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taxonomites2009-04-17 10:31 am
semimuscular.livejournal.com) wrote in taxonomites2009-04-17 10:31 am
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001: A Sudden (Yet Inevitable) Abduction [Holo]
“You know, there was a time when this sort of thing would have seemed really strange to me.”
Wash lived on a spaceship. Communicators? Fine. Holographs? Lovely. Sonic devices of assorted effectiveness? Great.
But teleporters? Teleporters that picked up an almost entirely innocent pilot while he was sitting on the bridge and moved him – without warning – to an unknown location?
They sounded as of they came straight out of science fiction.
“That was before I met the psychic who could kill me with her brain,” he continued, raising his voice to address the invisible culprits, “And before subversive organisations started hiring sinister bounty hunters to capture my crew mates.”
He paused, still glancing at the devices around him with unconcealed astonishment.
“Or maybe it was before I ate that shrimp protein when we visited Newhall? That would explain a lot…”
Wash climbed down from the platform with as much dignity as he could muster, worriedly examining the bracelet on his wrist.
“They’ll be coming to rescue me!” he called out, “You can’t keep me in your shiny little prison forever. I’m not scared of you or your strange jewellery.”
He felt that it was very important to make sure that his kidnappers knew that. He wasn’t as brave as Mal or as stoic as Zoe, but it was amazing what a brief show of bravado could do for your confidence. Although he was just the pilot – the one who made inappropriate jokes and sat around in a Hawaiian shirt, playing with dinosaurs while other people went out to obtain war stories and fresh scars – Wash could almost feel his chest swelling with pride as he straightened up and stated his bravery in his most authoritative voice.
(It wasn’t very authoritative, though, was it? Authority usually came in the form of muscular men with boots and slick hairstyles, and although Wash had one out of three he suspected that the boots weren’t the most important part of the look.)
Pausing for effect, or possibly because he was actually hoping for a response, Wash glanced around the room. He spotted the tablet resting nearby, but didn’t pick it up. The fact that it didn’t look like a torture tool was a bit of a comfort, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t going to explode when he wandered over to examine it.
After a moment of silence – several moments, in fact – Wash gave up.
”You’re not going to probe me, are you?” he asked, “Because … probing … doesn’t sound like a whole lot of fun...”
Wash lived on a spaceship. Communicators? Fine. Holographs? Lovely. Sonic devices of assorted effectiveness? Great.
But teleporters? Teleporters that picked up an almost entirely innocent pilot while he was sitting on the bridge and moved him – without warning – to an unknown location?
They sounded as of they came straight out of science fiction.
“That was before I met the psychic who could kill me with her brain,” he continued, raising his voice to address the invisible culprits, “And before subversive organisations started hiring sinister bounty hunters to capture my crew mates.”
He paused, still glancing at the devices around him with unconcealed astonishment.
“Or maybe it was before I ate that shrimp protein when we visited Newhall? That would explain a lot…”
Wash climbed down from the platform with as much dignity as he could muster, worriedly examining the bracelet on his wrist.
“They’ll be coming to rescue me!” he called out, “You can’t keep me in your shiny little prison forever. I’m not scared of you or your strange jewellery.”
He felt that it was very important to make sure that his kidnappers knew that. He wasn’t as brave as Mal or as stoic as Zoe, but it was amazing what a brief show of bravado could do for your confidence. Although he was just the pilot – the one who made inappropriate jokes and sat around in a Hawaiian shirt, playing with dinosaurs while other people went out to obtain war stories and fresh scars – Wash could almost feel his chest swelling with pride as he straightened up and stated his bravery in his most authoritative voice.
(It wasn’t very authoritative, though, was it? Authority usually came in the form of muscular men with boots and slick hairstyles, and although Wash had one out of three he suspected that the boots weren’t the most important part of the look.)
Pausing for effect, or possibly because he was actually hoping for a response, Wash glanced around the room. He spotted the tablet resting nearby, but didn’t pick it up. The fact that it didn’t look like a torture tool was a bit of a comfort, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t going to explode when he wandered over to examine it.
After a moment of silence – several moments, in fact – Wash gave up.
”You’re not going to probe me, are you?” he asked, “Because … probing … doesn’t sound like a whole lot of fun...”