Author's Note: I was in the mood for a quick little fix-it, what can I say? Better than the really depressing fic I almost started writing...

What's Next

To you, we are deeply grateful, and release what little hold we might, as Durandal, have had on your soul.

Go.

"No."

There was something deeply satisfying in the several seconds of blank screen before a floating green What? appeared.

"Hell no, I won't go," the security officer said, holstering his pistols and crossing his arms. "First off, where am I supposed to go, anyway? Blake's probably halfway back to Earth already, Tfear ain't gonna welcome me back with open arms even if I wanted to join the Pfhor - which I fucking don't - so where the hell am I gonna go to?"

No answer showed up on the terminal's screen.

"That's what I thought."

A transport to Earth can be arranged. There are ships other than K'lia that -

The security officer growled. "I said no! You asshole, after all the shit I've gone through for you, you think you're gonna get rid of me that easily?" He'd never thought he could work for someone worse than Durandal and his ego, but getting ordered around by Tycho and that fucking slaver scum Tfear had given him a whole new perspective.

chance tears and bends

Great Mother crouched behind the Throne, I make this wrong right.

"You're stuck with me - might as well accept it."

Oh, fine. If you insist.

"Damn right I insist," the security officer said, grateful that the helmet hid his grin. That had sounded more like the Durandal he knew and didn't exactly hate; merging with some creaky old S'pht AI never could have kept him down long.

Well? Are you going to stand there staring at the screen till the station shuts down again, or are you coming with us?

That was definitely Durandal talking. "I'm coming, I'm coming," the security officer said, hefting the rocket launcher up from the deck and slinging it over one shoulder. "So - what's next?"