Choices of the Damned
Posted on Feb 21, 2016 @ 9:52pm by Lieutenant Eve Dalziel & Thomas Varn
Edited on on Feb 21, 2016 @ 9:52pm
Mission: Promethean
“Choices of the Damned”
(Continued from “Hostile Takeover”)
=/\=
“He who hesitates is a damned fool.”
-Mae West
“What makes a monster and what makes a man?”
-Attributed to ‘The Hunchback of Notre Dame’
=/\=
Location: LAVENZA II
SD: 2.60210.1900
Scene: Corridor near ventilation shaft
Thomas’ face had almost turned a complete shade of white in the moments that had passed as his limbs and arms began to stiffen as if he began to suffer from the onset of rigor mortis. His gaze grew distant and void as if his mind had been transported to a distant star to rest or never return. His skin has become cool and clammy to the touch as if someone had instantly dropped his body temperature or had broken a fever after fighting off some microscopic invader.
“You’ll get no answer from him,” Conniston interjected a soft hint of overjoyous tones lined his voice, “my child is not awake yet.”
Aerdan stepped forward looking into Thomas’ eyes doing his best to give a quick medical look over, “what do you mean he’s not awake?”
There was a glint of fire and thrill in Conniston’s eye as he moved closer and began to explain his work, “you see the mind, even his altered mind, is one big computer and it hasn’t finished coming online.”
“In other words…”
“The system is down,” Conniston chuckled, “hold please.”
=/\=
Scene: Thomas’ Mental Self
=/\=
Much of Thomas’ mind was fragmented and beginning to fill with missing bits of information, training, memories, thoughts, and feelings struggling to order them quickly as possible without causing a massive melt down. The experience to Thomas was unique and worth remembering all on its own; but, would more than likely never be thought of again.
As he stood there confused and dazed Thomas began to internalize and work through his sudden re-emergence and self discovery
**Ok, whoa what’s happening here, where am I? It’s dark, well not too dark but darker than I’d like it.
Wait, is that person blue? Oh, he’s an Andorian. What’s an andorian?
What’s this? Oh, I can wiggle it; but, what is it? It doesn’t feel that big, toe! It's a toe!
Ok, getting the hang of this. Now, who am I? Oh wait, I know this, I know it. Thomas, yes Thomas. Varn, I’m a Varn! Thomas Varn. Lieutenant Commander Thomas Varn, oh I sound fancy.
Wait, what’s this. Oh, pain, lots of pain. Why? Wings? Wings?! Wings.
Oh, new feeling. Yay! I like this one. Oh, oh, oh, its magical. Happiness. Sylvia Warren is her name.
Ok, Lieutenant Commander Thomas Varn, Wings ugh, Sylvia yay. Blue Andorian. Got it!**
=/\=
Scene: Corridor
=/\=
The corridor had grown silent for the moment as a backup plan to escape was being quickly weighed in. The advantage of having Thomas fly and secure a route having flittered away as if it were a butterfly that has escaped a captors net. The noises that filled the air had begun to meld together as the station shook again sending predator and prey alike scrambling for survival.
“FLOWER POT,” Thomas shouted before he sneezed, “I’m sorry did someone say something?”
Eve blinked looking at Thomas before nodding, “do you think you can fly up this shaft and secure a rope for us to use?”
Thomas took a moment before looking into the space and nodding, “there seems to be enough clearance as long as nothing is out there I can’t see.”
“Heads up,” Russ said to no one in particular as he used his phaser to make quick work of widening the opening at the bottom of the shaft. A piece of metal dropped with a clatter, and was easily moved out of the way by the rest of them, except for Aerdan, Thomas Varn, and Conniston.
Other than preparing to escape and the sounds associated with such an undertaking, and the occasional distant rumble of destruction floors below them, there hadn’t been any chit-chat. Eve found herself nursing a ball of anger in the pit of her stomach as her eyes darted from the ExO and the science experiment that had once been Saul Conniston, to Jake and the other Jake and Kass, cobbling together pieces of tubing and wire to make a climbable product, to the underclothed form of Thomas Varn, who looked as uncomfortable as they all felt. From the moment they had set foot on the icy planet, very little had gone right. And she inwardly battered herself with her responsibility in that.
All the experience and training in the world hadn’t been preparation enough for the fresh genetic hell that had awaited them in the Promethean lair. Even a tactician or a survivalist would have sympathized with the away team. But all the Counsellor could give herself was contempt. Maybe if she got pissed off enough it would make her forget everything else except getting the hell out of there. She hadn’t even noticed Varn make his approach, which given his size and presence, was saying something.
“How... did I get here?” Thomas asked, and Eve nearly jumped out of her skin. “Are you alright?” he continued, softer this time, lifting his arm in a peaceful gesture.
“I’m sorry,” she responded. “I guess I’m not in the right frame of mind.”
“Distracted doesn’t begin to cover it,” the winged man agreed. But he looked at her expectantly.
She struggled with her explanation, but by all means she felt he was owed one. “The away team was sent to this base to retrieve stolen medical and transporter records for the entire rebel fleet. We couldn’t let the information fall into the wrong hands, especially since we didn’t know what their intended purpose was.”
His brow creased. *A fleet*? “I don’t remember any of that.”
“It’s okay that you don’t, you weren’t here until you… became conscious. The memories you have of Limbo are the last ones you should have.”
“Where was I before?”
Unlike Kass, Dalziel hadn’t questioned who the man was, even has he coalesced in a pool in front of them. She could easily lambaste her poor performance as a former Intel officer, but on the other hand, she was completely pragmatic and open about the man standing in front of her. He was. He simply existed. Maybe if she could convince herself he was a ‘thing’ and not a person, a monster and not a man, it would be easier to be honest with him. But, created artificially or not, she cared about whatever soul that dwelled in his body. She did not wish to crush his spirit. “You were a transporter pattern brought to physical form, somewhat suddenly.”
Varn glanced to Crichton and his somewhat shopworn double, and drew a conclusion. Unfortunately, it was the wrong one. “You mean I’m a clone of the “real” Varn? I don’t feel like a clone.”
“No.”
“Then what *am* I, Counsellor?” he asked pointedly.
“The information that was used in your… arrival came directly from Thomas Varn. But the transport log that was used was several months old.”
“Is that how long you’ve been hunting the stolen information down?”
Eve sighed. It felt like it. “No. The reason it was out of date is that the original Thomas Varn… is deceased. He died. I’m sorry.” She wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for, but somehow it seemed appropriate.
His eyes were a tempest of dark colors, but his body remained still and calm. “I’m… resurrected?”
Eve looked away for a few seconds. Kass seemed to have immersed herself in rope weaving. The rest of the crew, even the miscreant Jake, had found things to do. However, the proprietor of the base was looking at the two of them with an eagle eye and a fluid stained, uneven grin.. The doctor was more monster than man, and had been for quite some time, but he still had the human gall left to show pride in his ‘creation’ as it discovered the gift of his existence. “My child,” he beamed.
“No. You don’t get that right.” Eve pushed Varn aside and strode over to the lump of flesh. “He is *not* your son. He was your experiment, but that ends *now*.”
Everyone else stopped doing whatever they were doing and stared.
Conniston cackled. “You speak as someone who has never had a child. Probably never held a baby or had a pet. You live, as surely as this man does,” he said gesturing to Varn, “but all I see is your cold heart. There is a joy you may never know in seeing new life spring from where there was no-.”
The back of his head slammed against the wall with a satisfying thud as the Counsellor pushed his hunched frame. Droplets of biological humour from the various things he had once been hooked into shed from his person and dotted her clothing. Saul Conniston made a slight gasping noise.
“Lieutenant,” Aerdan said gently.
The birdman, once he regained his composure, continued his brittle laugh, leaning towards the ExO. “Commander, I would have expected your team to have better self control.”
Dalziel grabbed his collar and jerked his head back towards her. “I’m just treating your life with the same consideration as you have for all the monstrosities lurking and lying in wait all over this station.”
“People have been creating babies in test tubes for hundreds of years. I see little difference, other than the technology has advanced considerably. There was no limit to what I was able to create.”
Eve tossed him to the ground like a bag of garbage. “There should have been limits! What about *consent*? What about *ethics*?”
“Lieutenant.”
Eve turned to look at Aerdan Jos, annoyed at the interruption but somewhere underneath aware of the hierarchy. “Sir, why are we keeping this shitsack alive?”
“There is the matter of justice. As well as the information he might be able to provide.”
Eve aimed her phaser at the man who was slowly becoming upright. “Do we really need to learn anything from him? I think I’d prefer to be ignorant of his type of ‘science’. Besides, I think we can give him all the justice he deserves right here.” A quick burst several feet over his head caused a shower of sparks, and the good doctor flinched.
“That’s an order, Lieutenant Dalziel.”
While looking into the Andorian’s calm visage, and then back to the smugly horrified geneticist, Eve slowly came back to herself, put the phaser away, and began to retreat to Varn’s side.
Conniston made a big fuss about brushing himself off and trying to save face. “Lieutenant Dalziel, is it? You’re as much of an animal as my creations. How many times have you killed?”
“Not as many as you’re insinuating. But obviously not enough,” she replied pointedly, glaring at him.
“Touché. But how do you sleep at night?”
“I sleep just fine. I was about to ask you the same question.” Unsatisfied with the verbal exchange, she focused her attention once more on Varn. “I wouldn’t call anything that man-” she said quietly, gesturing to Saul Conniston, “anything *he* does as being anointed. But as far as the base definition goes, I suppose it applies. You have yourself a second chance at life, Thomas, such as it is.”
The winged Lazarus stood there thoughfully for a moment. “But we need to make it out of here first, right?”
***
A Joint Post by
Justin Owens
as
Thomas Varn
and
Susan Ledbetter
as
Lieutenant Eve Dalziel
