(no subject)

[dreamer_easy]

At last, the final part of outsdr's fic. Part one here, part two here. Set after the end of S4, so beware SPOILERS.

There are some operations they can't knock you out for, so they give you a drug that makes you forget what happened. You still go through the pain, but I guess you only go through it once, you don't have to relive it. One day someone's going to work out how to do that for all the everyday shit that breaks our hearts and buggers up our brains, and they're going to make a fortune. Thing is, if you can't remember what happened, what chance have you got of making sure it doesn't happen again?

Hmmm. Mind wanders when I'm flying. I guess it's my own autopilot kicking in.

Donna's watching the countryside from the co-pilot's seat. We're travelling over a pea-green bayou; might as well be another planet. She said she wasn't hungry, but when I handed her a bottle of water and a bag of sandwiches, she realised she was ravenous. Well, you would be, after living on airline food for a week.

When she starts slowing down a bit she says, 'How did you find me?'

'Friend of a friend. Actually, a lot of friends of friends. They kept me updated on your itinerary - were you rolling dice, woman? Pohnpei? - anyway, I deadheaded into Atlanta on the plane you were due to catch next.'

'No, I mean - why did you find me?'

I glance at her. 'I used to do what you used to do.'

You can see it in her face - that sudden flash in her eyes, like anger, or an a-ha!, sparks going off in the brain. The secret, an angry sphinx, protecting itself. 'Don't tell me,' she growls. It startles her, frightens her. In a little voice she says, 'Where are we going?'

'We're not going anywhere. I just needed to find somewhere we can talk without being overheard. This old Fokker's perfect.'

I pat the dashboard. Makes me cringe, it really does, thinking back to my twenties. If you wanted to fly, really fly, move the big equipment, Reg Ansett would tell you that you couldn't drive a jet because you had periods. And I went along with it, like a good girl. Perfect stewie material, nice figure, nice legs.

'What am I supposed to do?' she says. 'Are you here to save me?'

'Nobody can save you. Except yourself. Problem is, it's kill or cure.'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

I glance at my watch. Time to get it over with. 'This isn't going to be fun. Donna. The Rani won't give up chasing you. How do we hide you?'

She curls up, suddenly, like I've just hit her in the face with a cricket bat, and scrunches her fingers in her hair. 'Oh God!'

'Donna. Think.'

'Bio-dampener,' she gasps. 'Still got it. Didn't know why I was hanging onto it.'

'You're sure it'll work?'

'Yeah.' Looks like she's trying to pull her hair out by the roots. 'Yeah, yeah, it'll work.'

'Where is it?'

'My jewellery drawer,' she sobs. 'Jesus Christ!'

'Hold on!'

'Tegan! For God's sake! You're gonna kill me!'

'Donna, hold on!' I look at my watch again.

The scream's so loud, in this tiny space, it nearly deafens me.

That's when - half a minute later than I'd have liked - the amnestic in her water finally kicks in.

Comments

[outsdr.livejournal.com]

Very nice. And like so many of short fics you write here, I feel like just the surface of the story possibilities has been scratched and exposed.


Any commentary on the writing process for this one?

[kateorman.livejournal.com]

I've wanted to do older!pilot!Tegan forever. :)

For what they're worth, here are my original notes:

[outsdr.livejournal.com]

That last line just kills me.

[kateorman.livejournal.com]

I realised she'd have to blow up a jumbo full of passengers to pull it off!

[outsdr.livejournal.com]

See, I pictured Tegan grabbing one of those small oxygen bottles, the silver foot-long ones, and smacking the Rani in the back of the head with it.

[kateorman.livejournal.com]

"I guess that would work too." - Captain Nirvana

My initial plan was to use Tegan's flight attendant-fu - she'd be able to find one of the many hidden compartments in the plane where oxygen is kept, then break the valve so the thing turned into a miniature missile.

[outsdr.livejournal.com]

I like her being a pilot. It's a natural progression for the character.

[kateorman.livejournal.com]

Logopolis is roughly contemporaneous with a landmark discrimination case involving (now defunct Australian airline) Ansett's refusal to employ a female pilot, Deborah Lawrie, who fought and won.

[outsdr.livejournal.com]

Wow, what a woman. And honestly- "women's menstrual cycles made them unsuitable" to be a commercial pilot? WTF?

[kelemvor.livejournal.com]

Wouldn't she be able to at least cripple the Rani with a good sharp blow to the major ganglion by her left shoulder?

Also, I love the idea of Tegan coming to the rescue.

[kateorman.livejournal.com]

lulz old skool

You know, I actually had Tegan giving Donna some aspirin in anticipation of her big headache, then changed it to ibuprofen. ;)

[kelemvor.livejournal.com]

I'd class "Set Piece" and its ilk as "mid school", but that's just my training. :)

*Misses the wonderful power of NSAIDs*

[pedanther]

I like this.

(In itself, but also in comparison with other post-S4 Donna fic I've seen. There's a basic difference in approach, I think: with the other stuff, Donna and her situation is the story, but with this, Donna's situation is just the starting point the story springs out of. Also, they're mostly about taking an unstable situation and resolving it, and this is about taking an unstable situation and making it worse. Now, that's storytelling.)

[kateorman.livejournal.com]

Cheers! *tips hat*