TITLE: A Non-Peacekeeper Microt
E-MAIL: eli @ popullus.net
RATING: PG
POSTED: May 11, 2003
NOTES: For the Farscape Friday "discipline" challenge. Tag to Season 4's Bad Timing.

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He is in charge. Commander of his own carrier, leader of thousands of soldiers, standing at the forefront of Peacekeeper influence.

Thinking about it, living it after dreaming it for so long, had made him smile. He had known the smile was smug, bordering on a smirk, and he had been sure nothing could dim his satisfaction.

That woman had managed it. That Kalish. How dare she? And how could Scorpius enjoy it so plainly?

Arns later, he pulls his face out of the bowl and shakes the water from his hair, gasping at the cold. Bracing his hands on the table, he blinks down at his reflection. The surface ripples as it reveals his fingers reaching up to touch...

Frell. It's still there. He had managed to maintain a facade until he reached his quarters, but then his will couldn't hold it back. And the nearly-frozen water didn't help. Even his glare can't wipe away the sullen pout that is on his face.

He stops resisting, lets his dissatisfaction explode, knocking the bowl across the room and sending water trickling through the grate on the floor. Childish. He'll need to wipe up the mess. But he feels much better as hard-won discipline falls into place. He learned long ago that to be a Peacekeeper every microt is nearly impossible.

When the main door signals, his spine stiffens -- if it's not to the proper degree, only he can tell -- and he moves forward to face this latest challenge.

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