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A [livejournal.com profile] b7friday challenge was to use a title of a Soprano episode as inspiration for a 100 word B7 drabble. Well...in arranging the titles, looking for ideas, I found that 30 of them made a 100 word story just by reading the rearranged titles. After I did that, I wrote a drabble for each, following a sequence of events.


Live Free or Die
Whitecaps
All Happy Families...
Sentimental Education
Another Toothpick
Full Leather Jacket
Unidentified Black Male
Big Girls Don't Cry
Whoever Did This
The Knight in White Satin Armor

The Strong, Silent Type
Join the Club
The Ride
The Happy Wanderer
46 Long
He Is Risen
The Fleshy Part of the Thigh
Guy Walks Into a Psychiatrist's Office
Everybody Hurts
Where's Johnny?

Pine Barrens
From Where to Eternity
Cold Stones
Denial, Anger, Acceptance
Army of One
D-Girl
For All Debts Public and Private
A Hit is a Hit
To Save Us All From Satan's Power
Do Not Resuscitate


Live Free or Die

Dayna whimpered a little. Daddy was carrying her, and that meant she was all right, but he was crying. Daddy never cried.

He handed her up to a stranger on a metal ladder, and she shrieked with terror, knowing if he left her, she'd be all alone. Mommy was gone. Mommy had been...she just lay there, and she was all wet, and she didn't touch Dayna.

"No. It's all right, Dayna." Daddy took her back. "I...I'll go with you." He climbed up the ladder awkwardly, with her clinging to his neck as he groped his way upward. It wasn't dark.


Whitecaps

Dayna tossed a seashell into the foam. Birds rose and then dove again for the bread crusts she'd flung on the shore for them. It was very pretty, she supposed, but very lonely, too. She sighed and picked up a shell and flung it much harder.

It collided with an unwary seagull, and the bird fell to the sand, neck at an ugly angle. Dayna picked up the bird. She spread the wing and marveled at the articulation and detail of the muscles that operated it. It had been so free, so beautiful. She vowed never to kill another bird.


All Happy Families...

Dayna sat on top of the cliff, watching the three Sarrans. They had a girl about Dayna's age with them. That was unusual, she almost never saw their women. Daddy said they stayed in the tents. She couldn't understand why, it would have bored her silly.

A man wearing a lot of seashell necklaces was making a fuss, waving his arms and shouting. He grabbed the girl by her pretty blonde hair and drew a knife. Dayna drew her sling.

When she explained to Daddy that she couldn't let the man cut off Lauren's hair, he said she could stay.


Sentimental Education

Justin leaned over Dayna's shoulder and pointed out her error. He patted her shoulder. "You're a very bright girl. I could teach you so much more."

Dayna beamed and giggled when his hand slipped off her shoulder to touch her bosom. It wasn't much of a bosom yet, but she liked it when he touched her.

Lauren watched him with narrowed eyes before she went off to talk with daddy. The next day, Dayna cried when Justin announced that he'd got a sudden emergency call and had to leave.

Lauren crawled into bed with her and comforted her, as always.


*Another Toothpick

Dayna grinned and sighted down the length of her new gun. She really didn't need to sight it as it compared the image in its memory with the real animal before her. It pulled her arm around and blasted the snarling warg-strangler to bloody bits. It was a pity they weren't worth eating.

She went to check that the gun had targeted the 'strangler's most vulnerable spot. She picked up the baby warg it had been choking and petted it until it tried to bite her. Then she let it go. When it grew bigger, it would be worth killing.

*On first boarding Liberator, the handguns were compared to toothpicks- ergo, a toothpick is a weapon.


Full Leather Jacket

That was far too nice to waste. Dayna watched the stranger struggle with the Sarran until the fight was over. She knew she'd be angry if someone cheated her out of a kill.

She shot the Sarrans, mentally adding them to her score, and ran down to the man in the gray leather jacket. Lovely eyelashes, gorgeous mouth.

And he knew how to wear clothes. She stroked his jacket, admiring the fit and the fineness of it. She picked him up, put him over her shoulders like a fresh-killed buck and rose to her feet. This pet she was keeping.


Unidentified Black Male

Dayna looked down at her father's body. With his last breath he'd called her, only she'd arrived too late. She would never hear his voice again, never see him smile or laugh the way he did that made everything all right.

Her chin firmed. Everything he did would vanish with him. Everything except her and Lauren. His daughters would remember his name and teach the universe that Hal Mellanby had been someone special. She took his medallion and put it around her own neck.

Among all the things he'd never do again, he'd never tell her not to kill people.


Big Girls Don't Cry

Not Lauren, too. Dayna's eyes were wet, and the moisture wasn't sea spray. Avon was an unexpected comfort. He didn't offer pretty condolences or say that time would make it better, or lie and say that Lauren hadn't suffered.

He just told her what to do. Like daddy would have, without hesitation or any doubts that he would be obeyed.

Dayna wiped off the tears streaming down her face. Tears were no good for weapons, salt water weakens them.

She nodded and followed Avon. She wasn't alone. She had Avon, and she had hate. That would be enough for her.


Whoever Did This

Dayna sighted down into the Sarran's camp at Servalan, slowly tightening her trigger finger. It seemed too clean, too quick, and far too impersonal. She was relieved in a way, when Avon gave her a purely practical reason not to kill Servalan.

Not to kill her now. He gave her no morals, no speeches about the wrongness of killing a murderer without fair trial. Maybe Avon wasn't really much like her father. Maybe he was more like her.

All right, then, when the time came, maybe she'd let him hand her the knives. Servalan needed to die at least twice.


The Knight in White Satin Armor

Avon wasn't just clever, he was sharp. Dayna approved of the speed with which he'd given the Federation officers a story about them. He'd given her the chance to regain her equilibrium, startled by the sudden presence of so many enemies she had to talk to.

He took her hand and gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze. Dayna suddenly wished she had given in to her impulse and gone to him that last night in her own home.

He would have been beautiful between white satin sheets. Now that they were on his ship, she sensed it would never happen.


The Strong, Silent Type

Avon won't tell them anything, and neither will I. Not that there's much I could tell them. I’m so embarrassed. I had a chance to impress Avon by killing those guards, but instead I let them knock us out and throw us into this room.

Well, at least I can put Avon on this bed, and make him more comfortable.

That jacket is awfully tight... and so are the trousers... I mean, if they're going to kill us anyway, I'd like to really satisfy my curiosity.

Oh. That's... very pretty...oh uh, he's waking up. Zip him up and act innocent.


Join the Club

Cally took me aside soon after she returned to the ship. She was very kind, showing me everything I'd need from the medical unit and offering her advice.

She directed me to the wardrobe room, and we had a lot of fun in there. Then we had some wine in her cabin and afterward she told me about Avon and Blake. It seemed a pity at first, but then she offered to share her collection of internal vids. They'd been Jenna's. Zen had recorded them for her.

I must say life on Liberator is more educational than I'd ever imagined.


The Ride

It's so strange to think how fast we're traveling and yet you can't tell you're moving at all. Liberator isn't like walking, or even riding a stolen Sarran horse (which was fun until I fell off).

When you look out the portholes... which aren't portholes, and you're not really looking out... you're seeing a computer-generated image of what you'd see if you were sitting on the outside of the ship in a spacesuit and if the ship were sitting still.

It's all illusion, but it's all real, too. We're really in this ship, fighting the whole Federation. We'll win, too.


The Happy Wanderer

It's beautiful in space. It's not like the kind of beauty you have on Sarran, where everything is really alive, if you just think about it. Either alive, or it might be alive, someday.

Space is just... space. It's cold and it's clean and the planets are so unimportant they might as well not be there.

Whenever I'm getting frustrated, waiting for a chance at Servalan, I like to think of her looking out on space and knowing that no matter what she does, no matter how many people she kills or tortures, she can't own space. No one can.


46 Long

The black jacket didn't fit Tarrant. Anyone could see that, even in the excitement when he ran onto the flight deck to steer us out of the asteroids Vila had steered us into. Why would he wear it? The wardrobe room could give him anything, even the red velvet with gold stars on it, which made Vila laugh and call him 'Space Cadet'.

I went to his cabin while he was still on the flight deck and looked in his closet. I blinked. And then I took out the purple silk nightgown I thought had been lost in the wash.


He Is Risen

Tarrant came into his cabin and blushed. I grinned. "You're cute." Then I twirled in front of him, letting my nightgown swirl. "Don't you think it looks better on me?"

"Yes. Yes, it does." He swallowed. I know, because I could see his Adam's apple bob above the too tight collar of his black jacket.

"The jacket probably looks better on Avon."

Tarrant sighed. "Yes."

"Do you only like clothes?" I'd read about such things, but thought they were joking. I mean, when I wanted, I wanted people.

"No." He came over to me, and swallowed again. "I like you."


The Fleshy Part of the Thigh

Tarrant was nice. That was probably the problem. He was considerate and he always asked and he went to a lot of trouble with foreplay and making sure I was ready, until I got the feeling he was doing it as a favor to me.

He seemed to be making little mental notes sometimes, like 'ear-lobe nipping is good', 'holding arms down is bad'.

So one day I gave him my folded-up nightie and said I was sorry, but it just wasn't working out. He took it like a gentleman. That made me certain I had made the right decision.


Guy Walks Into a Psychiatrist's Office

Avon's changed. He's still beautiful, but it hurts to look at him. His voice is still velvet, but his laugh is broken, like glass.

Sometimes we talk about him. Well, it's a small ship, really, what else can we do? Tarrant thinks it's losing Liberator that's done it to him. Vila thinks it's losing Cally. I mention all the plans that have gone wrong.

Soolin doesn't really know him so she doesn't know what none of us are saying. We really think it's because he's lost Blake, which is funny because Avon is the least sentimental man in the universe.


Everybody Hurts

It's not just Avon, now. It's all of us. We used to have a little fun, play a game, sing a song, even have hobbies in between missions.

Now we just... do our jobs, and try to stay alive a little longer. Try to stay two steps ahead of the Federation. Ahead of Servalan. Vila doesn't tell bad jokes, Tarrant doesn't argue with Avon, I don't even think of new weapons. It all seems pointless.

I asked Soolin once why she didn't leave us and she shrugged. I guess she feels like I do, any family is better than none.

Where's Johnny?

We're hunting Blake. It's not as bad as Terminal, which was pretty frightening even before we got there. This time, Avon has told us about it ahead of time, which should make it better.

He didn't say we had to go with him. Of course, none of us really has anyplace else to go, so he pretty much knew we'd come.

Vila says Blake really understood Avon and got the best out of him, got the best out of everyone. I'd like to be part of a winning team.

And besides, Blake was beautiful. I'd really like to meet him.


Pine Barrens

Gauda Prime isn't anything like Sarran. I don't know why I thought it would be. There are all these trees, you'd think the place would be full of life.

I haven't seen a bird, or a rodent or anything moving except branches in the wind and us. There doesn't seem to be anything growing except pine trees, either. They smell like disinfectant, maybe that's why there aren't any animals.

It's bound to be more cheerful when we get to Blake's base. And then everything will be fine...of course it will, Tarrant will be there, and Avon.

Everything will be fine.


From Where to Eternity

They threw us all into one compartment of a pursuit ship and sealed the door. That was their first big mistake. The second was that they didn't look too closely to be sure we were all dead. The third was that they didn't take Vila's lockpicks. The fourth was that they didn't take Avon's knife.

I can hear them whispering in my ears. Vila tells me how to open the door. Avon tells me to use the knife even after I have several trooper's guns. Tarrant tells me how to pilot the ship after I'm alone on it. Soolin laughs.


Cold Stones

Tarrant probably wanted a star orbit burial, but I don't know how to do that properly. Besides, I've been thinking of Sarran. It wasn't right, leaving Daddy and Lauren like that.

I'm going to take my friends home to meet my family. I know just what to do. There are caves, beautiful caves with crystals in the walls, caves that are always cool and quiet and comforting.

They'll be very comfortable there, Lauren and Daddy and my friends, all together. And safe. I'll make sure they're settled in properly, and then I'll blast the entrance.

Avon nods. Avon liked Daddy.


Denial, Anger, Acceptance

Avon tells me that I should have got Orac. I tell him if he wanted it, he should have got it, because it was his, after all. That made him angry.

Vila thinks I’m right, though, Orac never liked us and it only told us things when it could get us in trouble.

Tarrant tells me the codes and I aim the ship at a small Federation outpost. I need a Federation uniform. I have plenty, but none fit right.

Soolin tries to argue with me. She says... she says...they're all dead.

I tell her I know. It doesn't matter.


Army of One

Vila showed me how to forge an I.D. and Avon helped me locate a suitable one from the computer records. It took a while, because Servalan mostly has male aides, and there weren't many other people in space command with access to her private quarters.

By the time I left, the air on the outpost was very bad. I just wanted to leave, but Soolin said it would be much safer to cover my tracks.

I didn't think I'd left any fingerprints, and the people here are quiet, not like my friends, but after all, I enjoy a good explosion.


D-Girl

I smile inside, where no one can see, as I dock with Space Command. Avon was right, no one looks twice at a mutoid pilot. The hat is uncomfortable, but then, I won't be wearing it long. And it makes a good place to hide things.

I like my boots. I think the officer I took them from must have had them custom-made. The heels make me taller than usual, and click nicely on the deck.

I stride purposefully, without pause or hesitation. People let me pass as if I am invisible.

I am all in black. I am Death.


For All Debts Public and Private

Servalan is in her office. Avon is relieved. He had said that maybe she would be on Earth, gloating over Blake's body. I'm not sure about that. Wasn't Blake with us?

I didn't put him in the cave, did I? It was a long time ago, Vila says and he was drunk, so he doesn't remember.

The computer says Servalan is here. Tarrant helps me come up with an official and urgent message that must be hand-delivered by a specially blanked mutoid.

I am going to give Servalan everything we owe her. This is the happiest day of my life.


A Hit is a Hit

Servalan's office seals from the inside so no one can get in. I tie her in a chair and carefully remove all her clothes. I don't want to make any mistakes and let her go quickly.

Vila wants to gag her, but I don't mind hearing her. I take my hat off and start with the smallest knife. It won't be easy, but she's got to die for each of us.

Servalan is disappointing. She cries when she's still got a long way to go. She says she'll do anything I want.

Yes, she will. I want her to die.


To Save Us All From Satan's Power

Servalan says Blake is alive. Tarrant tells me where she has especially tender places. Servalan screams beautifully. The sound-proofing is excellent.

Vila says it wouldn't hurt to listen, so I let her tell me Blake is in a cell here. Some story about clones, or androids, or twin brothers. Avon wants him freed to lead Blake's rebellion so we promise to release Servalan once Blake is free.

She gives orders to let Blake escape in a ship as bait. We watch on the monitors as he leaves. And then we go back to work. Servalan will never hurt anyone again.



Do Not Resuscitate

Avon's laser probe takes a long time, but I cut Servalan up and feed her into the wall disposal.

I clean the carpet, the chair, the desk and the walls. Vila says it's not as bad as glycolene ballast chambers.

When I am done the universe is clean of Servalan.

I sit in her chair, and Avon helps me break her codes and send all the information in space command to every rebel base.

And then I take the last thing from my hat, the Nuclear Compression Charge Vila had removed from Dorian's door so long ago, and trigger it.

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