tumblrfic: Dark Matter “fix-it,” coda, major spoilers for S2E1
Serious spoilers for the season 2 premier: only read if you’re okay with that or have watched the ep. Gen fic. ~650 words.
One jolts awake as the transfer transit pod opens. He sits there gasping for breath for a full minute before sitting up, clutching the edge while his feet brush the floor.
He’s never died before.
He hasn’t really died.
But that’s what happened, isn’t it? Six had told him, when your clone dies, the memories don’t back up. Something about the temporal lobe. If he can’t recall what’s happened since he went into the pod, he has to assume his worst fear came true. Someone killed him.
He hopes he never experiences that again. Hell, he hopes he never has to put a single toe into one of these pods ever again. Yet something tells him before this journey is over, either another clone or his actual self will meet more unfortunate ends.
He hadn’t been kidding when he told Six he learned to not be too trusting anymore. Finding the nearest transfer station was easy; the prison guards needed something to do in their spare time. A few extra cash cards had bought him a raised eyebrow but a promise of privacy and silence for 24 hours.
He should probably move, actually. By now his clone would have disintegrated, letting whomever had killed him – and their employer, if he (she?) had one – know Derrick wasn’t actually dead.
One slips back into his clothes, looking at the watch he’d brought along. Five more hours of silence is all he’s paid for. He doesn’t know if even that will hold, or if the attendant will simply forget about him, going about her way without telling anyone about the recently freed criminal she’d let use the pod.
Five hours isn’t enough. He doesn’t have a real plan yet. But his suspicions have been confirmed. Whether it’s Darius or Fiona or a still unknown party, someone is trying to kill him. One can’t trust anyone Derrick knew at this point. His wife was murdered, Three framed. He’s being hunted. That leaves the crew of the Raza. Even Six. Six had wanted his approval, his understanding. One wasn’t ready to forgive, maybe wouldn’t, ever. But he’s willing to use that need for understanding. And he knows how Six feels about Five.  He’d seen the briefest flash of true grief when she’d slapped him, refused to look at him. If Six truly is upset with how things turned out, One knows he’ll do anything to protect Five.
He slides on black jeans, black boots and the black long-sleeved shirt he brought, pulling its hood up over his head. He tugs on a leather jacket next. It’s not much of a disguise, but he’d only been able to get one nano mask on short notice, on this rock of a moon, and without alerting anyone in Derrick’s company about too large of a credit withdrawal.
Even finding the one mask had been difficult. It would have been much easier if his clone didn’t have Derrick’s face. His face, One supposes. It’s still strange.
One palms the door panel and pokes his head out of the room. Clear. He shrugs the bag – filled with a few untraceable cash cards, a drive with the information on Derrick’s wife’s murder, schematics of the facilities on a padd, odds and ends he might need, and the necklace Six had returned to him – onto his shoulder.
He’s got four hours and forty-five minutes now to find Six and Five and plan an escape of three prisoners and find their way back to the Raza. All without being caught by whoever tried to kill him, any of Derrick’s enemies, or prison guards.
One supposes he’s been in worse situations. Probably. Right now, facing down Ferrous Corp sounds easy. He’d feel a lot better if he was the one in prison and Two was on the outside. Or if Three and his guns were by his side.
He sighs and casts another glance down the hall. Still empty. He heads out. Time to escape.
Author notes: I am in serious denial. But we already have so many other ways people can turn out to be alive, why wouldn’t there be some kind of nanite-made thing that can make your face look different? I bet that’d be pretty useful for the GA. Why wouldn’t Derrick use this to begin with, you ask? Well, he knew his mission on the Raza would be long and in close living quarters. He couldn’t risk someone discovering his true identity if the mask slipped so he went for surgery over a mask at the time.
