Officer Aeryn Sun (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
do_your_duty) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ten_fwd2015-05-16 04:25 pm
do_your_duty) wrote in ten_fwd2015-05-16 04:25 pm
Entry tags:
DECK 12; THE GYMNASIUM
She's not very social.
It's not that she hasn't ever been.
She had good compatriots in her regiments on the Command Carriers. It wasn't the same on Moya. It was a small ship, but there were spaces she could not ignore nor avoid. Not remove the knowledge it was populated with only a handful of escaped criminals. (That she's just as much one of them now.)
The Enterprise is different than both. Larger than Moya, but much smaller than a Command Carrier. More than the small crew of prisoners, but crawling with civilians. On a mission of 'peace,' yet laden with weapons. But it does have some things in common with Moya.
The first. They each have a good training room.
The second. Aeryn Sun spends a lot of time there.
The third. There is only so much time you can do that.
Even if "time" is a weeken or a quarter cycle. Half a cycle. Which is why she's sitting on the floor now, looking at the empty room, every still, waiting apparatus. (The hum of the ship, beneath her, under it all, is different, too. She can tell, because the sound she's looking for, that something in her is feeling for, isn't there.)
(She knows that makes her more different than those three now, too.)
It's not that she hasn't ever been.
She had good compatriots in her regiments on the Command Carriers. It wasn't the same on Moya. It was a small ship, but there were spaces she could not ignore nor avoid. Not remove the knowledge it was populated with only a handful of escaped criminals. (That she's just as much one of them now.)
The Enterprise is different than both. Larger than Moya, but much smaller than a Command Carrier. More than the small crew of prisoners, but crawling with civilians. On a mission of 'peace,' yet laden with weapons. But it does have some things in common with Moya.
The first. They each have a good training room.
The second. Aeryn Sun spends a lot of time there.
The third. There is only so much time you can do that.
Even if "time" is a weeken or a quarter cycle. Half a cycle. Which is why she's sitting on the floor now, looking at the empty room, every still, waiting apparatus. (The hum of the ship, beneath her, under it all, is different, too. She can tell, because the sound she's looking for, that something in her is feeling for, isn't there.)
(She knows that makes her more different than those three now, too.)
no subject
The but it's not gonna happen is unspoken. She doesn't need the reminder, like a white hot coal back between her ribs. In this version of the universe, anything's possible now.
He bites his lip, containing that unquenchable hope of his and something a little harder to read. "Nope, but I know they exist in this universe. Wormholes are... they're basically tubes of spacetime. The theory of the Einstien-Rosen bridge is that they can act as conduits between two different points in the universe, and like a singularity time, relativity, physical dimensions ... shouldn't matter. They're a universal constant."
Connecting ... well, everything. "That's the theory, anyway," he grins. "And getting to one is exactly why I'm telling you that you need to play nice with the locals. On your big Peacekeeper ships you had to wait for one of the higher-ups to assign you prowler duty, right? Well, you want a prowler here? Make nice with the crew.
"It's not exactly a warship, but a shuttle would do the trick. Even at impulse power, we just need something with four walls to get us through the wormhole and out the other side."
no subject
She doesn't want to feel it, but it flushes across her chest, seeping into her lungs and her ribs all the same. A wash of pleasure at his amusement and agreement in that warm, short laugh of his. At the way he doesn't contradict her flippant, angry, but utterly willing to fulfill the want, response. No matter how much it might not help. It would help her for a few seconds.
He bites his lip the way he does when he's about to explode again and then he does.
Starts rambling in that way he does. Words she doesn't understand that her translator microbes scramble to keep up with. Funnels of color, something about surmountable structures being connected that she can't picture, and names that make no sense, sounding wholly like an entire language inserted in themselves, that makes the space between her eyes furrow just slightly in confusion.
She can't understand half the things he adds to what he says on a good day, in the middle of a mission she completely understands, and when begins to talk like a tech or a scientist if it's even more incoherent. Except that his eyes get bright and he's gone excitable, and she's almost frustrated at herself that she has no real clue if he's making sense or not, babbling insanity even for his kind or not.
The end makes sense, again, though. Which she can at least get her hands on. Doubtful sounding.
"You think they are going to let us near anything so large without a large contingent watching?"