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Furhter snippetage
So you know, that other show of mine? The one I have studiously avoided talking about because I fear fandom might ruin it for me? TODAY IS THE DAY, FLIST. Have another fic snippet, in honour of the upcoming TWO HOUR premiere. For the ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
cuddy_fest prompt: Cuddy, Amber, Cameron, and Thirteen are pirates in space. Gen or femslashy, the only requirement is generous helpings of AWESOME. (yes, I will finish this story)
*
Poseidon Colony is a difficult planet to navigate by foot. For one, it's mostly covered with swamps and forests that are home to assorted unfriendly animals. Furthermore, it usually rains throughout the year. And then there is the small issue with—
'Damn mosquitoes,' Amber growls. 'Remind me why we're in this pit again?'
'Because we have business here, that's why,' Cameron retorts. 'If you can't handle a few mosquitoes you should've stayed back and played cards with the Healer instead. I'm sure he'd appreciate the company.'
To be fair, there are more than a few mosquitoes, but Cuddy wisely refrains from commenting. She has bigger problems to consider, such as the fact that they're almost ankle-deep in mud and the forest just seems to be getting thicker.
'Are you sure this is the way, Captain?' Cameron asks, evidently thinking along similar lines.
'I think so,' Cuddy says, giving her electronic assistant another shake. It's futile, of course—it'll be another lifetime before Poseidon catches up with the rest of the Foundation.
Krrr, says a Poseidon Laughing Fowl from its vantage point on a tree.
*
As it turns out, it wasn't the right way.
They spend the next hour walking around in circles while being ambushed by mosquitoes from every direction and, on one memorable occasion, being nearly run over by a horde of over-excited wild boars. There's also a slight… incident involving Amber and some quicksand that has Amber threatening to get out of this damn forest, right now ('And go where?' Cameron says).
By the time they reach the clearing, they're all caked in mud; Cuddy tries not to think of her hair—her one vanity, her pride, one she's held on to despite the inconvenience it poses—or her aching back and focuses on the task at hand.
'They're not here,' Cameron says, putting down her field glasses.
'Keep looking,' Cuddy says. 'We'll hunt them down if we have to.'
'I'm killing Big Bird,' Amber announces, familiar bloodthirsty gleam in her eyes.
'There'll be no killing unless I say so,' Cuddy says sharply, even if she's feeling a little vengeful herself. 'Keep looking.'
*
It doesn't take very long.
Amber is the one to spot them: four wretched figures lying on the riverbank, hands tied to their backs. There's no sign of the trunks, or the extremely valuable meds that are supposed to be in them.
'Wait,' Cuddy says, laying a restraining hand on Amber's arm. 'It might be a trap.'
*
It's not a trap, either.
Big Bird begins to whimper the moment he sees them approaching, big, pitiful moans and a lot of tossing and turning, quite possibly meant to convey extreme distress. There's no blood, however, no visible injuries on any of the men. Cuddy kneels beside Big Bird and yanks the gag open, noting the way his eyes widen in fear.
'Where’s my delivery?' she asks.
Big Bird opens his mouth as if to say something and closes it again, rather like a fish. The rest of the men appear frozen at the spot, petrified. It's pathetic.
'Where is my delivery?' Cuddy says a little more firmly, ignoring the urge to grit her teeth. Or, for that matter, throttle the man. Anger would be counterproductive.
'I—'
'You've broken your word. Do you know what I do to people who break their word?' she says softly.
Right on cue, Big Bird begins to blubber, 'No, please, it's not supposed to be this way—'
'Tell us where the goods are and no one will get hurt,' Cameron chimes in, reassuring.
'Please, it wasn't us, please, it was Thirteen, Thirteen and her sidekick, we didn't do anything, pleaseplease,' Big Bird says, beginning to cry in earnest now.
It takes Cameron quite some time to get a coherent story out of the man.
*
The walk back to the ship is interminable, excruciating. They lose their way once and Cameron has her hat stolen by a Poseidon Flying Monkey.
Krrr-rrr, mocks a Poseidon Laughing Fowl from its vantage point on a tree.
**
'Oh good, you're back,' Taub says as they stumble back inside the ship, 'I was about to send a rescue party.'
'We're fine,' Cameron says. 'We couldn't reach you. There was no signal.'
'Why am I not surprised?' Taub says. 'And, this might sound insensitive, but I can't help but point out that you're not carrying anything.'
Amber says something under her breath that is, in all probability, a promise to wring Taub's neck at the first opportunity. She walks up to the kitchen and dumps her gun on the large wooden table with a clatter, startling Healer Wilson into nearly dropping the ladle from his hand.
'What happened?' he asks, not without some concern as he takes in their faces. 'What's wrong?'
They're a sight, Cuddy knows, covered in filth and empty-handed. Outwitted by a number. 'What do you know about Thirteen?' she says, not caring to launch into an explanation.
'Thirteen?' Taub says. 'You mean, the number thirteen?' His tone is dry. Out of the corner of her eye Cuddy can see Amber beginning to say something before Cameron—bless her—says swiftly, 'Someone got there before we did.' Amber snaps her mouth shut. 'Someone called Thirteen.'
'And this… Thirteen,' Taub says slowly. 'They were working with Big Bird?'
'I don't think so,' Cameron shakes her head. 'He did seem rather traumatised.'
'We got played, that's what,' Amber says, sitting down heavily on the bench.
Outwitted by a number, Cuddy thinks, bitterness at the tip of her tongue and anger pooling in the hollow of her stomach, slow and certain.
The silence is broken by a thump and a crash, and then Kutner stumbles in, eyes suspiciously red, 'What happened? What did I miss?'
*
After putting Kutner to the task of pulling every shred of available information on 'Thirteen' and her sidekick, Cuddy draws herself a bath.
Her hair is a mess.
*
Kutner is still in his terminal the next morning, clutching a steaming mug of the foul Titan II coffee in his hand. Wilson smiles at her from his perch on the deck, where he usually spends a couple of hours in the morning going through newsfeeds. Amber is on the other end, bent over a dismantled gun.
'Well?'
'I've, uh, found a few things,' Kutner says, not looking away from his screen. 'I hacked into the Watch database. They have a couple of reports about a ship marked 13, here—'
'Stolen merchandise. Stolen supplies,' Cuddy reads. 'And on one occasion, cattle.'
'Not very discerning, is she?' Taub chimes in, carrying an identical coffee mug. The smell is somewhat nauseating.
'Their profiles are incomplete, but they've got a shot of them here,' Kutner says, pulling up another tab on the screen. 'It's not very good quality, though.'
It's terrible quality, in fact: grainy and distorted. Cuddy can barely make out the lithe figure in front, carrying a large gun. There's another figure behind her, that of a man. He appears unarmed.
'He looks familiar,' Cameron says with a frown. 'I think.'
'That's not good enough,' Taub says.
'Charts, Kutner,' Cuddy commands, leaning closer to the screen. She calculates their approximate location and comes to a quick decision. 'Is House still in Tartaros?'
'Yes, I— ' Cuddy pretends she hasn't seen the Healer wince. 'Yes, as far as I know. But I'm not sure it's a good idea,' Wilson says. He sounds strained.
'Actually, it's a great idea,' Taub says. 'In a case like this, House is our best bet.'
'It's the best idea we have so far,' Cameron says, reasonable.
'He won't co-operate,' Wilson insists.
'Then we'll make him co-operate,' Cuddy retorts. 'You of all people should remember that I have some experience in that kind of thing.'
Amber makes a tiny stabbing gesture in the air with her knife.
Wilson appears resigned. 'You'll have to get past Robert Chase first.'
Cuddy pretends she hasn't seen Cameron wince. Romance always makes things so much more complicated.
'Can I kill House afterwards?' Amber says with a bright smile.
**
cuddy_fest prompt: Cuddy, Amber, Cameron, and Thirteen are pirates in space. Gen or femslashy, the only requirement is generous helpings of AWESOME. (yes, I will finish this story) *
Poseidon Colony is a difficult planet to navigate by foot. For one, it's mostly covered with swamps and forests that are home to assorted unfriendly animals. Furthermore, it usually rains throughout the year. And then there is the small issue with—
'Damn mosquitoes,' Amber growls. 'Remind me why we're in this pit again?'
'Because we have business here, that's why,' Cameron retorts. 'If you can't handle a few mosquitoes you should've stayed back and played cards with the Healer instead. I'm sure he'd appreciate the company.'
To be fair, there are more than a few mosquitoes, but Cuddy wisely refrains from commenting. She has bigger problems to consider, such as the fact that they're almost ankle-deep in mud and the forest just seems to be getting thicker.
'Are you sure this is the way, Captain?' Cameron asks, evidently thinking along similar lines.
'I think so,' Cuddy says, giving her electronic assistant another shake. It's futile, of course—it'll be another lifetime before Poseidon catches up with the rest of the Foundation.
Krrr, says a Poseidon Laughing Fowl from its vantage point on a tree.
*
As it turns out, it wasn't the right way.
They spend the next hour walking around in circles while being ambushed by mosquitoes from every direction and, on one memorable occasion, being nearly run over by a horde of over-excited wild boars. There's also a slight… incident involving Amber and some quicksand that has Amber threatening to get out of this damn forest, right now ('And go where?' Cameron says).
By the time they reach the clearing, they're all caked in mud; Cuddy tries not to think of her hair—her one vanity, her pride, one she's held on to despite the inconvenience it poses—or her aching back and focuses on the task at hand.
'They're not here,' Cameron says, putting down her field glasses.
'Keep looking,' Cuddy says. 'We'll hunt them down if we have to.'
'I'm killing Big Bird,' Amber announces, familiar bloodthirsty gleam in her eyes.
'There'll be no killing unless I say so,' Cuddy says sharply, even if she's feeling a little vengeful herself. 'Keep looking.'
*
It doesn't take very long.
Amber is the one to spot them: four wretched figures lying on the riverbank, hands tied to their backs. There's no sign of the trunks, or the extremely valuable meds that are supposed to be in them.
'Wait,' Cuddy says, laying a restraining hand on Amber's arm. 'It might be a trap.'
*
It's not a trap, either.
Big Bird begins to whimper the moment he sees them approaching, big, pitiful moans and a lot of tossing and turning, quite possibly meant to convey extreme distress. There's no blood, however, no visible injuries on any of the men. Cuddy kneels beside Big Bird and yanks the gag open, noting the way his eyes widen in fear.
'Where’s my delivery?' she asks.
Big Bird opens his mouth as if to say something and closes it again, rather like a fish. The rest of the men appear frozen at the spot, petrified. It's pathetic.
'Where is my delivery?' Cuddy says a little more firmly, ignoring the urge to grit her teeth. Or, for that matter, throttle the man. Anger would be counterproductive.
'I—'
'You've broken your word. Do you know what I do to people who break their word?' she says softly.
Right on cue, Big Bird begins to blubber, 'No, please, it's not supposed to be this way—'
'Tell us where the goods are and no one will get hurt,' Cameron chimes in, reassuring.
'Please, it wasn't us, please, it was Thirteen, Thirteen and her sidekick, we didn't do anything, pleaseplease,' Big Bird says, beginning to cry in earnest now.
It takes Cameron quite some time to get a coherent story out of the man.
*
The walk back to the ship is interminable, excruciating. They lose their way once and Cameron has her hat stolen by a Poseidon Flying Monkey.
Krrr-rrr, mocks a Poseidon Laughing Fowl from its vantage point on a tree.
**
'Oh good, you're back,' Taub says as they stumble back inside the ship, 'I was about to send a rescue party.'
'We're fine,' Cameron says. 'We couldn't reach you. There was no signal.'
'Why am I not surprised?' Taub says. 'And, this might sound insensitive, but I can't help but point out that you're not carrying anything.'
Amber says something under her breath that is, in all probability, a promise to wring Taub's neck at the first opportunity. She walks up to the kitchen and dumps her gun on the large wooden table with a clatter, startling Healer Wilson into nearly dropping the ladle from his hand.
'What happened?' he asks, not without some concern as he takes in their faces. 'What's wrong?'
They're a sight, Cuddy knows, covered in filth and empty-handed. Outwitted by a number. 'What do you know about Thirteen?' she says, not caring to launch into an explanation.
'Thirteen?' Taub says. 'You mean, the number thirteen?' His tone is dry. Out of the corner of her eye Cuddy can see Amber beginning to say something before Cameron—bless her—says swiftly, 'Someone got there before we did.' Amber snaps her mouth shut. 'Someone called Thirteen.'
'And this… Thirteen,' Taub says slowly. 'They were working with Big Bird?'
'I don't think so,' Cameron shakes her head. 'He did seem rather traumatised.'
'We got played, that's what,' Amber says, sitting down heavily on the bench.
Outwitted by a number, Cuddy thinks, bitterness at the tip of her tongue and anger pooling in the hollow of her stomach, slow and certain.
The silence is broken by a thump and a crash, and then Kutner stumbles in, eyes suspiciously red, 'What happened? What did I miss?'
*
After putting Kutner to the task of pulling every shred of available information on 'Thirteen' and her sidekick, Cuddy draws herself a bath.
Her hair is a mess.
*
Kutner is still in his terminal the next morning, clutching a steaming mug of the foul Titan II coffee in his hand. Wilson smiles at her from his perch on the deck, where he usually spends a couple of hours in the morning going through newsfeeds. Amber is on the other end, bent over a dismantled gun.
'Well?'
'I've, uh, found a few things,' Kutner says, not looking away from his screen. 'I hacked into the Watch database. They have a couple of reports about a ship marked 13, here—'
'Stolen merchandise. Stolen supplies,' Cuddy reads. 'And on one occasion, cattle.'
'Not very discerning, is she?' Taub chimes in, carrying an identical coffee mug. The smell is somewhat nauseating.
'Their profiles are incomplete, but they've got a shot of them here,' Kutner says, pulling up another tab on the screen. 'It's not very good quality, though.'
It's terrible quality, in fact: grainy and distorted. Cuddy can barely make out the lithe figure in front, carrying a large gun. There's another figure behind her, that of a man. He appears unarmed.
'He looks familiar,' Cameron says with a frown. 'I think.'
'That's not good enough,' Taub says.
'Charts, Kutner,' Cuddy commands, leaning closer to the screen. She calculates their approximate location and comes to a quick decision. 'Is House still in Tartaros?'
'Yes, I— ' Cuddy pretends she hasn't seen the Healer wince. 'Yes, as far as I know. But I'm not sure it's a good idea,' Wilson says. He sounds strained.
'Actually, it's a great idea,' Taub says. 'In a case like this, House is our best bet.'
'It's the best idea we have so far,' Cameron says, reasonable.
'He won't co-operate,' Wilson insists.
'Then we'll make him co-operate,' Cuddy retorts. 'You of all people should remember that I have some experience in that kind of thing.'
Amber makes a tiny stabbing gesture in the air with her knife.
Wilson appears resigned. 'You'll have to get past Robert Chase first.'
Cuddy pretends she hasn't seen Cameron wince. Romance always makes things so much more complicated.
'Can I kill House afterwards?' Amber says with a bright smile.
**