awakeneddragon
11-12-2005, 12:36 AM
Before there was a Dark Age, there was trouble brewing...
"So, what are you going to do?" Spike asked, leaning against the bio-display consoles, one of the new, engineered apples in his hand.
Que frowned. "What do you mean?"
Spike barked a laugh and waved the apple in the air extravagantly, taking in Que's stark lab, all displays and smoky windows with shadowy figures.
"I mean, the Sig's daughter is totally in love with you, man."
Que turned back to his read-out. Andromeda's lifesigns were unstable lately, with odd mental fluctuations, especially when conversation was in the room. Lately Que had been more quiet than usual in his own office.
"That's her problem then," he said in his gravely voice. Since being assigned to Attr something had been troubling his throat.
Que looked around the room, tagging the windows into flooded chambers mentally: Sebastian, Titan, Io, Andromeda, and Mercury. Something felt out of place today.
Spike was shaking his head, grinning his skeletal grin. "I don't think so. The Sig is already trying to find a way to get you off his rock."
Que shrugged. "He shouldn't have brought her here, and he knows it."
Spike laughed. "You are just too cool, Que," he said with resignation, and slipped into the co-pilot's seat.
Que slid his eyes across the boards. Sure enough, Andromeda was almost awake now. He thought about her constant dream-state, and realized that she recognized him: Her rhythms spiked whenever he spoke; became erratic when Spike did. He frowned.
"Spike, I'm really busy here--"
Spike snorted. "Yeah, yeah, the hotshot from the Coreplanets has spoken," he said, throwing up his hands. He rose to leave, the apple sitting on Que's highly polished counter.
"You shouldn't leave that here," Que said, eyeing Andromeda's life signs.
Spike was already out the pressurized door, exit security lights flashing, scanning, and electronically dissecting him. But his voice floated back, "Think of it as a gift to the untouchables in Bio-weapons, from us lowly slugs in Agriculture."
The door cycled shut and silence settled in the room.
Andromeda seemed to be waiting, her pulse steady now, in those moments before wakefulness. Que rose from his seat and walked to her window.
He leaned forward, careful not to touch the bulletproof glass. In the fluid he could make out her completed, naked form. Her body appeared almost armored, the chitin, crystalline growths erupting from her body actually gleaned from the alien, mineral wealth of Attr. It was through them that he achieved most of his analysis--the crystal had remarkable mental conductive properties. He postulated that, awake, Andromeda would be a powerful psychic as well.
He actually felt that the coils of superconductive metals and transmitting equipment were far more ugly on her.
"Bio-weapons," Que said to her sadly, not for the first time. He thought of his father, kind, laughing, a teacher and a soccer coach. "Would dad smile now at his serious boy?"
Andromeda had no answers, floating in chemical sleep.
She would be recycled soon, and Que frowned. He had grown and built others, but she had been the first woman, the Sig wanting to have more varied readings. The males had all proven too unstable. Andromeda had been a gem, but recent developments out of Mineralogy were making her obsolete before she was even done.
Rumor had it that funding was being cut in the Homeworlds, but Que didn't care. He was a Father, one of the few humans psycho-tecs cleared for the work of nurturing vat-children, the Neverborn. He frowned. His next psyche-eval would be soon, and he worried that he was, with the termination of Andromeda coming, going to fall prey to that syndrome that affected all the Fathers: He wanted his child to wake.
"But they won't let that happen, will they?" Que said, his voice cracking from illness and emotion.
An alarm went off at his panel, and he quickly took his seat, his eyes going first to Andromeda, and then, with surprise, sliding to Mercury.
"Son of a--"
Mercury was awake.
"So, what are you going to do?" Spike asked, leaning against the bio-display consoles, one of the new, engineered apples in his hand.
Que frowned. "What do you mean?"
Spike barked a laugh and waved the apple in the air extravagantly, taking in Que's stark lab, all displays and smoky windows with shadowy figures.
"I mean, the Sig's daughter is totally in love with you, man."
Que turned back to his read-out. Andromeda's lifesigns were unstable lately, with odd mental fluctuations, especially when conversation was in the room. Lately Que had been more quiet than usual in his own office.
"That's her problem then," he said in his gravely voice. Since being assigned to Attr something had been troubling his throat.
Que looked around the room, tagging the windows into flooded chambers mentally: Sebastian, Titan, Io, Andromeda, and Mercury. Something felt out of place today.
Spike was shaking his head, grinning his skeletal grin. "I don't think so. The Sig is already trying to find a way to get you off his rock."
Que shrugged. "He shouldn't have brought her here, and he knows it."
Spike laughed. "You are just too cool, Que," he said with resignation, and slipped into the co-pilot's seat.
Que slid his eyes across the boards. Sure enough, Andromeda was almost awake now. He thought about her constant dream-state, and realized that she recognized him: Her rhythms spiked whenever he spoke; became erratic when Spike did. He frowned.
"Spike, I'm really busy here--"
Spike snorted. "Yeah, yeah, the hotshot from the Coreplanets has spoken," he said, throwing up his hands. He rose to leave, the apple sitting on Que's highly polished counter.
"You shouldn't leave that here," Que said, eyeing Andromeda's life signs.
Spike was already out the pressurized door, exit security lights flashing, scanning, and electronically dissecting him. But his voice floated back, "Think of it as a gift to the untouchables in Bio-weapons, from us lowly slugs in Agriculture."
The door cycled shut and silence settled in the room.
Andromeda seemed to be waiting, her pulse steady now, in those moments before wakefulness. Que rose from his seat and walked to her window.
He leaned forward, careful not to touch the bulletproof glass. In the fluid he could make out her completed, naked form. Her body appeared almost armored, the chitin, crystalline growths erupting from her body actually gleaned from the alien, mineral wealth of Attr. It was through them that he achieved most of his analysis--the crystal had remarkable mental conductive properties. He postulated that, awake, Andromeda would be a powerful psychic as well.
He actually felt that the coils of superconductive metals and transmitting equipment were far more ugly on her.
"Bio-weapons," Que said to her sadly, not for the first time. He thought of his father, kind, laughing, a teacher and a soccer coach. "Would dad smile now at his serious boy?"
Andromeda had no answers, floating in chemical sleep.
She would be recycled soon, and Que frowned. He had grown and built others, but she had been the first woman, the Sig wanting to have more varied readings. The males had all proven too unstable. Andromeda had been a gem, but recent developments out of Mineralogy were making her obsolete before she was even done.
Rumor had it that funding was being cut in the Homeworlds, but Que didn't care. He was a Father, one of the few humans psycho-tecs cleared for the work of nurturing vat-children, the Neverborn. He frowned. His next psyche-eval would be soon, and he worried that he was, with the termination of Andromeda coming, going to fall prey to that syndrome that affected all the Fathers: He wanted his child to wake.
"But they won't let that happen, will they?" Que said, his voice cracking from illness and emotion.
An alarm went off at his panel, and he quickly took his seat, his eyes going first to Andromeda, and then, with surprise, sliding to Mercury.
"Son of a--"
Mercury was awake.