stykera | A transport pod, somewhere in spaaaaaaaaace

There were no funny hats in space these days. Just a cramped transport pod with a Nebari, a Diagnosan, a Banik and a ... whatever it was Grunschlk was. Luckily, the trip back to the water planet wasn't all that long. It just felt that way.

To keep himself from sliding any further into insanity, Stark had been working on adjusting his comms. He was certain he could manage to make the comms connect to the Fandom alumni network with a little effort. Or, as it turned out, a lot of effort. A transport pod containing a drunk Diagnosan, his handler, and Chiana was not the best work environment for anyone, let alone someone as unstable as Stark so often was. But he was certain he could make it work.

He was certain he had made it work, actually, but he'd been certain of many other successes in the past that hadn't turned out to be successes at all. That hadn't stopped him before, and it didn't stop him now.

So while the pod made a brief stop on a commerce planet and Stark was left blissfully alone for a few microts, he very tentatively tried out his new and theoretically improved comms. Whether he'd be able to make contact with anyone wasn't clear, but he was going to say a hello into the ether and hope for the best.

[Farscape is 10 years old today. Woo! I decided to celebrate I would maybe let Stark actually interact with someone. Crazy, I know. But it just might work. If you've any desire to receive something like a phone call from an emo alien, now would be the time.]

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Not helping, Stark, not helping.

"You were unconscious in a box?!?"

It's okay, Stark, Anders still loves you ~~in that slightly terrified way~~.

"I didn't do it on purpose," Stark protested. "They put me in it!"

"Who's they, and can I have Bel go fireball 'em?" Anders asked, scowling. Because what kind of crappy people would put Stark in a box?

That just sucked. Like a Division I championship team beating up on the junior high second-stringers.

"Do you think Bel would?" Stark asked. "Scarrans. It's always Scarrans, except when it's Scorpius. But he's half. That counts."

"Sure, if I asked nicely," Anders decided. Or possibly other things that he wasn't going to share with Stark. Ahem. Not that he had a clue what a Scarran was, but if they were the kind of jerks who'd box Stark ~~ahahaha not like that, Anders~~ he'd just stick them on his Bad People list.

Not that he actually had . . . okay, maybe he did. Shh.

"He'd have to be here to do that," Stark said after a pause. "He doesn't want to do that. To be here."

"Okay, dude," Anders said after a brief pause. "That? Not really making me feel any less worried about you."

"Sorry, sorry," Stark said hurriedly. "You shouldn't worry." Because it won't help.

"Oh, all right, if you say so."

Pfft. He'd so worry anyway.

"I don't believe you," Stark said. "But things are mostly okay now. Really. For here."

Anders decided Stark's galaxy was a lot more insane than his own. Even if he wasn't there now.

"Hopefully this won't be the last time you can call, dude."

"It won't be!" Not that Stark had any way of guaranteeing that. "I'll stay out of boxes. And I made it work once. I can do it again. I think. It should work again."

"Should've had Bridge fix you up a phone before you left," Anders said regretfully. "Might've kept you out of a box."

He was going to be stuck on the box part for a while.

"It just would have been taken," Stark said. "The cupcakes got taken."

"They took your cupcakes?"

Oh, now he was mad.

"They took them and they ate them," Stark said sadly. "Lots of them."

"And we're sure I can't send Bel over there?" Anders practically pleaded.

"This is not a good place to send anyone," Stark said firmly. "Even people with fireballs."

"Then obviously," said Anders, whose reasoning was occasionally adorably simple, "you gotta come back, huh?"

"Perhaps," Stark said. "But what would I do? And where would I go?"

"I don't know," Anders admitted. "But it's gotta be better than where you are now."

"You probably don't have anyone turning into crystals," Stark agreed. "Or being put in boxes."

"People turn into some things, but uh, I think crystals? That's new," Anders conceded. "People were little kids again last weekend. It was . . . tiring."

"They'll get better," Stark said. "From the crystals." He'd been reassured of this enough now, mostly by himself. "I liked the children, when that happened. I never did that though."

"Me neither," Anders assured him. "Wow, what kind of rehab's involved in, um, decrystalling? Because that sounds kinda painful."

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stykera - 2009-03-20 04:50 (UTC) - Expand