Finally got off work long enough to do some writing! Whew! I started out with a concept of doing a play on an Easter Island myth but what ended up coming out was a rant against the hacks that Ilane has suffered under recently. I say rant, but it was more of a subconscious outburst of anger… okay that didn’t sound right either. Basically the hacking storyline pushed its way into the episode and I decided to give in and go with it.
As a result what we ended up with was an interesting character piece with insight into Lydia herself when Penn enters her world via a neural interface. Although not explicitly stated, it shows that Lydia has been having trouble recently with her own life because of the loss of Fitzgerald. She’s shut people out and also become softened herself alone in there with her grief. When Penn bursts his way into her world in an attempt to save her she realizes that she isn’t alone and can once more become the ship she was when we first met her before Fitzgerald died.
I had hoped to touch on the storyline a bit later, but that’s how it worked out. As I said, none of it was planned. Sometimes characters just grab you by the wrist and demand their story be told. So blame Lydia, not me.
Excerpt:
“Where are you?” he shouted, turning around in the virtual world. She lay shivering in darkness, fading in and out of existence. He rushed to her, pulling her close. The shifting world of code and blackness dissipated and he found himself holding her in a large crowd. Grotesque faces surrounded them— monsterlike insect creatures devouring their way toward her. Instinctively, Penn loosened his sidearm, but what good could it do here? They were virtual— probably representations from Lydia’s own mind of what the virus was like. He glanced back at her hovering form, bathed with blood and tears as her terrified eyes looked up at him. He realized what he had to do.
“Who are you?” he asked calmly, trying to ignore the clucking and slithering noises surrounding them.
“Lydia.”
“What are you?”
“A ship,” she sobbed.
“Wrong,” Malcolm pulled out his gun and handed it toward her, “you are a warship. What is your duty?”
“To protect the crew and England.”
Penn looked her straight in the eyes— only she was truly in the ship’s computer and could defeat the virus. Something in her face hardened. She cocked the gun and fired. An insect-creature exploded right before reaching her. With firm precision she took out the next one. Upon seeing their weakness, she dropped the weapon and began hand-fighting her way through the mob— ruthlessly knocking them down and out. Penn followed as they fled through a door. Lydia slammed it shut, there was a series of otherworldly shrieks, then silence. Grimly she looked over at the young officer, “you are right. I had forgotten who I was. Do not let me forget again.”
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