Martian steel, I hear, is worth a fortune on Earth. Not so on Mars, where I can scale a fence made of the stuff in half a minute and not even blink as my bolt cutters snap barbed wire. Little shards flake off, and I brush them away, to let them flutter down to the regolith below— dust they are, and to dust they shall return.
I hop down. My canvas shoes kick up a cloud of rusty silica, and I cough— my breather’s cheaper than I am, and even good-quality ones are only supposed to last half a Martian year. This was the first one I bought at the spaceport, an hour after I touched down, four years ago.
Still, silicosis and perchlorate poisoning are long-term problems for people with cash in their pockets. I swallow another cough and trudge through the dust to the foundry door. Steel again. I yank it open.
This place is a crime. Shouldn’t have been built, when I get potato-and-algae slop for every meal and I have to buy my own oxygen masks— but the only thing more expensive than forging Martian steel is getting it down to Earth. And since launches are a once-a-year splurge, it just piles up here. Our dirt is rust, but our factories and warehouses are pure steel. It’s not like it’ll corrode in our carbon dioxide air.
But building barbed-wire fences and industrial facilities out of the most expensive substance known to humanity isn’t a crime. You know what is a crime? Breaking and entering. My indenture has a clause about that. Oh, they can’t kill me, but they “reserve the right to bar company employees from company housing for any reason, including but not limited to failure to follow company, local, or planetary laws and restrictions.” But “homelessness” isn’t really a thing when your atmosphere is a light dusting of CO2. You either have housing or you’re dead.
The forge went out a while ago. I start up the bellows with a touch of a button, and the pure oxygen ignites. I turn it up until I can feel the heat even through my pressure suit. Then I get to work.
My gloves are scorched and sweaty by the time I’m through, and even in my suit, I’m flush with the thrill of these eighteen illegal, tiny, sharpened pen nibs. I shouldn’t have done it. But, for the first time in four Martian years, I feel like I did something right.
My steelworking training, the scraps in the bin— I was just putting them to good use.
Leaving the foundry is trickier than getting in. There’s a guard who does his rounds, and I have to be smart about waiting for his buggy to get out of sight. Hoping he doesn’t catch my IR signature with his goggles, I scale the fence the way I came in and hop down.
In the centre of town, there’s a church, attached to a canteen and a mission school. Nice place. Good if your job kicks you out on your ass and you want a last meal before your O2 runs out. The missionary who runs it, Deneb, isn’t an indenture; he came here of his own accord, on his church’s dime. Nevertheless, he’s not sanctimonious about it. He understands the urges and ugliness of humanity.
I meet him in the alley behind the church, under the window of his little bedroom. From down here, I can see the lamp’s still on. He hurried downstairs to meet me. I can’t help but grin.
“Here,” I say, and before he can respond, I shove the box of pen nibs into his hands. His smile is dark and gleaming in the shadows under his visor.
“Thank you,” he says in amazement, running his gloved hands over the box before opening it up. “The kids will love these. They’ve been begging me for more art supplies for weeks. How did you get them?”
“Made them myself,” I boast. “They’re Martian steel.”
“That’s expensive,” Deneb marvels. “You really bought the ore and everything? For this?”
“Didn’t have to. The shop has piles of scrap.”
Deneb’s adorable smile disappears. “So you stole it.”
I scowl. “It’s not stealing if I’m donating these to charity. Isn’t it you who’s always telling me to do what’s right?”
“I can’t accept them if they’re stolen. You know that.”
This is where he draws the line? “Look,” I say, “Mars has stolen my money and my lungs, and pretty soon it’ll probably take my life too. I’ll take what I want from the foundry, damn it.”
Deneb flinches. “You shouldn’t have done it,” he says coldly, and he holds the box out to me.
“Yeah,” I say, and it’s a hoarse, betrayed growl. “I shouldn’t have. But I did.” I turn on my heel, leaving the box in his outstretched hands. “Don’t bother telling the kids hello for me.”
Khi adjusted his rifle sights and squinted into the lowering sun. All day he’d been waiting at the crest of these cliffs, crouched among the scrub and staring out at the glare off the sea until a harpoon headache pierced him between the eyes. Verune had said there wasn’t enough cash for more time, so this was it: his last shot…
A loud bark interrupted the silence. Khi glanced down the shore. Two bodyguards marched down the beach, two spear-lengths apart. Only two.
Behind them, ambling with a nobleman’s genteel nonchalance, came Prince Sounder— his target. Khi hunched lower.
The prince’s dog, a medium-sized, long-coated beast, trotted over the sand, bouncing between the surf and the prince’s side. Backlit by the setting sun, the prince smiled. Khi levelled his rifle.
The dog would be a problem. The prince had been deaf since childhood, and though he wouldn’t hear any missed shots, his pet would. So Khi had one last shot, to bring down the man who had ordered the invasion of his homeland…
He took aim.
~~
“So,” the interrogator says gruffly, “why’d you do it?”
The palace dungeon has a rhythm. Good days, bad days. Today is a good day. They gave him a comb, a bowl of water, even some bandages to bind his wounds, and they took him to this small room, the flickery electric lighting supplemented by a lantern on the table.
“Fuck you,” Khi says, enunciating clearly around his swollen jaw.
The interrogator smacks him across the face, and Khi’s head snaps back. “No need to prove to me that your people are troublemakers,” the man snarls, and Khi cups a hand to his cheek and swallows his scream. “Come on. Who sent you?”
“I could’ve shot him,” Khi mumbles. “I was merciful. You should thank me.”
“If you won’t cooperate, we’ll send you back to your cell,” the interrogator warns, and damn it, Khi can’t help it if he starts shaking at the thought.
“I know nothing,” he whispers, his voice suddenly deserting him. “I’m a pawn. Nothing more.”
The interrogator snorts. “Sure. A pawn who tries, all of a sudden, for checkmate.”
~~
Between the dog’s butterfly-like darting and the sunset behind the sea, Khi couldn’t hope for an accurate shot. He couldn’t aim at the prince, either— if he missed, the dog would take swift action to protect its master. And it was likely he would miss.
No, the dog would be his first target. He’d take it out while it frolicked in the surf, out of sight. Then, when Prince Sounder noticed his favourite beast’s absence, he would hesitate. And Khi would fire.
The party was moving farther down the beach now, away from Khi’s spot on the cliff. He had but a few moments— the sun would only get more distracting as it set. This was his one last shot.
The kickback drove the stock into his shoulder; ringing split his ears. The dog, ankle-deep in surf, whined and fell, the white-and-scarlet sea foam submerging its muzzle.
Khi reloaded. A moment later, Prince Sounder turned.
The prince’s eyes landed on the dog, on its side in the bloody surf steps away, and he screamed: a long, high, keening sound like a steam train off the rails, steel scraping steel. Khi levelled his rifle and—
Fire, he thought, staring at Prince Sounder. This close, he could see the seething grief on the prince’s face, outlined by the setting sun. Fire, damn it!
His trigger finger was frozen. The bodyguards ran back over the damp sand, their pistols drawn— but one paused to scan the cliffs.
The sun was behind him. He didn’t need to squint.
“Assassin!” he shouted, and suddenly all three figures were in motion, one dragging the prince to his feet, signing urgently, the other making for the cliffs. Khi could shoot him, could reload— he had his finger on the trigger, he was a good shot…
He did not move as the second bodyguard reached him, hauled him from his hiding place, and yanked the still-loaded rifle from his hands. He did not move as he watched the expression on the prince’s face: shock and blunt agony and a desire for revenge as deep as the sea that lapped at his heels.
~~
In the dark, Khi hears, rather than sees, the bolt on his door sliding aside. Should he run? No, he’s too weak to make it far; today was one of the bad days. Better to take what they have in store for him.
In steps Prince Sounder. The light from his lantern glints off his shoes and the buttons of his coat. Khi can’t bear to look at him.
He can’t bear to look away.
The prince passes Khi a stiff pad of paper. A few words— in Khi’s own tongue— are written across the top in elegant script. Who do you work for?
Khi looks up at him. Wordlessly, the prince places a fountain pen and a jar of ink on the table.
Khi could refuse. But he’s been tied up for so long, been beaten and burned and bled so many times, he’s not sure what the point is anymore. By now, Verune and Shona and the rest have almost certainly moved to another safe house, their ties with the would-be royal assassin irrevocably cut. He is just a pawn. And a pawn should recognize a king.
He thinks of the prince’s dog, lying dead on the shore. He thinks of the expression on the prince’s face, how perfectly it captured how it felt to feel chains snapping around his wrists, to know this was his one last shot at seeing a sunset.
But if this man tries to seek out his employers, all hell will break loose.
Khi picks up the pen, dips it in the ink, and starts to write his confession.
You roll through the portal like a Coke can out of a vending machine. Within seconds, you’re on your hands and knees, fighting for breath on the muddy ground— but it’s no use. You’ve been here before. The demons rise out of the bushes, and you close your eyes.
Sometimes it’s quick. Sometimes the loop restarts just moments after you land. The demons are vicious enemies, and you can never be sure if she will come save you.
You hear a thud, and raise your head. She stands over you, her gold eyes broken by slit pupils. She sticks her sword in the demon’s corpse and puts out a hand.
“Need some help?” she asks.
Those are always her first lines. You take her hand and pull yourself to her feet.
She doesn’t always join you on your quest. Sometimes, you explain your objective (the Shadow Lord’s silver key, to open the portal) and she scowls, wishes you luck, and beats feet. This time, though, she offers to stick around, and you accept her offer. It’s almost worse, that you do— you know how it will end. The runs always last longer with her at your side, though.
Whenever you remember, you ask her name, and she always tells you something different— Sagrada, or Bolt, or Melancholy, something achingly sharp and familiar that sounds like a slit throat. This time, she’s Helia. She narrows her eyes as she says it, hand on her hip.
You say, “That’s a beautiful name.”
She blinks, off guard. “Thank you.”
You journey through the wilderness for weeks, growing in strength, training with Helia to use the weapons you find rusting in abandoned guard posts. Demons hold sway over this region, she explains (verbatim, every time), led by the Shadow Lord. If you want to get to his castle alive, she says, you need to stay sharp. And watch your back.
The night on the cliff, you’re resting when a gang of wolf-demons sneak up on you. You’re too slow, and they back you right up against the edge, snarling, fangs gleaming with black saliva. You shut your eyes, and think— you don’t care if you survive, you know you’ll come through the portal again— you just hope that Helia—
And there she is, cutting down the leading wolf-demon with fire in her golden eyes. You dispatch the rest of them and catch your breath under the cool, silent stars. Helia has a bite on her shoulder; you clean the torn hash of skin and carefully wrap it up, feeling her battle-breathless heartbeat under your fingers.
“I told you,” she says gruffly, looking away, “to watch your back.”
Sometimes this is when she does it. Not tonight, though. “Helia,” you ask, “why are you here? On this quest with me?”
A smirk slides across her face. “You just seemed like you could use the help,” she says. It’s a line you’ve heard dozens of times before.
“No,” you say, “really. Why join me? Don’t you…”
Don’t you know how this ends?
She shrugs, then winces. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
You’ve asked her about the loop before, and she’s always blown you off, confused. But even still, in the back of her mind…
There is no room in your mouth for the words, I love you. So you keep quiet.
The castle is surrounded by a moat of bubbling blood and shrouded in smoke. You and Helia leap across the moat— your new magic sword lets you fly— and slash your way through the halls until you reach the throne room.
You pause outside the door. Helia’s pale, her golden eyes uncertain. On impulse, you squeeze her hand, and she looks at you in surprise.
“Ready?” you ask her.
She nods. The line of her jaw trembles. “Ready.”
You burst through the door. Sometimes, the Shadow Lord has assembled his armies, but this time your infiltration was quiet enough that it’s just him. He sits on his throne, his fingers steepled under his hound-dog grin.
“Daughter,” he says, “you’ve brought me a fine hero indeed.”
You look at Helia. Her jaw is clenched. But her golden eyes— same as her father’s— are steady.
This is where she betrays you. Where she throws off her sheep’s clothing and joins her father, and you fight them both at once— and not even your magic sword can save you. Always, you’re thrown to the ground, and blackness slams into your vision, and then you’re through the portal again, wondering if this time will be any different, knowing that it won’t be.
Helia glances at you. Her eyelashes are fairy-fine over her slit pupils. Then she turns, raises her sword, and charges the Shadow Lord.
At first, you’re frozen with shock. But then you draw your own sword and leap up to parry the Shadow Lord’s blow.
You fight. It’s long and grueling. You lose an arm, and Helia holds her palm against her stomach to keep her intestines inside her. But when the Shadow Lord staggers and falls to the ground, the light going out of his golden eyes, you— both of you— are still standing.
The village celebrates that night. You drink enough that your head starts to go foggy, so you lay it on Helia’s shoulder. She puts an arm around you, carefully avoiding your stump. Blood lines her knuckles.
“Thank you,” you say, not sure where the words are coming from. “I thought you were going to betray me.” Like you always do.
She strokes your hair and considers this for a long time. “I almost did,” she says. “But I decided against it.”
“Why?” you ask.
She kisses your forehead. “You’re too nice to betray,” she says.
You think of the silver key around your neck. Your next stop is the portal, where you’ll slot it into the keyhole and turn it, to move on to whatever comes next.
But maybe, you think, snuggling into Helia’s shoulder, you’ll stick around awhile.
sixteenth story for @badthingshappenbingo's bingo :)
characters; Cecil Scott, Archie Schmidt, some random characters who don't matter plus a named chief engineer who's not that important yet i haven't fleshed him out
words; 1,680
warnings; yelling, overstimulation, ???
prompt; sensory overload
Having sensory issues and being on a starship could sometimes be a difficult task. Usually though, Cecil had it under control. He’d come a long way from his overstimulation meltdowns from highschool.
But everyone had bad days.
It started with Cecil having to run extra reports and do double work with people out when getting their annual physicals done in Sickbay. Sure, no problem! He loved working in the engineering department, and the stuff he had to do wasn't even that difficult. But whenever he'd try and get the work done someone would try and ask him for help or simply try and talk. He wasn't anything special! He wasn't a lieutenant, or even the chief engineer! He was just an ensign who had a historically talented engineer father- so most of the other ensigns saw him as someone greater in the already lackluster group.
It was frustrating.
Still, distraction after distraction- Cecil pushed through and helped everyone he could. Finishing up his shift, he was making sure everything he'd done was in good order before he left. He was almost done when the chief engineer- Rainer- called him over.
“Ensign Scott?”
Cecil felt so awkward sometimes hearing his father's last name connected to him. Despite it, he turned to see the human closing in. “Aye, sir?”
Rainer- a thicker and larger human, definitely more on the “I got this big build myself” type of man- came upon the Firth with a PADD in hand. His expression was neutral, but his tone was sharp as always. “I just got wind of an issue in the plasma manifolds. I need someone to double-check the diagnostics we ran this morning. Think you can handle that before you clock out?”
Of course. May Cecil’s parental figures forever outstretch and expand his workload with their monumentous knowledge they definitely passed onto him with no problem. Nope! He was 100% a carbon copy of Montgomery Scott. No knowledge gap there at all. Nope.
His fins twitched slightly against his head, an involuntary response to the growing hum of noise around him- the clang of tools, overlapping voices, the faint but persistent vibration of the ship's engines. He wanted to say no, to insist that someone else could take it on, but he knew that wasn’t really an option. He didn't want to be rude.
“Aye, sir.” He replied, his voice steady despite the discomfort simmering beneath the surface. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Good,” Rainer said, nodding briskly. “Send me the report when you’re done.”
Cecil watched as the chief walked off, leaving him alone with the data PADD and an ever-growing sense of irritation. His fingers tightened around the device as he made his way to the plasma manifold control room.
---------------------------
By the time he finished, his head was pounding, and his tail was flicking with restless agitation. The data report was sent off, and with it, he allowed himself a small exhale of relief. But the moment he stepped out of the room, he was greeted by yet another coworker, an eager young ensign who looked entirely too chipper for the end of a shift.
“Cecil! Hey, I was wondering if you could help me with-”
“Not now!” Cecil snapped, the words escaping before he could stop them. He didn’t wait for a response, brushing past the stunned ensign and making a beeline for the turbolift.
His foot tapped as the lift moved, his throat starting to close up from it all. He felt tight and stretched past his limit of things he wanted to deal with. When the doors opened he made way down to his quarters, taking a left and-
“Oh no! I'm so sorry!”
There was a collision of two people against one another, and the spill of a wet and sticky substance. Cecil first saw the poor nurse he ran into- or did she run into him?- and then down to his uniform. The vest his father had given him when he retired had some type of liquid on it- completely unidentifiable. It smelt like nasty medicine, however.
Cecil froze, staring at the mess on his vest as his mind struggled to catch up with what had just happened. The nurse, wide-eyed and clearly frazzled, started scrambling for apologies.
“Oh my gosh, I didn’t see you there! I’m so sorry!” She bent down to retrieve the dropped hypospray and the shattered remnants of what looked like a storage vial. “I was in such a rush- this is entirely my fault-”
“It's fine.” The Firth grit out, feeling how his dad’s vest got uncomfortably wet- the substance seeping through the fabric and against the white uniform turtleneck underneath it. The smell was sharp, chemical, and it only added to the already overwhelming mix of sounds and smells in his mind.
The nurse straightened herself, reaching out to touch Cecil, trying to wipe him off with a towel that was also on the tray.
“Don't!” The harsh shout came out angrier than Cecil meant it, but he couldn't deal with another sensation to handle. The poor lass looked extremely sorry, and she flinched when he yelled. “I'm sorry, I have to go-” He hurried the apology, quickly dashing down the hallway to reach his quarters, face starting to warm with tears from overstimulation.
---------------------------
Archie had been given a day off due to a leg injury he received out on the field during an away mission, so he looked up when he heard the door opening and Cecil stomping in. The avian was looking through a PADD on a desk, so he turned around and immediately recognized the look and stance on his boyfriend.
“Cecil?” Archie was getting out of the chair when the Firth immediately started to hurriedly try and tug off his vest and turtleneck, but he was getting tangled up and stuck.
“Get it off me!” The overstimulated ensign screamed out, tears spilling from his eyes as he felt his body starting to shake. Archie’s feathers puffed slightly in alarm, but he was quick to act.
He crossed the room in a couple of strides, quickly grabbing at the vest’s belt and unfastening it around the poor Firth’s waist. “Okay, I've got you. Just let me help, alright?”
Cecil’s hands were trembling as he kept crying, his eyes squeezed shut, trying to block out any more stimulus he had to deal with. His breathing was erratic, a weak half sob escaping his lips when his turtleneck was then pulled off.
“Come on, sit down.” Archie knew better than to touch Cecil right now, so he let the sea monster sniffle and open his eyes before sitting down on their bed. When Cecil sat down, the avian followed, taking a spot next to him.
The engineer was still shaking like a leaf in the wind, and it was obvious he was still overstimulated, but he was calming down. He wrapped his arms around himself and closed his eyes again, trying to get some compression to restart his brain. Archie recognized this and spoke up.
“Let me help you.” It took a second or two before Cecil responded, but he gave a shaky nod in agreement. “Lay down, I'll be right back.”
Cecil promptly flopped over into his side. He sniffled and shuffled up further on the bed before there was a heavy and soft weight draped over his entire body. He let out a little gasp of surprise, but then it melted away as he clutched the blanket and held it closer. The weight pressed down on him- practically forcing him to lay still and calm down.
And he did.
His breathing slowed, his body relaxed and he stopped crying. Cecil felt the stress leave his body, and he gave a weak sigh as he felt his mind go numb.
Archie was busy putting his lover’s clothes away to be cleaned before their shift tomorrow but when he came back to the bedroom to see Cecil laying pancaked on the bed. The sight made him smile. “Feel better?” He spoke softly, making sure he wasn't too loud for the Firth.
The Scotsman was silent for a minute before he left out a mumble. “Aye… Much better.”
The avian sat on the edge of the bed, still a bit away from Cecil. The man still needed personal space. “I’m sorry you had such a rough day, love.”
Cecil shifted slightly, his tail flicking in a more relaxed motion beneath the blanket. “It was... Just too much,” He admitted softly, his voice weak.
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
There was a moment of silence where the two simply calmed down from it all. Eventually Cecil moved slightly, scooting himself across the bed with the weighed blanket atop him. Upon reaching Archie, he reached his arms out and wrapped them around the man’s waist, laying his head down on Archie’s lap. Yes, Cecil was awfully close to the edge of the bed, but he knew he wouldn't fall off.
He let out a content purr when a hand combed through his hair, causing him to relax further. “My head hurts.”
“Do you want me to get you a hypo?”
“Not yet. I just wanna lay down with ye.”
Archie smiled. “Whatever you want.” He gently scratched behind Cecil’s ear, causing the Firth to give a little yawn.
The Scotsman snuggled closer to his boyfriend, feeling how his head pounded but he felt more comfortable. “I love ye.” He whispered.
The confession made the other man’s heart swell. He tucked some of Cecil’s hair behind his ear before giving a soft response. “Love you too, meu monstrinho marinho.”
Cecil gave a groan, his face burning at the corny nickname. It felt so much more embarrassing when Archie said it in his beautiful Portuguese. “My little sea monster? Really?”
“Shhh, shh.” The Firth was quickly shushed playfully, his cheek getting a little pat. “Quiet, meu amor. Relax.”
Despite being frustrated, Cecil knew Archie was right. He gave a soft hum as he settled down again and allowed himself to grow comfortable with his boyfriend.
warnings; snapping necks, escaping imprisonment, shootin people with ya phaser
prompt; doctor's visit
this story is a continuation of this one.
The away team were busting through the busy flora of the planet, using their scanners to make way towards the building the USS Torrance picked up earlier. The team had to beam down away from the structure, so they had to walk on foot.
“I hope he's okay.” Cecil mumbled, his hands anxiously fidgeting as he walked besides Zh’Naya towards the back of the group. The female Andorian saw how scared Cecil was, and it broke her heart.
“Just hang in there, Cecil. Archie is a strong man, he'll be alright.” She reassured him, hoping it would ease the sea monster. It had little effect.
Vograh and Lorraine led the team, inching closer before they had to stop and evaluate the plan. With the building in sight, they had to think of a good way to not cause too much chaos. Vograh scanned the perimeter of the structure, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. "We need to find a way in without alerting the entire facility. Lorraine, can you detect any security systems or weak points?"
Lorraine nodded, tapping on her tricorder. "There's a service entrance on the east side of the building. It appears to be less fortified than the main entrance. We should be able to bypass the security systems with minimal interference.”
The group all nodded in agreement- it was the best they could do. They didn't know the entire extent of the Slaritar’s technological advancements, so it was best to try and stay away from causing more trouble.
The team moved cautiously toward the service entrance, keeping low and using the dense foliage for cover. They reached the entrance, and Lorraine quickly set to work on the security panel. After a few tense moments, the door hissed open, and the team slipped inside. The interior of the facility was dimly lit and eerily silent. The away team moved with practiced precision, their eyes and ears alert for any signs of danger.
Making way down empty halls, they passed different holding cells. The doors had panels and one way windows to look into the rooms- most of the ones they passed were empty. Seeing the state of the cells and how bare and miserable they looked on the inside, the most anxious Cecil grew. He hated the fact Archie was most definitely stuck in some poor room without windows.
When they reached an intersection of the halls, they finally saw 2 armed Slaritar workers standing around and talking with one another. Unfortunately, the ball was clearly for holding more precious cargo- as stated on the carved out label on the wall. It's exactly the hall Archie would've been held in.
V’Shara looked at her brother with almost hopeful eyes, seeing how the Slaritars had their back turned to them. “loDnI’.” She whispered, getting Vograh’s attention.
He nodded once, the two of them seemingly having the same idea. Lorraine wasn't even fazed as the two Klingons snuck out, inching closer to the guards before they sprung up and- snap! The two Slaritars fell to the ground, dead. The rest of the away team moved quickly to secure the area, ensuring that no other guards were alerted by the sudden elimination of the Slaritars. Lorraine quickly scanned the bodies to check for any communication devices that might have been triggered during the brief struggle. Finding none, she nodded to Vograh, who took point again as they continued down the hall.
The group finally reached a door that looked more reinforced than the others. Lorraine quickly scanned it and nodded. "This has to be it. I’m picking up life signs inside.”
She quickly started working on opening the door with the nearby panel, trying her best to unlock it while the other 4 members huddled around her, protecting her from anything that might spring up.
—--------------
Archie huddled himself in a corner of his room, keeping his clipped feathers close to his chest. They were still soft, and for right now, they were giving him some comfort. His eyes closed, legs coming closer to his chest as he sat in the dark lighting.
He wanted to cry, scream, do something, but he was so tired. He felt drained from all that happened, so he remained silent. He didn't want to give the priest in the speaker the satisfaction of seeing him act out.
Archie heard the door open, but he didn't move. He didn't want to deal with any more workers right now- he wanted to wallow in his own self pity for a while. He wasn't asking for a lot.
“Archie!” A familiar voice cried out, and before Archie knew it, there was a pair of arms wrapped around him. He jerked a bit, surprised by the sudden action, ready to fight back, but when he saw who it was, he felt relief flow through him.
“Pessoal!” The avian squawked out, not even realizing the Portuguese that came out instead of English. The door closed behind the away team suddenly with a slam, and that damn intercom came on again.
“Did you invite friends without telling us, birdie?” That evil Slaritar said through the speaker, the voice sounding more angry this time. “You have no clue what trouble you've gotten yourself and your friends into.”
Vograh, Zh’Naya and V’Shara quickly grabbed their phasers and stood in front of Archie as Cecil and Lorraine took care of him.
“Besides your clipped wings, a drug that's wearing off, and slightly injured ankles, you're fine. A little dehydrated, but nothing dramatic.” The female trill explained, scanning Archie.
“Can you heal my feathers? Fix them?” Archie asked, sounding desperate. Lorraine didn't look too sure of it however.
Lorraine looked at Archie with a mixture of compassion and determination. "I can try to help with the dehydration and give you something for the pain, but unfortunately, I can’t restore the feathers right now. We'll see about it when we get back on the ship.”
Archie nodded, a mix of relief and sadness washing over him. “Thank you, Lorraine. Just getting out of here is enough for now.”
Cecil squeezed Archie's shoulder reassuringly. "We'll get you out of here, mo ghràdh. I promise."
The speaker crackled again with the Slaritar’s voice. “Your escape won’t be as easy as you think. Reinforcements are on the way. Surrender now, and we might show leniency.”
Vograh growled, his hand tightening on his phaser. "We do not surrender to cowards!”
The door opened up, revealing the sounds of loud sirens blaring inside the facility. V’Shara quickly went to Archie, muttering a quick apology before manhandling the avian, grabbing him and hauling him over her shoulder. Lorraine unfortunately wasn't able to do much helping since the Slaritar were so quick to lash out- Archie couldn't be tasked with running on injured ankles. Thankfully, the Klingon woman could hold the bird like a sack of potatoes without trouble.
“I'm sorry if this is uncomfortable for a while. We just need to get out.” Lorraine apologized also, but Archie got over the surprise from being grabbed, instead just relaxing so he wasn't harder to hold.
Without saying much else, the team barged out of the room and with phasers ablazing, they started to make their way through the now much more crowded facility.
Phasers went off like fireworks as the Starfleet trained away team made quick work of the Slaritars, who didn't seem to have much knowledge on combat- which made things all that easier. Archie just wished he wasn't a useless tag along right now- he wanted to fire at some of those insurable aliens too!
The team moved swiftly, Vograh and Zh’Naya taking point and cutting down any Slaritar that got in their way. V'Shara held Archie securely, her grip strong but careful. Lorraine and Cecil brought up the rear, ensuring that no enemy flanked them.
"Just a little further!" Vograh shouted over the sound of battle, motivating the group to keep going.
The amount of guards made it almost more of a chore getting out than anything. But thankfully without any casualties, the away team was able escape the Slaritar facility and head out into the wilderness again.
“Torrance, 6 to beam up!” Zh’Naya said into her comm badge as the rest of the team kept the angry guards at bay.
As the team waited for the transporter to engage, the air was thick with tension. Phaser fire crackled around them, but they held their ground, protecting Archie and each other. Just as the Slaritar reinforcements closed in, the familiar shimmer of the transporter beam enveloped them.
In an instant, they were back on the USS Torrance. The chaotic sounds of battle were replaced by the quiet hum of the ship. They were safe.
“Bridge, we're back. Prepare for immediate departure,” Vograh barked into his communicator.
Captain Harvey's voice responded quickly, “Understood. Welcome back, team. Get to sickbay immediately.”
The group, still on high alert, made their way to sickbay. Archie, still over V’Shara's shoulder, let out a heavy sigh. He was finally back on his ship, surrounded by his crew, and quickly surrounded by medics when he was carried into sickbay.
The chief medical officer, a Vulcan named Stovik, quickly made his way to Archie to see all of the injuries he dealt with. He was interrupted by Archie however, who spoke up and caught the Vulcan’s attention. “I'm fine! My ankles are hurt from rope, and I'm dehydrated. I don't care about that, I just want my wings fixed.”
Stovik’s expression remained calm. “We’ll do what we can.”
Archie wasn't too reassured by that, but he knew better than to get more upset.
The away team departed to give the captain the rundown, but Cecil stayed behind with his boyfriend. He held Archie’s hand, his thumb gently running over his knuckles. “I'm sorry.” He whispered quietly.
“It's not your fault,” The avian said softly. “Don't blame yourself, meu amor.”
Cecil's tail wagged slightly at the term spoken so wonderfully in Archie’s fluent Portuguese. “Stop that…”
“What?” Archie smiled. “Can I not compliment meu namorado?”
“Shut up.” The sea monster frowned, a blush coming into his cheeks. “Yer here in the sickbay because ye just got kidnapped and yer calling me boyfriend.”
“I see nothing wrong with that.”
Cecil huffed, ducking his head to try and hide how flustered he was getting, but the wagging tail gave it away. “Archie, I swear…”
The avian wasn't bothered, he simply chuckled as he watched his boyfriend grow embarrassed as the doctors in the sickbay worked together a plan on repairing his wings.
characters; Archie Schmidt, Cecil Scotty, V'Shara, Vograh, Zh'Naya, Lorraine, Captain Harvey, and made up alien race (Slaritar)
warnings; imprisonment, false freedom, needles, injections, being held down, drugged (?), and mistreatment
prompt; damaged wing(s) [Mega, you probably guessed this one lol]
this story is a continuation of this one.
Archie struggled against the binds, crying out for help whenever he had the breath. He kept trying until there was a cloth covering his face, the scent of chemicals quickly filling his nose. Knowing immediately what was happening, he tried to stop his breathing so he wouldn't fall unconscious. It was working for a few seconds until a fair of hands tugged hard at one of his wings, making him inhale sharply with pain.
“Ah, there we go. Just gotta work ya into it, huh?” One of the Slaritar assailants said, a smile evident in their voice. Archie could only whimper in pain and fear as his breathing was picking up again and he couldn't fight against what was happening anymore.
As the chemicals seeped into his lungs, a feeling of lightheadedness settled in, and his body eased into submission. He was losing the energy to fight- and quickly.
“Just relax,” The priest’s voice was the only familiar one Archie heard as his breathing started to slow down. “You'll love your new home.”
—--------------
The landing party had searched around as best as they could, but it was too late. Archie was gone, and no one had any idea where he was.
The captain was horrified and thoroughly pissed to hear this, and it was pretty clear. He had become quite stern with the Slaritar and demanded they help the crew find their missing officer. It's only been a few hours since Archie had “ran off”, and Cecil wasn't taking it well.
“Cecil, can you stop pacing? I can hear you walking around and we're trying to sleep.” Toren groaned from his bunk buried into the wall in the lower decks where Cecil was wide awake and walking in circles in the middle of the hall between the beds occupied by his friends.
“I can't! I let him down! He's out there and I can't help him!” The sea monster shook his head quickly, disbelief and fear in his voice.
Misty rolled over in her bed, watching as Cecil did another circle. “Cecil, you couldn't have known. You were only trying to be respectful to their customs.”
The engineer wasn't satisfied. “That doesn't matter! I should've just gone with him- I should've tried harder.”
“Cecil.” Misty tried again, but he didn't stop.
“I-I just… I don't know what to do now. He's gone, and I can't help him.”
“Cecil. You need to calm down.”
“I can't calm down!” He hissed out, anger flashing through his sharp bark at his friend. He was getting frustrated with himself and how he couldn't do anything, and he was taking it out on others. The sea monster quickly felt bad, but his voice wasn't coming out properly, and he just backed up into his bed before sitting down, covering his face as his feet tapped against the floor.
—--------------
The floor was hard where Archie laid, some shavings of sorts against his face. It was itchy.
He groggily blinked his eyes open, coming to consciousness as his body woke up. A shaky breath left his lungs as he struggled to get up or sit up, his body weak and wobbly.
He coughed as some dust tickled his throat, quickly realizing the flakes he was laying on were quite literally wood chips with a lot of sawdust. He clutched his abdomen, immediately realizing he was thankfully still in some undergarments of sorts. At least the captors were decent.
Archie looked around the dull cell he was in, finding it was quite large. The ceiling was tall and rounded, and there were no windows. Only artificial lighting. He noticed that there were some different things hanging from protruding metal bars- and they looked like oversized bird toys. Something to perch on, bright wood and bells, and some crinkled paper. He felt tiny.
He stood up on wobbly legs, looking to try and find where some food might be. He hobbled over to a small metal dish in a corner, finding the bowl was filled completely with seeds. Something he couldn't even eat. He didn't have a beak! He had a normal human mouth and diet!
Archie’s stomach twisted with a mix of frustration and fear. He couldn’t survive on seeds, and he had no idea how long he’d be trapped in this cell. He scanned the room again, searching for any possible way out, but the walls were solid, and the door looked reinforced. He kept looking around desperately, almost spinning in complete 360s as he frantically scanned the walls- but nothing.
“Are you comfortable, bird?” A voice filled Archie’s ears, making him spin around again. No one was in the cage with him, so it must've been a hidden speaker of sorts.
“No! Let me out, now!” He shouted angrily, the anxiety turning into anger now that he could hear someone having the audacity to act like this prison was comfortable.
There was a soft “tsk” noise before the voice spoke again. “We are giving you everything you need to thrive, birdie. I hope you'll get used to it in time.”
Archie’s feathers bristed with more frustration. “I'm not some pet! I'm a human! I can't even eat seeds- I'll die of starvation!”
A pause.
“We can't have that, now can we? It'll be fixed.”
The distinct sound of a latch being opened made the avian look at the bowl of seed, seeing as there was now a hole in the wall the bowl was being dragged into. Without thinking much, Archie tried to get to the gap fast enough- desperate to get out, but it slammed shut right as he got close. He groaned loudly in aggravation.
The voice in the speaker ignored its pet’s frustration. “Don't worry, we will supply you with more sufficient food soon. Why don't you distract yourself with the toys we've provided?”
“Filho da puta.” Archie grumbled more to himself than the speaker. Whoever was speaking, heard it however.
“What was that, little birdie? Speak up.”
The avian man scowled. “Arrombado!” He swore loudly.
“You're prettier when you speak sense, little guy.” The voice was so babyish- treating Archie like some dumb dog that didn't understand what was happening to him.
At this point Archie was kicking around the shavings on the floor of his “cage”, heated Portuguese flowing from his mouth like a waterfall. Thank God he never spoke like this around the Captain.
Eventually, Archie’s anger began to subside, replaced by exhaustion. He slumped against the wall, feeling the weight of his predicament more heavily. His only solace was the hope that someone out there might still be searching for him, that his crew would find him soon.
As the silence continued, Archie reluctantly turned his attention to the oversized bird toys hanging from the metal bars. They were indeed strange and impractical for someone in his situation, but he had little else to do. He approached one of the toys, a bright wooden perch with some dangling bells. He hesitated, then reached out to touch it, feeling the smooth wood. He frowned, already knowing this would be incredibly uncomfortable to perch on. He just had to deal with it- maybe if he behaved he'd get let out.
He could dream.
—--------------
“Captain, the Slaritars are refusing anymore assistance.” Lorraine spoke aloud, sitting next to Captain Harvey.
He sighed and rubbed his temples with frustration. “Of course they are.”
Vograh growled at his station behind the captain’s chair. “I can't see why we can't go down there ourselves.”
“If we act out too soon it may do more harm than good. We don't want them getting scared and hurting Archie to get one up on us.” Harvey explained, idly messing with his mustache- a mannerism he did when anxious.
The rest of the bridge crew all fell silent. They knew it was the right thing, but not the thing they wanted to do. Lorraine sighed as she focused on her console. “We'll continue to do long range scans, sir.”
—--------------
Archie tried to keep himself busy as he awkwardly perched himself on the toy perch, feeling the cold, smooth wood against his skin. The avian man struggled to get a grip on the perch, the lack of texture making it impossible for him to rest properly. His sharp talons dug into the wood, trying to find some sort of grip to keep from sliding off.
The unnatural surface was not just uncomfortable, but it also made him feel humiliated. It was a constant reminder that he was being treated like a caged animal rather than a sentient being. The bells on the toy rang softly with every small movement he made, their cheerful sound an irritant rather than a comfort.
Despite the discomfort, Archie found himself growing bored as the minutes ticked by. The boredom only added to his frustration and stress, the absence of anything else to do making time feel longer than it was. He continued to sit on the perch, his fingers fiddling anxiously with the soft fabric of his underwear, his eyes darting around the room. He had nothing to keep himself busy- aside from the toys in the cage, but he wasn't desperate enough to touch them right now.
Eventually Archie heard that latch again, and he looked to where it was before, and the seed bowl had been put back out where it was originally. Only this time instead of it being filled with seeds, there were bits of bread, meat, and fish all cut up into small bites and mixed together. The bread was a little soggy, though.
"I hope that makes you happier, my little bird." The voice in the hidden speaker rang out again, seemingly pleased with itself.
Archie's stomach growled in response to the sight of the food, the hunger that had been gnawing at him for what seemed like hours now becoming more urgent. Despite the unappetizing appearance of the soggy bread and poorly mixed food, he couldn't help but feel relieved at the sight of real food.
He cautiously pushed himself off the perch, his feet landing softly on the wood chip ground. He approached the bowl, still a bit cautious. He carefully picked up a piece of the bread, the soggy texture making him grimace slightly. But he was hungry and desperate, and beggars couldn't be choosers. He ate it quickly, the taste of the soggy bread filling his mouth. It wasn't the best, but it was food. He continued to eat, moving onto the meat and fish next, trying to get the bread out of the way first so he didn't have to deal with it later.
As Archie ate like some dog out of the bowl, there was a quick and sudden sound of another bowl shooting out of a nearby hatch in the wall before halting- making Archie flinch at the quick movement of the water bowl, his heart skipping a beat. It was like the whole cage was designed to keep him on edge, the sudden surprises seemingly deliberate.
“In case you get thirsty!” The speaker sang out, only frustrating Archie more. Despite that, he was happy to have some water.
Archie quickly pushed aside his annoyance at the speaker's childish sing-song voice and approached the water bowl. He looked into it, seeing his own unsure face reflected back at him. Pushing that aside, he drank from the bowl, the cool water soothing his sore throat and quenching his thirst.
He felt like a dog, drinking from a bowl. The water got on his chin and occasionally trickled down his throat. Archie ignored it all as he focused more on his self preservation- drinking and eating to stay alive, even if it wasn't the best circumstances.
Archie continued to eat even as the voice in the hidden speaker spoke. “Eat up, little bird. Since you've been good, you can get a reward. Only after you've settled from eating, we don't want you getting sick.”
The avian glanced up at the sound of the speaker's voice. A reward? Could that mean freedom? However, he quickly pushed aside the thought, realizing it was most likely just another toy or some sort of game.
Nevertheless, he finished eating, feeling a bit fuller and less desperate. He licked his fingers clean as there was nothing else for him to use, and he waited. Sitting down in the shavings, Archie pulled his legs close to his chest and he relaxed. The food left him feeling full and a bit sleepy.
He couldn't help but let his mind wander to his crew, hoping they were out there, looking for him. The thought of Cecil and the others gave him a glimmer of hope, a small light in the dark.
Minutes passed, and Archie found himself dozing off, the exhaustion from his ordeal catching up with him. He was drifting in and out of a light sleep when the speaker crackled to life again.
"Time for your reward, little birdie.” The voice sang out. “Please cooperate with my friends.”
Archie woke up a bit when a door slid open, and 3 Slaritars came out, wearing uniforms of sorts. The avian immediately tensed up, standing, trying to get ready in case he was attacked.
“Don't worry! They aren't here to hurt you!” The speaker claimed as the workers calmly went up to Archie, two of them grabbing one of his arms each, and the third worker pushing Archie on the back- ushering him to move.
He huffed out as he was pushed and shoved, finally taking the hint. He walked with the Slaritars out of the cage and down a windowless hall, walking for a few minutes until he was let into a larger room. Much, much larger.
Grass tickled Archie’s talons, the smell of air filling his lungs. He saw how the forest was practically encaptured inside a large pen, the top of the structure opening up to reveal the sky.
So that's where the technology was going.
Archie looked around and saw trees and a lake, as well as some other birds. However, they weren't flying around or anything. They looked depressed- just walking around on the grass, occasionally drinking some water and pecking in the dirt. Archie frowned upon seeing the other birds, but he jumped a bit when the door slammed behind him, and he realized he was now alone with the other birds.
He looked up at the open ceiling, the natural lighting warming up his skin and feathers. It looked like it was around noon, which was around the time he and the crew were doing their away mission. He must've been here for around 12 hours or so now.
Despite that, Archie pushed it down and he tried to enjoy the freedom. He walked around, stretching his legs. The birds nearby scurried away from him- which confused Archie. They were wild birds with an opening right for the taking- why weren't they simply flying away?
He tried to get a closer look at one that got close, and he saw their wings were clipped. These poor animals were forced in this false freedom, keeping them to the ground when they were made to fly and enjoy life. His heart ached and his gut twisted with anger.
No wonder the priest said he was easier to deal with. Archie couldn't fly- they didn't need to trim his wings. He was forced to stay no matter how hard he wanted to get out.
Archie continued to explore the enclosure, hoping to find something—anything—that might help him escape. His mind was racing with thoughts of his crew, especially Cecil. He knew they wouldn't give up on him. If only he could find a way to signal them, to let them know where he was.
As he walked, he saw more signs of the Slaritars’ cruel control. There were hidden cameras disguised as rocks, and the walls painted to look like it was still the forest. Archie knew he was completely stuck, so he gave up for the time being- finding a nice spot on the grass right underneath the sun, laying down on his stomach, unfurling his wings out completely, and sunbathing. It felt great, it was so much more comfortable than his cage, so he was going to be thankful for what he had right now.
—--------------
“Sir, the scanners are picking up something new. A structure of sorts.”
Captain Harvey looked over to the blonde human on the front behind her console. “What does it look like, ensign?”
She paused for a moment. “It seems to be some sort of holding unit.” She explained as Harvey got up from his seat, making his way up behind her, and looking over her shoulder and at the console. “The ceiling is open- which is why I think we were able to find it. It was hidden before.”
“We have our chance. They're hiding something.” Vograh huffed, and Lorraine gave a slightly nervous nod.
“I think it's time we send a rescue team, sir. It's clear we won't get any more cooperation from them.” She added.
Harvey sighed with thought for a moment before he nodded once. “I can't find a reason to disagree. Vograh, form an away team and get down there.”
The Klingon smiled happily, glad to finally be given the okay. He quickly called for his team- Lorraine, V’Shara, Cecil, and Zh’Naya- the team piling into the turbolift before heading to the transporter room.
—--------------
Hours passed, and the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the enclosure. Archie had moved around a bit more than just taking a nap in the sun, but he was feeling more relaxed. He hasn't been attacked or harassed, so he was feeling much better.
As he rested, he heard a rustling nearby. He turned to see one of the other birds approaching him cautiously. It was a small, colorful bird, its feathers vibrant even in the dim light. It looked at him curiously, tilting its head as if trying to understand what he was doing.
"Hey there.” Archie whispered, reaching out a hand slowly. The bird hesitated but didn't fly away. It hopped closer, its eyes watching him intently. “You're pretty, huh?”
The animal got a bit closer before bowing its head, the feathers ruffling on its neck. Archie smiled as he realized what the bird was asking for- it wanted to be preened.
Archie didn't hesitate to reach out a bit more and caress the neck feathers, feeling the pin feathers poking him a bit. Using his nails, he gently broke apart the casing on the feathers, successful preening the small animal.
The bird’s eyes started to close as it relaxed, and it made Archie feel great. He spent around another 5 minutes just preening this bird before the roof started to close up suddenly, and Slaritar workers flooded the enclosure.
The bird immediately ran away from Archie- which made him upset- but he quickly got up to see exactly what was going on. “What's happening?” He asked, but he was quickly grabbed and yanked. “Hey! Stop that!”
Archie fought against the aggressive treatment, not one to let himself get walked over right now. Not after he had been in such a good mood, just for it to be ruined.
“I said let me go!” He barked out, yanking himself from the hands holding him. He unfurled his wings, using the force to push away the Slaritar flanking his back, but he was almost toppled over when one jumped on his back, wrapping their arms around his neck. He choked for a short second before he felt a needle bury itself in his neck, and he cried out in pain.
The force was too much and he fell forward, the injection of whatever it was making his body feel like a limp noodle. Now that he was incapacitated, the workers picked him up like dead weight and carried him back to his cold and dreadful cage.
“You misbehaved, little birdie.” The frustratingly cheery voice of the speaker said when Archie was laid onto the shavings of his cage. “Do you know what happens to bad birds? They get punished.”
Archie’s breathing quickened when he felt his wings being pulled out, unfurling all his feathers. He felt something sharp against his feathers, and a familiar “snip” sound.
He tried to fight against it, get out of it, but he couldn't help it. Carelessly, his wings were butchered- his feathers clipped without a care. He could feel as his wings got lighter, could see in the corner of his eyes as the feathers fell to the floor. He wanted to cry, but he didn't dare show weakness now.
“We'll take away the one thing that makes you unique,” The voice scolded Archie. “Your pretty wings will be ruined. You already couldn't fly, but that's okay. More salt to the wound, hm?”
Archie couldn't verbally scream, but he was in his head.
As the Slaritars finished clipping Archie's wings, he was left lying on the floor, feeling a mix of agony and rage. The voice in the speaker continued its taunting, but Archie blocked it out, focusing instead on the anger that fueled him.
"Rest now, little birdie. You'll learn to behave in time," the voice cooed before the speaker went silent.
Archie lay there for a while, his breathing gradually slowing as the effects of the injection wore off. He forced himself to sit up, his wings feeling strange and light without their full plumage. He glanced at the pile of feathers around him, tears swelling up in his eyes. He picked up some of his feathers, their softness making him want to weep.
He pulled his feathers to his chest, mourning the loss of something that he cared so much about. God knows how long it would take for them to grow back.
characters; Cecil Scott, Archie Schmidt, Toren, V'Shara and Vograh
warnings; dragged by rope, kidnapping
prompt; lassoed
Away missions were a bit scarce for the lower deckers. The captain usually sent people with more experience, but once in a blue moon the ones doing small and petty jobs like stacking boxes got to go out and stretch their legs on planets.
“Finally, another second contact! And we're getting to help!” Cecil said excitedly as he walked by Archie’s side, his tail wagging happily.
Archie smiled at his boyfriend's excitement- it was contagious. “Right? I can't wait. Maybe we'll get to talk with some locals.”
“Misty will probably try and take a souvenir…” The sea monster mumbled. Archie laughed a little at that.
The two of them walked through the halls of the USS Torrance until they made it to a transporter room, the doors swooshing open for them. V’Shara and Toren were already waiting on the transporter for them as Vograh- V’Shara’s older brother- was giving the two of them a run down of the mission. When the older Klingon noticed Cecil and Archie, he spoke up.
“Ah, there you are,” Vograh said, his voice gruff but not unfriendly. “We were just going over the mission details.”
Cecil and Archie quickly stepped up onto the transporter next to V’Shara and Toren.
V’Shara crossed her arms, looking like a soldier ready for an order. “Let’s just hope this goes well. We need to show the locals that the Federation isn't something to be scared of.”
Toren, standing slightly apart from the others, huffed a bit. “Yes, because nothing says ‘friendly trade partners’ like a stern Klingon stare.”
V’Shara shot him a glare, but before she could bark back a comment, Vograh intervened. “Enough. This is about cooperation. V’Shara, you focus on the negotiations. Cecil, Archie, you handle the cultural interactions. And Toren, try to keep your… commentary to yourself while gathering more knowledge about the flora of the planet. Understood?”
“Aye, sir.” They all replied, and with a nod from the transporter chief, the familiar hum and shimmer of the transporter beam enveloped them. Moments later, they materialized on the surface of a lush, green planet, the air rich with the scent of alien flora.
There were buildings around- large and sculpted with what seemed to be hardened mud by the coloration. There were different cravings on different buildings, which seemed to be a way to differentiate them.
One of the locals walked up- about 6 feet tall, pale gray skin, thin black hair that sprawled down their back and over their shoulders, and an overall pretty… Interesting appearance. Despite the somewhat scary appearance, the away team held no ill feelings.
“Are you the Federation?” The local asked, their head tilting to the side, hair moving out of their face to show the deep yellow eyes that stared at the crew.
Cecil spoke up first, more than happy to get this on a roll. “Aye, we are! We're here to help sort out the trading, establish more stable communication, and overall learn more about yer planet and culture.”
The local- a Slaritar- nodded in understanding. “That's what the others said.”
With the first meeting going well, the group all explained their duties and were shown where to go to get the best results. V’Shara and Toren departed as Cecil and Archie made their way through town to talk to more locals and get a more diverse amount of information on the culture.
Archie looked around at the tall trees that draped over the city, long vines dangling from the branches, cries of different animals all around them. “They definitely feel very comfortable with their surrounding nature.”
“I think it's cool. Maybe they have symbiotic relationships with the animals. Ye know, helping one another.” Cecil guessed.
As the two of them walked around and talked a bit, Archie was noticing some of the locals getting a bit… Comfortable. They occasionally stared at him or tried to touch his wings, something that made him a bit uncomfortable. He couldn't be rude, however.
Before long the two of them found a building that seemed to look like a church of sorts. They made their way past the cloth covering the hole used as a door in the structure, finding some lined out chairs- wood stumps covered by blankets.
“I wonder why they use such simplic buildings and such when they're more advanced than that.” Archie said aloud, looking around the empty building.
“Some people don't like to rely on technology.” Cecil replied, looking over to Archie. The avian human hummed a bit, not too bothered by how these people decided to use their technology.
“To each their own.”
Cecil smiled at that.
Eventually they found a priest of sorts for the city- and he explained the full story of their culture and religion.
“We see feathers as sacred things. We hardly find any however, as the birds above do not visit often.” The Slaritar explained, his voice more aged than the rest of the population Cecil and Archie spoke to.
“That's why they were all trying to touch me.” The avian realized, feeling a bit guilty he had been judging them and getting uncomfortable about it earlier.
“That is correct. I apologize if it came off threatening.”
Archie quickly shook his head. “No, no! It's okay. I'm flattered that you all like my feathers so much.” The older Slaritar seemed more comfortable when he was reassured by Archie.
“We have areas for the birds who visit to relax. Would you be interested in seeing it?” The alien asked Archie specifically, looking at the avian and not at Cecil.
Sending the shunning of his boyfriend, Archie got a little nervous. “Uhm, I'd be honored. Could Cecil join me as well? We could document it better together.”
The implication didn't seem to sit well with the Slaritar. “No. The sea man can stay behind and read some of our ancient books. Only those who are deemed deserving may come into the springs.”
Cecil frowned a little, taking some offense to not being able to come see something that was so important to these people. Archie could sense it, so he looked over at Cecil with a “are you okay with this” look. The sea monster nodded and forced a little smile. “It's okay, Archie. Just make sure you don't have too much fun without me.”
Archie gave Cecil a reassuring smile and squeezed his hand briefly. “I'll be quick,” he promised, turning back to the priest. “Lead the way, sir.”
As the priest guided Archie towards the springs, Cecil found himself alone in the quaint, makeshift church. He wandered over to the shelves lined with ancient texts and began looking over the old and worn out spines of the books. He ran his hands over the aged leather before stopping and picking one randomly, carefully sliding it out of the shelf. Some dust came with the movement, making Cecil wave it away before looking at the cover. He would have to try and translate it, so he figured he could find Toren around and they could tackle it together.
—--------------
Meanwhile, Archie followed the Slaritar priest through a series of winding paths, the thick foliage parting to reveal a hidden grove. In the middle was a large body of water, and a stone structure erupted from the middle. In simple man’s terms- it was a very fancy bird bath. Archie couldn't help but smile.
“This is where the birds come to rest,” The priest explained. “It is a sacred place, a sanctuary for those we hold in high regard.”
Archie looked over to the Slaritar. “I'm honored you think so highly of me.”
“Of course,” The alien nodded before gesturing to the overdone bird bath. “Please, feel free to bathe. You are part of what we worship.”
The avian man stiffened a bit. “Uhm, bathe?” He asked, wanting to make sure he heard that right.
“Yes. Please, it would be an honor if someone such as yourself stripped infrot of the heavens and bathed in our sacred waters.”
Archie felt a flush rise to his cheeks at the unexpected request. He was unsure about undressing in front of strangers, let alone in a place deemed sacred by them. However, he also didn’t want to offend their customs or the priest’s hospitality. "I appreciate the honor, but perhaps there's a way I could participate without, well, fully undressing?”
The priest seemed to consider this for a moment, his deep yellow eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "A compromise, then. You may keep your undergarments if it makes you more comfortable. The important part is for you to immerse yourself in the waters."
Archie nodded, feeling slightly relieved. "Thank you. I'll do my best to honor your customs."
With that, he slowly removed his shirt and pants, folding them neatly on a nearby rock. He tried to ignore the staring from the priest, but it was getting a bit difficult. He felt extremely embarrassed. Despite it all, Archie made his way to the body of water and he looked down at the clear waters.
“The stone bath is for yours to enjoy.” The priest spoke up, instructing Archie to make his way to the actual birdbath part of the whole area. Unfortunately, it was pretty high up, and it was obvious the Slaritar was expecting Archie to fly up there.
Archie grimaced a bit at the thought, but he couldn't just be rude and disrespect their culture. So, he tried his best to get up there. It took a lot of jumping and flailing of the wings and arms, but without his tail, he couldn't do much. He felt even more embarrassed. He was failing at being a bird.
“You fly, can you not?”
The avain turned to see the puzzled expression on the priest. “No, not really. I was born without tail feathers- so it significantly effects my flying. I'm sorry I let you down.”
The alien didn't seem bothered, in fact, he seemed quite pleased with it. “Nonsense. It makes you easier to deal with.”
Archie’s brows furrowed a bit. Easier to deal with? What was that supposed to me-
A startled squawk left Archie’s mouth when there was something wrapped around him, tightening around his feet, yanking hard and dragging him to the ground. He immediately looked and saw it was rope- someone has lassoed him like a stray calf.
His wings started to flap wildly to try and get away as he tried to get out, but the rope just got tighter as he was dragged across the dirt near the bathing area.
“Stop it! Let me go!” He shouted out, begging the priest to help him. Unfortunately, the alien didn't care. He simply waved as the avain was dragged and quickly held down by two other bodies, a cloth being wrapped around his eyes.
—--------------
“What are you two doing?” V’Shara asked Toren and Cecil, whom were sitting on the floor of the church and reading some of the books.
“Translating!” The sea monster replied cheerfully.
The Klingon hummed. “Where's Archie?”
Toren flipped another page, seeming unimpressed. “Getting princess treatment from the locals.”
“He's being shown the special area for the birds here. The people here really like them.” Cecil explained further. “Wanna help us read some of these books?”
V’Shara thought for a moment before giving in. “Alright. Whenever Archie gets back, we're leaving. We've got everything done we needed to get done.”
With agreement between the 3 of them, they all say together and worked as they translated some more of the ancient texts. After around 10 more minutes, their peace was disrupted as the priest came rushing back into the church, calling out for them.
“Federation! Federation!” He repeated until the group of 3 got up to help the shaken Slaritar. “You're bird friend destroyed our sacred area and took off! He attacked me when I tried to intervene!”
The man pointed to his cheek where 3 long cuts ran across his cheek, which was quickly bleeding. V’Shara ripped off some of her sleeve from her uniform to apply it to the injury, making the priest wince in pain. A quick solution for now.
“What? He just- took off?” Cecil asked, disbelief running through his entire body. That wasn't like Archie. He wouldn't do anything like that!
“Do you think me of a liar?” The alien sneered, immediately making Cecil flinch a bit. “I will show you, fools! Do not take me for a deciviecing senile!”
V’Shara, Toren, and Cecil all looked between one another before agreeing. They had to see what the priest was going on about.
—--------------
The group made way to the sacred bathing area before they could see exactly why the priest was so upset. There was a broken structure in the water, broken and cracked where it's pieces lay in the water.
“Just how did he destroy this?” Toren looked to the still shaken up priest, the skepticism obvious in his tone and in his expression.
The alien let out a heavy sigh, clearly upset. “The structure itself isn't heavy- he was able to simply push it over and it was broken before I knew it. I tried to stop him…”
As the Slaritar whined, V’Shara made her way to a rock, seeing Archie’s comm badge. She picked it up and flipped it in her hand, an odd feeling forming in her chest and gut.
“He wouldn't simply run away.” Cecil spoke up besides her, looking up at the Klingon with a sad look. “He just wouldn't.”
Cecil was almost pleading with her to agree, but there was no need. She knew just as much as Cecil did. “I know. Something isn't right here.”
characters; Montgomery "Scotty" Scott, Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Cecil Scott, and the crew of the USS Torrance
warnings; ???
prompt; facing their phobia
FYI; this story takes place after the 5 year mission
“If you need anything or get scared at any point, ye come see me and pa, okay?”
The larger sea monster said to his son, giving Cecil’s cheek a soft and loving caress.
“Okay,” The youngster nodded, pulling his blankets up a bit closer to himself. “I love you.”
“Love ye too, kiddo.” Scotty leaned down and gave Cecil a kiss on the forehead, making him giggle a bit. Cecil was already growing tired, so his sea monster father tucked him into bed a bit more before he got up from beside the small bed. Flipping the light switch and gently closing the door behind him, Scotty made the trek down the hall and into the master bedroom.
Making his way into the room, Scotty saw his human husband laying in bed with a smile. “Cecil all tucked in?”
“Aye, he's out like a light.” The monster replied with a smile of his own.
“Well then,” McCoy patted the space next to him on the bed. “Get your ass over here.”
Scotty didn't need any more convincing. He quickly made his way to the bed before crawling in, snuggling himself into McCoy's body. The human wrapped his arms around his sea monster lover, pulling him impossibly closer.
“There we go.” The doctor rolled over a bit onto his side- which wasn't a problem at all as the sea monster simply tucked his face into McCoy's neck. “All nice and comfortable…”
Scotty couldn't help but let out a loud purr as his husband started to gently scratch around his fin-like ears, making his eyes close with content. McCoy chuckled softly, feeling the vibrations of Scotty's purr against his skin.
He continued scratching gently, knowing exactly how to soothe his sea monster husband. "You know, you might be the most handsome sea monster I've ever seen."
Scotty's purr deepened, his voice rumbling. "I'm the only one ye’ve ever seen.” That reply earned a soft huff of laughter.
They stayed like that for a while, just enjoying each other's presence. McCoy's hand eventually shifted from Scotty's ears to his back, tracing the ridges of his scales. The sea monster shifted, getting more comfortable- like a lazy cat.
"Ye know," Scotty said quietly, his voice muffled against McCoy's skin, "sometimes I think about how lucky I am to have ye and Cecil. Never thought a sea monster like me could have a family like this."
McCoy smiled, his heart swelling with affection. "We're the lucky ones, Scotty. You're an amazing father and husband. I can't imagine my life without you.”
The sea monster pulled away a bit, just enough to look up at his husband more clearly. Scotty’s tail was gently thumping against the bed, a flush on his cheeks and a giddy smile trying to be repressed. He was failing miserably. “And I thought ye didn't like to be sappy, Leonard.”
The human scoffed. “I'm not the stone hearted doctor some of the crew may have portrayed me as back in the day.”
Scotty hummed. “I never thought I'd say this- but I'm glad to be off the Enterprise for once. I love being able to settle down with ye.”
“Wow- the Montgomery Scott, happy to be off his love; the Enterprise.”
“Yer my love. The Enterprise will never beat ye. She's just a close second. Very close.”
McCoy rolled his eyes playfully before leaning down and silencing his husband with a kiss to the lips. Scotty responded eagerly, returning McCoy's kiss with a tender passion. When they finally broke apart, they rested their foreheads together, basking in the warmth.
Their calm moment was interrupted by the sound of feet coming down the hallway, making the two men look towards their door as it was gently pushed open. A sniffing noise followed as Cecil shuffled his way into the room, clutching his favorite blankie.
“Cecil, what's wrong?” McCoy sat up a bit more, moving to the side of the bed. Cecil quickly ran to McCoy, letting the human scoop him up in his arms.
“It's too scary…” The little monster admitted with teary eyes.
Scotty frowned as he reached out and wiped some of Cecil’s tears away. “What's scary, laddie?”
“The dark!”
The answer made the two lovers smile sympathetically. McCoy moved around a bit, laying himself and Cecil down next to Scotty- their son in the middle. “It's okay, Cecil. You can sleep with us.”
Cecil nodded his head, getting comfortable underneath the blankets, his tail still tucked firmly between his legs. He was comforted by his fathers calming embrace, however.
“It's alright, Cecil. No monsters will get ye here.” The larger sea monster whispered softly to Cecil, which made him smile a bit. Scotty and McCoy leaned down, both pressing a kiss to Cecil’s cheek, making the little sea monster giggle a bit.
Cecil nestled closer between his fathers, yawning before he stilled, his eyes dropping. He mumbled a sleepy “good night” to his dads before falling asleep. McCoy and Scotty shared one last kiss before the settled down for the night as well, quickly falling asleep with their son.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Neither of them expected the dark to be such a problem for Cecil.
The little sea monster had made it a habit to sleep with his dads as his room was just too dark during the night. So, they got nightlights. It still wasn't enough.
Scotty got glow in the dark stars and put them all over Cecil’s walls, but it wasn't enough. He was just too scared.
Soon the two dads started to stay in Cecil’s room until he fell asleep- but he woke up after a few minutes, terrified, and ran into their room.
McCoy and Scotty were patient with their son throughout the entire charade, but Cecil could tell his fathers were getting a little stuck and frustrated on how to help. He felt bad for making his dads stress and worry.
“Are you sure you don't want me or Scotty in here with you?” McCoy asked his son, who was laying in bed for the night. The little boy gave a sharp and determined nod.
“I'm a big boy now. Big boys can sleep in the dark.” Cecil retorted. It made McCoy smile a bit before brushing some hair out of Cecil’s face.
“If you say so.” He pressed a kiss to Cecil’s nose before speaking again. “You know where me and daddy are.”
“Down the hall on the left.”
“Atta boy.” Cecil’s tail wagged a bit at the praise. “Goodnight, you goober. I love you.”
“I love you too, pa. Goodnight.”
McCoy was proud of Cecil for being determined for the night, so he got up and shut the lights off before closing the door behind him, leaving Cecil alone in the dark room.
Cecil lay in bed, eyes wide open as he stared up at the ceiling. The glow-in-the-dark stars his dad had put up were faint, their light dim against the deep darkness. He took a deep breath, trying to remind himself that he was a big boy now. Big boys weren’t afraid of the dark.
But the darkness seemed to press in on him, making the room feel colder and bigger than it was. Cecil pulled his blankets up to his chin, his tail twitching nervously under the covers. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get himself to sleep.
Seconds turned into minutes, and Cecil's imagination started to play tricks on him. Shadows on the wall seemed to shift and move, and every creak of the house felt like a monster lurking just out of sight. He opened his eyes again, heart pounding in his chest.
Cecil's determination wavered as he glanced towards the door, considering running to his dads for comfort. But then he remembered how proud his pa had looked when he said he could do it. He didn't want to disappoint them.
He felt his face grow warm as he debated between staying scared in the dark or disappointing his dads. He really, really wanted them to be proud, but he was terrified. He stared at the door as he continued to debate his options.
Suddenly, he heard a soft noise, like a creak, coming from the corner of the room. His breath caught in his throat, and he sat up, clutching his blanket even tighter. His eyes stared in the darkness, trying to see whatever it was. He tried to calm his racing heart, but when he heard the creak again- he quickly decided he couldn't handle it anymore and shot out of bed.
He ran down the hall quickly, his heart pounding in his chest as he reached his parents' bedroom door, pushing it open and rushing inside. Scotty and McCoy were already half-awake, having heard Cecil's hurried footsteps.
McCoy sat up, reaching out to their son. "Cecil, what's wrong?”
Tears welled up in Cecil's eyes as he climbed into the bed between his dads. "I tried, pa. I really tried, but it's just too dark."
Scotty wrapped his arms around his son, pulling him close. "It's alright, laddie. Ye did amazing."
Cecil buried his face in his daddy's chest, feeling the comforting rumble of Scotty's purr. McCoy rubbed his back gently, soothing him. "You were very brave, Cecil. The dark can be scary, and that's okay. We are so proud of you for trying.”
The little sea monster nodded a bit, comforted by his fathers’ calming words. He clinged to Scotty’s pajama shirt as he started to calm down a bit, the sleepiness from getting so scared and running catching up to him. Scotty and McCoy noticed this, and they happily whispered soft words of praise to their son before he finally curled up and fell asleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Yeah, I was terrified of those things when I was younger!” Misty laughed at her own old childish fear of a toy.
“Wait- so it spoke during the night?” Archie asked, the bird boy looking disturbed by the fact. “Jeez, I'm glad I didn't grow up with your old Earth toys. Eugh!”
The group of ensigns shared a short laugh before Zh’Naya looked over to Cecil. “What about you, Cecil? What scared you as a kid?”
The sea monster flushed a bit at the spotlight. “Oh! Uhm, it's kinda embarrassing…”
The Andorian patted Cecil on the back. “No need to be embarrassed! We all were scared of something, right guys?”
She got nods and sounds of approval from around the entire lunch table. Cecil couldn't really not say anything now.
“Well… I was scared of the dark. Like, really bad.” He admitted. “I'm glad I'm over that, haha.”
“Oooh, the dark isn't something to mess with.” Misty agreed, understanding Cecil’s fear. Thankfully, the group didn't dwell on it long and went to ask Archie about his fear. Cecil smiled a bit as his boyfriend admitted his own fear.
He was glad no one really knew he was still scared of the dark when in a new place.
