my_b7_fic: Avon karate chopping (Default)
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Written for the Blakes 7 Birthday Buffet ficathon


I was right, of course. Dayna's insistence on running blindly ahead landed her in trouble. I took my time and lined up my gun, admittedly feeling rather smug. As Dayna screamed, I shot the snake-plant. Wet chunks of plant flew everywhere. One large section landed at my feet, still writhing. I stepped back and the thing split open, revealing a creature a third the size of a link. It was white, plump, and short-legged. Its fur was damp and spiked with plant sap. It gave a surprisingly high-pitched whine and wrapped all four of its limbs around my boot up past the knee.

"Damn!" I shook my leg vigorously, but couldn't dislodge it. Dayna tried to pry it off. It hissed and tried to bite her. She stood back and drew a knife. "No!" I jumped back, creature and all, far more wary of the gleam in Dayna's eye than of the alien, which, after all, had done nothing more than cling to my leg. "Wait!"

After a few moments, the animal sheathed its claws and fell to the ground with a thump. It looked up at me with huge brown eyes and rubbed up against my leg, waggling its stumpy tail vigorously. Cautiously, I began walking away. It followed me. I walked faster. It walked faster, making small petulant noises. I ran. The creature cried and ran after me, but its legs were too short to keep up. Dayna ran along with me, giggling despite the seriousness of our situation. I suspect she was amused to see me flee rather than shoot the beast, but it was logic rather than sentiment that made me choose that course of action. There was only one weapon; no sense wasting charges. Finally we left it behind, still crying in protest.

--



Cally was dead. The Liberator was destroyed. Tarrant was wounded. Orac was damaged. We are stranded on a primitive world full of cannibalistic anthropoids. Could life get any better? I looked up as something cold and damp landed on the back of my neck. Yes, it could. Snow. Wonderful.

--



I was on watch. Tarrant wasn't fit for it at the moment, and Vila never had been reliable at that task. Dayna did her best, but having a clear conscience, she tended to sleep like a baby. I was thinking, trying to plan. I hadn't expected to sleep, but I had overestimated my resources and the effect of nearly ninety hours without rest. I woke with a start. There was warmth down the right side of my body, and my hand rested on fur. I scrambled to my feet with a shout, rousing the others.

The white creature cringed at my feet. I was sorely tempted to shoot it. Vila screamed and pointed at a furry black lump lying just beyond our camp circle. Dayna went to it and prodded it with a stick, rolling it over. "It's a link." She wrinkled her nose. "What's left of a link."

I looked down on the white creature, whose stomach bulged in a revealing fashion. It crept forward and licked my boots, then rolled its eyes up to me in mute appeal. I sighed and lowered my gun. "Well, I suppose it can stay."

--



Dayna insisted on naming the creature, "Fluffy," which was absurd, but not worth arguing about. It was intelligent enough to learn its name quickly and to learn to obey what commands I felt necessary, such as 'No, don't eat my boots'. It didn't obey any of the others, which disgruntled Vila, who said he'd always wanted a dog. It certainly didn't look like a dog, but the behaviour patterns fitted. Evolution had been kinder to canines than humanity, apparently.

When we escaped Terminal on Dorian's ship, I'd expected to leave Fluffy to fend for itself, but Dayna and Vila conspired to smuggle it aboard. They were quite pleased with themselves until I pointed out that it wasn't spaceship trained. After letting them deal, badly, with the problem for a few days, I trained Fluffy to use the toilet facilities. It was more trainable than Tarrant, which made a pleasant change. It also followed me everywhere, which was annoying at first, but I became accustomed to it and eventually barely noticed it trailing behind me on silent padded feet.

Fluffy continued to grow at an alarming rate until its sides scraped doorways and there was no safe place to hide one's pudding for later, short of locking in a cabinet. It hunted for itself on Xenon, or we could not have managed to feed it. One day I found it pawing at its mouth and on investigation I extracted a crude necklace. Pity about the Hommicks, but they really shouldn't have attacked me. Fluffy is very protective; he kept Dayna at bay, which was convenient. Eventually she gave up on me and seemed reasonably happy with Tarrant, which improved the atmosphere all around.

I must admit, I was slightly vexed with Fluffy the day he ate Servalan. It was her own fault, though. She really shouldn't have gloated when the slavers had me on my knees. Vila was supposed to keep Fluffy on the ship, but Fluffy had learned how to use the teleport, holding a bracelet between his teeth. How could I punish him for being clever?

And Zukan... well, his daughter was upset, but when turning out his pockets had revealed his betrayal, she accepted it as his just deserts. Keiller... well, he really shouldn't have been so chummy. It upset me. Fluffy doesn't like people who upset me. Poor Fluffy, though, he found Keiller as difficult to stomach as I did. For all his intelligence Fluffy is a slow learner when it comes to food. Egrorian and Pinder... well, really, some things simply aren't edible, as I told Fluffy while dosing him with mineral oil.

I've found Blake at last. We're going to Gauda Prime. I've explained to Fluffy very carefully that Blake is my friend. I'm sure he understands. Blake would never betray me.


(I used prompt #15. Anything - anything at all that lands Avon with a weird and unwonderful but devoted alien pet. Preferably a baby alien pet. That's bigger than he is. {And - if you like the idea - wants to protect him from being 'mauled' by whichever crewmember you want to pair him with...} )

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December 2011

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