cross-posted broken challenge response
Aug. 5th, 2005 01:41 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chanter1944Yes, I'm back! I'll post the real update including all the lovely (and not so lovely) fair details tomorrow. Right now, fiiiiiction!
Title: Radio Free
Author: chanter
Fandom: Babylon 5
Pairings: mild Susan-Talia
Rating: G I think?
Summary: Inspired by years of listening to shortwave. susan goes on the air.
161 words
The entire operation was a patchwork, a jumble of pieces, a tangle of circuits and wires and sounds half-formed on fragile airwaves, spacewaves, signals spanning stars and reaching from a solitary port of call all alone in the night to derelict headquarters in Earth’s myriad of islands and broken-down farmhouses sequestered on so many desperately-listening colony worlds. It was English, and it was Russian, and sometimes when she felt inspired, it was halting, lyrical, awkward Menbari. It was broken signals, random syllables blurred, silences between words stretching a split second longer than necessary and truncating the next vowel, hissing the next S, snapping the next T. “This is Susan Ivanova with the voice of the resistance.” Crackle, sizzle, sing.
And maybe, somewhere out there, somewhere *in* there, maybe she was listening.
“This is Talia... this is Susan Ivanova with the voice of the resistance.”
Sometimes, when she was truly inspired, she’d give the wrong name.
It was signals, all the same.
Title: Radio Free
Author: chanter
Fandom: Babylon 5
Pairings: mild Susan-Talia
Rating: G I think?
Summary: Inspired by years of listening to shortwave. susan goes on the air.
161 words
The entire operation was a patchwork, a jumble of pieces, a tangle of circuits and wires and sounds half-formed on fragile airwaves, spacewaves, signals spanning stars and reaching from a solitary port of call all alone in the night to derelict headquarters in Earth’s myriad of islands and broken-down farmhouses sequestered on so many desperately-listening colony worlds. It was English, and it was Russian, and sometimes when she felt inspired, it was halting, lyrical, awkward Menbari. It was broken signals, random syllables blurred, silences between words stretching a split second longer than necessary and truncating the next vowel, hissing the next S, snapping the next T. “This is Susan Ivanova with the voice of the resistance.” Crackle, sizzle, sing.
And maybe, somewhere out there, somewhere *in* there, maybe she was listening.
“This is Talia... this is Susan Ivanova with the voice of the resistance.”
Sometimes, when she was truly inspired, she’d give the wrong name.
It was signals, all the same.
