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 #74.

The worst part was the sitting and waiting.

Dean drummed his fingers on his knees even as he bounced said knees up and down. He had to calm down, had to be presentable. Discovering that his activities had caused this much uproar, that he was required to appear before the newly-identified Consuls – he couldn't help it, he was more than a little nervous.

Nick eyed him with concern. "Dean, it's gonna be all right. It's not like you've done anything bad."

"I know." Dean tried to steady his breathing. "I can't help it. I don't want to mess this up. I don't want to – don't want to hide it all away again. This is what I'm meant to do, Nick. I believe that now. I'm not supposed to pretend God doesn't exist. I just hope I don't become a martyr for it." He flashed a tight smile.

"What, you'd become Saint Dean of the Androsynth?" Nick chuckled. He sat down next to Dean in the small waiting room. On the other side of the far door were, presumably, the Consuls and their advisors, preparing to ask Dean about his church. Dean hoped they weren't playing the "waiting game" with him on purpose, to keep him off balance.

"I couldn't become a saint until after I died, certainly," Dean said, using the conversation to distract himself from the upcoming questioning. "After that, though, miracles have to happen in my name, so to speak. And a certain period of time has to pass, and there's beatification first. The Pope has final say on sainthood, anyway, and I doubt he'll have any indication of what's going on over here. And with most of Eta Vulpeculae not exactly devout... I doubt I'd have much chance at sainthood here." He uttered a small laugh.

Nick scratched his head. "I suppose you'll have to convert more people, then, if you want miracles – though that would be a miracle in itself, converting large numbers of Androsynth." He met Dean's curious gaze with a steady one of his own. "No, I'm not saying I'll convert. I'm just saying, if you want sainthood, that's all."

"Aiming for sainthood is probably a good way not to get it," Dean said, and realized his knees were stilled, even if his fingers still drummed. "That's hubris, after all, and sainthood generally requires something more on the order of humility. Besides, conversion of most Androsynth would probably take a miracle in the first place, you're right. It's not like we can do basic good works like feeding the poor or caring for the sick, because there really aren't any here. And I imagine it's one thing to convert people from their native religion to another... it's different to convert the actively, hostile-ly, anti-religious." He frowned. He'd better concentrate on his words when he got into the meeting itself; speaking proper Anglic would help his case.

"Unless you somehow saved all our collective butts from war or something. Didn't saints do that kind of thing too?" Nick mused. "War or famine or disease... not that we have much of those, either. I guess it is sort of an uphill battle if you want to generally help out, isn't it? I wouldn't say we're a utopia – "

"God forbid," Dean said quietly.

"- but we're self-reliant, and nobody's even died since we got here. Exactly what are you going to say to the Consuls if they ask you what your plans are?"

Dean took a deep breath, and noticed he felt much calmer. Probably this had been Nick's plan all along: to get his mind back on track, somehow, to help him think his way through, even a little bit, before the big meeting. "I think I'll do okay," he said. "We're trying to keep to ourselves, we're not proselytizing, we're not forcing anyone to join. We just want freedom to worship. I think we'll get that much, because no matter what everyone's personal beliefs, if the Consuls try to impose any rules about religion – pro or con – someone's going to worry about the state, well, the Consuls, imposing other rules about what you can do or say or think. At least, that's how I hope it'll turn out."

An Androsynth stepped out of the far door. "Dean? The Consuls are ready to see you."

Nick put a hand on Dean's shoulder as the two stood up. "Good luck," he said.

"Thanks." Dean crossed himself, made sure his Bible was still in his satchel, and followed the Consul's advisor into the meeting room.

Comments? Email me: laridian at aol dot com