rc_999: Getting down to business. (business)
Set just after "What's Latin for 'You Suck'?"

The door to the Lichen's office burst open, and he was somewhat surprised to see Agent Supernumerary bearing down on him. To the Plant's relief, he did not look angry, but one lens of his glasses was missing, and the taut, waxy expression of determination on his face was frightening in its own way.

Agent Supernumerary! the Lichen said rapidly. To what do I owe th—

"I'll do it."

. . . Beg pardon?

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. This is what it's all been about, isn't it? All the shit missions you've been sending me? In the words of the Professor, 'It is plain enough what you are pointing at. Bilbo the silly hobbit started this affair, and Bilbo had better finish it, or himself.' Well, you win. I'll do it. God help me, I want to do it." He put a hand to his head in a distressed gesture that said I must be mad. "When ought I to start?"

The Lichen was silent for some time. Finally, he said, Supernumerary. You have repeatedly surpassed my every expectation. You have been a great asset to my department. I would not ask this of you.

"I would tell you to go pollinate yourself if you did," the man replied flatly.

Quite. The Lichen graciously forbore to mention that he did not have pollen. That said, we simply cannot find anyone else. The Board have been putting pressure on me for some time now, and with the recent success in the Potterverse . . . well, it does seem the opportune moment, does it not?

"I know. I get it." He took a deep breath and sighed. "Just . . . give me some time to get things in order, in case . . . in case. That's all I ask."

Of course. You may have whatever you require; only don't take too long. I can't delay forever.

"I'll need new glasses, to begin with," grumbled the agent.

You shall have them. I'll tell the Supply Depot to make it a priority. Good day, Agent Supernumerary.

He turned on his heel and marched out with a wave that said to hell with you as much as good-bye.

As soon as he was gone, the Lichen relaxed—a brief ripple seemed to run through his pale green mass. Oh dear oh dear. It set to work.
rc_999: Nume and Ilraen: badasses. (Default)
Ilraen looked up from his worktable at a strange sound from the direction of the console. His partner was sitting stock-still, staring at something on the screen.

<Nume? What is it?>

"Nothing!" he said, too quickly. The screen went blank. He rose and surreptitiously ran a hand across his face, then gave a sniff—the sound that had attracted Ilraen's attention.

Ilraen said nothing, but returned his main eyes to his work. His stalk-eyes roved over the room, carefully not focusing on Nume.

For a moment there was silence. Finally, Nume said, "Leonard Simon Nimoy is dead."

<Oh.> Tentatively, he added, <You admire him greatly, do you not?>

"Yes I do." A pause. "Ilraen, did I ever play any of my Alien Voices collection for you?"

<I believe so. Not recently.>

"Well, the article doesn't mention his work on Alien Voices at all. It's ridiculous." He opened a cabinet above the console and started rifling through its contents. "So, what do you say? Journey to the Center of the Earth or The Time Machine?"

<I do like him as Professor Lidenbrock.> Ilraen did not add that this performance of Nimoy's reminded him of his partner.

"Sure." Nume pulled out the CD and popped it into the console.

The two settled down to enjoy it.

May 2015

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