#belter oc

I have often been unsure about how to feel about change. It is a fundamental part of life.

But what happens when one chooses that change? Make their own course? And runs into something else completely? 

Do you fight for it? Against it? What do you do?

Previously, in another life, I would have said otherwise. I would have simply done as needed, as what was expected of me as a soldier in an endless army, all created from the same man.

But I am no longer that soldier. 

And no day was that made clearer than today. 

It was small–only my squad, Sjael’s family, and the crew of the Rocinante . The ceremony was short–per Belter custom, and per my own request. Sjael thought it was admirable, that even in one of the most crucial moments of a human’s life, that I was still logical, but that I still wanted to show what I felt, in the way that I felt most comfortable. 

A human’s life. That is what I truly am.

My hands were the same as hers as we held them, in front of Camina, who laughed at being the one to officiate. Sjael’s smile was like my smile, and her expression of joy was like mine as well, as we stood in the middle of one of the prairies in Medina Station. Her skin and body were like mine, but she was wrapped in a white dress that folded in ways that both covered and showed her beauty, and I wore vest, shirt, and trousers I borrowed from Holden. My wife’s dark hair was woven with wildflowers from the station’s prairies, the same as the ones she carried, the same that I tucked into my breast pocket…along with one of the blossoms from her vanilla orchids. I will always treasure those wonderful plants. 

We spoke with human voices as we declared to be faithful to each other, to cherish each other’s friendship, to be there in both sickness and health, to love each other until the end of days. It was almost the exact same words we spoke in that terrifying call from her ship, where I ordered her to turn around. 

But she does not follow orders, and neither do I. 

Others have called my people nonhuman. They have called her people nonhuman as well. We have been called machines, animals, slaves, equipment, every title that can rip your humanity away from you.

But this fact is untrue, because machines and animals do not get married. 

They do not kiss in front of their family and friends as they are announced as pexa unte pexa by the president, a member of your family who has loved you her whole life, who is your friend in peace, and your ally in war. 

They do not hold their beautiful little daughter and hug their emotional sisters when the ceremony is concluded. 

They do not dodge cheerful slugs from their brothers, or shake the hands of their proud friends, people who love you, who will risk their lives for you. 

They do not walk back to their home hand in hand with their spouse, where the roof is lit with a thousand endless lights, waiting for them to enjoy dinner together.

They do not spend hours bantering, laughing, and crying over a joyful meal celebrating love and family. 

They do not make love in the dark of their bed, the only world consisting of them and the one that they cherish with every fiber of their being. 

They do not softly whisper into each other’s ears and close their eyes with their arms wrapped tightly around their spouse, knowing that their family–their brothers and sisters, children, cousins, nieces and nephews–are all safe and secure. That what you fought for has brought them peace. 

Humans do those things. 

I am human. I am me. 

As are my brothers and sister, as is my wife and child, as are my friends, as are all of those I hold dear.

We have blood in our veins, hearts that beat within us, eyes that see and arms that hold.

We are not equipment, we are not animals, we are humans alone in this vast expanse, building our future together. 

My name is Captain Teki Drummer, and I am one of the chief engineers of Medina Station. I hold rank as an officer within the Transport Union under the command of President Camina Drummer. I am a veteran of the Grand Army of the Republic, of Clone Force 99, and am an ally of the warship Rocinante . 

I am a husband, a father, a brother, a friend, a colleague, and a survivor of countless battles. I was born a clone of the Mandalorian, Jango Fett, on a planet called Kamino. But, I am now a member of the Belter nation, a people born in an endless sea of darkness. But they will always find the light, and I am proud to help them on that journey. 

May I always be held high in their esteem and their regards. 

May I always have the strength of Bobbie, the brilliance of Naomi, the focus of Jim, the kindness of Amos, the innovation of Clarissa, and, most importantly, the honor and courage of Camina, whom I am more than proud to call both commander and family. 

This is my story, and I am happy to have lived it. To keep living it. 

My siblings are many, and my people are countless across the stars. 

I am theirs, and they are mine, until the end of days. 

Xiya depelésh mi wanya bi…wit milowda.* 

Timon’s long body was lying in the hospital bed, not moving at all.  

The firefighter’s face was etched with lines of pain, his brow furrowed. A web of wires and tubes connected him to various monitors and medical devices, their soft beeping providing a rhythmic backdrop to the sterile environment. Above him, the heart monitor traced a steady but uneven pattern. Even with stem cells, surgery, and the quick work of AZI, years of smoking and living in low gravity had weakened Timon’s chest so that the normal medicine had to work overtime to help him. 

Tech sat next to him, holding the small bundle of herbs that he and Phee had just gathered, hours beforehand.. 

The clone stared at the Belter, for he had never truly seen the loud, joyful firefighter so quiet and still. 

Timon’s whole body bore the telltale signs of Toivo’s gunshot, especially the bloodied bandages wrapped tightly around his torso. Tech morosely wondered where exactly the bullet had entered his chest.

“I remember the words you once told me,” Tech said, holding the bundle he had quickly gathered in the garden by his family’s house, “When I myself was where you are now.”

Tech fiddled with the bundle as he sunk into his freshly washed, royal blue officer’s jacket. He looked at the shining Medina Station patch on the left arm, and felt a lump quietly form in his throat.

“But those are words that you gathered and tried to remember, from your father’s people, generations ago, on a planet neither of us will ever see.”

Tech took a deep sigh as he softly placed the bundle on Timon’s bandaged chest.

“But I do not know if I am doing this correctly,” he added softly.

Even though Timon radiated a quiet strength underneath the oxygen mask, Tech was not feeling hopeful.  

“Nothing in the void is foreign to Belters, and nothing is more worthy than sacrificing yourself for your brothers amongst the clones,” Tech sighed, his forehead furrowed so deeply, he thought he would give himself a migraine, “But I do not want you to go.”

He clenched his teeth, closed his eyes, and clasped his hands so hard, he thought he might break his knuckles. 

“Please, Timon, do not go .” 

--

A gentle, firm hand shook Tech awake. Blinking his eyes, he looked above, and saw the pretty face of Inez Yao staring down at him. His back was stiff, his face sore. 

“Boy, you know it would be more comfortable to sleep on the floor than in a chair, right?”

“I did not remember falling asleep in the chair,” muttered Tech, irritated. 

“Well, you’re in one, beratna ,” a quiet Belter voice uttered behind Inez. Tech shoved the nurse aside, realizing he was still in Timon’s hospital room. He felt his face erupt into a happy grin. 

For Timon was up, his oxygen mask off. He was still naked, besides his bandages, and his face was exhausted.  A small tray with soup and hot coffee was in front of him, and he held the bundle that Tech had placed on his chest. 

“I’m gonna let the doctors know he’s doing well,” Inez snipped at Tech, hands on her hips, “And I am going to recommend you learn some manners, captain!” 

Inez stomped out. Tech and Timon looked at each other.

“Dusters, am I right?” asked Timon as Tech shook his head. The Belter held up the bundle. 

“You…gathered tobacco for me?”

“You had done so for me,” admitted Tech, “It seemed that it would be an appropriate reciprocal gesture. I could not find any cedar, for which I apologize.”

Timon started taking the small bundle apart, putting the sweet smelling leaves to his face. He did not make eye contact with the clone.

“Sjael lost the baby, didn’t she?” Timon asked, softly. 

“Yes, she did.”

Timon stopped fiddling with the bundle. Tech frowned, noticing that the firefighter’s hands were beginning to tremble. 

“How did you know?” Tech asked, softly. Timon’s hands shook more. 

“No pregnant Belter goes into a bathroom, loudly sobs, then calls their physician,” he replied, his voice heavy with sorrow, “As soon as I overheard Sjael crying to Tanke, I knew it was bad. And then Toivo came, and…”

Timon suddenly dropped the plants, and grabbed Tech’s hand. 

“Meg! What happened to her?”

“Much happened,” stated Tech calmly, “But she is at home, resting. Everyone is safe, everyone is alive.”

Timon let go of Tech’s hand, and leaned back into his bed, breathing hard. 

“I am so sorry, Teki, I could not have done more.”

“You were shot in the chest defending our home. That is the best you could have done.” 

Timon’s hands began trembling again. He gripped them as his long face deeply frowned. Tech pulled his chair closer to Timon’s bed. 

“Teki…Teki, you do not know this, but, when I was a boy…my father died. He died of cancer, tumors growing in his stomach.” 

“That is unfortunate.”

“The night he left me, he…he wasn’t my father any more. His skin was yellow, his stomach distended, and he constantly vomited black, horrible smelling things. I couldn’t say if he drowned coughing in his own blood, if his heart gave out, or if his Belter body could not handle the tumors strangling him from the inside, like mushrooms filling a rotten pipe. But I remember, from the moment he passed to when I helped the other workers at the Eros docks stuff his body into a recycler, that I did not want to sleep.”

“Why?” asked Tech, “Surely you were beyond exhausted.”

“I was,” Timon nodded, his fair face flushed, as he gasped, “But…I knew I would be completely alone the next time I woke up.”

Timon rubbed his eyes, then continued.

“It was a miracle that Tanke and Miriam ever wanted to have a family with me, especially after our stint with the OPA. I didn’t think I deserved them. Ever since we signed our collective ketubah , I have always tried to make myself worthy of everyone.”

“Even Sjael and Meg?”

“Of course Sjael and Meg,” Timon added, his hands now shaking violently, his voice shredded, as if he was trying to contain something, “My sesata mali, mi setari mali. And that…oh, Teki, that …that was worse than losing my father.” 

“What?” Tech asked quietly as Timon covered his mouth as he looked up at Tech, his hazel eyes filled with tears. 

“The pain of that pig’s bullet in my chest, and seeing our Meg dragged off screaming, reaching for me…thinking the last thing in this existence that I’d ever heard was the sound of my brother’s child crying for me. Knowing I was powerless to help her. Help my family’s children, mi Teki’s dowta. ”

Tech felt his own face crumble. 

“My Tech's daughter.”

....I am his, the way I am Sjael’s and Naomi’s and every Belter here. 

And, even though I am here, Meg will always be someone precious to Timon. Always.  

And that is a lovely thing.

 “Teki, I’ve known your little girl since before she was born. I have always loved her, she is our family’s baby, even if she’s not my daughter.”

“Oh, Timon.”

“Knowing that our Meg was going to close her eyes that night and be completely alone, in the hands of monsters! And I could do nothing to help her–nothing! That was worse than anything! I would take a thousand bullets before feeling that!” 

Timon collapsed on his knees, covering his ears. Tech blinked and wondered what Naomi and Phee would do where he was right now. 

He put his hand on Timon’s back, making sure to avoid the bandages.

“You are one of the most selfless people I have ever met,” Tech said, firmly but gently, “You are a firefighter, a mechanic. Everything you do, and have done, is to ensure the safety of others. That is who you are . Even as you laid shot in the chest, you did not think about yourself. You thought about your family. You are phenomenal .”

“I’m just a selfish man,” Timon lamented, shaking his head, “A nakagepensa idiot who cares too much about his own people.”

“Caring about your people is, theoretically, the opposite of being selfish,” Tech reassured him.

“I wasn’t even saved by a human,” Timon stated, finally looking up at Tech, tears edging at his eyes, “That floating trash can that talks and screams cauterized my wounds and rolled me over by the time Tanke came. I wouldn’t be alive without him.”

“Floating screaming trash can?” Tech was taken aback, “You mean AZI, the medical droid?”

“That thing’s a medical droid ?”

“Yes, that’s what it does.”

Timon loudly frowned. 

“Why does Tanke hate them so much? They’d work so well in the vents! Why waste AZI in the medical center, when he can help scour for patches and issues where we can’t reach them? Get to injured people before anyone else?”

Tech whipped out his data pad, and began to type. Timon wiped his face. 

“What, Teki?”

“Why haven’t we had AZI work with the fire department here on the station? Should that be AZI’s new job once you get out of here?” 

(OC creators who promote and include other OCs are very sexy and awesome lol. I subscribe to Infinite Techs and you should too)

From Left to Right: Tech (now Cpt. Teki Drummer), Dr. Sjael Drummer, Leena, Tech.

Ugh, this is a little rushed, but I was determined to finish it for Tech Tuesday and for today's theme: Quality Time!

I'd think that Tech and Sjael, once discovering the Protomolecule's ability to rip through time and space, would happily visit other Tech's and their SOs in their homes, whether on Pabu or elsewhere. This includes Leena and Tech, whom I'm sure Sjael is thrilled to meet a NICE alien who is NOT homicidal or scary.

I always chuckle when I draw Sjael with other female characters. She's Tech's height (6'4!) so while average, if not petite, for a female Belter, she's a damn giant next to a lot of folks who grew up in normal gravity.