It's strange, really, the odd things that come clawing their way to the surface of Joe's mind when he has any number of more important things to be concerned about, like his imminent demise.
It was a topic raised in a few of his classes, then again in a few training courses when he was briefly considered for piloting before he got tapped for Special Forces. Never needing to really know about it, the information burrowed itself beneath the rest of his memory, unnecessary to call on until right now.
Event horizon. The point of no return. The invisible line dictating when the gravitational pull of a black hole became too great to escape, even with the power of light speed engines.
Why is he thinking about this now?
Because Basco is the black hole. And the event horizon was somewhere around when the last of Joe's clothes fell away, leaving him beyond vulnerable, incapable of defending himself. Unable to get away, stuck in a skewed space-time where nothing quite seemed like it was ever going to reach or effect him.
Pain still hurt, of course, and his breath came in ragged pants each time one of Basco's claws snagged his skin, drawing blood. But it seemed irrelevant. No matter how much pain Basco insisted upon giving him, eventually there would be too much. Too much pain, too much blood loss. Eventually Joe would die. Inevitable, not that it wasn't always, but tangible now.
He stares up at Basco somewhat blankly, his eyes glazed over. Lost and non-committal. His eyes catch on one of the chains and he wonders, very briefly, if he might be able to get it looped around his own throat, maybe speed up the process a bit. But the thought alone seems like too much effort, never mind the action it would require.
Then his eyes are drawn down, down to... Oh. Is that what Basco intends?
Joe doesn't ever remember having sex with any particularly non-human aliens. Not to say it never happened, of course, just that he was never really conscious enough to remember it afterwards. Probably for the better. But with his new found peace he finds himself more intrigued than anything else.
He shifts when Basco's hands pull at his legs, letting his head fall back, his fingers finding the links in the chain against to grip. Reflexively, completely without his conscious involvement, he braces himself for whatever it is Basco's about to do.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2012-05-17 01:37 pm (UTC)It was a topic raised in a few of his classes, then again in a few training courses when he was briefly considered for piloting before he got tapped for Special Forces. Never needing to really know about it, the information burrowed itself beneath the rest of his memory, unnecessary to call on until right now.
Event horizon. The point of no return. The invisible line dictating when the gravitational pull of a black hole became too great to escape, even with the power of light speed engines.
Why is he thinking about this now?
Because Basco is the black hole. And the event horizon was somewhere around when the last of Joe's clothes fell away, leaving him beyond vulnerable, incapable of defending himself. Unable to get away, stuck in a skewed space-time where nothing quite seemed like it was ever going to reach or effect him.
Pain still hurt, of course, and his breath came in ragged pants each time one of Basco's claws snagged his skin, drawing blood. But it seemed irrelevant. No matter how much pain Basco insisted upon giving him, eventually there would be too much. Too much pain, too much blood loss. Eventually Joe would die. Inevitable, not that it wasn't always, but tangible now.
He stares up at Basco somewhat blankly, his eyes glazed over. Lost and non-committal. His eyes catch on one of the chains and he wonders, very briefly, if he might be able to get it looped around his own throat, maybe speed up the process a bit. But the thought alone seems like too much effort, never mind the action it would require.
Then his eyes are drawn down, down to... Oh. Is that what Basco intends?
Joe doesn't ever remember having sex with any particularly non-human aliens. Not to say it never happened, of course, just that he was never really conscious enough to remember it afterwards. Probably for the better. But with his new found peace he finds himself more intrigued than anything else.
He shifts when Basco's hands pull at his legs, letting his head fall back, his fingers finding the links in the chain against to grip. Reflexively, completely without his conscious involvement, he braces himself for whatever it is Basco's about to do.