Am I first? Wow! I haven't been first for a long while! Anyway, in the small hours of dawn I wrote some two pages, which I still have to type up sometime in the evening. Since I accidentally destroyed my desk lamp last night (trying to show away visiting insects from the screen), it promises to be complicated. But I give you a snippet of what I did type up last night: Ianto and Sandra discussing how could he persuade Captain Archer to take him down to Rigel X.
Excerpt: “Do you think he’ll buy it if I told him I’ve been in cryogenic suspension for a century?” he asks in a low voice that is easily concealed by the lively conversation around them.
“It would be more convincing than trying to tell him about the Doctor,” Sandra replies with a shrug.
“I’m surprised that Starfleet wouldn’t know about him,” Ianto murmurs. “UNIT’s records must have been badly damaged.”
“Or some selfish prick had deleted a great part of them, just because they didn’t want to hand them over to Starfleet,” Sandra suggests. “In any case the mere idea of time travel counts as a fairy tale in this century. You’ll be better off with a white lie,” she gives him a pointed look. “Oh, come on! Remember whom you’re talking to! I know you can pull it off.”
“It doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Ianto mutters but he knows Sandra is right. Again.
Oh, I'm sorry about the desklamp -- hope you can find another light source. I like the idea of cryogenic suspension being more plausible than the Tardis, cos we know the Tardis really exists :)
And I've passed the point I'd got to before. It's all new words from now on. Rupert is warming up in front of a fire, after the beginnings of a serious conversation with Edward -- who is now reporting back to Grandmama while Christophe checks on Rupert:
"He's not my real father." Rupert's words sounded sulky even to his own ears, but he wasn't going to hide his feelings from someone who seemed to like Quinn almost as much as he did.
"Does that bother you?" Christophe switched his pint glass of Guinness to his left hand, and retrieved a perfectly ordinary looking hand-rolled cigarette from behind his right ear.
"It should, shouldn't it?" Rupert thought about the conversation in the car. Papa hadn't spoken to him since then, even handing over the bag of dry clothes wordlessly. "It bothers him."
"My father wasn't around much when I was growing up," Christophe said around a mouthful of cigarette smoke. "He turned up after Ma died, and took my kid brother back to Ireland with him."
About 280 rather scrappy words this evening, but they are words nonetheless.
(Harriet speaking.)
'We must come up with something. It's all very fascinating being you, Peter, and it will be very helpful if I want to know exactly where the murderous barber stands to cut his customer's throat, or have Robert Templeton discover a corpse in a men's public lavatory, but what are we to do if this carries on? Because frankly I don't think I can stand much more of it.'
Still working on the Fic Corner story, which is no nearer to completion than my last post, sadly. I wrote about 625 words while editing, mainly towards the frayed end of the first scene -- but I have yet to actually push it forward from where I stopped. I did start to work on patching the minor canon glitch and also fixing an error occasioned by transcribing a date wrong, which has put all the ages of the characters a couple of years out. This is more of a problem for the character now aged 4.
I persuaded my OH to move the boxes/disassembled bookcases blocking the bookcase in question, and am now in possession of all relevant bits of canon! I've poddled around in it a bit and canon doesn't seem to have any more roadblocks to throw at me, yay!
PS Sorry for not commenting on other people's posts -- every time I sit down at the computer, the story grabs me, which is good, but not so good for getting anything else done!
179 words, but at least the next section is started. Also, I did some research and think I know what will be revealed in this scene. The setting is in the underground facility in the woods.
***
Mycroft leaned the file against the edge of the table and closed his eyes for a second longer than a blink. It afforded a tiny escape from the monumental demonstration of idiocy being laid out before him. He drew in a breath and gazed around the small conference table. The colonel in charge and the two most senior research scientists at the facility gazed anxiously back at him. Mycroft did not need to ask pursuant to whose orders the foreign dignitaries had been allowed to visit part of the installation. The pained expression the colonel was almost succeeding in suppressing made it very clear.
Colonel Sutton’s hand had been ever so faintly unsteady when he had held out the slim file. Its contents were the sort that ended careers. Mycroft had absorbed the salient facts of the debacle as he leafed through the folder. Now he wished to observe his three interlocutors and see if the line between stupidity and culpability had been crossed.
“If you would take me through the sequence of events, Colonel,” Mycroft said.
A Matter of Time
on 2015-07-21 05:14 pm (UTC)Anyway, in the small hours of dawn I wrote some two pages, which I still have to type up sometime in the evening. Since I accidentally destroyed my desk lamp last night (trying to show away visiting insects from the screen), it promises to be complicated. But I give you a snippet of what I did type up last night: Ianto and Sandra discussing how could he persuade Captain Archer to take him down to Rigel X.
Excerpt:
“Do you think he’ll buy it if I told him I’ve been in cryogenic suspension for a century?” he asks in a low voice that is easily concealed by the lively conversation around them.
“It would be more convincing than trying to tell him about the Doctor,” Sandra replies with a shrug.
“I’m surprised that Starfleet wouldn’t know about him,” Ianto murmurs. “UNIT’s records must have been badly damaged.”
“Or some selfish prick had deleted a great part of them, just because they didn’t want to hand them over to Starfleet,” Sandra suggests. “In any case the mere idea of time travel counts as a fairy tale in this century. You’ll be better off with a white lie,” she gives him a pointed look. “Oh, come on! Remember whom you’re talking to! I know you can pull it off.”
“It doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Ianto mutters but he knows Sandra is right. Again.
RE: A Matter of Time
on 2015-07-21 10:01 pm (UTC)I love the idea of being in cryogenic suspension as a plausible lie.
(no subject)
Posted byRE: A Matter of Time
on 2015-07-21 11:59 pm (UTC)Has Starfleet dealt with Khan yet? If yes, they might be feeling rather negative about cryogenic suspension!
(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted byRe: A Matter of Time
on 2015-07-22 02:53 pm (UTC)RE: Re: A Matter of Time
Posted byRE: A Matter of Time
on 2015-07-22 07:59 pm (UTC)RE: A Matter of Time
on 2015-08-04 10:53 am (UTC)no subject
on 2015-07-21 08:28 pm (UTC)"He's not my real father." Rupert's words sounded sulky even to his own ears, but he wasn't going to hide his feelings from someone who seemed to like Quinn almost as much as he did.
"Does that bother you?" Christophe switched his pint glass of Guinness to his left hand, and retrieved a perfectly ordinary looking hand-rolled cigarette from behind his right ear.
"It should, shouldn't it?" Rupert thought about the conversation in the car. Papa hadn't spoken to him since then, even handing over the bag of dry clothes wordlessly. "It bothers him."
"My father wasn't around much when I was growing up," Christophe said around a mouthful of cigarette smoke. "He turned up after Ma died, and took my kid brother back to Ireland with him."
"Did that bother you?"
no subject
on 2015-07-21 10:02 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2015-07-22 12:03 am (UTC)This is a huge development. It's interesting that Rupert thinks it should bother him, but it doesn't sound like it actually does.
(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2015-07-22 02:50 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2015-08-04 11:39 am (UTC)(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2015-07-21 10:03 pm (UTC)(Harriet speaking.)
'We must come up with something. It's all very fascinating being you, Peter, and it will be very helpful if I want to know exactly where the murderous barber stands to cut his customer's throat, or have Robert Templeton discover a corpse in a men's public lavatory, but what are we to do if this carries on? Because frankly I don't think I can stand much more of it.'
no subject
on 2015-07-21 10:59 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2015-07-22 12:06 am (UTC)It's all very fascinating being you,
I love the understatement.
(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
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on 2015-07-22 02:48 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2015-07-22 08:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2015-08-04 11:40 am (UTC)no subject
on 2015-07-21 11:47 pm (UTC)I persuaded my OH to move the boxes/disassembled bookcases blocking the bookcase in question, and am now in possession of all relevant bits of canon! I've poddled around in it a bit and canon doesn't seem to have any more roadblocks to throw at me, yay!
PS Sorry for not commenting on other people's posts -- every time I sit down at the computer, the story grabs me, which is good, but not so good for getting anything else done!
no subject
on 2015-07-22 05:36 am (UTC)(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2015-07-22 08:07 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2015-07-21 11:56 pm (UTC)***
Mycroft leaned the file against the edge of the table and closed his eyes for a second longer than a blink. It afforded a tiny escape from the monumental demonstration of idiocy being laid out before him. He drew in a breath and gazed around the small conference table. The colonel in charge and the two most senior research scientists at the facility gazed anxiously back at him. Mycroft did not need to ask pursuant to whose orders the foreign dignitaries had been allowed to visit part of the installation. The pained expression the colonel was almost succeeding in suppressing made it very clear.
Colonel Sutton’s hand had been ever so faintly unsteady when he had held out the slim file. Its contents were the sort that ended careers. Mycroft had absorbed the salient facts of the debacle as he leafed through the folder. Now he wished to observe his three interlocutors and see if the line between stupidity and culpability had been crossed.
“If you would take me through the sequence of events, Colonel,” Mycroft said.
no subject
on 2015-07-22 05:37 am (UTC)(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2015-07-22 02:47 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2015-07-22 08:08 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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on 2015-07-22 01:14 am (UTC)no subject
on 2015-07-22 01:18 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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