A kingly scoff sounded from the cave entrance. "There you are! I've had scouts searching for you all day, you just took off without—"
"Sorry," Cal mumbled. "Something I had to find."
Thrax picked his way across the stalagmites and rocky floor to stand behind him. "Ugh... wh—what on earth are you looking at? Get away from that, it's rotting!"
"I know." Cal didn't turn to look at him. "It's part of what I'd forgotten."
Thrax delicately pressed a handkerchief to the air filter in the nose of his mask and glanced at the rotting heap again. He looked back to Cal in confusion. "Don't tell me you left game from a hunt in here and forgot?"
"No... I didn't kill this..."
"Don't touch it!" Thrax shrieked as he reached out. Cal let him grab his hand and pull him back away from the pile for a few steps. "Are you out of your mind?!"
"I couldn't have," Cal breathed. His voice sounded very far away, his amber gaze fixated on the heap of limbs and viscera decomposing into unrecognizability. "I was never strong enough to kill them. Niador had to do it for me."
"Kill who, Cal? You're being extremely obtuse with all this," Thrax huffed.
"My parents." Thrax felt a stutter in his already weak heart, and he dropped Cal's hand in shock. "Niador's. Veris'. All of them. They wouldn't stop. They had to be... stopped."
"What?"
"On our ship... The Zariman Ten-Zero. I... I remember."
Thrax's hand found Cal's again. "So you've remembered... but I don't think it's healthy for you to linger here inhaling all this rot. Come, we can remember outside of the cave."
Cal turned finally, to look at him instead of past him, with the eyes of a lost, scared child in his grown face. "But..."
Thrax pulled on his hand as he glanced back at the rotting corpses. He sighed. "You cannot raise the dead, Caliburn," he said quietly. "The process of decay will not stop, no matter how fervently you beg."
Cal drew in a shuddering breath, and clamped his eyes down on welling tears.
"Come," Thrax said, tugging again, feeling relieved as Cal finally relented and took a step towards him. "Let's go home. You can pour everything out when you're back safely with me, hmm? And perhaps a bath and clean clothes, that awful smell is following you."
Cal nodded, following his friend and wiping tears from his face. The sunlight stung his eyes after so many hours in the cave, but it was warm on his face like Thrax's hand was warm in his own.
Wondered why I couldn't find this bit on my blog, turns out I stuck it in the drafts of another sideblog :P Anyway
Cal crash lands in 1999 much to Arthur's suspicion and distrust.
--
Arthur curled his lip as the stranger that had appeared from thin air reached a hand out to him, smirking.
"Captain Caliburn of the Zariman Ten-Zero. Call me Cal, if you like."
The smirk fell into a self-deprecating smile as Arthur simply continued to glare. "Cal" withdrew his hand and stood back, folding his arms across his chest. It would almost look casual, if not for the stance footing and the 8-foot-tall monstrosity looming over his shoulder.
Arthur's brows furrowed. "And you're from ...where, exactly? You don't look like Navy. Are you working for Dr. Entrati?"
"I'm from your future, kind of," Captain Caliburn said awkwardly, scratching his head. "I'm not sure if you guys know about Eternalism yet or not. I... don't know what 'navy' is, aside from the color. And no, not really. Kind of." The stranger sighed, and turned aside a bit to put his hands on his hips and glare at the wall for a moment. "Albrecht is a fucking loser Orokin and I'm trying to help his boyfriend and his lab creatures fix his fucking mess." The startling orange eyes swung back over to Arthur. "Did anything I said make sense?"
Arthur gripped the hilt of his sword warily. "From the future. Here to fix Entrati's mess. I think I can work with that." He gestured at the preening, purring Helminth. "You don't look infested. But that thing spat you out."
"Ah, yeah." A fond smile grew on the stranger's face as he leaned over and patted it much like a normal person would with a pet dog. "This is Helminth. He's.... special, I think? A friend at any rate. And a crucial part of getting me here into the past."
Arthur squinted at the hell-mouth in confusion and distrust, but if this stranger was here to "fix Entrati's mess" they could use the extra hands. He was going to need a lot more information, though.
"Alright. I'm taking you back to our base for questioning... and then we can start on how to 'fix' all of... this," he finished, gesturing at the techrot around them.
"Sounds good. Lead on."
Arthur knew he hadn't blinked but the stranger disappeared, and the creature that looked like his own nightmares of the infestation completely taking him over straightened up a bit, and even flipped him a sloppy salute. It rankled a little bit.
"Non-military doesn't need to salute. I've no rank anymore either."
It bowed slightly (in apology?) and gestured for him to move forward.
"Just keep close," Arthur growled, and turned to lead them through the rot to "home".
"You're not military, you said."
"No, sir."
"So your ship..."
Cal grinned. "A space ship. Loid told me you guys don't really have space flight yet beyond rocket propulsion."
Arthur nodded, studying the other's face. Oddly bright ember-colored eyes, crayon-bright red hair that seemed natural if the eyebrows weren't also dyed. "Purpose of the ship?"
"Big old colony vessel." Cal leaned back in his chair. "Headed for the Tau system, supposed to start human life anew on a terraformed planet there." He half smiled, a little wistfully. "We never got there. Relic drive malfunctioned and dropped us into the Void with no way out."
"And you were the captain?" Arthur asked skeptically. He didn't see either a military or pilot's bearing in this man at all. Too skittish, too fidgety, too quick to flash emotion.
"Am." Ah. There was a grim smile. "Line of succession, you know? Passes to the last person alive on the ship eventually."
Realisation hit Arthur like an icy fish to the face. "Oh... I'm very sorry to hear that."
"Thanks." Cal tilted his head. "It might be broken to shit and being slowly consumed by the Void but... it was still my responsibility. I looked after it for who knows how long..." He gave a huff of a laugh. "Graveyards need a keeper, right?"
"Mm." Arthur nodded faintly. Captain of a ghost ship... he was starting to get the shape of it. This Drifter was just as broken as the rest of them, victimized by the Void. "Shall we move on to the 'Warframes', as you called them?"
"Please." He looked so eager to change the subject it twisted something in Arthur's chest.
"Good. I need to know why the one you were.... in.... looked like me."
i love having a dude who Does Not Want to get wrapped up in high stakes or important shit, and i can just... have him wander into things i know he will hate. it's delicious. he's grumbling and sighing and whining the whole way. no he doesnt want to help this scary daedra but he's scared so he does it also maybe there's money in it for him. no he doesn't want to run a scam with Brynjolf but the man won't leave him alone so whatever fine, he goes through people's things enough why not steal? he could use the money.
fighting DRAGONS?! alright now this has gone too far. except it's coming right at him. FUCK! FUCK!!! shoot the bastard until it's dead, jump around with an entire cheese wheel in his mouth and chug a resist fire potion, ahhh ok it's dead. sighs. waves off the guards when they say something in awe. please stop percieving him, he's tired. he's really tired. he's no one's hero, he's a scraggly assassin who didn't even want to be that.
poor zarathes. you could've had an easy life but your player is a bastard <3
someone got me thinking about a no-duviri drifter who lingers on the ship into eternity because The Void u know and ofc cal is guilt incarnate so when he takes the captains mantle it's his duty to see everyone's bodies neatly arranged and given as much of a proper funeral as he can. over time he builds memorials, like art installations. thousands and thousands of names carved into a wall, name tags salvaged from suits sewn inexpertly into a tapestry. a prominent statue of several hopeful figures becomes a shrine full of ever-burning candles, dried flowers and salvaged children's toys.
the gravekeeper loses his name through the millennia that pass so silently. he hears the angels' songs and reaches out to soothe them. it echoes in him but does not consume him. he is here to shelter them, shepherd them to their rest. several garden areas become meadows of angels, all fast asleep under the watchful, glowing eyes of the gravekeeper.
he drifts around the ship, patrolling, tidying, praying. to whom? who knows. but he prays for the innocent souls driven mad, and the innocent souls torn asunder by the maddened.
his time in the void twists him into a translucent thing, draped in a dark cloak, carrying a large scythe forged out of scrap. his eyes are covered by the cloak's hood, as he does not like the reflection of the green glowing things looking back at him. he speaks rarely, but often hums the angels' songs.
a snippet from a "Finding Alnia" fic that might just get entirely retconned because I'm still not sure what I want for her 'canon'... but this is a version where she's been out and about since the fall of the Orokin instead of Second Dreaming, but her brothers don't know where/how to find her and are getting discouraged
featuring Vel and Arthur at the Round Table 👍
warnings for alcohol use
Arthur took a sip and said thoughtfully, "Shouldn't that mean she can't really die?"
Cal blinked in surprise, then grimaced in painful, drunken confusion. Arthur watched the awkward face journey as he drank, until Cal finally landed on "resignation".
"Probably she's still alive, but then where is she? Is she kidnapped? Stuck in the-in the-y'know. The void. Somewhere that Wally can get her."
"Who?"
"Y'know. Wally. Xipe Totec-hic. The Man… he's in the wall."
Arthur attempted to connect Cal's dots for him. "You mean the Indifference."
"Indifference, ha!" Cal sat up with some struggle and slapped his palms on the bar. "I've never met something so… different. un. Un-indifferent. It cares soooo fucking much." Cal reached clumsily for the glass in front of him, and grimaced when all he drank was melted ice with a faint whiskey flavor. "Vel, yer whiskey's gone funny."
"You drank it all, pal, that's the ice."
"Oh." He squinted at it, then held the glass out to Velimir. Velimir took it, but raised his eyebrows.
"Might need to cut you off there, buddy. Maybe you can't die but I don't wanna see you fall off your stool and hurt yourself, you know?"
"Vel. Velimir." Cal clasped his hands together in front of him, begging. "Best bartender in the world. Please don't do this to me."
Velimir sighed and put a hand on his hip. "Well…. maybe one more drink, but then that's it."
Cal let his face slump to the bar, hands raised in a prayer of thanks. "Thank you," he said, muffled.
From Q and Cal's Creepy Space Trauma Adventure AU:
Captain Caliburn is annoyed to find the minions of a recent ally trying to loot his ship, and fires up the ancient comms to tell old Parvy politely to fuck off.
The bridge was mostly dark, lit by that strange turquoise light that permeated every hollow of the ship, emergency lights, and reflections. Quincy glanced around at the busted-up room that served as the bridge, keeping his eyes sharp for anything moving towards them as a threat. They'd already had an Angel rear up from its sleep and take a swipe at them this morning.
Cal, however, seemed more relaxed, although the discovery of Corpus looters aboard the ship had made his jaw clench furiously, and Quincy could still see it quiver from time to time.
He was both more at ease and more on edge here, and Q wasn't regretting coming along with him in the slightest. He squared away his threat assessments and strolled after Cal, towards the wide captain's seat in the middle of the room.
"So… what's the plan now, babes?"
"Need to make a call. I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he thought I wanted nothing to do with the ship, after all the…" Cal waved his hand nebulously, with an exhausted expression. "…all the incident trauma and fuckall, you know."
"Mm. So it's time to tell him his little blockheads are steppin' on your toes."
"Exactly." Smirking, Cal flopped down with the careless poise of a young tyrant, smoothing his hands across the flat buttons of the control arms. Under his hands, they lit up green, the weirding power of the void putting life back in their empty wiring.
The big screens in front of them lit up with static, waiting. "Parvos Granum…" Cal murmured. "Better pick up the phone, pal."
The line connected quickly, and a wrinkled man with a silly hat came into focus on the screen. "Yes? What is it, Tenno? Now isn't particularly a good time."
"Oh? Is it because your little flunkies are getting their asses beat on the Zariman Ten-Zero?" Cal leaned his head against his hand, tapping a finger irritably against his temple.
Granum's focus narrowed back on the call, and he squinted. "And you'd know that…"
"Because I'm on my ship, Parvy dear." Cal's teeth glinted in the odd murky light.
"Hm." The old man shifted his weight, his face bobbing on the screen. "One would think you'd prefer to leave such a horrible place far behind."
"The Tenno, perhaps. I was the one who was left behind for centuries. This is as much my home as it is a graveyard. And it's one I keep. You and the Grinneer are disturbing the peace of the dead."
Granum sniffed irritably. "It's a derelict, boy. Salvageable parts and resources. The entire thing can't be a graveyard."
Cal shifted his fingers and pressed through a few buttons. "Check through that ship manifest, you'll find the captaincy reverted to the last surviving human on the ship. Me."
Granum's head turned slightly, blue light flaring to reflect on his skin on one side. His eyes hardened. "I see."
Quincy smirked. Gottem. Cal glanced up at him gleefully and then returned his smirk to the comm channel.
"So. You've got 24 standard system hours to call your graverobbers off, or I'm starting up the automatic turrets on the docks and anywhere else I find intruders."
"Yes, yes." Parvos Granum shook his head. "It would've been nice to know about this sooner."
"I wish I could've told you sooner." Cal shrugged. "There was no indication the Zariman was ever going to leave the Void, stuck as it was."
"I suppose it can't be helped." Parvos Granum sighed. "I'll send out the retreat orders. Meanwhile, try not to kill too many of my boys. Someone needs to fly the shuttles back."
"If they shoot at me, I'm hitting back," Cal said airily, "but I'll do my best."
There was part of an irrtated grunt before the channel cut off.
Cal tilted his head to look at Quincy, who was shaking his head. "Least he didn't insist on a cut."
"Mm."
"What about the others?"
"Oh, the Worm Queen will just insult me, taunt me, make unflattering remarks about Alex, you, my family, my face, my dog… and then we'll get fresh reinforcements twice as bad."
Quincy's eyebrows rose. "Charming."
"Mmhm."
Quincy reached for his hand as they headed back to the door. "Is that the one Alex could've killed but didn't?"
"Yeah…" Cal sighed, gazing wistfully off into the hall. "Sometimes our big heart makes some stupid decisions." He glanced up at Quincy with a smile. "But sometimes it makes really good ones, too."
Quincy grinned, and turned to pull Cal to him. "You sweet-talker, c'mere…"
what if I cooked up a timeline/AR where Alnia survived and became a Tenno like Alex.... or became a Tenno while Cal was denied the void powers he thought he'd agreed to and the Orokin scooped them up while Cal hid in shame and fear so he never got to say goodbye to her 🥴
I've decided Wally eats emotions in this one bc I like it. ✌️
--
"This is your fault, you know" he says out loud one day, just to the aether. But he knows the Doppelgänger, the Thing That Isn't Him, is listening. "Humans aren't meant to witness this level of death and destruction. You dried up your own food source."
"S'pose I have," a voice whispered near him. It giggled as Cal turned to see nothing. "Normally I'd do away with empty vessels, but you fascinate me. You're such a weirdo. There's no one here to sacrifice yourself for, and yet you do. You've renounced your own name and taken command of a dead ship. You're trapped here, but you refuse to ask my help to get out. To what end? What do you get out of this, Alexorys Andara Caliburn?"
Cal grimaced. "My name is just Caliburn now. And… I don't know."
"Even a machine would know its purpose." A giant, disembodied cheshire grin grew before his eyes. "Shall I give you one?"
"I don't trust you to give me a purpose that won't kill or maim me," Cal grumbled, turning 90 degrees and folding his arms across his chest. Why did he even call out to the damn thing? Every time they interacted it ended up sucking for him.
"Ohhh, such disdain…" The voice floated from behind him in an arc to end up in front of him, bodiless but no less present. "I've already seen that show, you know. No, I'm interested in something different. But in order to see that, you'll need to leave this ship."
"I'm not interested," Cal mumbled, squaring his shoulders and heading back to the bridge. He yelled as he was suddenly grabbed and hauled backwards at top speed through the hallway.
"I didn't ask!" the Thing cackled, launching him into a wall at the end so hard the air left his lungs. He gasped, trying to get it back.
There was a satisfied sigh that echoed in their little corner of empty hallway. "You've had more than enough time to prance about in my realm, little creature. Now you're coming home with me. Don't worry, pet, I'll be taking good care of you." The voice wavered and shifted as the Other Cal materialized before him, smirking.
Cal sat frozen, chest heaving, looking up into the liquid mercury eyes of his doppelganger. It tilted his chin up to look directly at its face, and as he looked into the shifting patterns, everything in Cal's mind rapidly blossomed and exploded.
