Group 6 (Kinin,Cobus,Sig,Nila,Oliver,Hanna)
Oct 9, 2013 20:59:20 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Oct 9, 2013 20:59:20 GMT -8
"Is it getting dark,"
Oliver looked up, foolishly, to see if the non-sun was setting. Instead he was treated to grey, featureless void. Where are the stars? He wondered.
He began to tell her, The light doesn't seem to be changing to me., but then he saw the shape of the bat'leth behind her— through her.
He wanted to close his eyes but he found he could not. Horror had glued his eyelids to his brows. He stood up as she was screaming, though he hadn't made the conscious decision to do so, and made his way over to the place where she was quickly disintegrating. The Klingon's scream seemed to stand in the air a moment after she'd gone. He'd been trying to convince himself that his crew mates were being transported somewhere— back to the USS Talon, back to safety and colour and a universe dictated by logic. But, what he'd seen then hadn't been anything like a transporter beam.
He found himself kneeling over the infant. "It's going to be all right, baby. Mommy's just... she'll be back soon. As soon as they get a lock on our coordinates, I'm sure they'll be beaming us up too." He was lying to a baby. Why am I lying to the baby? He asked himself.
His mind was spinning. He would have to wish for a bottle for the baby so the poor thing wouldn't starve. Do Klingon babies drink a special formula? He wondered, not allowing himself to ponder the probability of their lasting another moment. The thought of raising a child, alone, in the middle of nowhere was only marginally more appealing than the thought of disappearing.
He rubbed the baby's belly, hoping that he wasn't hungry yet. Oliver realized that he'd dropped his taco when his own stomach grumbled. Really, Oliver? You're still thinking about food now?
"It's all right, baby. If they don't find us then we'll find a way out of here ourselves. How does that sound?" It was a lame attempt at comforting the orphaned child. Poor baby. "We're still in one piece. Maybe a little hungry, but we'll manage." Oliver told the baby. He didn't know who he was comforting any more. Oliver was already feeling like an inadequate care-giver, and they hadn't even been alone for two minutes.
And then he felt it. The unmistakable dimming of the lights. There was something coming, something invisible through the thick nothing that surrounded the two remaining organic lifeforms in the vast nothing-scape. He was struck with a sudden certainty that whatever was coming, whatever had come for his companions, was coming for him too. And it was coming for the baby.
All he dared to wish was that it would be over soon for both of them, and that it wouldn't hurt.
EXIT: Oliver
Oliver looked up, foolishly, to see if the non-sun was setting. Instead he was treated to grey, featureless void. Where are the stars? He wondered.
He began to tell her, The light doesn't seem to be changing to me., but then he saw the shape of the bat'leth behind her— through her.
He wanted to close his eyes but he found he could not. Horror had glued his eyelids to his brows. He stood up as she was screaming, though he hadn't made the conscious decision to do so, and made his way over to the place where she was quickly disintegrating. The Klingon's scream seemed to stand in the air a moment after she'd gone. He'd been trying to convince himself that his crew mates were being transported somewhere— back to the USS Talon, back to safety and colour and a universe dictated by logic. But, what he'd seen then hadn't been anything like a transporter beam.
He found himself kneeling over the infant. "It's going to be all right, baby. Mommy's just... she'll be back soon. As soon as they get a lock on our coordinates, I'm sure they'll be beaming us up too." He was lying to a baby. Why am I lying to the baby? He asked himself.
His mind was spinning. He would have to wish for a bottle for the baby so the poor thing wouldn't starve. Do Klingon babies drink a special formula? He wondered, not allowing himself to ponder the probability of their lasting another moment. The thought of raising a child, alone, in the middle of nowhere was only marginally more appealing than the thought of disappearing.
He rubbed the baby's belly, hoping that he wasn't hungry yet. Oliver realized that he'd dropped his taco when his own stomach grumbled. Really, Oliver? You're still thinking about food now?
"It's all right, baby. If they don't find us then we'll find a way out of here ourselves. How does that sound?" It was a lame attempt at comforting the orphaned child. Poor baby. "We're still in one piece. Maybe a little hungry, but we'll manage." Oliver told the baby. He didn't know who he was comforting any more. Oliver was already feeling like an inadequate care-giver, and they hadn't even been alone for two minutes.
And then he felt it. The unmistakable dimming of the lights. There was something coming, something invisible through the thick nothing that surrounded the two remaining organic lifeforms in the vast nothing-scape. He was struck with a sudden certainty that whatever was coming, whatever had come for his companions, was coming for him too. And it was coming for the baby.
All he dared to wish was that it would be over soon for both of them, and that it wouldn't hurt.
EXIT: Oliver