This is a little ditty I came up with in about eight minutes. It's my first fanfic. Not really even a fanfic. Just set on B5. Be nice.
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From underneath the grey blanket peeked out two sticks, stubby, brown. The scales, almost pale, hung on them like broken house shingles. The nurse came closer, tentatively, with the diagnosis clutched in her hand. The heart monitor focused itself intently on the larger of the thing's hearts.
"I want a sandwich," it plaintively cried, claws twisting around the white medlab blanket, staining the softness blue with what was undoubtedly sweat.
Next door, the nurse could hear the visitors talking like summer, unhurried, the hard sibiliants of Narnish spat out every so often in a rhythmic blend. Behind her, a human woman hovered, moving like honey in the hallway. "Hey baby," her mantra continued, "Hey baby, you'll be fine, you'll be fine, hey baby."
Curt, helpful, eliciting. The nurse steps forward and checks the monitors with one hand, recalling how hard it was to map the alien's brain movements.
"Can you understand me, Mr. V'h'geHa?"
The consonants come out mumbled, garbled. The thing in the bed is humanoid enough that she sees dark blue lips twist in what might suffice as a smile.
"I want a sandwich," it says, once more. "I'm hungry."
"You really got yourself banged up," says the nurse, soothingly. "Can we ask you a few questions?"
White eyes glimmer, shine, disappear into black. "Sandwich. Then I'll talk."
The nurse returns with spoo on rye, after checking with Dr. Hobbes to make sure it won't cause any undue reactions (for some reason, everyone could basically stomach spoo). The thing struggles to push itself up, its arms as rickety as its legs. It takes the sandwich, heaving with the effort, and then stuffs small portions of spoo into a hole located on the intersection of its neck and shoulder. It then looks to one side, to the Narns (reading from the book of G'Kar, of course) and to the humans.
The nurse turns on a recording device and nods to the creature.
"Little fight, in Downbelow. Deimos bar. I was drunk. Drazi - lights out. All I know. I'm hungry."
The nurse's lips purse a little bit. "It was more than a little fight, Mr. V'h'geHa. You were pretty hurt when we brought you here."
The sibilants get louder next door. The nurse can't help translating in her head. The humans have become the glue that binds us together. The alien's mouth opens, gaping redly in the center of a scaled face. He leans up, and the nurse catches a whiff of fetid spoo-laden breath.
"It hurts - I'm gonna diiiiiie," it moans plaintively.
The nurse sighs. "You're not going to die. I'm going to go find Dr. Hobbes, all right? You're going to be all right here, ok?"
The creature looks down and picks off a scale. "I think I'm broken."
The nurse shakes her head, answers with a curt "No, you're not. You're going to be fine." She clears the wrapper of the sandwich, drops it in the wastecan. She ties her cap tighter and murmers in her link for Dr. Hobbes.
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The writer's life is not meant to be a happy one. We all accept that going in. -JMS
--
From underneath the grey blanket peeked out two sticks, stubby, brown. The scales, almost pale, hung on them like broken house shingles. The nurse came closer, tentatively, with the diagnosis clutched in her hand. The heart monitor focused itself intently on the larger of the thing's hearts.
"I want a sandwich," it plaintively cried, claws twisting around the white medlab blanket, staining the softness blue with what was undoubtedly sweat.
Next door, the nurse could hear the visitors talking like summer, unhurried, the hard sibiliants of Narnish spat out every so often in a rhythmic blend. Behind her, a human woman hovered, moving like honey in the hallway. "Hey baby," her mantra continued, "Hey baby, you'll be fine, you'll be fine, hey baby."
Curt, helpful, eliciting. The nurse steps forward and checks the monitors with one hand, recalling how hard it was to map the alien's brain movements.
"Can you understand me, Mr. V'h'geHa?"
The consonants come out mumbled, garbled. The thing in the bed is humanoid enough that she sees dark blue lips twist in what might suffice as a smile.
"I want a sandwich," it says, once more. "I'm hungry."
"You really got yourself banged up," says the nurse, soothingly. "Can we ask you a few questions?"
White eyes glimmer, shine, disappear into black. "Sandwich. Then I'll talk."
The nurse returns with spoo on rye, after checking with Dr. Hobbes to make sure it won't cause any undue reactions (for some reason, everyone could basically stomach spoo). The thing struggles to push itself up, its arms as rickety as its legs. It takes the sandwich, heaving with the effort, and then stuffs small portions of spoo into a hole located on the intersection of its neck and shoulder. It then looks to one side, to the Narns (reading from the book of G'Kar, of course) and to the humans.
The nurse turns on a recording device and nods to the creature.
"Little fight, in Downbelow. Deimos bar. I was drunk. Drazi - lights out. All I know. I'm hungry."
The nurse's lips purse a little bit. "It was more than a little fight, Mr. V'h'geHa. You were pretty hurt when we brought you here."
The sibilants get louder next door. The nurse can't help translating in her head. The humans have become the glue that binds us together. The alien's mouth opens, gaping redly in the center of a scaled face. He leans up, and the nurse catches a whiff of fetid spoo-laden breath.
"It hurts - I'm gonna diiiiiie," it moans plaintively.
The nurse sighs. "You're not going to die. I'm going to go find Dr. Hobbes, all right? You're going to be all right here, ok?"
The creature looks down and picks off a scale. "I think I'm broken."
The nurse shakes her head, answers with a curt "No, you're not. You're going to be fine." She clears the wrapper of the sandwich, drops it in the wastecan. She ties her cap tighter and murmers in her link for Dr. Hobbes.
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The writer's life is not meant to be a happy one. We all accept that going in. -JMS
