“Has Rung been watching Drag Race?”

Before I wash away

CW for this chapter: hypothermia, drowning

Relationship: platonic loceit

chapter title is from Heaven Knows by Five for Fighting

Masterlist

Read on ao3

Logan and Janus stood side by side on the docks.

“You’re sure your information is sound?” Logan asked, still not trusting the villain entirely, despite Patton and Virgil’s insistence he was ‘good now’.

“Darling, when have I ever led you wrong?” Janus purred.

Logan raised an eyebrow.

“Do you want a list?”

Janus huffed.

“That was always on purpose, I was just having fun. My information is never wrong. Or don’t you trust me?”

“No, in fact, I do not not.”

Janus blinked in surprise, he must have been so used to Virgil and Patton fawning over him, he hadn’t even considered the notion that not everyone on the team trusted him.

“I have been working with you for months now and have yet to lead you astray, what more do you expect from me?”

“That might be so, but you can’t expect me to believe you just decided one day to suddenly do the right thing. You were perfectly comfortable running the criminal underground. There is no logical reason you would decide to join us and until I know what motivated you to switch, I will have no choice but to be suspicious of you.” Logan explained, trying not to let his anger seep into his tone.

“You really think I decided to become a good person in one day? Have you forgotten all I’ve done for this city? I kept the criminals in line, I helped you in your jobs, I was on your side long before I officially joined you.” He said, a dark edge slithering into his tone.

“You helped us and kept the criminals in line because you wanted control over them, you wanted power. And just because you have the slightest semblance of a moral code does not automatically make you a good person.”

Janus turned away from him and took a deep breath, his eyes trained on the skyline, where the last dregs of sunlight were disappearing into the water.

“I never wanted that power.” He said, sounding oddly vulnerable.

Logan blinked in confusion and then hardened himself. Janus knew how to manipulate people, knew how to use their sympathy against them, no doubt he was doing the same now.

“Stop trying to manipulate me, that might work with Patton but I can see through your flimsy façade.”

Janus’s eyes hardened and he pulled up his mask.

“Well, if you really think a villain is all I am, you clearly don’t want my help on this job. I will leave you to it.” He swept away, his cape rustling along the concrete.

Logan watched him leave, a strange feeling in his throat. He should be feeling victorious, but all he could feel was a hollow emptiness.

He shook his head, however inaccurate the snake’s information may be, he still had to be on the lookout.

Janus claimed there would be a deal going down between the top hitman of their city and a corrupt official. The corrupt official was a little harder to deal with, they couldn’t exactly punch him out of office, but they had been trying to catch the hitman for a while now.

Known only by his moniker of Ghost, he had assassinated many important people and his actions were at the heart of most of the political turmoil of the city.

They hoped that if they got rid of ghosts, politicians would try to actually try to solve their problems diplomatically, instead of just assassinating their rivals.

An idle hope in Logan’s opinion but Patton had good faith in it.

Whether that worked out or not, Ghost had at least 5 accounts of murder to his name.

Ghost was a successful assassin but Logan’s analysis of his fighting style told him he usually used a sniper or other long ranged weapons.

As long as Logan managed to get in close enough, he should be able to take him out easy enough. The official would probably go running as soon as he saw Logan.

Logan sat on the docks for what felt like hours, feeling antsy. The conversation with Janus kept running through his mind.

It was probably this distraction that made that he didn’t notice the sound of fighting on the docks at first. The sound of a gunshot startled him out of his musings.

“Shit.” He breathed and took off towards the noise.

Ghost stood next to the water, a gun in his hand and a twisted smile on his lips. He turned slowly as Logan rounded the corner.

Logan scanned the area, trying to locate whoever Ghost had been fighting, but he saw no one.

“You’re just too late, kid.” Ghost drawled.

“Too late for what? You’re still here.”

“Sure you’re not missing something?”

“I can assure you, I have everything I need. Now can we end this pointless conversation so I can put you where you belong?” Logan was beginning to feel frustrated, he had no idea what the assassin was talking about.

“Oh well, I’d love to, but I’m not sure how your friend would feel about that. I reckon he’s starting to feel a bit cold by now.” Ghost gestured at the water.

Friend? Cold? Logan stared at the water and flicked on his infrared detector. His breath caught as down in the water, the scanner picked up the shape of a body. A body that was rapidly losing warmth.

He moved towards the water but then realized he had almost forgotten the other person standing on the dock.

The person in question was leaning against a pole, a smug smirk on his lips.

“Woops, seems like you have to make a choice.”

Logan nearly groaned in frustration. This was the perfect opportunity to catch Ghost, everything had been planned out. After this, Janus’s source would be compromised and they would probably never get this close to the assassin again.

But this wasn’t even a choice. Logan would not just let Janus drown.

He turned away from Ghost and stripped off his cloak. Ghost slipped away into the night behind him.

Carefully, Logan lowered himself into the water. He had been lectured enough about cold shock and hypothermia by Roman that knew not to just jump into the water. As much as every cell in his body was screaming at him to get to Janus as fast as possible.

Once he felt his body had been acclimated well enough, he submerged himself, taking care not to lose the figure on the infrared detector.

The water was ice cold and Logan felt it cut off his breathing. He wondered how long Janus had been in the water for.

As far as he saw, he wasn’t moving. Just drifting at the bottom of the, luckily, shallow harbour.

With one last gulp of air, Logan dove down. He grabbed Janus, struggling a little to wrap his arms around him. He could feel his extremities getting numb already. He pushed himself up from the bottom and kicked upwards.

Logan broke the surface with a gasp, drinking in a lungful of frigid air. Janus stayed unresponsive in his arms and Logan had the chilling suspicion he hadn’t taken a breath.

He swam to the shore as fast as he could. For every moment Janus didn’t move, Logan felt the sinking feeling in his gut deepen.

He managed to drag Janus out of the water with some difficulty. The cold was already taking its toll on his body.

He turned the other man on his side, making him expel the water from his lungs. He watched his chest, straining to see any type of movement there.

“Come on Janus, Pat will kill me if I let you die.” He said, sounding more choked than he was willing to admit. It was probably the cold.

Janus didn’t reply, of course he didn’t, even if he was breathing, he was too out of it to register what he was saying.

How he wished Roman was here.

Logan thought he saw a slight rise of Janus’s chest and he bent forward, trying to see it clearer. Another soft rise of his chest and a soft puff of breath against his cheek made the iron vice around his chest loosen a bit.

They weren’t in the clear yet, but at least he was breathing.

What was the next thing he should be thinking about?

Right, contacting the others, that was the most obvious next step now. And getting him warm, the water was ice cold and hypothermia was dangerous.

He switched on his comms first.

“Prince? I need assistance on the docks. Janus fell into the water, he’s breathing but his core temperature is low.” He reported clinically, trying not to sound like he was on the verge of a panic attack, that really was more Virgil’s speciality.

“Is his breathing regular? How is his heartbeat?” Roman’s voice came in immediately.

“They’re both stable. He’s fine for now but he needs treatment for hypothermia and cold shock as fast as possible.”

“Right, I’m on my way. Try to keep him as warm as possible. ETA is about 10 minutes.” With that Roman signed off, presumably to focus on racing through the streets at a frankly heartstopping pace.

Logan remembered his cloak, which he had shrugged off before following Janus into the water. With a worried glance and a quick check to make sure his breathing was still regular, he dashed off to find it.

Once he returned with the cloak securely clutched to his chest, he first dragged Janus to a slightly more secluded area of the docks.

He knew Roman would be able to find them because of the trackers in their gear, and he didn’t want to strip Janus right out in the open. He had a feeling Janus wouldn’t appreciate that.

He managed to wrangle him out of his cape and shirt, cursing the fiddly latches. Then he quickly wrapped him up in his cloak, tucking it closely around him so no cold air could get in.

Janus needed more than passive reheating, he was barely producing any body heat on his own and would need an outside source of warmth.

Logan sighed. He really would rather avoid this, knowing how the others would probably hold this over him for months.

Still, he had a job to do and however complicated his relationship with Janus was, he had to help him. It was his duty as a hero, and a friend.

He gently maneuvered Janus so he was leaning against his chest and wrapped his arms securely around the other. His cloak was waterproof, so even though Logan was still soaking, Janus shouldn’t get too wet.

He leaned back against a wall, keeping an eye on the surroundings while staying focused on Janus’s breathing.

He waited, Janus’s soft breaths moving against his chest.

He must have drifted off slightly, because he startled at the sound of a voice.

“Well, that’s just precious.”

Roman was leaning against the wall, looking like he was filing Logan’s position away for future blackmail material.

Logan scowled.

“That was more than 10 minutes.”

“Sorry love, traffic was hell.”

“Like you’d let that slow you down.”

Roman just smirked and then turned to Janus, his smile making place for a worried expression.

He checked his pulse and breathing with practiced motions and then lifted him out of Logan’s arms.

They felt strangely empty without the weight.

Logan curled up on the couch, drinking from a cup of warming tea Roman had pressed into his hands.

He could hear Roman bustling around in the small med bay. He had offered his assistance but Roman had shooed him out with the instructions to take care of himself first.

Logan tried to ignore the nervous fluttering in his belly. Janus had been stable when they had brought him in and Roman was an expert nurse, he would be alright.

Finally, Roman popped his head around the corner.

“You can come in now, I can feel your worry all the way from the other room.”

“I’m not worried.”

“Right.”

Logan entered the room. Janus was sitting up in the bed, looking tired and washed out, but at least not as pale and lifeless as when Logan had pulled him out of the water.

“Hi.” Janus croaked. He fidgeted awkwardly.

“Hello.” Logan replied.

An awkward silence filled the room.

“Thank you.” Janus eventually whispered, not meeting Logan’s eyes.

“I was just doing my job.” Logan tried to brush him off.

“Oh yeah? Does your job include saving villains?”

“My job includes saving everyone. And, I may have been a little harsh. I don’t think you’re truly a bad person. I’m just not entirely sure of your motivations yet. I just want to keep my friends safe. I know the dangers of trusting people too easily.”

Janus looked at him in surprise, noticing the way Logan’s voice wavered slightly on the last line.

Logan didn’t meet his eyes.

“Well, I understand. It’s unfair of me to expect you to trust me after all I’ve done. I just hope that with time, I can prove to you that you can trust me and I really do mean well.”

Logan nodded.

“I hope so too.”

Janus smiled at him and Logan definitely didn’t feel like his stomach was doing cartwheels.

Twelve Days of Christmas Prompts - December 21st

Holiday traditions from Person A/B’s family

AO3

Vassanna sighed, rubbing her aching eyes. The words of the seemingly endless reports blurred beyond recognition and she flung the datapad onto the table. Idly wondering why these reports wouldn't simply review and approve themselves, she glanced up when Eli'anara poked her head in with a grin.

“Heya, cuz! How's your afternoon?” Without waiting for an answer, the spacer waltzed into the Commander's quarters, a box filled to bursting in her arms, and continued. “Well, let me tell you, it is better now!”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Sanna said, standing. “What are you doing, Ellie?”

Eli'anara gestured to Seetoo, metal arms laden with an even larger box. “I'm decorating your place for Life Day since you haven’t yet. Clearly.”

“Umm, no. No, thank you. I don't need or want any of that. Besides, Life Day’s nearly a month away.”

“And it’s never too soon to decorate!” Ellie grinned broadly. “I brought stuff from home, too. Look, it’s an artificial tree, like Nana’s – and it even has lights already!” She patted the box. “You can't have one of those silly old holo-trees, you need something with presence.” The smuggler reached into the box, pulling out a strand of green, red, and gold sparkles. “And here’s some garland and tinsel and–”

“I said ‘no thank you,’ cousin.”

“Well, it's so dark and grim in here. You've got to shine the place up for the holiday!”

“I can take care of it myself,” Vassanna insisted.

“Yeah, see, that's what I'm afraid of.” She winked at her flustered cousin. “But in all seriousness, this is why I brought Seetoo, he's gonna help me and you don’t even need to–”

Eli'anara broke off, her hand flying up to her earpiece.

“What do you mean someone's moving my ship? No one touches my ship.” She glanced at her cousin, raising a hand in a sign to stay where she was. “No, you tell them that they can just wait a blissroot-picking minute and I will move the Star Chaser myself! Well, I don't particularly care that they...” Ellie's voice faded as she rushed down the hallway to rescue her ship from a change in parking assignment.

Vassanna dismissed Seetoo and sank down to the couch, glancing forlornly at the piles of holiday cheer. She couldn't do this. Not here, not in her own quarters. She could put on her mask and pretend that she was okay outside of this room, but oh stars, not here too. It was too much.

She leaped up and dashed out of the room to chase down the droid. Issuing orders for him to return the boxes of Life Day decorations to Ellie and Corran – after seeing to Sana-Rae's request for the Force enclave, of course – Sanna turned and headed to the Defender. She let herself into the empty ship, trying her best to ignore the ghosts of her past that still inhabited the vessel. It didn't matter how many times she glanced at the bridge, she fully expected to see Kira there, feet propped up on the dashboard, a smirk and “Hey Boss!” on her lips. The image of her friend and one-time Padawan was beginning to fade from her mind; she wasn't sure if she should be upset or grateful. Was that ‘moving on’?

Navigating the phantoms, Vassanna made her way to the dresser in the bedroom. She knelt and dug through the drawers until she found what she'd been searching for: a small holo-tree emitter. With a nostalgic smile, she headed back to her rooms, prize in hand.

Setting the projector base on the corner of her desk, Sanna clicked the power button and a small, half-meter holo-tree flickered into existence for a brief moment before shuddering out. She frowned and turned to Ellie's leavings, rummaging through boxes, half buried in decorations and glitter. With a triumphant cry, she emerged from a box, brandishing a new power pack and scent pod. After replacing both parts, she flipped the switch once more, standing back with arms crossed over her chest to admire her handiwork.

The little holo-tree glowed bright, its colors changing from red to green to blue, then pink, purple, and yellow as it slowly rotated. The tree blurred as Sanna’s focus shifted, memories dancing before her eyes.

She was ten years old, still dreaming of the Sacking and her uncle gone. But she was home and things felt right, even with a new Master in tow. Among her practical gifts that year – socks, undergarments, and the like – was a metal disc, about fifteen centimeters in diameter. Pressing the button, she and everyone in attendance was dazzled by the little holo-tree. “For the Life Days when you may not be able to make it home,” her parents had said.

Eleven years later, she went back to Mirial for Life Day, this time as a Master herself.

Though her little holo-tree was displayed proudly on the Defender, it was nice – relaxing – to be home again. Her entire family was making a big deal of her crew – T7, Kira, and Doc – whom she’d brought along. Laughter rang out, loud and often. Somehow, her mother had thrown together small gifts for all of them, even Tee. They’d just left Quesh behind, but had received permission for the holiday visit; the Jedi were gearing up to take on the Sith Emperor himself and Sanna was so very glad for the break.

A pang of melancholy tripped her heart. That visit had been the last time she’d seen her father in person, the last time she’d hugged him farewell. Offering up the apology she was never able to give him, she sniffled and stopped fighting the path her mind was taking.

The Life Day after... after their failed mission, Vassanna’s little tree saw two new crew members and a gaping hole in her memories – nearly an entire year’s worth. The entire crew worked their hardest to put themselves back together, for their own sake and that of the galaxy. It saw Lord Scourge participating in holiday events solely because of Kira’s taunting, and Doc trying to make light of the entire situation. Everything felt forced, from the laughter to the music.

She sighed heavily, hoping against hope that her friends were still alive. The pragmatic part of her hoped that – were they not alive – that their ends had been swift, painless, and honorable.

Before Sanna could stop them, images from last year’s Life Day pirouetted across the back of her eyelids: a slim, flat blue box resting on the pillow in front of her nose, a crystal and gold necklace waiting within. Her gaze shifted helplessly to the armoire that was hers alone now; the box and its necklace were tucked into the back of the bottom drawer, hidden beneath her clothing. She'd packed up all of Ther– all of his things, including that stupid old jacket, and asked Ellie to take care of it. Guilt and remorse shot through her and she ignored it; he had made the decision to leave, not her.

Her hand came up, unbidden, to rest on her chest; the place where the pendant used to hang was bare and empty. There was some sort of parallel to be drawn, wasn’t there?

“How could you?” she hissed. “I loved you, trusted you, and you... oh, how could you?”

Sanna glared at the tree, as though it were to blame. This was stupid. Why was she doing this to herself? A sniffle echoed in the large room, followed by a gaspy sob. No. She was not going to cry over him again. Not again, not again, not–

A beep from her comm interrupted, dragging her focus back from the edge of despair. She answered with voice only and found Lana on the other side, requesting a meeting.

“Of course. Give me five minutes.”

“Is this going to be like Koth’s ‘three minutes’? Because I can reschedule if necessary.” The pilot in question could be heard voicing his dismay over Lana’s slander in the background. Stars, Lana was good at knowing when she needed to smile.

“No, I don’t think so,” Vassanna responded with a small huff of laughter. “I’ll be there shortly.” Ending the call, she made her way to the ‘fresher. Splashing water on her face with trembling hands and taking a few deep, calming breaths, she settled her mask into place. She could do this. She’d dealt with worse, she could do this.

A comfortingly familiar warm, spicy scent wafted through the suite of rooms, emanating from the holo-tree. Yes, she could do this.

The temperature on Odessen was still warmer than she preferred for this holiday, but the evenings were getting crisp. Maybe she should grab a cup of hot cocoa from the commissary and head outside after dinner. If she was lucky, they’d have peppermint and either marshmallows or whipped cream.

The thought bolstered Sanna’s spirits and she held her head high as she strode purposefully into the hallway toward the War Room.

Small Bit from my Star Trek AU

When Captain Hall ordered Jack to go down to their new navigator, Ensign Eric Bittle’s quarters, “to check up on him”, he hadn’t expected anything like this. He expected to deal with homesickness, drug abuse, a bad breakup that leads to an uncomfortable work environment, or an injury that hasn’t been reported to the medical wing because it was caused during one of those kegsters that the crew frequently holds. Y’know. Regular issues with the crew on the USS Samwell. Instead. He gets...well. Jack is having a hard time grasping what he’s looking at. 

“Did you bring five year’s worth of baking supplies onto this starship, ensign?” Jack asks, trying to keep his voice as level as possible as he looks over the shoulder of Bittle and into his room. It looks to be insulated with the bags of flour, sugar, shortening, and a plethora of canned and preserved goods that line the walls. How he managed to stow these on board, Jack didn’t know. But he’d talk with those officers soon enough. 

Bittle gulps audibly. “No, sir. I did not. I only brought enough to last me until my next shore leave”

Jack pulls out his datapad and starts typing and swiping away furiously.  “Your next shore leave isn’t for another 3 months”  “But it’s a lot less than 5 years ” 

“I can count 12 5kg bags of flour in that corner alone. How is that 3 months worth?”

Bitty looks down at his feet and mumbles something.  “Speak up, Bittle”

“It’s not for me, sir. Or, rather, it’s not just for me. I thought that it would be a good way to start on the right foot if I made something for everyone at least once a day. Or twice. Because sometimes there are people busy during the morning and they can’t get a slice,”  Bittle rambles helplessly. The guy looks like he’s about to cry. Jack briefly wonders how he got through the academy. They’ll just let anyone in, he figures. “But sir. I mean Zimmermann. Second officer. Mr. Jack? Lieutenant? Commander? Sorry. What rank are you?” “Lieutenant-commander” 

“Right. Two stripes, two words. Got it. Okay,” Bittle says “Lieutenant-commander, sir. I will be more than willing to limit my baking to only once a day.”

Jack purses his lips, counts to three in his head, and then says -- calmly, yet sternly-- “Ensign, you can’t bake at all. Having all of these ingredients, unregulated, travelling through deep space, on a vessel with crewmen and women who may have allergies--and that’s just thinking of the humans-- is a violation of several regulations.” “You think I didn’t take into consideration the potential of allergic reaction? I’ve tested all of my recipes? Sir, forgive the informality, but this isn’t my first rodeo in the xenoculinary studies. I’ve double checked each of my recipes to make sure that everything is safe to eat for every species serving aboard this ship. If that is the issue with my baking, then please don’t worr-” “Ensign, it’s not just the risk of allergies. Each member of the crew has been given a strict diet to follow, and eating these deserts has way too much value than needs to be consumed in a day”

“A piece of pie here and there isn’t going to destroy the crew’s fitness. Not when you have us each work out every day.” He explains. “The positives outweigh the negative, sir. I should be able to continue for the good of morale” Bittle is gaining more confidence with every defense. He’s standing up straighter, hands held behind his back in a parade rest. His eyes are staring back at Jack’s.This should be the norm. Instead, this determination feels like a challenge. He’s not going to back down.  “Regardless of all of those points, Ensign Bittle, there is still something deeply concerning about your behavior that endangers the whole crew” Jack starts “You can’t bake without using some form of heat. How are you able to bake without using a device that doesn’t threaten to explode?” Jack can see Bittle grin for a moment before returning to the same focus he had before. “I know that the idea of ovens are 200 years old, but you should know that they aren’t known to explode. Can they die on you? Yes. Can they cook food unevenly? Of course. That’s beside the point though. I don’t even have an oven on this ship. Could you imagine trying to lug one on?” Jack couldn’t imagine trying to lug 36 jars of jam on board, but that’s besides the point. 

“So how do you bake your stuff?” “I have a friend in engineering” Jack pauses “I don’t see how that has to do with anything” “Mr. Zimmermann, that has to do with everything.” Bitty says. “I’ll give you a moment to think about it” Jack paused to try to wrap his head around it, but failed to come up with anything.  “Do you need a hint?” Jack doesn’t say anything to that.  “Okay. I’ll give you one. It’s something that the engineers always complain about when maintenance comes around, because they say that the suits they have to wear feel like a cactus and sandpaper had a baby” 

It clicked. All Jack could say was “No way” Bitty nodded, seeming a bit proud of himself.  “You are not using the warp core’s coils for that”

“I’ve never gotten a more evenly baked pie. The temperature in there is almost always around 480K, so that means I can’t make the fluffiest of cakes. But I make do” 

“And who is the officer who aides you in placing your pies there?” “I took a couple classes in Warp Core repairs as a gen ed back in the academy, so I know what I’m doing if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m not going to get hurt.” “That wasn’t the question. Who gave you the codes and the suit to get it”

“Um” “We don’t have an officer named Um on board, to my knowledge. So it must be someone else” 

Then, like a deus ex machina coming to save the day, Jack hears a voice coming up from behind him. “Come on, man. Don’t make the new kid break our planet’s most ancient, and sacred no snitching policy.”  Jack doesn’t even need to turn around to know who was standing behind him. Turning around to address him in his relative state of undress was merely good manners. 

“Shitty. I mean, Lieutenant Knight. Please don’t interfere with me doing my job.”  “If your job means that you’re taking away the best damn pie I’ve ever eaten, then there’s gonna be a revolt” 

“This man is risking himself in order to make pie. I can’t have that” “And the recreational fighting tournaments that we have on Sundays isn’t risking ourselves? Let it slide” “I don’t see why I should” Shitty turns to look at Bittle and snapping his fingers at him. “Bits do you have any of last night’s pie left over in there?” He shakes his head.  “I think Ransom might have some in his mini fridge. Let me check.”  Shitty dashes down the hall to a couple doors over, leaving the two of them in a painfully awkward silence. Jack decides to listen as Shitty comms Ransom, who Jack knows is working in the labs at the moment.  “Hey man sorry to borrow you but I need you to let me into your quarters” Shitty says into the comm. There is a muffled response. “I need your pie. No no no! It’s not for me... It’s not for Lardo either... I know I said that last time but trust me it’s true...It’s not my fault that you wanted to save it for later! ... come on man. It’s a matter of emergency... No it’s not munchies. I could go to a replicator for that. Jack needs it...The needs of the many outweigh the needs of you, man. No. He can’t wait until tonight...Because if I do not give him your slice of pie, there won’t be a tonight...Oh shit. Rans. Breathe. You’ll get your pie tonight...I know you’re working very hard...lab work sucks ass. All that, uh, centrifugal shit...Thanks man. I owe you.” 

Shitty hangs up, the door wooshes open, and he dashes inside.  “Ransom. Dr. Oluransi, I mean, works too hard in that lab of his.” “He does his best” “He stretches himself too thin.” Bittle shakes his head “He hardly left the lab for the first two weeks I was on board. I had to deliver the pie to him. We all cheered the first time that he came to the mess hall to pick up his slice himself”

Shitty runs back with the pie, a piece of it already piled onto a plastic spork. “Jackie boy I’m gonna need you to open wide.”  Shitty doesn’t let Jack take the fork for himself. Instead, they share a conversation with just their eyes that ends in Shitty staring him down with an expression Jack took to translate as “If you don’t let me feed you, then our friendship is cancelled”

Reluctantly, Jack opens his mouth. In front of Bittle. Who he’s supposed to be superior to. This is why Jack hasn’t gotten his own ship. Because he’s weak. And gets fed pie.

Really good pie. 

Holy shit.

Jack may or may not have made a noise.  He turns to Bittle, who is looking a mix of confidence and nauseated. His skin turned a sickly green. Jack figures it must be the pressure. Jack claps him on the shoulder reassuringly. “Any objection I have is withdrawn. Just try to add some supplements to it like protein and we’ll be fine.” 

He removes his hand from Bittle’s shoulder and turns to take his leave.  After he turns the corner, he hears Shitty, faintly telling Bittle that he should go to the med bay because he’s looking a bit green. Jack tries not to feel guilty. If Bittle didn’t want a nerve wracking confrontation, he should have cleared it with command beforehand. 

He returns to the bridge and finds Captain Hall.  “I spoke with Bittle” “And?” “He’s a good guy. Looks out for the good of the crew” “So he agreed to bring me and Murray a slice?”

Jack sits down at his post and buries his hands in his face.  “I’ll make sure it’s arranged, sir”

The Keeper of the Grove (Part 69)

Qrow noticed the beam, pushed Ruby out of the car before he and Taiyang jumped out themselves, just barely avoiding getting incinerated along with it.

The flaming, falling wreck kept on going, headed straight for the others still on the floor, Yang, Blake, and Weiss unable to run for exhaustion or their injuries.

Winter rocketed through the air, stopping the wreck with a tractor beam before she threw it away to a deserted area of the park. Then, she zoomed over their heads, taking Pyrrha and Weiss along with her while leaving the others behind.

Qrow, Taiyang, and Ruby rolled on the ground, and hauled ass to the others, Taiyang stomping his feet and raising up walls of rock, dirt, and concrete behind them. The Queensguard reacted by destroying them almost as fast as they went up, with magnetically-accelerated bullets, energy blasts, and high-explosives.

Cinder screamed and flied up into the air, started blasting fireballs, blinding beams of superheated light, and making magma erupt all over Goldleaf Park to give both the surviving Heralds and Council forces cover to get the hell out of there as the Queensguard pulled back.

Weiss looked around as Winter sent her and Pyrrha zooming across Candela, suspended just in front of her in bubbles of energy.

The streets were deserted but for the peacekeepers and AFA roaming around in squad vans and tanks, thundering through the forgotten booths and stalls, helping tourists and citizens still trapped, and warding off looters and other criminals trying to take advantage of the chaos.

She frantically turned back to Winter, her face hidden underneath her helmet. “Winter, is that you?!”

“Snow Queen to Castle: both VIPs secured, en-route to Marhalika Avenue, and need extraction ASAP!” Winter barked. “I don’t know what the hell else these Tangos are capable of, and I don’t intend to find out!”

Then, she spared a glance at Weiss, and said, “Yes, yes it is, Weiss!” She smiled underneath her helmet. “We’ll get you both back someplace safe, somewhere where we can undo whatever the hell it is those people have done to you….”

Weiss tried to beat at her armour, found herself turning round and round inside her bubble. “Take me back! Take me back! Those people are my friends!”

“Mine too!” Pyrrha cried.

Under the helmet, Winter’s eyes widened. “Sweet Shepherd, it’s even worse than I thought...” she muttered as she made a hard bank to the right, Pyrrha and Weiss’ internal organs spared from the laws of physics with the help of the fields.

“You’ve got it all wrong, sis!” Weiss screamed. “They’re not the bad guys! They were trying to help us get away!”

“I second that!” Pyrrha cried.

“You mean take you two back to wherever they’re holding you hostage and brainwashing you!” Winter cried as she sped up, straight to Maharlika Avenue. “I got your message from Kajiki, Weiss—I’ve got a pretty good idea of how badly they’ve screwed up your head!”

“I meant every single word of it!” Weiss screeched, her voice getting hoarse from the strain. “I’m not going back! The Valley is my home now, and if you’ll just listen to me, we can go back there together!”

“What the hell are they doing to you back there?!”

“Everything I told you! Feeding me! Keeping me safe! Giving me things to pass the time with! I’m on parole now, actually, and now I work on a farm… and… well… I’ve even fallen in love with Ruby!”

Pyrrha blushed. “… I have too but with Penny instead, so I would really appreciate it if you please turn us around, and back to them, if it’s not too much trouble...!”

Winter looked at the both of them in turn as she began to fly down to Maharlika Avenue, and to a waiting jet with well-armed guards waiting. She gave Pyhrra to them, before she set Weiss down on her feet, and gently put her armoured hands on her shoulders.

“Weiss, as soon as things quiet down, we are having that talk about Stockholm Syndrome again, okay...?”

Suddenly, their comms crackled with Ironwood’s voice: “All units in Maharlika Aventue: MOVE OUT! I repeat: MOVE OUT!”

“What’s wrong, sir?!” Winter asked.

“Tango coming in hot on your position, and she’s bringing serious firepower!”

She frowned. “What the hell do they have, sir?!”

“JUST MOVE! And if you have to engage, you’re authorized to use every single thing you’ve got!”

They all looked up to the sky as a missile rocketed up to their position, before it stopped, revealing itself to be Cinder, her entire body not covered in flames so much as made of them. They all stared as she raised her hands, and meteors began to rain down from the sky.

“RUN!” Winter cried as she blasted off towards her.

“WINTER, NO!” Weiss cried as soldiers hauled her and Pyrrha off.

The meteors crashed into the street, leaving molten craters in the ground, destroying gigantic chunks of the faces and sides of the buildings around them, turning the jet into twisted wreckage as the whole place began to burn.

Winter and Cinder clashed, dashing and weaved through the air, trading bursts of energy, fireballs, missiles, jets of flame, lasers of pure concentrated magic and superheated light, the flames around them growing ever hotter and larger as their surroundings began to collapse and crumble.

“How the hell are you flying and fighting like this?!” Winter cried as she fired a lance of energy at Cinder

“With the same magitech you’re using!” Cinder cried as she dodged it.

“That’s impossible!” Winter cried as she readied seven more of them. “My Mk. IV’s the only one of its kind in Avalon!” she yelled as she fired them all at once.

Cinder destroyed them with a giant wall of flame, before she rushed through the smoke and fire, tackling Winter and pinning her to the side of a building. “In the human territories, at least...” she growled, before she raised a hand of pure fire with molten magma claws.

The temperature alarms in Winter’s suit were going insane, she could feel Cinder’s heat begin to melt her armour, blister her vulnerable skin underneath. She scowled at her as Cinder pulled her hand back, prepared to plunge it into her.

Suddenly, she screamed in agony.

Winter watched as ice exploded over Cinder’s body before it almost instantly turned to steam. More and more blasts began to land on her, coming in at a steady, rhythmic pace, like a squad were firing two sniper rifles as quickly as they possibly could, one after the other.

Back down on the ground and in the nearest safe intersection, Ruby continued to fire her scythe’s farslinger, Blake feeding it a constant stream of every medium they had on them, Taiyang holding the barrel steady and keeping them from flying off from the recoil.

Beside them, Pyrrha did the same with Penny holding her energy lance steady, and Weiss’ gloved hand on the receiver feeding it a constant supply of her unsealed magic. Some distance away, Yang and Qrow loaded the last of the unconscious or severely injured AFA soldiers into an unmarked van from the Plushie Palace.

“Sorry, boys, girls, and NB’s: nothing personal,” Qrow said as he and Yang grabbed the doors.

“Trust us: you’re going to hear about the reports tomorrow morning and think to yourself, ‘Man, I am so glad I got the shit beat out of me, or else I would have been right in the thick of that shit!’” she added before they slammed them shut.

The van took to the skies and away from the scene as news teams, Queensguard, and AFA started to rush in all around Maharlika Avenue, erecting energy barriers, keeping their distance, and watching with long-range optics as they tried to figure out exactly how the hell they were supposed to engage Cinder and the others without getting killed.

All the while, the group continued to fire elemental bolts at Cinder.

From what little Winter could see of herfrom her darkened optics, she was writhing in agony desperately trying to drive her flaming claw into Winter, stopped only by the constant rain of ice, electricity, fire, and metal.

Finally, she could take no more, screaming in pain and frustration as she flew off, her body turning back to normal as she fell to the ground…

… And just in time, too, as Ruby had completely run out of mediums, and Weiss’ once full mana bar was finally dipping dangerously close to empty.

Winter pushed off from the crater she was stuck in, reactivating her wings and blasting through the burning street to the only safe haven in sight—ironically and unfortunately, where one of the very, very, very few things she was terrified of was standing with her companions.

“Will someone please tell me WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON RIGHT NOW?!” Winter screamed as she landed between Weiss and Ruby, frantically looking back and forth at them in turn.

“We’ll explain back at the Valley!” Weiss replied as they began to holster their weapons and pull out several air teleporation charms for all of them.

Winter blinked. “I’m sorry, you don’t mean the Viridian Valley, where the Keeper over there lives, right…? This is some other ‘Valley’ elsewhere in Avalon, right?!”

Weiss was about to reply, before they all saw a giant fireball heading straight for them.

Winter blasted forward and put up an energy barrier in front them.

Standing in the remnants of the broken and molten street in front of them, Cinder just sent another fireball, and another, and another, a constant rain of explosions erupting in front of Winter, her shield barely keeping it from the others.

“I hope you’ve got a plan, because I can’t keep this up forever!” she cried as she looked at her helmet’s HUD, noted the flashing red warning sign of her suit’s power supply.

“We’ll think of something!” Ruby cried. She turned back to the others. “Does anyone have anything?”

“ARE YOU FUCKING WITH ME RIGHT NOW?!” Winter yelled.

They ignored her and started thinking. Then, Taiyang snapped his fingers, sparks flying from his still metallic fingers. “I got it! Penny, Weiss: give me as much juice as you can possibly spare!”

“The hell are you planning, Tai?!” Qrow snapped.

Taiyang grinned. “Same thing we did for episode 38 of Rune Rangers: Guardians of the Grove!”

Qrow groaned. “You took seventeen takes to get that right!”

“That just means I have a lot of practice!”

Without much choice, Penny and Weiss grabbed either of Taiyang’s hands and began the transfer.

Winter’s energy barrier began to flicker, Cinder made a giant fireball and threw it at her.

Boom.

The shield and Winter’s power core gave out, she rocketed past them and to one of the barriers further up the street; her fellow Queensguard rushed out to catch her and brought her back behind the wall.

“WINTER!” Weiss screamed.

She let go of Taiyang’s hand and tried to run after her, before Yang grabbed her and pulled her back.

“FOCUS!” she yelled. “We’re ALL fucked if we don’t stop her!”

Weiss screamed in frustration, before she put her hand back onto Taiyang’s

Cinder panted for breath, shivering and aching from the bolts still ravaging her system. Penny and Weiss fell into Pyrrha and Ruby’s arms, exhausted from the transfer.  Taiyang ran up, his ironbark arms now glowing golden.

Cinder let out a harsh, strained laugh. “The hell do you think you’re going to do, soft-skin?!” she barked.

“Why don’t you find out?” Taiyang called out, making the “come at me” gesture.

Cinder sucked in a deep breath, and let out a roar of pure rage as she sent a giant fireball at Taiyang.

He grinned as he snatched it out of mid-air, spinning around from the momentum before he sent it flying back at Cinder.

Her eyes widened.

Boom.

Cinder staggered back, surprised.

Taiyang laughed. “Tsunami-Fist, baby! It’s a hell of a technique. Come on, give me all you’ve got, see what happens!”

Cinder growled, her ears pulling back as she began to circle a hand in the air, little flickers of light winking in front of her.

Taiyang’s smile disappeared. “Uh… you’re not casting more fireballs, are you...?”

Cinder chuckled as a halo of light appeared in front of her.

“No.”

Everyone had to shield their eyes as a blinding, searing beam of light erupted from Cinder’s hands. Taiyang braced himself, his arms reflecting it away from him and the others. Aircraft began to take evasive maneuvers as he started to get pushed back from the sheer power, the laser veering all around searing the faces of the buildings and the scorching the air around it.

He stomped his feet into the ground, burying himself into the street for support. “Does anyone have anything else?!” he asked through gritted teeth. “Preferably a better idea than what I had!”

They all wracked their heads, their expressions growing more and more desperate as Cinder kept on intensifying the beam, Taiyang struggled to reflect it.

And suddenly, Weiss had an idea. “Can Taiyang use the Tsunami-Fist to absorb Cinder’s power then into Ruby’s farslinger like a conduit?!” she asked.

“Theoretically, he could, but blocking Cinder’s beam is taking all of his concentration!” Penny replied. “We’ll need someone to do it for him!”

“Can I do it?” Weiss asked.

Penny frowned. “All that energy going through your body at once will likely kill you… unless you can distribute the excess energy among the rest of us.”

Qrow nodded as he stepped up. “How do we do that?”

“I’ll put my hands on Weiss’ body, and you all hold onto me in turn. Brace yourselves—this is likely going to be extremely painful!”

“Beats getting finding out what a well-done steak feels like!” Yang cried. “I’m game!”

“Count me in!” Pyrrha called out.

<Me too!> Blake said.

“Let’s do this!” Ruby yelled as she rushed forward beside Taiyang, planted the head of her scythe back in the ground.

“Do you really think this is going to work?!” Cinder snapped.

“We’re going to find out!” Weiss called out as they all got into position.

She put her gauntlet hand on Taiyang’s back, and pointed Myrtenaster’s tip into Ruby’s farslinger. Penny grabbed her waist, the others held onto hers, and on the count of three, Taiyang began to absorb the full force of the laser, and Weiss siphoned it out of him.

It hurt.

Like every single inch of Weiss’ body, her very being was being incinerated. Cinder’s magic ravaged her system, chaotic, uncontrollable, a force of pure, absolute destruction; she almost let go of Taiyang, gave up before she burned to ashes, when she felt something:

Penny’s healing magic pouring into her and keeping her together and redirected the brunt of the damage to the others; sweat poured down their skin, their knees shook and buckled, their knuckles were ghostly white as they just kept holding on, refusing to let go, refusing to let Cinder win.

It still hurt, but now, Weiss could focus just long enough to transform the white-hot light into freezing-cold ice, then send it straight into Ruby’s farslinger.

And then, when they could all take no more, she pulled the trigger.

A giant beam of freezing cold water shot out from Ruby’s scythe, the air around it turning to frost, the molten and scorched ground turning to ice, Cinder’s eyes widening as she saw it coming just a little too late.

The farslinger attachment exploded in a cloud of icy blue magic.

Everyone but Ruby collapsed to the ground and on top of each other, overwhelmed and exhausted.

Cinder was trapped in a giant iceberg, her horrified expression clear for all too see under the several inches thick layer of pure, crystal clear ice surrounding her.

Ruby fished out all of their teleportation charms from their pockets, activated them all at once as a twister of green magic swirled all around them.

All of Avalon watched as they literally vanished into thin air.

The Martian Chapter 13

*disclaimer* This is a project done for fun, and none of these characters/works belong to me. I do not claim to own any of the material on this page.

This is a Lesbian edit of The Martian by Andy Weir.

Chapters will be posted every day at 2pm EST.

Google doc version can be found here. The chapter can also be found under the cut. Enjoy!

CHAPTER XIII

The employees of Deyo Plastics worked double shifts. There was talk of triple shifts if NASA increased the order again. No one minded. The overtime pay was spectacular and the funding was limitless. Woven carbon thread ran slowly through the press, which sandwiched it between polymer sheets. The completed material was folded four times and glued together. The resulting thick sheet was then coated with soft resin, and taken to the hot-room to set.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 114 Now that NASA can talk to me, they won’t shut the hell up. They want constant updates on every Hab system, and they’ve got a room full of people trying to micromanage my crops. It’s awesome to have a bunch of dipshits on Earth telling me, a botanist, how to grow plants. I mostly ignore them. I don’t want to come off as arrogant here, but I’m the best botanist on the planet. One big bonus: Email! Just like the days back on Hermes, I get data dumps. Of course they relay email from friends and family, but NASA also sends along choice messages from the public. I’ve gotten email from rock stars, athletes, actors and actresses, and even the President. The coolest one is from my alma-mater, the University of Chicago. They say once you grow crops somewhere, you have officially “colonized” it. So technically, I colonized Mars. In your face, Neil Armstrong! I go to the rover five times a day to check mail. They can get a message from Earth to Mars, but they can’t get it another 10 meters to the Hab. But hey, I can’t bitch. My odds of living through this are way higher now. Last I heard, they solved the weight problem on Ares 4’s MDV. Once it lands here, they’ll ditch the heat shield, all the life support stuff, and a bunch of empty fuel tanks. Then they can take the seven of us (Ares 4’s crew plus me) all the way to Schiaparelli. They’re already working on my duties for the surface ops. How cool is that? In other news, I’m learning Morse Code. Why? Because it’s our back-up communication system. NASA figured a decades-old probe isn’t ideal as a sole means of communication. If Pathfinder craps out, I’ll spell messages with rocks, which NASA will see with satellites. They can’t reply, but at least we’d have one-way communication. Why Morse Code? Because making dots and dashes with rocks is a lot easier than making letters. It’s a shitty way to communicate. Hopefully it won’t come up.

All chemical reactions complete, the sheet was sterilized and moved to a cleanroom. There, a worker cut a strip off the edge. Dividing the strip in to squares, he put each through a series of rigorous tests. Having passed inspection, the sheet was then cut to shape. The edges were folded over, sewn, and resealed with resin. A man with a clipboard made final inspections, independently verifying the measurements, then approved it for use.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 115 The meddling botanists have grudgingly admitted I did a good job. They agree I’ll have enough food to last till Sol 900. Bearing that in mind, NASA has fleshed out the mission details of the supply probe. At first, they were working on a desperate plan to get a probe here before Sol 400. But I bought another 500 sols of life with my potato farm so they have more time to work on it. They’ll launch next year during the Hohmann Transfer Window, and it’ll take almost 9 months to get here. It should arrive around Sol 856. It’ll have plenty of food, a spare Oxygenator, Water Reclaimer, and comm system. Three comm systems, actually. I guess they aren’t taking any chances, what with my habit of being nearby when radios break. Got my first email from Hermes today. NASA’s been limiting direct contact. I guess they’re afraid I’ll say something like “You abandoned me on Mars you fuckwits!” I know the crew is surprised to hear from the Ghost of Mars Missions Past, but c’mon. I wish NASA was less of a nanny sometimes. Anyway, they finally let one email through from Martinez: Dear Watney: Sorry we left you behind, but we don't like you. You're sort of a smart-ass. And it's a lot roomier on Hermes without you. We have to take turns doing your tasks, but it's only botany (not real science) so it's easy. How's Mars? -Martinez My reply: Dear Martinez: Mars is fine. When I get lonely I think of that steamy night I spent with your mom. How are things on Hermes? Cramped and claustrophobic? Yesterday I went outside and looked at the vast horizons. I tell ya, Martinez, they go on forever! -Watney

The employees carefully folded the sheet, and placed it in an argon-filled airtight shipping container. Printing out a sticker, the man with the clipboard placed it on the package. “Project Ares-3; Hab Canvas; Sheet AL102.” The package was placed on a charter plane and flown to Edwards Air Force Base in California. It flew abnormally high, at great cost of fuel, to ensure a smoother flight. Upon arrival, the package was carefully transported by special convoy to Pasadena. Once there, it was moved to the JPL White Room for probe assembly. Over the next 5 weeks, engineers in white bodysuits assembled Presupply 309. It contained AL102 as well as 12 other Hab Canvas packages.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 116 It’s almost time for the second harvest. Ayup. I wish I had a straw hat and some suspenders. My re-seed of the potatoes went well. I'm beginning to see that crops on Mars are extremely prolific, thanks to the billions of dollars worth of life support equipment around me. I now have 400 healthy potato plants, each one making lots of calorie-filled taters for my dining enjoyment. In just ten days they’ll be ripe! And this time, I’m not replanting them as seed. This is my food supply. All natural, organic, Martian-grown potatoes. Don’t hear that every day, do you? You may be wondering how I’ll store them. I can’t just pile them up; most of them would go bad before I got around to eating them. So instead, I’ll do something that wouldn’t work at all on Earth: Throw them outside. Most of the water will be sucked out by the near-vacuum; what’s left will freeze solid. Any bacteria planning to rot my taters will die screaming. In other news, I got email from Venkat Kapoor: Maia, some answers to your earlier questions: No, we will not tell our Botany Team to “Go fuck themselves.” I understand you’ve been on your own for a long time, but we’re in the loop now, and it’s best if you listen to what we have to say. The Cubs finished the season at the bottom of the NL Central. The data transfer rate just isn’t good enough for the size of music files, even in compressed formats. So your request for “Anything, oh god ANYTHING but Disco” is denied. Enjoy your boogie fever. Also, an uncomfortable side note... NASA is putting together a committee. They want to see if there were any avoidable mistakes that led you to being stranded. Just a heads-up. They may have questions for you later on. Keep us posted on your activities. -Kapoor My reply: Venkat, tell the investigation committee they’ll have to do their witch-hunt without me. And when they inevitably blame Commander Lewis, be advised I’ll publicly refute it. -Watney

The presupply probes for Ares-3 launched on 14 consecutive days during the Hohmann Transfer window. Presupply 309 was launched third. The 251 day trip to Mars was uneventful, needing only two minor course adjustments. After several aerobraking maneuvers to slow down, it made its final descent toward Acidalia Planitia. First, it endured reentry via a heat shield. Later, it released a parachute and detached the now expended shield. Once its onboard radar detected it was 30 meters from the ground, it cut loose the parachute and inflated balloons all around its hull. It fell unceremoniously to the surface, bouncing and rolling, until it finally came to rest. Deflating its balloons, the onboard computer reported the successful landing back to Earth.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 117 The Water Reclaimer is acting up. Six people will go through 18 liters of water per day. So it’s made to process 20. But lately, it hasn’t been keeping up. It’s doing 10, tops. Do I generate 10 liters of water per day? No, I’m not the urinating champion of all time. It’s the crops. The humidity inside the Hab is a lot higher than it was designed for, so the Water Reclaimer is constantly filtering it out of the air. I’m not worried about it. Water is water. The plants use it, I use it. If need be, I can piss on the plants directly. It’ll evaporate and condense on the walls. I could make something to collect it, I’m sure. Thing is, the water can’t go anywhere. It’s a closed system. Plus, I made like 600 liters from MDV fuel (remember the “explosive Hab” incident?). I could take baths and still have plenty left over. NASA, however, is absolutely shitting itself. They see the Water Reclaimer as a critical survival element. There’s no backup, and they think I’ll die instantly without it. To them, equipment failure is terrifying. To me, it’s “Tuesday.” So instead of preparing for my harvest, I have to make extra trips to and from the rover to answer their questions. Each new message instructs me to try some new solution and report the results back. So far we’ve worked out it’s not the electronics, refrigeration system, instrumentation, or temperature. I’m sure it’ll turn out to be a little hole somewhere, then NASA will have 4 hours of meetings before telling me to cover it with duct tape.

Lewis and Beck opened Presupply 309. Working as best they could in their bulky EVA suits, they removed the various portions of Hab canvas and lay them on the ground. Three entire presupply probes were dedicated to the Hab. Following a procedure they had practiced hundreds of times, they efficiently assembled the pieces. Special seal-strips between the patches ensured air-tight mating. After erecting the main structure of the Hab, they assembled the three airlocks. Sheet AL102 had a hole perfectly sized for Airlock 1. Beck  stretched the sheet tight to the seal-strips on the airlock’s exterior. Once all airlocks were in place, Lewis flooded the Hab with air and AL102 felt pressure for the first time. They waited an hour. No pressure was lost; the setup had been perfect.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 118 My conversation with NASA about the Water Reclaimer was boring and riddled with technical details. So I’ll paraphrase it for you: Me: “This is obviously a clog. How about I take the it apart and check the internal tubing?” NASA: (After 5 hours of deliberation) “No. You’ll fuck it up and die.” So I took it apart. Yeah, I know. NASA has a lot of ultra-smart people and I should really do what they say. And I’m being too adversarial, considering they spend all day working on how to save my life. I just get sick of being told how to wipe my ass. Independence was one of the things they looked for when choosing Ares astronauts. It’s a 13-month mission, most of it spent many light-minutes away from Earth. They wanted people who would act on their own initiative, but at the same time, obey their Commander. If Commander Lewis were here, I’d do whatever she said, no problem. But a committee of faceless bureaucrats back on Earth? Sorry, I’m just having a tough time with it. I was really careful. I labeled every piece as I dismantled it, and laid everything out on a table. I have the schematics in the computer, so nothing was a surprise. And just as I’d suspected, there was a clogged tube. The Water Reclaimer was designed to purify urine and strain humidity out of the air (you exhale almost as much water as you piss). I’ve mixed my water with soil, making it mineral water. The minerals built up in the Water Reclaimer. I cleaned out the tubing and put it all back together. It completely solved the problem. I’ll have to do it again some day, but not for 100 sols or so. No big deal. I told NASA what I did. Our (paraphrased) conversation was: Me: “I took it apart, found the problem, and fixed it.” NASA: “Dick.”

AL102 shuddered in the brutal storm. Withstanding forces and pressure far greater than its design, it rippled violently against the airlock seal-strip. Other sections of canvas undulated along their seal-strips together, acting as a single sheet, but AL102 had no such luxury. The airlock barely moved, leaving AL102 to take the full force of the tempest. The layers of plastic, constantly bending, heated the resin from pure friction. The new, more yielding environment allowed the carbon fibers to separate. AL102 stretched. Not much. Only 4 millimeters. But the carbon fibers, usually 500 microns apart, now had a gap eight times that width in their midst. After the storm abated, the lone remaining astronaut performed a full inspection of the Hab. But she didn’t notice anything amiss. The weak part of canvas was concealed by a seal-strip. Designed for a mission of 31 sols, AL102 continued well past its planned expiration. Sol after sol went by, with the lone astronaut traveling in and out of the Hab almost daily. Airlock 1 was closest to the rover charging station, so the astronaut preferred it to the other two. When pressurized, the airlock expanded slightly; when depressurized, it shrunk. Every time the astronaut used the airlock, the strain on AL102 relaxed, then tightened anew. Pulling, stressing, weakening, stretching…

LOG ENTRY: SOL 119 I woke up last night to the Hab shaking. The medium-grade sandstorm ended as suddenly as it began. It was only a category 3 storm with 50kph winds. Nothing to worry about. Still, it’s bit disconcerting to hear howling winds when you’re used to utter silence. I’m worried about Pathfinder. If the sandstorm damaged it, I’ll have lost my connection to NASA. Logically, I shouldn’t worry. The thing’s been on the surface for decades. A little gale won’t do any harm. When I head outside, I’ll confirm Pathfinder’s still functional before moving on to the sweaty, annoying work of the day. Yes, with each sandstorm comes the inevitable Cleaning of the Solar Cells. A time honored tradition by hearty Martians such as myself. It reminds me of growing up in Chicago and having to shovel snow. I’ll give my dad credit; he never claimed it was to build character or teach me the value of hard work. “Snow-blowers are expensive,” he used to say. “You’re free.” Once, I tried to appeal to my mom. “Don’t be such a wuss,” She suggested. In other news, It’s seven sols till the harvest, and I still haven’t prepared. For starters, I need to make a hoe. Also, I need to make an outdoor shed for the potatoes. I can’t just pile them up outside. The next major storm would cause The Great Martian Potato Migration. Anyway, all that will have to wait. I’ve got a full day today. After cleaning the solar cells, I have to check the whole solar array make sure the storm didn’t hurt it. Then I’ll need to do the same for the rover. I better get started.

Airlock 1 slowly depressurized to 1/90th of an atmosphere. Watney, donning an EVA suit, waited for it to complete. She had done it literally hundreds of times. Any apprehension she may have had on Sol 1 was long gone. Now it was merely a boring chore before exiting to the surface. As the depressurization continued, the Hab’s atmosphere compressed the airlock and AL102 stretched for the last time. On Sol 119, the Hab breached. The initial tear was less than 1 millimeter. The perpendicular carbon fibers should have prevented the rip from growing. But countless abuses had stretched the vertical fibers apart and weakened the horizontal ones beyond use. The full force of the Hab’s atmosphere rushed through the breach. Within a tenth of a second, the rip was a meter long, running parallel to the seal-strip. It propagated all the way around until it met its starting point. The airlock was no longer attached to the Hab. The unopposed pressure violently launched the airlock like a cannonball as the Hab exploded. Inside, the surprised Watney slammed against the airlock’s back door with the force of the expulsion. The airlock flew 40 meters before hitting the ground. Watney, barely recovered from the earlier shock, now endured another as she hit the front door, face first. Her faceplate took the brunt of the blow, the safety glass shattering into hundreds of small cubes. Her head slammed against the inside of the helmet, knocking her senseless. The airlock tumbled across the surface for a further 15 meters. The heavy padding of Watney’s suit saved her from many broken bones. She tried to make sense of the situation, but was barely conscious. Finally done tumbling, the airlock rested on its side amid a cloud of dust. Watney, on her back, stared blankly upward through the hole in her shattered faceplate. A gash in her forehead trickled blood down her face. Regaining some of her wits, she got her bearings. Turning her head to the side, she looked through the back door’s window. The collapsed Hab rippled in the distance, a junkyard of debris strewn across the landscape in front of it. Then, a hissing sound reached her ears. Listening carefully, she realized it was not coming from her suit. Somewhere in the phone-booth sized airlock, a small breach was letting air escape. She listened intently to the hiss. Then she touched her broken faceplate. Then she looked out the window again. “You fucking kidding me?” She said.

Star Trek, Another Generation . 1. Trek of a Lifetime!

“Cepítan!” the Russian helmsman screamed at Mclintrix. “Vee are on a collision course vith zee Klingon wessle!” Donovan Mclintrix grimaced. This first command mission was turning out to be a lot more than he had bargained for. “What’s our bearing!” he screamed. “11011-dash-1-9er-11-dash-33472-dash-9er-9er…3047-dash-33!” his helmsman replied. ‘We need to get a simpler coordinate system’, Mclintrix thought to himself as the ship buckled under the barrage emitting from the Klingon Bird of Prey. Their ship, the USS Reliable was heading nose-first into a numerous Klingon blockade of war vessels! “Prepare photon torpedoes!” he screamed. “I forget how to do that, captain!” the helmsman replied, infuriating Mclintrix. ‘Dang, I hate rookies!’ he almost said out loud. Command had told him that taking this new Federation vessel through Oxi-might territory was going to be a simple and straightforward forward first assignment- that there weren’t any possible dangers he and his first-year crew could run into… ‘So much for that…’ He looked straight at the helmsman. “Do you remember how to fire fazers!?” he rudely asked the man. The helmsman scoffed. “Of course, sir!” he turned to his controls and hit a few buttons… Nothing happened. “Uh…” he began. “Maybe I don’t.” Mclintrix was fuming! “WHAT!” he roared. “Are you completely useless!!? Get us out of here than!!” “Yes sir!” the young officer replied. “How?” “What do you mean ‘how’!?” he shouted, hopping out of his seat to rush over to the helm. The ship took a major hit that very moment, hurling the bridge crew to and fro, and hurling Mclintrix upside down onto the helm in a most undignified manner. “My mind’s a blank right now, sir!” the helmsman screamed. “Don’t worry though! I just crack under pressure! When there’s no pressure I’m the best helmsman in the galaxy!” ‘Crack under pressure!!???’ Mclintrix almost screamed right into his face as he snapped up. But he was too dignified a commander to say something that rash. Instead he said, “You know, I’m really starting to want to pound you right now!” “I wouldn’t do that to me, sir!” the poor guy shouted back. “My parents are rich, and they both hold high positions in Star Fleet!” Mclintrix wanted so bad to punch the guy away from the helm, as he heard his communications officer screaming into the comm, “Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! This is USS Reliable under heavy attack from Klingon war vessels! Mayday! Mayday!” The bridge rocked again, this time after a volley of disrupter rounds slammed into the front hull of the Reliable! “Port shields down, Captain Mclintrix!” the chief engineer screamed, monitoring a helm at the left side of the bridge. “Multiple decks reporting breaches!” “WHY AREN’T YOU DOWN IN ENGINEERING!!?” Mclintrix screamed at him over the roar of hull-plating being smashed to pieces! “I WASN’T GETTING ALONG WITH MY X-O, CAPTAIN!” was his pathetic reply. “HE WAS SUPER GRUMPY THIS MORNING!” Another deafening crash as the port side of the Reliable was side-swiped by a small Klingon Scare Bird! Two Bird of Preys continued to hammer the ship as she cruised closer and closer to the Klingon blockade dead-ahead! Mclintrix began punching in commands into the helm himself, trying to turn the vessel’s starboard side into the heavy fire. “Zir!” the navigator screamed. “Zey are following our vector! Zey Are continuing to hit our port zide! Your plan isn’t verking!” He was right. Two Klingon vessels followed his turn, dumping round after round into the left flank of the Reliable! This was bad! Mclintrix was running out of ideas as fast as their hull was being ripped to shreds! “Give me the controls, captain!” the helmsman shouted, attempting to grab them away. “I might crack under pressure, but at least I’m more talented than you!” Mclintrix swatted his hands away, but that didn’t stop the foolish rookie from trying again, this time with a fury! “Captain!” a woman officer screamed, pointing out the port side viewer. Mclintrix looked… Just in time to see a mega-torpedo from the nose of one of the Bird of Preys slam in the side of the bridge! The explosion shattered the window and ripped the wall to shreds! The vacuum of space sucked at the bridge worse than the most powerful vacuum cleaner Mclintrix had ever stuck his nose into when he was a kid at his grandma’s house! Bridge crew members disappeared out within seconds, while those fortunate enough to have something nearby to grab onto, held on for dear life! Mclintrix held onto the helm console with all his might, happier than ever before that he was ripped. Seeing the force fields control button, he reached out a hand, fighting the incredible force of suction pulling at his legs to slap it… Suddenly he felt a hand on his boots. He looked down his leg to see who it was. It was the helmsman, climbing up him to get to his station. “OH NO YOU DON’T, CAPTAIN!” he roared. “I NEED THE GLORY!!” Mclintrix tried kicking him off a couple times as soon as he realized that the weight of the stupid officer was holding his finger just inches away from hitting the force field control button! The man was already up to his chest though, and was pulling his hand away from the button! “YOU’RE INSANE!!” Mclintrix roared. “INSANE!!!” The guy kept pulling, as a disrupter round actually came into the bridge and smashed out the entire starboard side wall! Fortunately, this nullified the vacuum. Mclintrix elbowed the guy off and hit the button. The force fields popped into life, sealing off the bridge from the deadly space-graveyard outside. An idea hit him just then! “Engineering!” he called into the communicator badge on his chest. “Expose warp core, now!” *“Are you sure, Captain!?”* the assistant engineer replied over the comm. *“That seems a little over-the-top, if you know what I mean!”* “WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!???” he screeched. Jaw hanging open. “JUST DO IT!!!” “No, Don’t, engineering!” the helmsman shrieked, as he too activated his communicator. “He’s a crazy person! Don’t do it!” Mclintrix swatted the guy to the ground! “OW!!” the man cried into his badge. “Engineering, he swatted me!! He really is a nutcase!!” Mclintrix pulled out his fazer (an retro model. The kind that makes a sound somewhere between a computer whine and a guy gurgling), set it for stun, and blasted the guy! “OWWWWWWWW-CCHHHH!!” the twerp screamed as he fell unconscious. *“This is engineering! I’ve decided to heed your orders for this once, Captain, and I exposed the warp core!”* “Good”, he replied, hamming a few quick commands into the helm console. He maybe didn’t know too much about weapon and shield controls on these starships, but everything else he was a natural at having finished second in his class. (Nobody gets number 1.) He used the ventilation shaft down near engineering to carry a photon torpedo toward that deck. “Abandon the lower half of the vessel, now!” he quickly called into the intercom. “All staff, abandon engineering!” The ship was crumpling to pieces under the rain of fire from the Klingon ships now! Mclintrix had to work fast! *“Sir!”* the assistant engineer called. *“What about all the data we’ve got on Klingon assets down here!?”* ‘Dang!’ the captain thought to himself. That data was the whole reason they were on this voyage. The Federation relied heavily on getting it, lest this Klingon uprising turn into a full scale war! “Forget about it!” he finally answered. “Just get everyone out of there!” *“Sir, I can still grab it!”* was the assistant engineer’s reply. *“Don’t you worry! It’ll only take a second!”* “I gave you an order!!” Mclintrix hollered. More devastating fire almost making his voice inaudible. “GET EVERYONE OUT OF THERE, NOW!!” *“Says who!?”* was the dumb reply. *“You’re not my mom, y’know!”* “MOVE, YOU FOOL!!” he shouted. “THIS SHIP ISN’T GONNA TAKE MUCH MORE!!” *“These plans were what this mission was all about, Cappy!”* the dummy replied haughtily. *“If you’re too weak to understand that, than I guess the Federation doesn’t have need of the likes of you! Assistant engineer out! Bye-bye, Captain Goof!!”* The link cut off. *“Captain!”* another officer called from over the comm. *“Everyone besides that guy is out! You’re a go!”* “Ok!” Mclintrix shrugged. “You asked for it, dummy!” He flicked the switch, dumping the photon torpedo into the warp core… Just as he had anticipated, the warp core instantly reacted to the explosive chemicals in the torpedo. The ship instantly bolted forward into warp speed 9.9! Everyone aboard was hurled into the wall behind them as the big starship shot past the Klingon brigade into deep space! But within seconds the warp core began reacting violently to the torpedo chemicals! spurting blue beams of fire all over the engineering compartment. The lower half of the vessel was about to blow! Mclintrix slapped his comm badge again. “Assistant engineer, get out of there now, before I have to detach the lower half of the ship!!” *“Oh no you don’t, Captain Fool!!”* the guy answered. *“I’ve almost got those plans! It’ll just take me another minute or so!”* Mclintrix looked at the heat reading on a gauge below him. The warp core was reading a temperature of almost five times above normal!! “GET OUT, IDIOT!!�� *“Don’t call me an ‘idiot’!!”* he screamed back. *“I’m not one!! I’m sure I’m not!!”* The temperature was at eight times normal temperature!! “YOU’VE GOT FIVE SECONDS TO TURN AROUND AND RUN, MAN!!!” Mclintrix roared. “GET OUT, NOOOOOOOOOOOOWWW!!!” *“You’re just overreacting! Everything’s gonna be jake! You’ll see! Now shut up while I’m busy here!!”* The helmsman was just then waking up from his fazer stun and heard the assistant engineer’s stupid reply. “FIIIIIIIIIIINE!!!” Mclintrix shrieked back. “Separating ship halves NOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW!!!” He reached for the switch… “Don’t do it, Captain Mc-idiot!!” the helmsman screamed at him, holding up a protesting hand. “That guy down there is a good buddy ‘o mine!!” (That was one thing that made sense.) Mclintrix didn’t heed his foolish protest, but instead thumbed the switch which separated the top half of the Reliable from the engineering half… The bottom half- glowing bright cyan- shot ahead into the stars as their half branched off… The last thing Mclintrix heard before it happened was the foolish engineer screaming, *“I GOT THEM!! I GOT THEM!! NOT SO SMART AFTER ALL, WERE YOU, CAPTAIN IMBECI-!!” BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!! The entire star-scape ahead of them erupted into a mega-blast of blinding blue energy!! The shockwave buffeted the front hull of the remaining half of the ship, knocking everyone aboard onto the floor. There weren’t even splinters left of the lower half. The engineer was gondey… The helmsman began foaming at the mouth! “You maniac!” he screamed into Mclintrix’s face. “You capped him!! Because of your stupidity he’s now capped!!” Another one of the surviving bridge crew members put a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Easy there officer”, she said calmingly. “He didn’t have any choice.” “We all have a choice!” the illogical moron hissed at her. “And he made the wrong one!” he was trembling with rage. “And now I’m gonna make him regret it!!” He tackled Mclintrix! “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR ALREADY-RESTRICTED MIND!!” Mclintrix shouted at him, seizing his head under his own arm. He then pounded the guy’s head out of his firm hold and the loser fell down to his back. The guy popped up pointing. “HE HIT ME!!! HE HIT ME!! DID YOU ALL SEE THAT!!! TH-TH…THIS ONE’S GOING STRAIGHT UP TO MY MOM AND DAD!!!” He ran off the bridge crying. “Yeah! GET OUT OF HERE, MAMMA’S BOY!!” Mclintrix roared at his back as he entered the elevator. “TAKE YOUR IDIOCY BACK TO YOUR IDIOT PARENTS!!!” The elevator doors closed. “I’M SURE THEY’RE USED TO IT BY NOW!!!” He gritted his teeth in seething hatred for a full minute. “Lieutenant!?” he finally said to the woman beside him. “Yes sir?” she answered, swallowing. “If that guy comes back you blast him!” He stormed furiously toward his ready-room- only to realize that it wasn’t even there anymore; replaced by a glowing blue force-field in front of the stars outside. Finally he turned, walked past the both relieved and tense bridge-crew survivors, and took the elevator down to examine the damage of what was left of the Reliable.

Along the way he rounded a corner, only to meet the helmsman face to face. The goof was standing in the middle of the hall, arms folded confidently. “If you don’t move, I’ll clean you out of the way like a window washer!” Mclintrix thundered at him; his face only inches away from the grinning face of the helmsman. “You mean ‘like a window washer cleans things out of the way’”, he replied, not even flinching. Mclintrix pushed his way past, fighting to contain his fuming rage. The guy hopped onto his back piggyback style. “My parents are gonna have a heyday off of you when we get back home, Captain Donovan Dumbell.” “We’ll see”, was his only reply as he walked down a smashed hallway. “Oh, they will”, the helmsman affirmed, grinning at the pleasant thought. His eyes looked dreamily off to the ceiling as they continued down the hallway. “You’ll probably even get thrown in the piggybank [jail].” “Doubt it, chum”, was the captain’s confident reply. “Not when I tell them what you did.” “They won’t believe you, Stupid!” he answered, happy as a baby chimp. “They think of me as their special little boy.” He was trying to steer the captain this way and that by pulling on his shoulders. “Really?” Mclintrix replied, heading towards a door. “Then tell them Captain Mclintrix did this to their…LITTLE BOY!!” He bolted through the doorway, clotheslining the stupid helmsman off of his back! “HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!” He laughed as he jogged away from the seething officer. “I’LL MAKE YOU PAY FOR THIS, MCLINTRIX!!! YOU’LL PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!” Mclintrix walked on, proud of himself. This had been a rough day, but he was starting to like the way it was turning out more and more.

“I say we let Megatron be a little fruity.”

“..what? It’s kinda cute.”

“Why does Tailgate think she’s Spiderman?”

He’s just going to assume Swerve had a hand in this.

Thrash is about to start crying. He’s not so passionate about animals as his twin, but.. not the cows!

..Thrash wishes he thought of Moogatron first.

“Third option, third option! Rosalina.”

“Okay, it wasn’t only Swerve encouraging me to do evil.”

Head down on the bar. What is making that terrible munching sound (it’s really more like a horfing), and why is there an ungodly sickly smell along with it?

...there’s definitely, definitely always room for more dads.

(( reminder for funsies that g1 blurr is.. technically part horse,