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 #57 and First Lines 1000's Challenge #9.

Dean is so effing dead.

If I weren't already on the tender – sorry, lander - what inspired them to give up perfectly legitimate nomenclature for a ferry-craft I'll never know – if I weren't already here, I'd probably go home.

Except that "home" is an empty place right now, and I couldn't stay there. I hate my life sometimes. Not enough to end it, mind you. Just enough to wallow in it.

I can't stomach being alone, completely alone. Being in crowds, at work, whatever: that's all fine. It's not like I'm afraid of strangers or anything. But I can't stomach the thought of admitting this to anyone, either. It's not exactly something you want broadcast everywhere. Speaking of broadcast, I just hope to hell nobody's started putting things together and wondered why Misanthrope Nick is chasing after his roommate. Chasing him down through his friends. At least we don't have relationship issues like the Earthlings do – I'm sure if we were there, I'd already be approached by the Gay Saviors or whichever group was active in that area, even though it's a documented fact Androsynth don't feel anything, thank you very much. Given how some Earthlings acted, I'm not sure I'd want to feel like that, either.

So. Okay, this is all technically my fault for causing the rift in the first place, but part of me still wants to throttle him and just... except that's hardly the way to convince someone to stay your roommate. So I have to make a different plan, during the short ride to the starbase.

I can't believe he's serious about becoming a spacer. But he's up there, and how the heck am I gonna make him choose otherwise?

Okay. Take all the responsibility. That's a good start. The old It's not you, it's me thing. And there's some truth to it, too. Some truth to a lie always helps. Say it's all my fault and that I'll change. Wait... too much of that and it's gonna sound fake. I need to make it sound real. Hm. I hadn't realized what I was like to live with. I'm sorry, please give me another chance.

It galls me to no end to be like that. Too much like back on Earth. But beggars can't be choosers. If this mess gets out then I've got enough problems. I don't want it known all over Eta Vulpeculae 2 that I drove off a roommate – I'll never get another one. And I can't live alone.

... which is why I'm stuck on this effing tender lander dammit and why I want to wring his neck for leaving.

Enough of that, can't let anger come through. Gotta be quiet. Gotta be nice. Gotta show I'm trying to change. And I need to, I really do, if he's gonna stick around. Or gonna change his mind, if he really did go become a spacer. They can't have decided already, can they?

I hate my life. But I'm stuck with having to share it with someone if I don't want to go crazy. Wish I could just get a new one. Life, I mean.

At least the anger feels better than the fear.

Maybe I really should see a doctor about this. But that would go on my permanent record, I think. Can't have that, don't want it so easily known.

Damn, we're here already and I still don’t have everything written out... Okay. I'm sorry, I hadn't realized how much hassle I was. I'm willing to make a change. Please give me another chance. Tears? No, don't think so – I'm not much good at crying on command, and that would look weird. Gotta find the line between sorrowful and hopeful and rational. Gotta keep the anger in check.

We're here. Time to disembark. Hope I can find him quickly.

Too quickly. He's right here. What's he waiting for? Damn, I'm nervous. Good thing I haven't eaten in hours 'cause I don't think I could keep it down. What the hell's wrong with me? Time to pay the piper. Deep breath, stay calm, try not to look too weird.

"Dean!"

Comments? Email me: laridian at aol dot com