Post by thomas on Jan 13, 2010 15:13:48 GMT -5
"Welcome back, Siggurdson."
The brig door opened and Thorvald's eyes were drowned in hot, white light.
"Had a good few days?"
"Lovely," Thorvald grunted. Two guards helped him to his feet. He shook in their arms.
"Now, if you're caught intoxicated on the bridge again, that'll be your ass, right then and there." Thorvald still couldn't see who was speaking to him--days without light had crippled his eyes.
"So remember, stay off the sauce, lad," the speaker finished, affecting a Scottish accent. The other two guards snickered and disappeared. Thorvald was alone, shaking, sweating, and slumped against a wall as his vision drifted back.
~
"Sorry I've been gone, lass," Thorvald said hours later as he climbed into the Blue Destiny's cockpit. "They saw reason to throw me in the brig--I didn't know we had one--what for being drunk and causing a ruckus at the memorial. Did you miss me?"
Marion gave no answer but Thorvald wasn't dismayed. He kept a stash of cheap whisky in his cockpit; his quarters had already been raided but his superiors had overlooked the Blue Destiny itself.
"Here's to us, Marion, love! And here's to my arm finally getting fixed up." Thorvald poured out a jigger and was about to down it when Marion spoke"
Thorvald.
"Yes'm? D'ye want some too? I dunno where to pour it..."
Thorvald, I need you strong.
"Er, come again, lass?"
I need you to be strong for me.
"I don't quite follow. Let me down this and then we'll see if it all makes sense."
NO!
The cockpit shook and sparks jumped from the control panel. Thorvald, already jumpy, dropped his glass and the bottle. Both shattered on the cockpit floor.
"What was that for?!" he demanded, casting a forlorn look at the spilled whisky.
You can't be weak anymore! If we're going to save her, I need you to be strong! I need you to keep up with me!
"Who? Save who? Who are we saving now?"
My sister... In that mobile suit... She's hurting... She wants to die... I need to save her.
Clarity descended on Thorvald like rain on parched earth. He felt a vitality in his bones that he hadn't felt for decades--the sense that he could help someone--the sense that he was necessary, rather than a mindless cog in a military-industrial machine. He didn't respond to Marion for several moment.
Please, Thorvald...\
"Right, love. What do you want me to do?"
Strengthen your body... I need you to be strong, so that you can keep up with me in battle... Eliminate anything that weakens your flesh.
"I s'ppose that means doing away with the booze first, yeah?"
Marion didn't answer him because Thorvald already knew the answer.
~
Pouring the last of his liquor down the drain was surprisingly easy. What was difficult was ignoring the anxious invisible fleas that crept up and down his skin in the coming hours. Thorvald wrapped himself up in a blanket, huddled on his bed, tried to sleep, even tried to read, but the fleas remained.
"I could go talk to Wilson--he's always good for a drink..." he murmured to himself, half conscious. Something in him rebelled against this idea and rebelled violently. With a groan, Thorvald sloughed off the blanket and stood, stretching his arms up to the ceiling. Then, the dropped to the floor and began to perform pushups. As his muscles exhausted themselves, the sweat washed away the fleas and a kind of peace bloomed in his chest.
"Anything you for, Marion," he whispered, as he collapsed, arms too weak to support his body now.
The brig door opened and Thorvald's eyes were drowned in hot, white light.
"Had a good few days?"
"Lovely," Thorvald grunted. Two guards helped him to his feet. He shook in their arms.
"Now, if you're caught intoxicated on the bridge again, that'll be your ass, right then and there." Thorvald still couldn't see who was speaking to him--days without light had crippled his eyes.
"So remember, stay off the sauce, lad," the speaker finished, affecting a Scottish accent. The other two guards snickered and disappeared. Thorvald was alone, shaking, sweating, and slumped against a wall as his vision drifted back.
~
"Sorry I've been gone, lass," Thorvald said hours later as he climbed into the Blue Destiny's cockpit. "They saw reason to throw me in the brig--I didn't know we had one--what for being drunk and causing a ruckus at the memorial. Did you miss me?"
Marion gave no answer but Thorvald wasn't dismayed. He kept a stash of cheap whisky in his cockpit; his quarters had already been raided but his superiors had overlooked the Blue Destiny itself.
"Here's to us, Marion, love! And here's to my arm finally getting fixed up." Thorvald poured out a jigger and was about to down it when Marion spoke"
Thorvald.
"Yes'm? D'ye want some too? I dunno where to pour it..."
Thorvald, I need you strong.
"Er, come again, lass?"
I need you to be strong for me.
"I don't quite follow. Let me down this and then we'll see if it all makes sense."
NO!
The cockpit shook and sparks jumped from the control panel. Thorvald, already jumpy, dropped his glass and the bottle. Both shattered on the cockpit floor.
"What was that for?!" he demanded, casting a forlorn look at the spilled whisky.
You can't be weak anymore! If we're going to save her, I need you to be strong! I need you to keep up with me!
"Who? Save who? Who are we saving now?"
My sister... In that mobile suit... She's hurting... She wants to die... I need to save her.
Clarity descended on Thorvald like rain on parched earth. He felt a vitality in his bones that he hadn't felt for decades--the sense that he could help someone--the sense that he was necessary, rather than a mindless cog in a military-industrial machine. He didn't respond to Marion for several moment.
Please, Thorvald...\
"Right, love. What do you want me to do?"
Strengthen your body... I need you to be strong, so that you can keep up with me in battle... Eliminate anything that weakens your flesh.
"I s'ppose that means doing away with the booze first, yeah?"
Marion didn't answer him because Thorvald already knew the answer.
~
Pouring the last of his liquor down the drain was surprisingly easy. What was difficult was ignoring the anxious invisible fleas that crept up and down his skin in the coming hours. Thorvald wrapped himself up in a blanket, huddled on his bed, tried to sleep, even tried to read, but the fleas remained.
"I could go talk to Wilson--he's always good for a drink..." he murmured to himself, half conscious. Something in him rebelled against this idea and rebelled violently. With a groan, Thorvald sloughed off the blanket and stood, stretching his arms up to the ceiling. Then, the dropped to the floor and began to perform pushups. As his muscles exhausted themselves, the sweat washed away the fleas and a kind of peace bloomed in his chest.
"Anything you for, Marion," he whispered, as he collapsed, arms too weak to support his body now.