why you like it so much.]

  [Ashroe: Well, I like the characters, yes, but I like the universe more. It feels like it's written by someone who knows about the M
oh's Scale of Sci-Fi. I mean there's bits where it's doing the obvious episodes, but in season one you kinda have to do them.]

  [Sianor: You mean like the one about the kids, and the one about the 'slaves'?]

  [Ashroe: Precisely! Those Munts. I know it's supposed to set up where each of the characters' species differ, and lay out the crew's pressure points, but I preferred things like Mission: In A Bottle.]

  [Sianor: That's my favourite episode too!]

  [Ashroe: It really shows the limits of the ship as well as the people, and yeah, it's another clue the show-runners are fanboys and fangirls. If you're brave enough to call your episode after the Bottle, then you've got a certain level of knowledge. I just hope the network doesn't choke the creativity down with their one-size fits all demands.]

  [Sianor: It's a weakness of network, I feel. It's why I normally prefer cable shows. They go further... and I don't just mean with the shipping and slashing.]

  [Ashroe: It has such a scope for an Extended Universe, which is why you've seen so many fanon things decided. They play the balance between shown and unshown, giving us the scope to use our imagination. I wouldn't be surprised if the writers were on the archive, writing fic for other shows.]

  [Sianor: ...you think they'd read ours?]

  [Ashroe: I think they would be tempted, but they should avoid it. If they read it, then if they take any ideas, they'd risk us getting annoyed. Which is silly, because it's their damn show and most writers would be pleased to know they were on the right lines. But I also think they won't read our work because - if they're like me - if they read others' ideas it will make it harder for them to come up with their own. It's why I only read ships and gen that I'm not into, and by people who are recommended or I trust.]

  [Sianor: Well, then, I'm honoured :P]

  [Ashroe: You are! You do know you're going to be horribly canon-murdered, don't you? Jossed?]

  [Sianor: What?]

  [Ashroe: We're coming up with our own canon. Not just an Alternate Universe, but a whole other set of canon... or we will do. And then when it re-airs, we'll be contradicted on some things.]

  [Sianor: I guess, but I'm not going to let that get me down. Even if the character-assassinate my babies... I just take every thing I write that comes true as proof I know what I'm doing.]

  [Ashroe: Perfect attitude to take. Shall we carry on before I have to call it a night?]

  [Sianor: Ooops, yes!!!]

  ***

  Kre-Nappre paced around the mess, still restless. She didn't like the way Loap's scales were dull, and she didn't want to force assistance on the Roq, but at the same time she felt crushingly guilty about the harm.

  "Would you quit wearing out my ship?" Vadim groused. "Sit!"

  This would - normally - get a brief and atonal lecture about the joking references to canis familiaris, but today it got a sit.

  "Would you kindly explain what's going on?" the older Human asked.

  "Near as we can tell, the Whale was running past Antion in one hell of a hurry. Faster'n anyone's seen them do even in interstellar space. As you all know, Whales are normally slow when inside of solar systems, and they will always divert their course around existing ships in their flight-path," the Captain said.

  "But this one wasn't budging," Saidhe said, scratching at the elaborate head-dress she always wore. It felt uncomfortable, but everything did right now. "I tried to swerve, but she wiped out part of the wing and the impulse engine, punched a hole in our side, and forced the emergency hooks to deploy."

  "Do we know why the Whale was in such a hurry, and why it did not try to avoid us?" Kre asked, the obvious scientific relevance of the questions distracting her from her maudlin mood.

  "Maybe it's hurt. Maybe it's pissed. Maybe it's just mad. We don't know, and we don't care to know," the Captain said. "Feel free to take as many readings as you want, when the ship's patched back up. Way it is now, we can't safely enter any atmosphere. We need to either fix the bird up, or find an orbital repair station that won't cost so much we have to sell Biann into slavery."

  "Captain!" Saidhe protested.

  "Relax, relax. I was only joking."

  "Kre, if you help me get the hull, wings and engines back online, I promise I'll help you interpret all the sensor data you like," Biann offered, ignoring the slave-talk.

  "I would be honoured to assist in any way I can."

  "Captain, I have to disagree with your earlier statement," the Judge added, cautiously. "Whilst of course the well-being of crew and state of the ship is paramount, we must also understand why such a tragedy happened in the hopes of avoiding future incident for us or others. I will transmit a long-distance message to the Ur-Court, to see if they have heard of any such incidents."

  "Fine."

  "Your understanding is appreciated."

  "Don't push it, your Honour," Vadim said with a shudder. Any talk of the Ur-Court or the Ur-Enforcers always made him react badly, even though he was apparently happy to have Judge Peters onboard. No one but the two of them understood why.

  "I'll monitor where we're heading, to make sure we don't end up too far off course, and start trying to hail orbitals in case we have to stay up," Saidhe offered.

  "Good plan."

  "What can I do?" Loap asked, claws tapping frustratedly on the mess-hall table.

  "You can sit on your scaly ass until you get the all-clear, Loap. And I mean it."

  "I was on my 'scaly ass' when this happened. If I had been on the bridge, then--"

  "Then you would have been equally unable to predict such an occurrence, or react in time," Messenger jumped in. "I have calculated this."

  "Even the ship told you to lie down."

  "Fine," he growled. "I will."

  "Most people would jump at the chance to lie down," Vadim complained.

  "You do realise you are making no sense whatsoever?" Obsidian eyes narrowed in confusion. "Why would I jump to lie?"

  "It's... never mind. Obviously it's lost in translation. Damn literal... right. Everyone's got something to do, somewhere to be. I'm going to get in the suit. You know how I love EVA."

  "As much as I like 'lying down'."

  ***

  Vadim liked to complain more than anything else. No matter what it was, he hated doing 'it'. Whether it was his turn to cook the meal, or it was the vid that someone else picked, or it was the sector they were flying through... something was always 'wrong'. He was, however, renowned for his dislike of extra-vehicular activity (lovingly referred to as 'freaking EVA' on a regular basis) and it was only that he fit into the suits better than Kre, and he was stronger than Biann, that meant he was more often than not the designated mechanic.

  "Okay, I'm out here," he said, as he walked over the outside of the ship, pulling free with a magnetic clunk, then pressing his boots back down again. It was slow going.

  "I've killed all the power in the area, so you don't get fried," Biann's tinny voice came over the comm.

  "Mighty kind of you."

  "Although if we did accidentally fry you, that would mean we'd inherit your ship..."

  "Don't get any ideas, Twinkle Toes, Mr. Bitey is my sole beneficiary. I made sure Judge Peters oversaw the drawing up of my will."

  "But he isn't legally able to make decisions about your estate!" Biann said, sounding worried.

  "Nope, and good luck finding the named Power of Attorney. If you manage to track him down, then you deserve to keep everything I got."

  Vadim was not always sure if Biann took him seriously or not. Either she was very, very naïve or very, very good at deadpan. Sometimes he thought she wavered between the two, and cultivated the air of confusion on purpose.

  "I'll just bribe the Judge," she decided. "I'm sure I can use my 'hot, alien babe' ways on him."

  "That was one time! And I was in character for my role!"

  "You decided to perpetuate racial stereotypes willingly in a role of your own devising? How very forward of you."

  "Fine. I'm sorry. I
don't really think you and your sister - or any of your people - are really 'ribboned whores'. Happy now?"

  "Ecstatic, but you're going far too slowly."

  "Stop harassing me then, woman," Vadim said, shaking his head and the space-suit with it.

  It was true, the damage was pretty extensive. There were bits of things he didn't entirely understand hanging out, and a nasty, black-scorched rip right through the lovely (slightly worn) hull. "Oh, this is gonna need painting next time I can afford it."

  "If you put as much money into your--"

  "I know, alright? But she's my baby. And if she's listening she can wipe the smug look off her panels."

  "I am not capable of 'smugness', Captain," Messenger cooed. "But I appreciate your concern for the purely aesthetic aspects of my outward existence."