Farscape Friday Drabble
Apr. 21st, 2003 10:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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farscapefriday drabble, with the coding done right. I'll even try an lj cut next week.
Rules of Engagement
If one more mercenary complains about the food, he’s going to find new uses for his qualta blade. In addition to being loud, smelly, belligerent and demanding, they seem to think Moya is a Hula Day Inn. Well, D’Argo’d seen French maids on earth. He’s pretty sure the costume won’t fit. He’s also pretty sure that moving groups of mercenaries around the galaxy is the surest way they can be in the war and not of it. It’s one of the few things he and John have agreed upon over the cycles.
One, they will not transport Peacekeepers, Scarrans or Nebari, unless they’re fleeing justice.
Two, they’ll fly to the end of the Uncharted Territories and back, but they absolutely will not return to Tormented Space. D’Argo’s stomach cramps at the thought, and an involuntary shudder runs through him at the memory of being physically linked to Chrichton’s intestines.
Three, women with multiple breasts and feathers are to be avoided. That decision, was a no-brainer. As usual, the expression gives D’Argo pause.
Four, there will be no discussion of dark-haired Sebaceans, slim Nebari, or anyone’s offspring.
Five, see rule number four. Remember it. No exceptions are to be made due to excessive amounts Gelta liquor. Pilot had refused to allow the DRD’s to clean up after that disaster. He and John had been up to their mivonks in vomit.
Six, D’Argo snarls to himself and stops counting.
Right now, they are moving weapons and mercenaries to the fringe of the Elzan system. Being off the rapidly filling ship is a rare treat. It’s a beautiful day, if a little chilly. He’s going to buy more food for the frelling house guests, then have a long, peaceful afternoon of drinking and eating and watching women.
He is not going to frog march another feisty refugee back to his part of the ship. He is not going to fight with the ever crankier human. He is not going to prevent any of the passengers from trying to collect a bounty on himself or the human, unless it becomes absolutely necessary, and then he is not going to lock said passenger up as has been the previous approach, but instead will simply shoot him, her or it.
And he is definitely going to follow up on rule number four.
Except, out here in the back of beyond, his eyes must be deceiving him, because it seems that rule number four is coming out of the merchant’s up ahead.
farscapefriday drabble, with the coding done right. I'll even try an lj cut next week.Rules of Engagement
If one more mercenary complains about the food, he’s going to find new uses for his qualta blade. In addition to being loud, smelly, belligerent and demanding, they seem to think Moya is a Hula Day Inn. Well, D’Argo’d seen French maids on earth. He’s pretty sure the costume won’t fit. He’s also pretty sure that moving groups of mercenaries around the galaxy is the surest way they can be in the war and not of it. It’s one of the few things he and John have agreed upon over the cycles.
One, they will not transport Peacekeepers, Scarrans or Nebari, unless they’re fleeing justice.
Two, they’ll fly to the end of the Uncharted Territories and back, but they absolutely will not return to Tormented Space. D’Argo’s stomach cramps at the thought, and an involuntary shudder runs through him at the memory of being physically linked to Chrichton’s intestines.
Three, women with multiple breasts and feathers are to be avoided. That decision, was a no-brainer. As usual, the expression gives D’Argo pause.
Four, there will be no discussion of dark-haired Sebaceans, slim Nebari, or anyone’s offspring.
Five, see rule number four. Remember it. No exceptions are to be made due to excessive amounts Gelta liquor. Pilot had refused to allow the DRD’s to clean up after that disaster. He and John had been up to their mivonks in vomit.
Six, D’Argo snarls to himself and stops counting.
Right now, they are moving weapons and mercenaries to the fringe of the Elzan system. Being off the rapidly filling ship is a rare treat. It’s a beautiful day, if a little chilly. He’s going to buy more food for the frelling house guests, then have a long, peaceful afternoon of drinking and eating and watching women.
He is not going to frog march another feisty refugee back to his part of the ship. He is not going to fight with the ever crankier human. He is not going to prevent any of the passengers from trying to collect a bounty on himself or the human, unless it becomes absolutely necessary, and then he is not going to lock said passenger up as has been the previous approach, but instead will simply shoot him, her or it.
And he is definitely going to follow up on rule number four.
Except, out here in the back of beyond, his eyes must be deceiving him, because it seems that rule number four is coming out of the merchant’s up ahead.
