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 #76.

What the hell happened to me? Feel weak as anything, like I can barely move, not 'cause I'm restrained or anything, just can't move, worse than being under high-gee. No invisible hand holding me down, just too weak to do anything. Well, not quite anything, I can move my head, anyway, so I turn it and see Lynn sleeping on the other bed in the half-light that comes from the main room.

I don't know why she insisted we have the beds in the same room. Doesn't make sense. Most of the time I'm gone, and it's not like we're gonna be doing anything anyway, you know? Maybe she just likes having me around when I'm here, or something.

At least my mind seems clear. So I'm trying to remember, what the hell happened?

Okay, so I went out mara-hunting, found a big'un, some bad-tempered old male that wasn't about to put up with a nosy little Androsynth taking potshots at it. I'd heard from some of the others in the area that this bad boy was a real fighter – he'd given a few folks good runs for their money, almost gotten a couple once or twice. After that they'd kinda left the big mara alone, because after that one Consul-guy's brain decided to implode, nobody really wants to worry much about actually dying.

But they said how you could identify him, so you could avoid him if you wanted to. Not that I wanted to. A prize like that? You kidding me?

So I found him, big nasty with the black scar on his face, and I took 'im down. Man, I'm gonna be able to really tell everyone about this – well, at least when I feel better, anyway – shit, I know he didn't do anything bad to me, I got me and the carcass all the way back home, didn't I? Skinned it, dropped the hide off to get tanned, gonna get me a new jacket made out of it, scars and all, got the meat packed away, Lynn and I won’t need to get any from the commissary for a while now –

Lynn. Maybe she knows what's going on. I try to speak, clear my throat, feels like there's a mass of snot lodged up near my tonsils, hack it out. Yeuch. Great, now I'm gonna have to clean the bed up too. The noise wakes her up, though.

She's looked better. Maybe she's not doin' so hot either. She sits up and sees me, sees I'm awake, starts to say my name but I cut her off: "What happened?"

"You got sick," she says, and I'm wondering if she's got it too, whatever it is. "I think it was a parasite, a microbe, from the mara you brought back. You were... pretty sick for a while there." She brushes the hair back from her face.

"A parasite?" Well, she'd know, wouldn't she? She was good at all that microbiological stuff. "Doctor been out here?"

"No... I got a little touch of it too, I think. Nobody's really missed us for a while."

Okay, that scares me a bit. Last thing I need is to get sick and die out here 'cause nobody expects us to be at work for a few days. "What the hell – did you contact anyone? You've been out here sick all this time? How long is 'for a while?' "

She gets mad back at me, which is good, 'cause it means she's all right. "Look, you didn't die, did you? You're all right. We'll throw out the mara meat, just to be safe. I'll call to see if anyone medical can come out here and take a look."

I want to sit up and yell at her, but I can't – too weak. I curse instead, trying to string the words together so they form actual sentences of profanity.

"I'll get some tea, or broth," she says, standing up. And yeah, she looks a little peaked, too. "You need your strength back. I think you've lost some weight."

Damn straight – apparently all in my muscles. Shit. I try to get up again, manage to at least roll onto my side before wheezing and just lying there.

Damned mara parasites. Damn the spacers for making me stay down here. I've gotta get back into space. At least up there I won't get sick from some damn microbe. How the hell can I kill Earthlings – whenever we go to war with 'em – if some bug knocks me down while I'm planetside?

Gotta get better. Gotta get out of here. Then I'm gonna go kill something.

Comments? Email me: laridian at aol dot com