The man who once was Redvers Fenn-Cooper is no longer afraid. Indeed, he has moved to the point where he can acknowledge that he had once been afraid. Not with scorn, but with understanding. He had been dazzled by the light, and had had to wander in the dark until his sight returned.
He and Control (he still calls her that, though more as an honorific, for she is master of this extraordinary craft) left Nimrod behind on a peaceful world many flights ago to gather his wits. Now they travel on alone together, exploring and experimenting and experiencing. Not a day goes by without his being awestruck at the unceasing newness of it all. He sees things he cannot even think of names for.
Not a night goes by, either. The old Redvers might have found her sexual frankness superficially appealing, but he, now, has learned to delight in its complexity. They have, together, woven and rewoven their relationship, the rules evolving to adapt to new situations, until his imagination can delight in actions and sensations that the old buffer would have been too afraid to do more than observe from the sidelines, smugly seeing them as “what the savages did”. He becomes at once alien to all worlds and at the same moment embodied in them, explorer and native all at once, a far better yardstick of experimental variables than that creature still entombed in the brig.
Finally, Control rechristens him, ecstatic in his arms in a hot-spring on a world of ice, their joy an ember in the emptiness of potentials: “Voyager.”
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
Control/Redvers Fenn-Cooper
Date: 2008-06-25 03:43 am (UTC)He and Control (he still calls her that, though more as an honorific, for she is master of this extraordinary craft) left Nimrod behind on a peaceful world many flights ago to gather his wits. Now they travel on alone together, exploring and experimenting and experiencing. Not a day goes by without his being awestruck at the unceasing newness of it all. He sees things he cannot even think of names for.
Not a night goes by, either. The old Redvers might have found her sexual frankness superficially appealing, but he, now, has learned to delight in its complexity. They have, together, woven and rewoven their relationship, the rules evolving to adapt to new situations, until his imagination can delight in actions and sensations that the old buffer would have been too afraid to do more than observe from the sidelines, smugly seeing them as “what the savages did”. He becomes at once alien to all worlds and at the same moment embodied in them, explorer and native all at once, a far better yardstick of experimental variables than that creature still entombed in the brig.
Finally, Control rechristens him, ecstatic in his arms in a hot-spring on a world of ice, their joy an ember in the emptiness of potentials: “Voyager.”