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On Moya, somewhere
Stark found himself wandering during the middle of what would have been night, if spaceships had night, and eventually his feet led him to what had once been Zhaan's quarters. Of course he was here. Where else?
He wasn't alone. A DRD had been following him unobtrusively since he'd started walking the ship's corridors arns ago. It beeped once at him when he finally stopped walking, then bumped his foot gently.
"Stark?" Where the DRDs went, so went Pilot, in a sense. "Are you...all right?" Pilot, in his Den, knew that wasn't the right question. If he didn't need to speak so slowly, so simply, he could have asked the right question, but Stark and Stark's translator microbes would have had no chance at understanding it.
"I am well Pilot." And that wasn't entirely true. It wasn't untrue, either. "Well enough, at least. I am...here."
"Do you...need anything?"
"No, Pilot," Stark gave the DRD a crooked half-hearted sort of smile. "Nothing from you."
The DRD blinked its lights at Stark once before scooting down the corridor. Alone for real now, though he suspected at times that Pilot and Moya were always somehow paying attention to everything, Stark sat down heavily, leaning against the bulkhead. The bulkhead, he noted, still bore the scars of the fire. They were fainter now, but they were still there. He lost track of how long he sat there, but eventually he stood and resumed his walking.
He wasn't sure why he kept walking the corridors of the ship. It would have been easier to simply sit in what had once been his quarters, or in Zhaan's, or anywhere. And wandering around Moya meant he might run into someone, though he wasn't up for conversation yet. Still. Maybe he was looking for some trace of Zhaan, left behind. Maybe he simply wanted to familiarize himself with the ship once more. More likely, he just needed to be doing something. Walking qualified as doing something.
**
Walking the ship like that became a familiar routine. It hadn't been that long since Katratzi, but it had apparently been long enough. Long enough for the others to notice, even.
Chiana found him in the center chamber once. "You should hold still once in a while. Hey, I got an idea. Know anything about video games?" she asked, somehow managing to make the question a pointed one even around a mouthful of food.
Stark froze, muttered several dozen apologies in the next few microts, then bolted.
"You're like a ghost, Astro," Crichton said when he came across Stark on the terrace where he'd been pacing for at least the last arn. "Disappearing all the time and just wandering the hallway when nobody's looking."
Stark frowned. "Not a ghost. Still alive. Still here. Just feel like one, feel like I'm not, like...nevermind." He kept walking then, ignoring the odd look from the human. It was easy enough to not think while he was walking and to instead just concentrate on his footsteps.
"Chi didn't mean to freak you out," Crichton offered after watching several passes across the floor. "Well, yeah she did. She's Chi..."
"My fault," Stark said. "I'm sorry. Shouldn't have done it. My fault. Mine. It all was. All of it. I can leave. If you want. If she wants. I can go. Somewhere else. Anywhere else. Just go."
"Stark, man, we pulled your butt out of Scarran cold storage. You really think we're looking to get rid of you already? Explanation wouldn't hurt though."
Stark shook his head violently. "Not now. Not yet. Please. I don't want to talk yet." He paused, took a deep breath and continued. "I thought I had to. It didn't help. Doing what the game designer wanted. It didn't help. And he took my cupcakes." From the sound of that last sentence, Stark considered this to be a terrible injustice. Stark was always a little off.
"Cupcakes?" Crichton rubbed at his eyes. "We're gonna have a long talk. Later," he said quickly, before the Banik had a chance to protest. "We'll talk later. I gotta take care of some stuff."
Stark stopped pacing and nodded once. After Crichton was gone again, the pacing resumed, faster than before.
[For a change, nothing stolen from episode transcripts. I want a cupcake.]
He wasn't alone. A DRD had been following him unobtrusively since he'd started walking the ship's corridors arns ago. It beeped once at him when he finally stopped walking, then bumped his foot gently.
"Stark?" Where the DRDs went, so went Pilot, in a sense. "Are you...all right?" Pilot, in his Den, knew that wasn't the right question. If he didn't need to speak so slowly, so simply, he could have asked the right question, but Stark and Stark's translator microbes would have had no chance at understanding it.
"I am well Pilot." And that wasn't entirely true. It wasn't untrue, either. "Well enough, at least. I am...here."
"Do you...need anything?"
"No, Pilot," Stark gave the DRD a crooked half-hearted sort of smile. "Nothing from you."
The DRD blinked its lights at Stark once before scooting down the corridor. Alone for real now, though he suspected at times that Pilot and Moya were always somehow paying attention to everything, Stark sat down heavily, leaning against the bulkhead. The bulkhead, he noted, still bore the scars of the fire. They were fainter now, but they were still there. He lost track of how long he sat there, but eventually he stood and resumed his walking.
He wasn't sure why he kept walking the corridors of the ship. It would have been easier to simply sit in what had once been his quarters, or in Zhaan's, or anywhere. And wandering around Moya meant he might run into someone, though he wasn't up for conversation yet. Still. Maybe he was looking for some trace of Zhaan, left behind. Maybe he simply wanted to familiarize himself with the ship once more. More likely, he just needed to be doing something. Walking qualified as doing something.
**
Walking the ship like that became a familiar routine. It hadn't been that long since Katratzi, but it had apparently been long enough. Long enough for the others to notice, even.
Chiana found him in the center chamber once. "You should hold still once in a while. Hey, I got an idea. Know anything about video games?" she asked, somehow managing to make the question a pointed one even around a mouthful of food.
Stark froze, muttered several dozen apologies in the next few microts, then bolted.
"You're like a ghost, Astro," Crichton said when he came across Stark on the terrace where he'd been pacing for at least the last arn. "Disappearing all the time and just wandering the hallway when nobody's looking."
Stark frowned. "Not a ghost. Still alive. Still here. Just feel like one, feel like I'm not, like...nevermind." He kept walking then, ignoring the odd look from the human. It was easy enough to not think while he was walking and to instead just concentrate on his footsteps.
"Chi didn't mean to freak you out," Crichton offered after watching several passes across the floor. "Well, yeah she did. She's Chi..."
"My fault," Stark said. "I'm sorry. Shouldn't have done it. My fault. Mine. It all was. All of it. I can leave. If you want. If she wants. I can go. Somewhere else. Anywhere else. Just go."
"Stark, man, we pulled your butt out of Scarran cold storage. You really think we're looking to get rid of you already? Explanation wouldn't hurt though."
Stark shook his head violently. "Not now. Not yet. Please. I don't want to talk yet." He paused, took a deep breath and continued. "I thought I had to. It didn't help. Doing what the game designer wanted. It didn't help. And he took my cupcakes." From the sound of that last sentence, Stark considered this to be a terrible injustice. Stark was always a little off.
"Cupcakes?" Crichton rubbed at his eyes. "We're gonna have a long talk. Later," he said quickly, before the Banik had a chance to protest. "We'll talk later. I gotta take care of some stuff."
Stark stopped pacing and nodded once. After Crichton was gone again, the pacing resumed, faster than before.
[For a change, nothing stolen from episode transcripts. I want a cupcake.]