Chapter Text
“Hey Stilinski, have you ever been punched in the throat?”
Stiles’ mouth fell open, which stopped the annoying humming noise that had been coming from somewhere. Oh. It had been coming from his mouth. “Can’t say as I have.”
“Well if you don’t shut up I’m going to introduce you to a whole new world of sensation,” said Hale, glaring ominously.
“Oh, is that supposed to de-incentivize me?” said Stiles, grinning. That was too obvious to leave hanging, right? “Because…”
“Seriously. Please shut up. It’s bad enough I keep getting sent on these Mickey Mouse recon missions without that.”
“I’m not thrilled about it either, man, but it’s a rite of passage. Soon we’ll be part of the gang, and we’ll be torturing the next lot of noobs. It’s the circle of life.” Great, now that song was stuck in his head. He’d have to get it out somehow. But not humming. He would just drum on his thighs to the rhythm.
“Stilinski,” said Hale through gritted teeth, “one more noise and I’m hiding your milk rations for the next month."
“You wouldn’t do that –” Stiles started, then looked at the murderous expression on Hale’s face. He sat on his hands and pressed his lips together.
Hale’s face settled into a mask of smug satisfaction, before he finally broke the silence. “By the way, how are our fuel levels looking?”
Stiles flapped his mouth a little, but didn’t make one more noise. Hale smacked his head into the control panel.
#
It was 1830 hours before they were back on board the Mirzam and in their quarters, and Greenberg’s funeral was drawing to a close. Stiles brought the service up on the telescreen. “And this is a piece of music that Greenberg himself requested. Cue it up, SC:0T,” Captain Finstock was saying solemnly as he ejected the canister of ashes.
Stiles looked out of the porthole to see if he could catch a glimpse of it, as the strains of ‘See You Later, Alligator’ filled the air. “There it is! There goes Greenberg! Bye, Greenberg. That was Greenberg,” he said to Hale.
“Really,” said Hale, “I thought it was Stonewall Jackson.” He turned off the screen.
“Hey, grump, I was watching that.”
“Well, excuse me if I don’t want to watch Finstock openly weeping for the next twenty minutes.”
“Fine,” said Stiles, reaching for his ukulele.
“I swear if you so much as play the first chord of ‘Living in the Sunlight’ I will remove your strings and garrotte you with one of them.”
“Oh my God are you serious?” said Stiles. “Can I breathe? Is it okay if I breathe?” He breathed, heavily and obnoxiously, directly into Hale’s face.
“I have a theoretical exam tomorrow, remember?” said Hale, a pleading note creeping into his voice. “I need to concentrate.”
“I don’t know why you don’t give yourself a break. The world isn’t gonna end if you relax for five minutes, you know.”
“Excuse me for having ambition.”
“I have ambition!”
“Oh, yeah. Your famous five year plan.”
“That’s right,” said Stiles. “Only two more trips and I’ll have saved up enough for my farm.”
“On Fiji.”
“Hey, don’t knock it! The prices are unbelievable, okay?”
“Because most of it’s three feet below sea level, since the volcanic eruption.”
“Big deal, so the animals will have to wade. I’ll get tall ones.”
Hale put his head in his hands. “There’s no arguing with you once you get an idea stuck in your head, is there?”
“Nope,” said Stiles happily.
Thankfully, he was spared Hale’s next threat to his person by SC:0T’s sudden appearance on the telescreen. “FYI, the ‘welcome back Greenberg’ reception is about to start in the mess hall. Greenberg says he’d like to invite everyone to be there, especially those who weren’t able to attend his funeral.”
#
Joy of joys, the ‘welcome back Greenberg’ reception apparently warranted the good booze, so Stiles was already pleasantly buzzed by the time the speeches started.
Finstock began, looking cheerful, although his cheeks were still kind of puffy. “Well, today is a day of both joy and sadness. Joy, because Greenberg passed away; and sadness, because he’s back with us, albeit as a Hologram. Now, I know not all of you have worked with a Hologram before, but I’d like to urge you not to treat him any differently. He was useless before, and he’s useless now. Thank you.”
Stiles joined in the general applause, and started the chant of ‘speech’, which got Hale to roll his eyes and mutter something, which was kind of what he’d been going for.
“Thanks, guys,” said Greenberg bashfully, standing up. He looked pretty much the same, apart from the 'H' adorning his forehead. “Uh, thanks for the funeral, I just saw the recording. Great job, guys. I get that this might be weird for you, but don’t think of me as dead, just think of me as another crew member, just one who can’t eat or drink or lift or touch anything. So I guess I’ll have to be a bit more imaginative in the bedroom!” He winked, and Finstock went bright red. “Anyway, as I’m sure you’re aware, SC:0T can only sustain one Hologram at a time, so my message to those of you who outrank me is this: try not to die! Seriously, guys, that would be great if you wouldn’t.”
“Okay,” said Finstock loudly, starting to clap, “that’s great, wrap it up, thank you Greenberg. Anyway, just one announcement before we cut the cake: SC:0T tells me he’s detected a non-human life form on board, so keep an eye out.”
“Sir, it’s Hale!” shouted Stiles. Hale pushed him off his chair.
#
Stiles woke up to a headache and the sound of muttering and pacing. Derek was standing in the middle of their room in a white undershirt and snug boxers, chewing on the nail of his pinky finger and looking adorably nervous. Okay, apparently Stiles’s brain was still a little drunk, because he obviously meant to think hilariously nervous, and also not look at Hale’s… anything.
“You all right there?”
Hale swung around. “What? Fine! Peachy!”
“I don’t know what you’re worried about, man. You worked hard, you’ll be fine.”
“I don’t test well,” said Hale around his fingernail.
“So big deal! If you fail you can take it again in six months. It’s not the end of the world. What’s your rush?”
“I just want to do well,” said Hale quietly.
“Yeah, but what if you get promoted and I don’t? I don’t want to have to break in a new roommate.”
“I didn’t realize you considered me broken in.”
“You’re a work in progress, but it’s better than being back to square one.”
SC:0T interrupted what was almost, maybe, as close as they ever came to, a moment to let them know that the exam hall was ready, and Hale pulled on his uniform and ran out the door, waving jerkily as he went. Stiles shook his head and slid down from the top bunk, landing awkwardly on the deck. He took the grating off the air vent.
“Hey Lydsy. It’s okay, the big mean growly man has gone now, it’s time for milk.” Lydia II, his cat, made her way out of the vent and immediately jumped onto Hale’s pillow and curled up, purring.
“No, Lyds!” said Stiles. “I’m your favorite. Who gives you all his milk rations, huh, you big tub o’ lard?” She blinked at him with huge eyes. He sighed. “All right, I take it back. Now drink your milk, you’re eating for… however many, now. Just think, they’ll be as big as you by the time we get to Fiji.”
#
He had to coax Lydia II back into the vent in a hurry when he got called to the Captain’s office. He was just on his way, but it couldn’t hurt to go via the Operations Room, right? Martin would be on shift.
“Hey, Martin!” he called. “Any idea why Finstock wants to see me?”
“I’m sure he’s promoting you to Admiral,” said Martin crisply. “Sorry I can’t chat, Stanislav, but I’m kind of in the middle of something.”
“No problem,” said Stiles. “Um, it’s Stilinski, by the way.” He wondered vaguely how Hale was getting on with his exam.
“Bolinski!” said Finstock, striding in.
“It’s Stilinski,” muttered Stiles.
“You were supposed to be in my office by now, not bugging Martin again. Chop chop.”
Stiles slouched reluctantly after him.
“So,” said Finstock. “About this cat.”
“What cat, sir?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Lewinski. Not that you have to play, since you’re so dumb you not only brought an unquarantined animal aboard this ship, you also Instagrammed it. SC:0T, bring up the photo.”
SC:0T did.
“Dude, not cool!” shouted Stiles.
“I’m sorry, man, I gotta obey the Captain, it’s hardwired into my programming.”
“Dick move, SC:0T.”
“I seriously can’t help it!”
“That’s enough,” snapped Finstock. “Now, Wachowski, I’ll ask you again: do you have a cat?”
“No.”
Finstock gestured at the photo. “Do. You. Have. A. CAT?”
“Yes, sir,” mumbled Stiles. “That one.”
“Do you have any idea what that thing could be carrying? Or the damage it could do to the ship’s controls? I want that cat and I want it now.”
“Uh, now just assuming I did have a cat, what would you do to her?”
“I’d send it down to the medical bay for testing.”
“And then you’d give her back?”
“I suppose you could have the body, if you wanted.”
“I really don’t see what’s in it for the cat, sir.”
“Give me the cat.”
“Sir, you don’t understand, we’re having kittens! We’re going to Fiji! It’s the plan!”
“Krasinski, it’s your choice. You can be put into stasis for 18 months, without pay, or you can give me the damn cat.”
#
“So, what’s it like, being in stasis?” said Stiles nervously as Whittemore led him to the chamber. “Does it hurt, or…”
“Duh, of course it doesn’t hurt, Stilinski,” said Whittemore. Really? This asshole got his name right? “Time can’t penetrate a stasis field, so you exist outside time for the duration. You’re a non-event mass with a quantum probability of zero.”
“Oh, right. Duh. My dad always said one day I’d be a non-event mass with a quantum pro-”
Whittemore shoved him into the chamber and closed the door.
#
Almost immediately, the door opened again. Whittemore was gone, though.
“Hey Stiles!” said SC:0T happily. “It’s now safe for you to emerge from stasis.”
“Eh?” said Stiles. “I just got in.”
“Please proceed to the Operations Room for debriefing.”
“Um, okay,” said Stiles. He didn’t run into anyone on his way, but there were some weird piles of white powder spread at intervals across the deck, which definitely hadn’t been there on his way to the chamber. Huh. Obviously he’d been in stasis longer than he’d thought. It was so weird, he’d had no conception of time passing at all.
The Operations Room was the same.
“SC:0T,” said Stiles, “where is everyone?”
“Everyone’s dead, dude.”
“Who?”
“Everyone, dude.”
“What, Captain Finstock?”
“Everyone’s dead, dude.”
“Whittemore?”
“They’re all dead, Stiles. Everyone’s dead.”
“Hale isn’t dead, is he?”
“Dude! Everyone! Is dead! Dude!”
Stiles sank into a chair. “Holy shit. I don’t. How is everyone dead?”
“Turns out one of the technicians was a sleeper agent from a terrorist cell. She sabotaged the drive plate. Cadmium 2 everywhere. Instant death, man.”
“Oh my God,” moaned Stiles, head in his hands. “I can’t deal with this.” He stood up and looked around helplessly. “And, and what the hell is all this crap on the floor and stuff?”
“That’s the crew.”
“Oh, shit.” In the chair across from his was a little white pile, like the others, with an earpiece on top of it. “Oh, no. Martin?”
“That’s her.”
“Oh my God. Oh, SC:0T, man. I never told her. She was part of my plan. She was gonna come to Fiji with me and wear a green dress and ride the horses.”
“Yeah well, she won’t be much use to you now, unless you need to grit the driveway.”
“SC:0T!” Stiles yelled, shocked.
“Sorry, dude, I’ve been talking to myself for a while. I might have gone a bit weird in the head. If it makes you feel any better, even if Martin was still alive, the age difference might be a problem.”
“Why? How long has it been?” whispered Stiles, dreading the answer. Would his dad still be alive?
“Well, y’know, I had to wait for the radiation to reach a safe background level, so…”
“How long, SC:0T?”
“Three million years, give or take.”
Stiles sank to the ground. “You mean… you mean I’ve been in stasis for three million years. Everyone I ever knew is gone. The crew is dead. And I’m all alone. On my own. In space. Oh God, and I never returned that library book!”
“Well,” said SC:0T, “you’re not totally alone.”
Hale walked in.
“Ohmygod,” said Stiles, “SC:0T said you were dead!” It wasn’t exactly their usual dynamic, but these were strange times, so he ran forward and threw his arms around Hale. They missed.
“I am dead,” said Hale, and that was when Stiles noticed the ‘H’ on his forehead.
“Oh,” he said. “Wow. Sorry.”
“Not your fault, said Hale, with a slight bitter twist to his lip. “If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s…”
“That bitch terrorist,” Stiles finished for him, “I know. Yeah, well. No use holding a grudge now. She’s deader than you.”
Hale nodded miserably and stared at the floor.
“Hey, buddy, chin up!” said Stiles. “It’s not like you’re the first person who’s ever died!”
Hale looked up at him and began to raise a sardonic eyebrow. That was more like the Hale he knew and l- knew. Then Hale kind of shimmered and something ran through him, and Stiles was tackled to the ground. WHAT?
#
“What the hell are you?” he squealed, less than politely. He didn’t mean it to come out that way, but he was currently pinned to the floor by, like, some kind of… lady. Well, kind of like a lady, except she was naked and covered entirely in blonde fur and had six nipples and a mane?
“I don’t know,” she said. “But I am definitely fierce.”
“No arguments here,” Stiles choked out. “Hale?”
“No clue.”
“Uh,” SC:0T piped up, “I may know what happened. See, during the radioactive crisis, your cat was safely sealed in the hold. She gave birth, and her descendants have been breeding and evolving for three million years.”
“So she’s a cat?”
“She’s a cat.”
#
“Come on, kitty, let’s get you something to eat,” Stiles cooed, once he’d taken her back to his room. She kept trying to rub up against Hale , and then yowling when she realized she couldn’t. Why did his cats always like Hale better? “How’s Krispies?”
He filled a bowl with Krispies and ordered some milk through the emulator, adding it to the bowl and placing it gently on the floor.
“You monkeys eat off the floor?” said the cat from the table. “Don’t you have any style?”
“Sorry, puss,” said Stiles, putting the bowl in front of her. She immediately stuck her face in it and started lapping.
“Mm, Krispies.”
“So, what are we gonna call her?” he said to Hale, who kept making aborted movements towards petting her and then glaring at his hand.
“How about Lydia III?” said Hale.
“What’s that? Lydia?” said the cat.
“She was your great-great-great-whatever grandmother,” said Stiles.
“Oh, please,” said the cat. “You don’t believe that crap, do you? Lydia and the virgin birth?”
“It was a sandy tom, actually,” said Stiles.
“It was Sandi Thom?!” squawked SC:0T.
“Shh,” said Stiles. “What were you saying, cat?”
“It’s just a story. Lydia and the Virgin Birth and Stanislav the Foolish – ”
“Stilinski the Foolish –”
“–who gave his life so that we might live, and will return to take us to Fushal, the Promised Land!”
“It’s Fiji! And I will take you there! Okay, so my five year plan has turned into a three million and five year plan. That’s no reason to give up. SC:0T, plot a course for Earth! We’re going home!”