Welcome to the Journal of Now and Forever. This Journal is a collection of my Star Control and Star Control 2 fiction. Note: Some of this material is, by necessity, extrapolation from the slim information provided by canon sources.

New fiction is posted first at My Livejournal before it appears here. This story is in response to 15 Minute Ficlets' Challenge #88.

Nick trudged down the apartment building's corridor. He didn't feel like talking, but at the same time, he hoped Dean would be there; it was nice to have someone to come home to. Nick knew he hadn't been the happiest person to be around, ever since the invasion, but once it had settled in that, yes, it had happened, and no, they weren't going away anytime soon, he'd at least made an effort to rouse himself and go through the motions of normal life.

His old job still needed him, which was good for his well-being, he supposed; many others, Dean included, were drafted into manufacturing or conversion. All the old Guardians were effectively scrubbed; the shells might be the same, but the engines, fuel storage, communications – nearly everything hardware-oriented, to say nothing of software – were in the process of standardization to meet Hierarchy specifications. The Hierarchy used stabilized antimatter, Nick had heard; he wasn't sure how that worked, but his background was in biosciences, after all, not physics.

But things still broke down or needed maintenance, down here on the surface, so Nick and his fellow R&R workers remained at their normal jobs.

At least we're getting better technology out of this, he thought as he opened the door to his and Dean's quarters. For what it's worth. He doubted any of the really good stuff left Ur-Quan hands, or tentacles, or whatever.

Dean wasn't there. Not too surprising, given recent work orders, but disappointing anyway. Nick shucked off his winter wear and set about making something hot to eat.

That was another new thing, food. Not that the Ur-Quan cared two flips about bringing in new food crops; rather, they'd made sure the Androsynth food was edible for all Hierarchy slave species, then announced the new production requirements for the next year. After all, if Starbase was to resupply any Hierarchy ships that passed through, that meant food, not just fuel. At least the EV2 crops had returned generous harvests – there was plenty in storage, just in case there should ever be a natural disaster. Unnatural disasters counted too, it turned out.

Nick wondered when the Hierarchy would turn toward Earth. They had to have the information they wanted, by this time. And unless Earth had radically militarized in the last several years, the conquest would be much like this one: quick and one-sided. Given that the Ur-Quan had apparently conquered every sentient species they'd ever heard about or encountered, it could only be a matter of time before Earthlings got the surprise of their lives.

He wondered what the Earthlings would think. No childlike "greys" coming to visit with claims of being "space brothers and sisters" or having cures for disease; instead, monstrous things from someone's nightmare. Oh, and the clones you enslaved and tormented for so long, the ones that left almost thirty years ago. Remember us? We've got some new friends...

Still, Nick mused, as he stirred the browning chunks of chicken, it did make him wonder if all the 'pretty' aliens were locked up behind slave shields. What does that say about us Androsynth, then? Are we monsters too? The Earthlings certainly made us out to be...

Then another thought made him pause: What if Earth should throw in with the Hierarchy as well? Wouldn't the two – well, he couldn’t call them species, given that they were the same – but wouldn't the two cultures have to work, and fight, side by side? He wondered what the Hierarchy thought about slaves fighting each other. Probably either 'disobedience will not be tolerated' or they'll let us snipe away, as long as it doesn't detract from the war of conquest.

He sighed, picked up the pan and tilted it to drain the fat off into a jar. That'll complicate things, won't it?

Dean entered the apartment then, and Nick hurried to get dinner ready. With the manufactories running twenty-five hours a day, his roommate would probably want to just eat and go to sleep. Even with the Androsynth work ethic, there were limits to what they could withstand.

Comments? Email me: laridian at aol dot com