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Archive for August, 2009
August 3rd, 2009
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Burns sees me watching him, shakes his head, and says one terrible word. ‘Eloped.’

August 4th, 2009
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Makes no sense; Kaetlyn’s utterly dismissive of romance, let alone marriage. Burns says he forbid his son to see her. Oh. Well… shit.

August 5th, 2009
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FORBID?! Might as well buy Kaetlyn a dress and honeymoon cruise with a note reading ‘Congratulations! Love, Your new, idiot Father-in-Law.’

August 6th, 2009
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Kaetlyn left, but Burns’ son found clues to follow her – some kind of note, left in the deepest parts of the Drift; an ancient… ship. Oh.

August 7th, 2009
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No. Kaetlyn sent me the wave. She had to know I’d find the Ante-D ship. Burns’ kid might have sussed it out, but the message was for /me/.

August 10th, 2009
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That’s the first thought in my head. Second thought is “Are you /really/ getting jealous of the /boyfriend/?”, spoken in Kaet’s mom’s voice.

August 11th, 2009
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I ignore that thought. The more important point here is that Burns wants something I can provide – something /other/ than my charred corpse.

August 13th, 2009
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We stare at each other until it becomes uncomfortable. Takes much less time than I expect — two solitary men, alone with too many ghosts.

August 14th, 2009
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I tell him I’ll split them up, if he let’s me out of here. He scoffs. I risk another fight to remind him I’m good at breaking up couples.

August 16th, 2009
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On his face, desire to murder me wrestles with desire to control his son’s life. Brief struggle, but violent. The ‘winner’ is… well, me.

August 17th, 2009
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The next hour goes sunburn-careful. Burns gives instructions. I act very agreeable. His people… don’t. Too many want a corpse of me. Hmm.

August 19th, 2009
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On one hand, dissent in the ranks is Burns’ problem (and, privately, kind of funny). On the other, this ‘dissent’ is pointing a gun at me.

August 19th, 2009
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Burns shoots the loudest dissenter in the leg – an effective debate tactic, if a little inelegant. I think this is going to work out.

August 20th, 2009
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I should NEVER think thoughts like “this is going to work out.” The Universe can tell. So can the guy with the bleeding leg and the gun.

August 21st, 2009
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Guy raises his weapon, Burns is turning too late, and I don’t have a gun. My last thought: it’s okay – at least I’m dying on my own ship.

August 24th, 2009
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I don’t hear the bang, i don’t think, but my body jerks all the same.

August 25th, 2009
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My spasm was just a flinch, not a bullet impact. The shooter’s hand, still gripping the gun, is crushed to the deck beneath Deirdre’s boot.

August 25th, 2009
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I have zero doubt that, at some later point, Jon will refer to my artful dodging as ‘gracefully feminine’. I will retort by being not-dead.

August 26th, 2009
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Burns motions for his people to leave. He looks at Deirdre, waiting. Long pause. I have to remind her she’s standing on one of his people.

August 28th, 2009
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At the airlock. Burns says to knock some sense into Kaetlyn. I pause, then say I will. Burns hesitates. His eyes widen. Pausing was bad.

August 28th, 2009
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I punch the big red button next to the hatch. The one we’re not supposed to punch. The one that initiates emergency explosive decoupling.

August 31st, 2009
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The hatches bracketing the venting airlock drop like stones. Burns leaps backward to safety. Mostly. Blood sprays; wet, then crystalline.