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firesoulstuff · 5 years

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Til The End of The Road

A super prompt from the @dccwrarepairswap, for @singledarkshade

Gideon has a human body now, but whether or not it actually works is an entirely different matter. Rip waits rather impatiently for the answer to that question, and passes the time by thinking back on some key moments he's spent with her.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19992136

========================================================

“Ok.”

Such a simple word, Rip thinks, perhaps a tad ironically. He must have used that word over a billion times in his life, yet he can barely recall even a handful of instances in which the situation at hand were actually ok.

This situation is hardly among those.

The word hasn’t even come from him, but from Nora Darhk, her hands on her hips and her voice a breathy huff that doesn’t sound entirely convinced.

“Now we just wait and see.”

He nods; numb, and then he catches himself so he looks up at her, and he pretends not to see the uncertainty on her face.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” She says in return, her expression unchanged, and she’s quick to follow Dr. Palmer from the room.

Leaving him alone with Gideon.

She looks much like he’d always imagined she would, and yet so much more real than any dream could ever provide. Her hair is a bit shorter than he’d always thought, but he likes it, it looks good on her.

He reaches out cautiously and takes her hand in his, unable to help the tears that start to well up in his eyes when her skin is soft and real in his grasp. She’s on oxygen right now, things had turned bad very quickly in the seconds following Nora’s spell. They knew it was a possibility; her body not aware how to function yet might not be able to breathe on it’s own at first. Luckily she stabilized almost immediately once the mask was placed on her face, and hopefully she won’t need it much longer.

He sighs, short, relieved, but still so scared as he traces his thumb over her knuckles.

They’ve been through so much together the two of them, and sitting here with nothing but the beautiful sound of her heart monitor’s soft beeping to keep him company, he can’t help but think back on it all.

=====================================================

There is a part of him that can’t believe he’s really here. After everything that happened in the academy, after he was nearly kicked out for no reason other than loving Miranda, and after she so selflessly sacrificed her place with the Time Master’s so that he may keep his. After so many degrading years, many more than what is typical, of serving as an apprentice, he can’t believe that he is finally here in The Hanger.

Time Master Declan has seemed more irritated than proud ever since he showed up, but then again he never did agree with Miranda’s decision.

Rip still isn’t sure he does either, but it was her choice, he couldn’t stop her, and she was going to make it regardless of his actions.

Declan opens the loading ramp of the ship without a word.

“The Waverider has been out of commission for quite some time.” He says as they board, and Rip is TRYING not to let his excitement show, even if he is receiving the most beat up of the hand-me-downs. “Her last Captain was a great man, served us for many years before retiring, I suppose we almost retired the ship as well.”

Declan stops then, in the middle of the corridor, and raises a grey eyebrow at him.

“Can I trust that you are going to be another great man?”

For a moment he falters, caught off guard by the question, but he does his best to recover.

“Yes Sir.” He says, “I promise I won’t let you down.”

The look Declan gives is more than enough to make it clear he has already, years ago, let him down.

They move on to the bridge, and really the ship looks just like any other Rip has ever been on board, but there is something about looking around this one, because this is his ship.

“Allow me to introduce you to the ship’s AI.” Declan says, “Gideon?”

Above the holo-table a light blue, minimally featured, female head appears with a smile.

“Hello, Time Master Declan.” She says, and then turns her attention to him.

“Gideon.” Declan says, gesturing over to him. “This is Rip Hunter, The Waverider’s new Captain.”

“Hello, Captain Hunter.” The AI greets him. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“You as well, Gideon.”

=======================================================

“How ya holding up?”

The words pull him out of his memories.

Sara has appeared in the doorway, her arms folded across herself and her gaze lingering on Gideon.

“I’m alright.” He promises, his gaze following hers and then flitting up to the heart monitor, and then back. “Gideon is too, I believe.”

Sara nods, tiredly. It’s been a rather long day, and he was only here for the second part of it. He’s only been gone, dead, frozen in time… whatever, for a year and already so much as changed.

It may not seem like a lot, but all the little changes add up.

Sara and Ava are a proper couple.

Ms. Darhk has joined their team, and with an apparent change in the timeline so has Ms. Tomaz’s brother.

Magical creatures are a part of the world now.

History as he knows it, more or less, is no longer the reality of the world.

=========================================================

He doesn’t sleep after leaving Salvation.

It took everything in him to peel himself away, after weeks of lying low to throw the time pirate’s off their trail, as well as make a few repairs to The Waverider, he almost didn’t go.

If not for the promise of Miranda and their unborn child waiting for him, he might have stayed.

Jonah stayed, and he won’t deny it’s lonely that first night in the time stream.

“Gideon?” He asks, for she is his only company now. “You feel emotions, don’t you?” She must. The way she speaks to him and Jonah sometimes, particularly after they make an ill-advised decision, he can’t imagine she doesn’t.

“Of a sort.” She answers, and he thinks the pause between his question and her answer might have been almost a hair too long, as though she were thinking. “I am programed to assist my Captain and crew in protecting the timeline, and to advise them of the course of action that is most in their best interest. So, I suppose, I am programed to care.”

He frowns, that is hardly the answer he’d been hoping for.

“Yes,” he says, “But… You think, don’t you? For yourself? Do you ever wonder if we’re doing the right thing? Leaving history as it is rather than improving it?”

This time, Rip knows he is not imagining it when the silence drags out.

Though, eventually, she answers him.

“We should arrive at The Vanishing Point within the next six hours, Captain.”

=========================================================

“Rip.”

“Gah!” He jumps awake, (when had he fallen asleep?) and nearly falls from his chair.

Ava is looking at him, worry etched into her features as she backs off. The room has gone dark around him, at some point, but not so dark he can’t see he is about to receive an order from someone he once gave orders to, it seems to be a pattern in his life.

Speaking of which, the first person to ever realize he was full of bull more often than he wasn’t, the first to realize she was really in charge, but oftentimes followed his lead anyway (and look where it got her) is still sleeping soundly in the bed next to him.

With her oxygen mask gone.

“She’s making progress Rip.” Ava assures him. “Fast progress. There’s no reason to believe her body will reject Nora and John’s magic. Go sleep.”

“I was sleeping.” It’s a weak, no; it’s a pathetic response. One that earns him nothing more than an angry glare from Ava.

But, he stands by it.

Ava rolls her eyes, her stance tightens; she is thinking over her next move. But the fact of the matter is that there is no next move, no argument, which she can throw at him that will get him to leave this chair.

=========================================================

“Open this door Gideon!”

“I’m sorry Captain,” Her voice chimes from the ceiling, though he hardly hears it between his fists pounding against the door and the blood boiling in his ears. “But you need to calm down first.”

“Shut up!”

He shutters with regret the instant that phrase leaves his lips, but he punches the heavy steel of the door all the same and doesn’t apologize.

“I need to get to the Time Council!”

“What you need to get, Captain, is some rest. If you address the council in this state-”

“Oh shut up!”

He can already hear Mother’s nagging voice in his mind, as well as feel the light slap of her hand on his arm. He knows better than to act like this, throwing a tantrum like a child. But this is justified. Miranda and Jonas….

He needs to get to the Time Council.

Gideon doesn’t speak again for a long while, not until after he has wailed himself into exhaustion and taken a seat against a crate, nothing else to do in the loading dock.

“I might advise not shouting at the Time Council to “shut up” in the event that your mission does not go according to plan. Best of luck, Captain.”

========================================================

It’s been days now.

Fast progress indeed, he thinks to himself with an impatient huff. He has been sitting in this chair in the Time Bureau med-bay for nearly a week, and aside from no longer needing her oxygen mask there has been no change in Gideon’s condition. The Legends and their friends, nearly all of who are practical strangers to him, look less and less hopeful with each visit. Sara, Ava, and Raymond keep trying to get him to leave.

But where would he go?

He’s near certain his apartment is no longer there; he’s been dead for over a year, surely the landlord has rented it out by now. Besides, it isn’t like there is anything in that apartment he’s eager to get back to. There is no family, no pictures; it was always just bare bones and a mattress to sleep on. He was never there when he was running The Time Bureau, always telling himself his work was too important to be wasting time watching television or whatever else it would be that he would do in an empty apartment.

He shutters thinking about it, and wonders how it is he managed to lie so profoundly even to himself.

The answer is lying right before him.

==========================================================

The Time Bureau is working.

Five years strong, no disasters. The opposite, in fact. History is on a safe and stable course. There have been no dire aberrations, missions are running smoothly, and new recruits are showing progress. Not to mention their science department has managed to improve on time travel itself.

They’ve come up with time couriers: small devices that allow for individuals to travel through time without the need of a clunky ship.

Which, up until recently, hadn’t even been an option.

He knew when he founded The Bureau that time would eventually catch up with him and he would stumble upon The Legends, it was part of the reason he went all the way back to 2012 to start with. It was near enough in their own pasts that they weren’t likely to show up too soon, yet far enough that he could have either a well-established system in place by the time they caught up, or he could have failed and found a different path in life. When it turned out to be the former outcome he was proud, gleeful even, but that victory is proving to be bittersweet.

He must prevent any disaster like them from ever happening again, no matter the cost.

“Gideon.” He pleads; they key for her systems in its slot but not yet turned, his fingers gripping it firmly. “Please understand. If there were another way…” He really doesn’t know what it is he’s trying to tell her, because there is no other way.

“You have my word that The Waverider will continue to be used for training purposes.” He tries, thinking that perhaps it might put her at ease, to know he isn’t simply scrapping the ship. No. He would never.

“Of course,” she finally says, a wounded edge to her voice that he’s expected and yet it hurts him all the same. “Goodbye, Rip.”

========================================================

He was – is - such a stupid, stupid man.

He wondered back then, often, why he did turn her off. He would tell himself it was necessary, because the Waverider needed to be off in order to use it for training purposes, and she was part of the ship.

However, for a stupid man, he can’t quite seem to fool himself forever.

He knows, now at the forefront of his mind, and back then probably somewhere deep down, that the reason he did it was stupid and selfish.

He had finally done something right in creating the Time Bureau. After all of his mistakes and his failures, he had done something good. But then The Legends crashed, Gideon with them, and he just knew that somewhere in the Time Bureau, something had to be wrong. It was his creation, of course it wasn’t as good as it seemed, he just hadn’t known where the fault lie and he didn’t want her finding it first.

Of course, the fault was him.

He wipes some of the unshed tears from his eyes with one hand, the one which isn’t holding hers.

“I am so sorry Gideon.” He blubbers, “Truly I am.”

He shudders, tries to breathe and compose himself enough to speak even as the fears fill his head.

He has made so, so many mistakes. He sees that now, missing an entire year of one’s own life can certainly give you some perspective. He’s tried; oh he has tried so many times, to find his place. From the Time Masters, to Salvation, the Legends, and the Time Bureau… but in one way or another he’s always managed to ruin it.

He can’t have ruined her, them, too.

His eyes are burning with tears by the time he gives in, accepts that he isn’t going to be able to compose himself.

“But please… I don’t know what I’ll do if you don’t wake up.”

#dccwrarepairswap #singledarkshade #timeship #rip hunter #gideon

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inexcon · 7 years

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RSI Comm-Link: Observist Lifestyle - Iso Pilots

Iso Pilots

Greetings, traveler. During our many journeys, we have found that although the sights and sounds of our vast universe may be awe inspiring, it’s the diversity of the souls who inhabit it that truly make it special. It’s why the team here at OBSERVIST LIFESTYLE is determined to offer a firsthand look at the myriad of people and cultures that form the unique tapestry of our Empire and beyond.

While traveling for pleasure is one of life’s great joys, most travel done in the Empire is for commerce. Massive ships drift across the expanse hauling billions of cargo tonnage from city to city, planet to planet, system to system to where they are needed most. But what happens when the goods you need to deliver are the massive ships?

Most traditionally-sized vessels can be transported inside a hauler like any other large cargo or towed by a tugship, but for larger classes of ships like the MISC Endeavor or RSI Orion, the only way to get them from the manufacturer’s shipyards to the customer is to be piloted. Flying a ship from A to B sounds like it would be straightforward enough, barring all the usual hiccups that can mar any interstellar flight. The difference here however is that when someone spends the credits for a brand new ship, they expect it to arrive in like-new condition. That part, it turns out, isn’t so easy.

Enter the hardworking men and women of Seven-league Vehicle Delivery Service and the unconventional life they lead flying ships like they were never flown at all.

A LEAGUE OF THEIR OWN

“The first thing everyone does when they learn about how we transport the ships is to suggest an easier way.” I am sitting across from Tahota Ersdil in a small, cramped office in Odyssa filled with dusty ship manuals dating back the last fifty years, datapads stacked precariously high and the thick, lingering smell of cigar smoke. “Trust me. We’ve thought of it or tried it already. The iso system is what we do because not only does it work, but it’s cheap.”

Tahota, owner and founder of Seven-league Delivery, has been kind enough to walk me through the ‘iso’ pilot system that he created over 50 years ago and many ship delivery companies have adapted since. Iso, short for isolated, refers to the method of having a solitary pilot tasked with flying one of these behemoths for interstellar delivery. “See, the first idea most folks have to deliver one of these is to hire a crew and just fly it to wherever. That’s problematic for two reasons. The big one is that paying a crew costs credits.” In order to afford the expense of sending multiple crewmembers along on the delivery, either the sender or the owner would have to pay extra for the shipment, or as what ended up happening once delivery companies started competing on price, delivery crews would receive a smaller salary once it was split amongst themselves.

“The second major issue with a crew is that no matter how careful you are, having that many people aboard is gonna leave signs. Those people are gonna have to eat and sleep and take a crap somewhere. Do they do it onboard and spend the time doing a deep clean when you arrive? Do you send along an escort ship and have people transfer back and forth? Oh, and speaking of escorts, we haven’t even begun to talk about security protocols.”

It became clear quickly as Tahota listed the pitfalls of ship delivery that the balance of time and credits was a difficult equilibrium to strike. Of course, some manufacturers, ship sellers and insurance companies avoid the problem all together and just send the owner a shuttle ticket so they can travel and transport it themselves or in the case of some real bargain-rate insurers, the owner is left to figure out the logistics themselves. However, many customers have come to expect the convenience of having their newly acquired ship delivered to them. After decades of trial and error, there seem to be three main systems that delivery companies employ: iso, ‘trio’ and ‘legging.’

The trio system consists of a three-member team where one person is flying the delivery ship, one is flying an escort craft, and one is resting. To keep the delivery ship in pristine condition, the person piloting it wears a fully-enclosed suit at all times, and bio-functions are restricted to the escort ship. Flying a trio is considered to be the most moderate system. Tahato explains, “Trios are nice because you get the fresh pilots and the escort ship is there in case stuff goes wrong, but the profit margin on a trio is slim. That extra crew and escort fuel eat into the overhead pretty fast. I flew trio for a while when I started out, and if I wasn’t doing a run, I could barely afford a place to sleep and eat. Forget about saving up any credits. You had to keep making deliveries because if you stopped, you’d starve. It was tough.”

The next method, legging, refers to the delivery trip being broken into multiple segments or ‘legs’ flown by several pilots, each one covering the journey between two ports where the ship is then handed off to the next pilot. This has the benefit of each pilot only having to cover a short distance. Though the pilots typically receive less pay per delivery, they can make up the difference if there is a steady flow of ships being delivered back and forth. “Legging’s used a lot in the more populated systems,” says Tahato, “but with all those additional hands involved and that much landing and taking off, you see a lot more accidents happen; from small stuff like dings and scuffs, all the way to having some drunk Aurora pilot crash into you. Not to mention that usually the space around refuel stations are often prime hunting grounds since outlaws know that’s where ships are gonna be. Legging works for some people and insurance companies seem to prefer it, but the ship manufacturers tend to like iso because it’s the best at getting the ship where it’s going like new.”

The iso system, the one Seven-league specializes in, consists of a lone suited pilot flying the whole journey by themselves without making a single stop. It is the method that earns the pilot and the delivery company the most profit, but it is considered a grueling and difficult trip. Of course, I had to find out just how difficult for myself.

SOLO PLUS ONE

Tahato arranged for me to ride along on an iso trip with one of Seven-league’s longest flying runners, Daniel Dente. Arriving at the dock in the upper atmosphere of Crusader, I am greeted by the gleaming hull of a brand new Genesis Starliner fresh from the plant. Just under a hundred meters in width and length, Seven-league has been contracted to deliver the hulking cruiser to Cassel by a company specializing in sightseeing tours. The inside of the ship is richly appointed with amenities, none of which I will be permitted to enjoy during my journey aboard.

Daniel greets me inside the storage area where he is double checking the quantum fuel supplies. One of the keys to flying iso is to avoid stopping at any refill stations. Not only are they a safety concern as they attract outlaws but any docking increases the risk of accidents. Instead, Daniel and I will be refueling the starliner ourselves via EVA. “We’ve got exactly what we need and just a tiny bit of emergency fuel. Since we’re carrying it, adding more fuel requires even more fuel to transport. There’s a lot of formulas and stuff to help us figure it all out,” Daniel explains to me through his helmet.

Like me, Daniel is already fully suited up and will remain sealed in for the remainder of the trip. Before boarding, I had been fitted with a nutra-pack that will take care of my nutrition requirements, as well as an extremely potent cocktail of sleep-replacements and stims to ensure that I remain awake for the entirety of the delivery run. Daniel assures me the nausea will pass soon. “It’s the worst at the beginning and then at the end when you’re coming off it,” says Daniel, “but it means we can do the trip in a straight shot though without any breaks which is faster and safer. Of course, you can only stay on the meds for a few weeks before the real serious side effects kick in. Works out, though. I do a few weeks on and then a month or so off with the family before I head back out.”

I can tell that Daniel isn’t quite sure what to do with me. After fifteen years of flying with Seven-league, he’s grown accustomed to piloting alone. As we leave Crusader behind, he sings to himself until he bashfully stops when he remembers I’m there. “My kids always point out when I’m singing or talking to myself. Drives them nuts,” he tells me. I ask Daniel what he does to keep himself occupied. “The company doesn’t allow us to put up vids or make comm calls while flying. Safety and all that. For the most part it’s music and sometimes audiofeeds. People are always amazed at how well read I am and I tell them they should try being awake for a week. But really, I’m focusing on flying for the most part,” explains Daniel. “These bigger ships usually have a few people monitoring everything, but I have to keep an eye on it all myself. It’s not too bad since we turn off all non-essential systems, but it’s still enough to keep you busy.” The ship’s life support isn’t even active and the only lights on are the ones in the cockpit. Breathing and illumination will be taken care of, once again, by our suits. Later on in the flight, when we had to go check a coupler on the engine, walking through the dark hull of the ship was a tremendously eerie feeling. Even with Daniel as company I still felt very alone.

The views out the window offer no relief as the route Daniel has charted ensures that we sweep very wide of any points of interest. Since we’re flying without a protection escort, it’s important to minimize contact with other ships as much as possible. While most ships you encounter offer no danger, it’s still safer to not take the risk. The most dangerous part of our journey is when we approach a jump point.

As we near the Stanton-Terra jump, Daniel goes into high alert, doing careful scans for any signatures before approaching. We wait for an ArcCorp freighter to pass before making the approach ourselves. I find myself tempted to comm the other pilot just for the social contact. “I get that,” says Daniel as I tell him of my urge. “I was always a bit of an introvert, so the alone time doesn’t get to me as much but even I can go a bit stir crazy. Especially when nothing goes wrong. It’s funny that in some ways the smoothest trips are the hardest mentally. Sometimes, I make recordings to my family or I can tune into the open channel and listen to other people. That helps a bit.” I ask about bringing guests along on the runs and learn that the insurance cost of having the extra people aboard is too high to make it worthwhile.

The first time we had to refuel was the real test to see if I had what it takes to become an iso pilot myself. Leaving the relative safety of the ship to head out into space knowing that we were completely off the radar if anything should happen turned out to be more than I could handle. Seeing my heart rate spike past its already elevated levels from the cocktail ended my spacewalk before it began. Daniel insisted I stay aboard, so I watched him refuel the ship himself.

I’d like to say that the rest of the trip got better. That by the end I finally got out and did a refuel myself or that maybe Daniel gave me a turn at the wheel, but the truth is after that first panic attack, it only got worse. I had gotten inside my own head. Daniel told me that he had seen it happen before, “Not everyone can do this job. Just a fact. There’s nothing to be ashamed about.” Despite all that, I am proud to say that I stuck it out all the way to Goss. I may not have the fortitude to be an iso pilot, but at least I saw the trip through to the end.

For the rest of my life, I think I will always remember the relief I felt when we touched down on Cassel and I finally got to take off my helmet. The sense of freedom was overwhelming. To think that hundreds of men and women make their living this way, crossing through the emptiness of space so that people can get a brand new pristine ship is just another example of the sort of thing that happens every day in this ’verse without most of us being aware of it. In the end, it was a successful run, no thanks to me. I apologized for not being more help as we said goodbye and Daniel shrugged, simply saying, “I’m used to doing it by myself.”

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