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A small POV switch of the last section of FleetHome, from the Space Electric series. Someone wanted to know what Tony looked like to someone who wasn't uplinked during the jump.
Title: Goddamn Technomancers
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Avengers movieverse (Space Electric)
Characters/Pairings: Nick Fury, Maria Hill, Tony Stark.
Summary: Nick Fury watches Stark as they jump into FleetHome
Wordcount: 1399
Warnings/Notes: POV retread of the last section of FleetHome
Disclaimer: Not mine
Title: Goddamn Technomancers
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Avengers movieverse (Space Electric)
Characters/Pairings: Nick Fury, Maria Hill, Tony Stark.
Summary: Nick Fury watches Stark as they jump into FleetHome
Wordcount: 1399
Warnings/Notes: POV retread of the last section of FleetHome
Disclaimer: Not mine
Goddamn Technomancers
Barton was right, Nick decided, with the same twinge of mixed annoyance and apprehension that usually accompanied the thought. Stark in communion with a ship was, in fact, creepy. Exponentially so, when there was more than one ship involved. The little 'voice of legion' trick on the in-jump had been bad enough, a snarled tangle of mechanised voices spilling out from Stark's grey, immobile face. There was no telling what the hell was going to happen in the next few minutes, when according to every pilot he had, out-jump was an order of magnitude worse. To the point, if you listened to Stark himself, of being potentially fatal.
Hell. Why was Barton only ever right about situations that were liable to explode in your face?
"I hope you know what the fuck you're doing, Stark," he growled, bracing himself into Fleet Command as though he was about to hit coronal turbulence on the other side, instead of what would theoretically be the clear landing space of Morian disembarkment. Stark should know. The man apparently forgot critical information on a regular basis, but there was no way Stark would still be alive now unless he was able to compensate for it as a matter of course. He should be able to handle this.
"I always do," the man grinned, cocksure and casual as he climbed back into the pilot's cradle. "And hey, the only person this should kill if it goes wrong is me, so lighten up, okay?"
That was ... Nick shot him a fulminating glare, for that one, did the idiot think that was comforting? Yes, the only person who might be killed, by something that should have been a normal hyperspace jump, was the traumatised and politically vital not-prisoner who held their fleet in his head. Not to mention the man they were theoretically supposed to be rescuing. How reassuring, Stark.
Stark, blinking at him, just looked confused. Before looking ... something else entirely, as the intelligence bled out of his eyes, turning inwards as his body settled as far back into the cradle as it could go without trying to fuse to it. The man's body locked itself gently into position, and his expression took on that distant, faintly smiling cast it did when his mind was busy bouncing around in subspace or wherever the hell it went.
As Barton said. Creepy. It looked nothing like Maria, or any other uplinked pilot Nick had seen. They tended to look distant, focused, even occasionally as though there was more than just their own intelligence in their heads. Not ... absent. Not like they'd climbed out of their own skulls to go ... somewhere else. Then again, if what Maria said was true, that was because Stark did go somewhere else, his implant apparently allowing him to upload his consciousness in a way that theoretically should not actually be possible.
Yes, Maria'd told him. It felt exactly as creepy and worrying as it sounded. Stark's entrance onto the ship had made something of an impression on her, it seemed.
"Ready when you are," Stark said suddenly, cutting across the thought and almost startling Nick into flinching. Stark, and who the fuck knew who else, somewhere between four and twenty AI, the voice of fucking legion. Nick couldn't quite contain the grimace, turning back to the fleet controls and forcibly making himself refocus.
"Goddamn fucking technomancers," he snarled, because at this point he felt he was justified, and dropped the hand. A single command through nineteen ships, and a silent snarl through the rising whine of hyperspace engines, because this was it. Fatal or not fatal, they were fucking jumping.
For a split second, as the viewscreens whited out from the technical interference of the jump, it looked like they'd be fine. For a bare second, the narrowing tunnel through white interference through to the safe darkness of space, they thought they'd made it.
Then Stark screamed. And kept screaming.
It was a damn good job they were jumping to safe territory, Nick thought, his knuckles white on the Command console, staying desperately rigid while every last person around him leapt like startled cats and snapped around to stare at Stark in mute horror. Hyperspace broke ahead of them, dropping from even the edges of viewscreen, and nothing emerged in his rigid, automatic scan to threaten them. Clear. Thank fuck. They were clear.
Then, and only then, did he turn to look at Stark.
The man was grey-faced, his eyes wide open, utterly blind. He was coming down out of the seizure, now, his limbs collapsing out of arched rigidity to twitch helplessly against the confines of the cradle. He'd stopped screaming, at least, his breath coming in harsh, desperate pants, air shuddering desperately into his body. He had a mechanical heart, Nick remembered. That was good, that meant he could hold on through one hell of a lot.
Then he remembered why Stark had a mechanical heart, and the thought suddenly wasn't nearly so reassuring.
Maria moved opposite him, shifted in her own cradle, and Nick caught the flicker of her eyes in subspace communication. Her hands were tight and furious around the braces of her cradle, but her head was inclined towards Stark, and her expression was moving from shocked fear into angry relief. Stark. Had to be. Stark was ... at least partially still with them.
Nick peeled his hands up off the console, rubbing stiffly at his face for a second. Goddamn three ringed circus. Everything Stark fucking touched. They couldn't do one fucking thing the normal way, with him around.
Maria looked over at him. Smiling tight and exasperated, nodding an all-clear towards Stark. Nick raised a questioning eyebrow.
"He's gone off-ship for a minute," she explained, shortly. "JARVIS, I think. But he's healthy enough to be apologising for alarming us, so I think we're mostly clear, sir."
Mostly clear. Well okay then.
Nick sighed, waving a hand towards her part in acknowledgement and part to let the bridge crew know he agreed, they were clear, get back to work. Then, slowly and tiredly, he left his station and moved to Stark's side, leaning down carefully to hit the manual releases on the cradle braces. Stark, still off in la-la land with his AI, never even twitched. Well. Not voluntarily, anyway. But the automatic shudders looked to be easing too.
"... orbit," Stark muttered, suddenly, and Nick blinked down at him. Staring as Stark mumbled vaguely and not really audibly to himself, a word here or there emerging more clearly. With a few in there that made Nick twitch slightly. "Something strange." Then, slightly louder, still absent and almost musing. "She can do things. That station. She's not what she looks like ..."
Ah. Nick looked down at him, a slow, slightly vicious grin creeping across his face. Yeah, Stark was an engineer, wasn't he. Enough to catch the hints, if not read the signs. And Stark had never been to FleetHome before.
Maybe, Nick thought, a touch vindictively, SHIELD would have the chance to show Stark something creepy in return.
"Yeah," he said out loud, pitching his voice to carry and cut through Stark's little mental holiday. "You'll pardon us for not showing you exactly what she can do just yet, won't you?"
Stark blinked. Shuddered up into full awareness, his pupils dilating out to normal ranges, and then he was looking up at Nick, confused and slightly alarmed. Visibly running back what he'd just thought/said, wondering if he'd bumped up against something he shouldn't have. It was nasty to think so, given all the man had gone though, but Nick still found it vaguely satisfying to see the shoe on the other foot for once.
"Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr Stark," he said, holding out a hand to help the man to his feet, and then a shoulder to keep him there. "And welcome to FleetHome. Shield One."
Stark held on tight, his limbs still trembling faintly, and tried a shaky-looking smile. "Thanks," he said, with what Nick thought was an admirable attempt at nonchalance. "Real nice place you got here."
And Nick let his grin slip out, let that hint of danger show clear, an odd form of salute for Stark's determined fearlessness, and nodded.
"Yes," he said, standing on home ground with his arm holding Stark on his feet. "Yes, we do."
Contd (Natasha, Bruce and Barbara): In Honour's Palm
Barton was right, Nick decided, with the same twinge of mixed annoyance and apprehension that usually accompanied the thought. Stark in communion with a ship was, in fact, creepy. Exponentially so, when there was more than one ship involved. The little 'voice of legion' trick on the in-jump had been bad enough, a snarled tangle of mechanised voices spilling out from Stark's grey, immobile face. There was no telling what the hell was going to happen in the next few minutes, when according to every pilot he had, out-jump was an order of magnitude worse. To the point, if you listened to Stark himself, of being potentially fatal.
Hell. Why was Barton only ever right about situations that were liable to explode in your face?
"I hope you know what the fuck you're doing, Stark," he growled, bracing himself into Fleet Command as though he was about to hit coronal turbulence on the other side, instead of what would theoretically be the clear landing space of Morian disembarkment. Stark should know. The man apparently forgot critical information on a regular basis, but there was no way Stark would still be alive now unless he was able to compensate for it as a matter of course. He should be able to handle this.
"I always do," the man grinned, cocksure and casual as he climbed back into the pilot's cradle. "And hey, the only person this should kill if it goes wrong is me, so lighten up, okay?"
That was ... Nick shot him a fulminating glare, for that one, did the idiot think that was comforting? Yes, the only person who might be killed, by something that should have been a normal hyperspace jump, was the traumatised and politically vital not-prisoner who held their fleet in his head. Not to mention the man they were theoretically supposed to be rescuing. How reassuring, Stark.
Stark, blinking at him, just looked confused. Before looking ... something else entirely, as the intelligence bled out of his eyes, turning inwards as his body settled as far back into the cradle as it could go without trying to fuse to it. The man's body locked itself gently into position, and his expression took on that distant, faintly smiling cast it did when his mind was busy bouncing around in subspace or wherever the hell it went.
As Barton said. Creepy. It looked nothing like Maria, or any other uplinked pilot Nick had seen. They tended to look distant, focused, even occasionally as though there was more than just their own intelligence in their heads. Not ... absent. Not like they'd climbed out of their own skulls to go ... somewhere else. Then again, if what Maria said was true, that was because Stark did go somewhere else, his implant apparently allowing him to upload his consciousness in a way that theoretically should not actually be possible.
Yes, Maria'd told him. It felt exactly as creepy and worrying as it sounded. Stark's entrance onto the ship had made something of an impression on her, it seemed.
"Ready when you are," Stark said suddenly, cutting across the thought and almost startling Nick into flinching. Stark, and who the fuck knew who else, somewhere between four and twenty AI, the voice of fucking legion. Nick couldn't quite contain the grimace, turning back to the fleet controls and forcibly making himself refocus.
"Goddamn fucking technomancers," he snarled, because at this point he felt he was justified, and dropped the hand. A single command through nineteen ships, and a silent snarl through the rising whine of hyperspace engines, because this was it. Fatal or not fatal, they were fucking jumping.
For a split second, as the viewscreens whited out from the technical interference of the jump, it looked like they'd be fine. For a bare second, the narrowing tunnel through white interference through to the safe darkness of space, they thought they'd made it.
Then Stark screamed. And kept screaming.
It was a damn good job they were jumping to safe territory, Nick thought, his knuckles white on the Command console, staying desperately rigid while every last person around him leapt like startled cats and snapped around to stare at Stark in mute horror. Hyperspace broke ahead of them, dropping from even the edges of viewscreen, and nothing emerged in his rigid, automatic scan to threaten them. Clear. Thank fuck. They were clear.
Then, and only then, did he turn to look at Stark.
The man was grey-faced, his eyes wide open, utterly blind. He was coming down out of the seizure, now, his limbs collapsing out of arched rigidity to twitch helplessly against the confines of the cradle. He'd stopped screaming, at least, his breath coming in harsh, desperate pants, air shuddering desperately into his body. He had a mechanical heart, Nick remembered. That was good, that meant he could hold on through one hell of a lot.
Then he remembered why Stark had a mechanical heart, and the thought suddenly wasn't nearly so reassuring.
Maria moved opposite him, shifted in her own cradle, and Nick caught the flicker of her eyes in subspace communication. Her hands were tight and furious around the braces of her cradle, but her head was inclined towards Stark, and her expression was moving from shocked fear into angry relief. Stark. Had to be. Stark was ... at least partially still with them.
Nick peeled his hands up off the console, rubbing stiffly at his face for a second. Goddamn three ringed circus. Everything Stark fucking touched. They couldn't do one fucking thing the normal way, with him around.
Maria looked over at him. Smiling tight and exasperated, nodding an all-clear towards Stark. Nick raised a questioning eyebrow.
"He's gone off-ship for a minute," she explained, shortly. "JARVIS, I think. But he's healthy enough to be apologising for alarming us, so I think we're mostly clear, sir."
Mostly clear. Well okay then.
Nick sighed, waving a hand towards her part in acknowledgement and part to let the bridge crew know he agreed, they were clear, get back to work. Then, slowly and tiredly, he left his station and moved to Stark's side, leaning down carefully to hit the manual releases on the cradle braces. Stark, still off in la-la land with his AI, never even twitched. Well. Not voluntarily, anyway. But the automatic shudders looked to be easing too.
"... orbit," Stark muttered, suddenly, and Nick blinked down at him. Staring as Stark mumbled vaguely and not really audibly to himself, a word here or there emerging more clearly. With a few in there that made Nick twitch slightly. "Something strange." Then, slightly louder, still absent and almost musing. "She can do things. That station. She's not what she looks like ..."
Ah. Nick looked down at him, a slow, slightly vicious grin creeping across his face. Yeah, Stark was an engineer, wasn't he. Enough to catch the hints, if not read the signs. And Stark had never been to FleetHome before.
Maybe, Nick thought, a touch vindictively, SHIELD would have the chance to show Stark something creepy in return.
"Yeah," he said out loud, pitching his voice to carry and cut through Stark's little mental holiday. "You'll pardon us for not showing you exactly what she can do just yet, won't you?"
Stark blinked. Shuddered up into full awareness, his pupils dilating out to normal ranges, and then he was looking up at Nick, confused and slightly alarmed. Visibly running back what he'd just thought/said, wondering if he'd bumped up against something he shouldn't have. It was nasty to think so, given all the man had gone though, but Nick still found it vaguely satisfying to see the shoe on the other foot for once.
"Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr Stark," he said, holding out a hand to help the man to his feet, and then a shoulder to keep him there. "And welcome to FleetHome. Shield One."
Stark held on tight, his limbs still trembling faintly, and tried a shaky-looking smile. "Thanks," he said, with what Nick thought was an admirable attempt at nonchalance. "Real nice place you got here."
And Nick let his grin slip out, let that hint of danger show clear, an odd form of salute for Stark's determined fearlessness, and nodded.
"Yes," he said, standing on home ground with his arm holding Stark on his feet. "Yes, we do."
Contd (Natasha, Bruce and Barbara): In Honour's Palm
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