GQ FANFIC: Reality Check

by Dalton S. Spence

Created: Fri, 4 Feb 2000 03:24:11 -0500 (EST)
Last Updated: Monday, 30-Aug-2004 14:54:21 EDT

DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT:

This story cannot be sold or used for profit in any way. Copies of this story may be made for private use only or posted in fanfic archives for general distribution, but must include all disclaimers and copyright notices.

RATING:

G

CLASSIFICATION:

V - Vignette

CONTENT WARNING:

Some angst.

SUMMARY:

Mathesar reflects on the nature of reality.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

This story is entirely off the cuff, and has therefore not been beta'd or editted in any way, so I would appreciate any feedback. Please be gentle, but honest.

DISCLAIMER:

The cast of fictional television series "Galaxy Quest," the crew of the NSEA Protector and all other characters who appeared in the motion picture "Galaxy Quest" together with the names, titles and backstories are the sole copyright property of Robert Gordon, David Howard, Mark Johnson Productions and DreamWorks Pictures. No copyright infringement was intended in the writing of this fan fiction. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.

The far side of Earth's moon was a bleak and desolate place, perfectly suited to mood of the newly "commissioned" Commander of what was left of the Protector 2. It hadn't taken much to convince the crew to land the ship in one of the larger craters there for immediate repairs; Mathesar's stature among his people was high in the wake of Commander Taggert's parting comments, and no one wanted to go too far away yet from the home of the valiant warriors who had saved their entire species. Besides, where else did they have to go? Sarris had been quite thorough in destroying their homeworld, and aside from the few technicians who had remained at the space dock to see them off, their entire race was living on board this vessel. But that alone was not the reason for Mathesar's dark mood.

Mathesar's shadowed thought's were interrupted by his second in command Teb. "Sir," he asked, troubled that his old friend was not sharing in crew's jubilant mood, "I realize you were badly injured, but are you certain you will not join us on the mess deck for the victory celebration?"

"I am quite certain!" replied Mathesar bitterly, not feeling in the least like celebrating. Noting his second's confused reaction to his response, he added gently "I am sorry old friend, but between the injury and the fatigue, I doubt I will enhance the mood of the gathering."

"I understand," Teb responded after a moment, "you wish that Commander Taggert and his friends could be here to join us."

At that remark, Mathesar was suddenly extremely grateful that duty protocols required him to keep his human form generator online while he was officially on duty; Teb would have been shocked and concerned at the colors and patterns that the rage generated by his innocent comment would have shown on his natural Thermian form. /Perhaps this is why,/ he thought as he tried to formulate a reply that would not betray his true feelings, /deception comes so easily to humans and other isochromatic species that it is considered an entertainment. How can one lie effectively when one is betrayed by one's own body?/ "I suppose that could be part of it," he answered cautiously. "In any event, since I am unable to attend, perhaps you could act on my behalf to lead the festivities. The crew has certainly earned the right to celebrate."

"I would be honored to do so, sir," Teb replied gratefully, humbled that his race's greatest hero would gift him, even temporarily, with this responsibility. Realizing there was nothing further to say, he saluted his Commander and quickly left him to his own thoughts.

"Alone at last," Mathesar murmured to himself, savoring one the human phrases he had once so eagerly learned. His eyes turned to the spot below the lunar horizon where he imagined the Earth hung in silently in space, and said bitterly, "So Jason Nesmith, are you proud of me now? I have learned this acting thing of yours rather well, I think. No one but me suspects that the `deception' that you practiced on Sarris was in fact the truth, or that the `historical documents' we live our lives by have no more meaning than the fever patterns on a hatchling's skin. How do you live down there I wonder? How do you know what is real and what is not? Do you assume that everything is a lie until it is proven? No that is impossible; one who wished to deceive would only need to speak the truth, and the listeners would deceive themselves. Oh, how this makes my head ache! Would that I had never learned this thing."

He turned to his cabin's comm center screen, which was replaying the first of the Galaxy Quest missions. He had called up the document to try and recapture the enthusiasm for life and the future he had as a pouchling watching the tale for the very first time. "It seemed so simple then. We were lost and confused, trying to survive against an enemy who against all logic and reason would say one thing then do another. It was you who taught us this was not an illness or a misunderstanding on Sarris's part, but a deliberate and considered strategy to give him control over our people. It was you who taught us how recognize evil, and how to fight it. I spent my whole life trying to live up to your perfect example, and now I alone must bear the burden of knowing that none of it was real? Why?!?"

Of course, the last question was purely rhetorical. If his people learned the truth about their saviors, the resulting chaos would more thoroughly destroy his race than Sarris ever dreamed of. Even he had recognized that fact, and in what seemed at the time a rare show of mercy, chose to simply kill them all instead. Thermians do not cry (at least not in human terms), but until that moment when "the Commander" confessed the great deception, Mathesar thought he understood what feelings went with this sign of human anguish. To realize he would prefer his race's extinction to their discovery of the truth was more horrifying than anything he could imagine.

In a strange sort of synchronicity, the document had reached the point where Dr. Lazarus told the story of when as a child he watched helplessly as the entire Mak'Tar race was exterminated by the evil Meechan warriors. As he watched the scene where the doctor made his famous vow over the graves of his family, he remembered what the others had told him of the actor's incredible rage following the death of crewman Quellek. "But somehow you made it real, didn't you? You saved us. Even though you were never the people we thought you were, you somehow became them well enough to do what had to be done. Where could people whose only job was to entertain find the courage to become real heros?"

"Never give up, never surrender!" the voice of Commander Peter Quincy Taggert sounded as if in answer to Mathesar's question. He looked at the screen, but only saw the list of credits which, he now realized, honored the people who had made the stories seem so real.

"Is it that simple then?" he asked the now silent screen. "You just would not give up until you won? But that is madness!" He stared unseeing at the screen for a moment, then smiled, then started to laugh. "But it's a glorious madness, isn't it? And one that obviously works. Maybe if I study humans really hard, I will someday manage to be as mad, and as brave, as you dear friends. Perhaps," he mused, suddenly remembering how he had laid the mighty Sarris low with only a crutch, "I have already begun."

Feeling much more cheerful about himself and the future, he was about open a channel to the mess deck when his door annunciator chimed. "Enter," he replied, and was surprised to see several of his senior officers carrying various dishes and bowls, as well as a large plastic bottle bearing the famous red-and-white label of Earth's most beloved beverage. He realized that senior requisition officer Neru must have acquired it sometime between the Commander's first and second visits in an attempt to anticipate his future requests, and was honored by the implied compliment of its presence.

Teb was the first to speak. "I hope that I am not intruding sir, but the crew decided that if you could not come to the celebration, it should come to you." The others nodded enthusiastically and began looking for various flat surfaces to place their burdens. "You are our Commander now, and anything else would not be right."

Mathesar was overcome with emotion, and could barely manage a "Thank you," as Teb brought out a stack of drinking cups and proceeded to fill them with the dark sweet nectar the humans worshipped so. As the others raised their cups, he realized that they were waiting for him to make a "toast" in the human manner (although what dried bread products had to do with it was very confusing).

Pausing for a moment to gather his thoughts, the words seemed to come from a place deep inside of himself. "When Commander Taggert passed command of this crew to me, he returned to us the freedom to choose our own future. Let us honor his trust by choosing that future wisely, for ourselves and for our children. In that spirit, I will depart from tradition with a new tribute. To the future!"

"To the future!" the others echoed, clearly moved (if slightly confused) by his words. Mathesar smiled. They didn't understand yet, but someday they would.

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	Dalton S. Spence <dalton.spence@hwcn.org> Home Page: http://www.hwcn.org/~ag775/Profile.html Family Motto: Virtute Acquiritur Honos Questerian Motto: Never Give Up, Never Surrender