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crack_van2008-11-09 09:40 pm
oceloty.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2008-11-09 09:40 pm
Entry tags:
When There Are No More Tomorrows by CDS (R)
Fandom: STAR TREK: DEEP SPACE NINE
Pairing: Julian Bashir/Ezri Dax
Length: 26,000 words
Author on LJ: none
Author Website: CDS on fanfiction.net
Why this must be read:
Just call it DS-Noir ...
Part mystery, part thriller, part buddy-cop road-trip, this is the story of what happens when Julian Bashir volunteers for post-Dominion War reconstruction and finds himself caught up in a tangled web of murder and conspiracy.
CDS writes a crisp, taut thriller, leavened with humor and an evolving relationship between Bashir and Ezri Dax. What really makes the story sing, though, are the moments when CDS turns a sharp, incisive eye on his characters, peeling back the surface layers to find the wonderful and terrible heart of human nature.
"We're beyond weapons, but it really doesn't matter," Petrilax said with a dismissive gesture. "What I'm curious about it why you're here. Why you're really here."
Bashir leaned forward slightly. "You don't believe my explanation?"
Petrilax smiled coldly, then gazed down at the cityscape of Keltis Prime. "It's not a matter of what I believe. It's a matter of my knowledge of human nature."
"Oh?"
"I do believe, Doctor, that you are the moth and all of this," he gestured expansively, "is the flame. This far out on the rim, it's a cash economy. Starfleet credits won't get you much in way of luxury and when you're living in the ruins amid starving populations, luxuries-the sweet anaesthetization they bring-suddenly take on increased importance. Don't they?"
Bashir said nothing.
"Your Starfleet morality is getting in the way isn't it?"
"I'm a Starfleet officer," Bashir answered neutrally, "and a doctor. I'd need more than simple temptation."
"What you need, Doctor Starfleet, is validation."
"Of what."
"Of what you've learned to be true," Petrilax answered simply.
"Which is?"
Now Petrilax leaned forward, his eyes suddenly alive and beguiling as any dark prince. "You've been through a war, Doctor. You've seen thousands die. You, yourself, personally have probably seen hundreds...and who knows how many you've killed with your own hands. Suddenly all of that Federation-bred tripe about the sanctity of individual life is exposed as the lie it is. Aren't I correct? Life is very cheap. Look out the bulkhead. Can you see the people in the city?"
Bashir looked. "Vaguely," he said.
"They look like specks."
"Dots."
"Now," Petrilax continued, " what if I told you that you could have ten strips of gold-pressed latinum if you erased one of those specks? Do you feel a terrible moral dilemma building, Doctor? One speck. Completely unnoticable, isn't it? What if I told you you could have one hundred bars is you erased a thousand of those specks."
"That would be noticeable," Bashir commented.
"If we look at the city, Doctor, perhaps. If we extend our view skyward and extend this to the system..." He smiled warmly at Bashir. "You know this already don't you? Life is very cheap."
Bashir looked out the bulkhead, then turned back to Petrilax. "So who do I have to kill to earn my strips of latinum?"
When There Are No More Tomorrows
Pairing: Julian Bashir/Ezri Dax
Length: 26,000 words
Author on LJ: none
Author Website: CDS on fanfiction.net
Why this must be read:
Just call it DS-Noir ...
Part mystery, part thriller, part buddy-cop road-trip, this is the story of what happens when Julian Bashir volunteers for post-Dominion War reconstruction and finds himself caught up in a tangled web of murder and conspiracy.
CDS writes a crisp, taut thriller, leavened with humor and an evolving relationship between Bashir and Ezri Dax. What really makes the story sing, though, are the moments when CDS turns a sharp, incisive eye on his characters, peeling back the surface layers to find the wonderful and terrible heart of human nature.
"We're beyond weapons, but it really doesn't matter," Petrilax said with a dismissive gesture. "What I'm curious about it why you're here. Why you're really here."
Bashir leaned forward slightly. "You don't believe my explanation?"
Petrilax smiled coldly, then gazed down at the cityscape of Keltis Prime. "It's not a matter of what I believe. It's a matter of my knowledge of human nature."
"Oh?"
"I do believe, Doctor, that you are the moth and all of this," he gestured expansively, "is the flame. This far out on the rim, it's a cash economy. Starfleet credits won't get you much in way of luxury and when you're living in the ruins amid starving populations, luxuries-the sweet anaesthetization they bring-suddenly take on increased importance. Don't they?"
Bashir said nothing.
"Your Starfleet morality is getting in the way isn't it?"
"I'm a Starfleet officer," Bashir answered neutrally, "and a doctor. I'd need more than simple temptation."
"What you need, Doctor Starfleet, is validation."
"Of what."
"Of what you've learned to be true," Petrilax answered simply.
"Which is?"
Now Petrilax leaned forward, his eyes suddenly alive and beguiling as any dark prince. "You've been through a war, Doctor. You've seen thousands die. You, yourself, personally have probably seen hundreds...and who knows how many you've killed with your own hands. Suddenly all of that Federation-bred tripe about the sanctity of individual life is exposed as the lie it is. Aren't I correct? Life is very cheap. Look out the bulkhead. Can you see the people in the city?"
Bashir looked. "Vaguely," he said.
"They look like specks."
"Dots."
"Now," Petrilax continued, " what if I told you that you could have ten strips of gold-pressed latinum if you erased one of those specks? Do you feel a terrible moral dilemma building, Doctor? One speck. Completely unnoticable, isn't it? What if I told you you could have one hundred bars is you erased a thousand of those specks."
"That would be noticeable," Bashir commented.
"If we look at the city, Doctor, perhaps. If we extend our view skyward and extend this to the system..." He smiled warmly at Bashir. "You know this already don't you? Life is very cheap."
Bashir looked out the bulkhead, then turned back to Petrilax. "So who do I have to kill to earn my strips of latinum?"
When There Are No More Tomorrows