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Entry tags:
ficlets.
A few. Two for RSR.
Cally invading a B7 person's mind.
Cally and Gan being competent on a mission, with violence (I failed on making it too violent. sorry)
She hadn't meant to.
It had a fragment of tomorrow, a reverie of yesterday. One moment looking at Tarrant and his grief for his brother, the next. The next, the next, echoes of the place he was shot in.
Tarrant. Cally. Blue and red crystals shattered on the vast expanse of space.
He wants to scream at her.
She can feel him, inside, clawing his way towards the surface. She can't let him free, can't let the others see what she's done (what he's done, what they've done, and it should never have been like this). But this is too much, too many memories that aren't hers, and she can hear Deta saying goodbye again, and it hurts, oh, Cally, it hurts.
My name is Cally, she thinks, as she regains consciousness. A member of that race known as the Auronar. Telepaths...
Mind killers.
------
"You're the muscle."
"I'm the muscle?" He shoots her a wry grin and shifts his stance, "I thought you were."
A slight twitch of her lips, and then she turns back to scanning the crowd, "Our contact is supposed to be here by now."
"Blake --"
"Ssh." Her nerves are jumpy, her brain analyzing everything about the seedy bar they're in. There. Along the wall. "Federation officer. Back wall, blond hair. Don't look at him." She scans the crowd, testing their body language against his. "Two others in the crowd." A slight smile curves her lips, "Somehow, Gan, I don't think our contact is going to make it."
"Apparently not." The jovial manner slips, cold calculation glancing out over the crowd. "Suggestions?"
"We're in a bar, most of the people are not in their right minds." A pixie-like smirk. "I don't suppose you feel like insulting people?"
"Poor Vila, all the fun he's missing."
"Mmm." Cally turns and begins to walk towards the bar, angling her path just enough so that when one of the patrons turns, two glasses in his hands, she collides with him. The resulting screaming match would probably have given Avon, with his need for calm and control, hives.
Pure luck lands one of the Federation men right next to her when the irate man throws his fist out. The blow misses her, but smashes into the Fed's nose. He goes down while Cally is still dodging.
By the time she's made it to the edge of the sudden brawl, Gan is there, calmly watching the melee. Slightly out of breath, she grasps his arm, "Well?"
"Two of them are down, the third one -- oh, that must've hurt."
"Good."
By now, someone has called the local enforcers, and they have to slip through a side entrance (recently created when a table crashed through the wall). Once in the street, Cally eyes their surroundings and sets off for the spaceport.
"Uh, Cally?"
"Well, he's still out here. Besides, we've still got three hours until the pick-up."
"Right." He falls into step with her like a massive shadow, occasionally eyeing the shadows around them and the people who didn't pay anymore attention to them than the bar's patrons had.
Cally invading a B7 person's mind.
Cally and Gan being competent on a mission, with violence (I failed on making it too violent. sorry)
She hadn't meant to.
It had a fragment of tomorrow, a reverie of yesterday. One moment looking at Tarrant and his grief for his brother, the next. The next, the next, echoes of the place he was shot in.
Tarrant. Cally. Blue and red crystals shattered on the vast expanse of space.
He wants to scream at her.
She can feel him, inside, clawing his way towards the surface. She can't let him free, can't let the others see what she's done (what he's done, what they've done, and it should never have been like this). But this is too much, too many memories that aren't hers, and she can hear Deta saying goodbye again, and it hurts, oh, Cally, it hurts.
My name is Cally, she thinks, as she regains consciousness. A member of that race known as the Auronar. Telepaths...
Mind killers.
------
"You're the muscle."
"I'm the muscle?" He shoots her a wry grin and shifts his stance, "I thought you were."
A slight twitch of her lips, and then she turns back to scanning the crowd, "Our contact is supposed to be here by now."
"Blake --"
"Ssh." Her nerves are jumpy, her brain analyzing everything about the seedy bar they're in. There. Along the wall. "Federation officer. Back wall, blond hair. Don't look at him." She scans the crowd, testing their body language against his. "Two others in the crowd." A slight smile curves her lips, "Somehow, Gan, I don't think our contact is going to make it."
"Apparently not." The jovial manner slips, cold calculation glancing out over the crowd. "Suggestions?"
"We're in a bar, most of the people are not in their right minds." A pixie-like smirk. "I don't suppose you feel like insulting people?"
"Poor Vila, all the fun he's missing."
"Mmm." Cally turns and begins to walk towards the bar, angling her path just enough so that when one of the patrons turns, two glasses in his hands, she collides with him. The resulting screaming match would probably have given Avon, with his need for calm and control, hives.
Pure luck lands one of the Federation men right next to her when the irate man throws his fist out. The blow misses her, but smashes into the Fed's nose. He goes down while Cally is still dodging.
By the time she's made it to the edge of the sudden brawl, Gan is there, calmly watching the melee. Slightly out of breath, she grasps his arm, "Well?"
"Two of them are down, the third one -- oh, that must've hurt."
"Good."
By now, someone has called the local enforcers, and they have to slip through a side entrance (recently created when a table crashed through the wall). Once in the street, Cally eyes their surroundings and sets off for the spaceport.
"Uh, Cally?"
"Well, he's still out here. Besides, we've still got three hours until the pick-up."
"Right." He falls into step with her like a massive shadow, occasionally eyeing the shadows around them and the people who didn't pay anymore attention to them than the bar's patrons had.
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Somehow, the Gan-Cally one works really well. Gan's underused in fic.