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badly_knittedTitle: Trying To Be Helpful
Fandom: The Fantastic Journey
Author:
badly_knittedCharacters: Willaway, Tarant.
Rating: PG
Spoilers/Setting: A Dream of Conquest.
Summary: While trying to do something helpful, Willaway gets himself into serious trouble.
Word Count: 1095
Written For: A challenge at
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getyourwordsout.Disclaimer: I don’t own The Fantastic Journey, or the characters. They belong to their creators.
It was an impulsive decision, and maybe, at least in retrospect, not the smartest idea he’d ever had, but at the time, Willaway had thought it worth a try. He’d honestly believed he could succeed, and if he did, it would be a huge help to the people of New Mitera. The GOOD people of the city, that is, not Tarant and his cronies.
His motives had perhaps not been entirely based in idealism; he was honest enough with himself to admit that. Oh, what he’d told Consul Lara was true enough; he hated the warmongers of his own race, the territorialisers, the destroyers, and that hate easily transferred itself to Tarant, with his lust for power and glory. But there was more than that to his decision to try his hand at being a covert operative…
Willaway felt useless, and he disliked that feeling. He had no purpose, he was just aimlessly rattling around New Mitera with nothing to do, and no one to talk to. Varian and Fred were doing everything they could for Luther, the Major Consul, trying to diagnose and treat the illness that was slowly killing him. Scott was spending time with Luther’s son, Nikki, and Liana… Well, Willaway wasn’t sure what she was doing, but the main focus of her interest seemed to be on Luther’s pet Neffring, so he didn’t even have her for company.
What it all boiled down to was that Willaway was feeling bored, restless, and frustrated. In the back of his mind was the fact that these people had invited him to travel with them, and the only thing he’d done so far was land them all in serious trouble with Alpha and his followers. Instead of being an asset to the band of travellers, they’d had to come to his rescue. That had been a bit humiliating.
He wanted to make up for that, and he wanted to prove himself worthy of travelling with his new friends, worthy of Varian’s belief in him as a good man, despite his behaviour when they’d first met. In short, he wanted to redeem himself in the eyes of the mismatched group of people who had generously allowed him to join them.
So, if he could find out where Tarant was massing his armies, then Lara, who was, admittedly, a very lovely woman, might be able to persuade the troops not to follow Tarant’s orders… Willaway wasn’t sure what she could really hope to achieve, whether they would even listen to her, but Lara believed that if she could approach them in Luther’s name, there was a chance of stopping the war that Tarant wanted before it could even begin. If she was right, then it would be worth a shot.
Willaway hadn’t been lying when he told Lara that she should smile more, he hated seeing her look so sad, so defeated. But looking back, that had really been the least of his motives for what he was attempting, even if it might be the only one he was willing to publicly admit to, especially after his efforts managed to go spectacularly wrong. Clearly, he was not cut out to be a master spy; he had made far too many tactical errors.
First and foremost, he should have warned Lara not to tell anyone what he was planning to do, not even his friends. He trusted them completely, but secrecy had been imperative for any hope of success, and yet he hadn’t taken any precautions whatsoever. If he’d thought things through at all, he would have realised that Tarant was bound to be spying on his friends, especially on Varian and Fred. Tarant wanted Luther to die of what would appear to be natural causes, after a long illness. Varian and Fred were attempting to cure him. Tarant would naturally want to keep a close eye on them to make sure they wouldn’t succeed.
Not telling his friends what he was up to had probably been the right call. Varian was such an open, honest man, Willaway doubted that lying was something that came naturally to him, or that he could be especially convincing even if he tried. Since they had no idea what he was up to, the reactions of his friends were entirely genuine, which was good, and yet…
It had stung to see the doubt and suspicion in Varian’s eyes, to hear the man he already considered a good friend call him by his last name instead of his Christian name, perhaps subconsciously withdrawing the friendship and trust that he’d so freely given. Still, Willaway had steeled himself against the regret he felt, and the urge to confess, and had continued his campaign of flattery and admiration towards Tarant, even though it made his skin crawl to cosy up to such a monster.
Tarant was, at least, a reasonably charismatic and intelligent conversationalist, so Willaway was able to maintain his act well enough to appear genuine, but as he’d sipped the warmonger’s liquor and discussed the inhabitants of nearby zones, he’d found himself thinking he might have to take a very long, very hot shower once his self-imposed mission was over, just to feel clean again.
He’d could set the record straight with his friends once he found out what Lara needed to know… Well, that had been his thought, along with how grateful Lara might be, and how proud of him his friends would be when they found out what he’d been up to. They might even apologise for doubting him… But pride goeth before a fall, and, not to mix metaphors or anything, but his clever scheme had rather blown up in his face. There HAD been a listening device hidden in the lab where Varian and Fred were working, and Lara HAD told his friends what he was up to, and of course Argon had gone straight to Tarant with what he’d recorded, and…
‘I’m a failure,’ Willaway thought morosely. ‘Instead of impressing my friends, I’m stuck in a prison cell again, waiting and hoping to be rescued. And it had all been going so well! Right up until it wasn’t.’ He supposed he should be grateful all he’d suffered were a few minor bruises, although if his friends didn’t rescue him, he’d be facing much worse in the form of execution. Again. Getting himself sentenced to death was becoming a bad habit, one he should really try to break.
The worst of it was that he didn’t know what was happening to his friends, whether they were in any position to stage a daring rescue, whether they were even still alive. He could only hope they were, because there was nothing he could do to help them, not from in here. He could only hope his foolish desire to be helpful wouldn’t cost all of them their lives.
The End
His motives had perhaps not been entirely based in idealism; he was honest enough with himself to admit that. Oh, what he’d told Consul Lara was true enough; he hated the warmongers of his own race, the territorialisers, the destroyers, and that hate easily transferred itself to Tarant, with his lust for power and glory. But there was more than that to his decision to try his hand at being a covert operative…
Willaway felt useless, and he disliked that feeling. He had no purpose, he was just aimlessly rattling around New Mitera with nothing to do, and no one to talk to. Varian and Fred were doing everything they could for Luther, the Major Consul, trying to diagnose and treat the illness that was slowly killing him. Scott was spending time with Luther’s son, Nikki, and Liana… Well, Willaway wasn’t sure what she was doing, but the main focus of her interest seemed to be on Luther’s pet Neffring, so he didn’t even have her for company.
What it all boiled down to was that Willaway was feeling bored, restless, and frustrated. In the back of his mind was the fact that these people had invited him to travel with them, and the only thing he’d done so far was land them all in serious trouble with Alpha and his followers. Instead of being an asset to the band of travellers, they’d had to come to his rescue. That had been a bit humiliating.
He wanted to make up for that, and he wanted to prove himself worthy of travelling with his new friends, worthy of Varian’s belief in him as a good man, despite his behaviour when they’d first met. In short, he wanted to redeem himself in the eyes of the mismatched group of people who had generously allowed him to join them.
So, if he could find out where Tarant was massing his armies, then Lara, who was, admittedly, a very lovely woman, might be able to persuade the troops not to follow Tarant’s orders… Willaway wasn’t sure what she could really hope to achieve, whether they would even listen to her, but Lara believed that if she could approach them in Luther’s name, there was a chance of stopping the war that Tarant wanted before it could even begin. If she was right, then it would be worth a shot.
Willaway hadn’t been lying when he told Lara that she should smile more, he hated seeing her look so sad, so defeated. But looking back, that had really been the least of his motives for what he was attempting, even if it might be the only one he was willing to publicly admit to, especially after his efforts managed to go spectacularly wrong. Clearly, he was not cut out to be a master spy; he had made far too many tactical errors.
First and foremost, he should have warned Lara not to tell anyone what he was planning to do, not even his friends. He trusted them completely, but secrecy had been imperative for any hope of success, and yet he hadn’t taken any precautions whatsoever. If he’d thought things through at all, he would have realised that Tarant was bound to be spying on his friends, especially on Varian and Fred. Tarant wanted Luther to die of what would appear to be natural causes, after a long illness. Varian and Fred were attempting to cure him. Tarant would naturally want to keep a close eye on them to make sure they wouldn’t succeed.
Not telling his friends what he was up to had probably been the right call. Varian was such an open, honest man, Willaway doubted that lying was something that came naturally to him, or that he could be especially convincing even if he tried. Since they had no idea what he was up to, the reactions of his friends were entirely genuine, which was good, and yet…
It had stung to see the doubt and suspicion in Varian’s eyes, to hear the man he already considered a good friend call him by his last name instead of his Christian name, perhaps subconsciously withdrawing the friendship and trust that he’d so freely given. Still, Willaway had steeled himself against the regret he felt, and the urge to confess, and had continued his campaign of flattery and admiration towards Tarant, even though it made his skin crawl to cosy up to such a monster.
Tarant was, at least, a reasonably charismatic and intelligent conversationalist, so Willaway was able to maintain his act well enough to appear genuine, but as he’d sipped the warmonger’s liquor and discussed the inhabitants of nearby zones, he’d found himself thinking he might have to take a very long, very hot shower once his self-imposed mission was over, just to feel clean again.
He’d could set the record straight with his friends once he found out what Lara needed to know… Well, that had been his thought, along with how grateful Lara might be, and how proud of him his friends would be when they found out what he’d been up to. They might even apologise for doubting him… But pride goeth before a fall, and, not to mix metaphors or anything, but his clever scheme had rather blown up in his face. There HAD been a listening device hidden in the lab where Varian and Fred were working, and Lara HAD told his friends what he was up to, and of course Argon had gone straight to Tarant with what he’d recorded, and…
‘I’m a failure,’ Willaway thought morosely. ‘Instead of impressing my friends, I’m stuck in a prison cell again, waiting and hoping to be rescued. And it had all been going so well! Right up until it wasn’t.’ He supposed he should be grateful all he’d suffered were a few minor bruises, although if his friends didn’t rescue him, he’d be facing much worse in the form of execution. Again. Getting himself sentenced to death was becoming a bad habit, one he should really try to break.
The worst of it was that he didn’t know what was happening to his friends, whether they were in any position to stage a daring rescue, whether they were even still alive. He could only hope they were, because there was nothing he could do to help them, not from in here. He could only hope his foolish desire to be helpful wouldn’t cost all of them their lives.
The End
