Disclaimer: Prometheus belongs to its respected creators; Space Jockey/Engineers belong to H.R. Giger. I have no intentions of making any profits off this fan-based work.

A/N'S: I'm keeping my reasoning short - I couldn't hold all these feels and unanswered questions and disappoints for this movie, I had to resolve it through a scenario where David and Shaw kept each other entertained with a slew of unanswered questions and observations as they traveled to the Engineers' homeland. Who else can you bounce off of while you're stuck in the wasteland of the universe?


I: LAUNCH

"We live as we dream - alone." - Joseph Conrad


Getting a decapitated, yet still functioning, android to assist in the start-up of an alien ship turned out to be more difficult than it had played out in her mind. While he helped with the initial start-up and getting the systems online and active, the manual work was up to her. Even as he watched across from her, his cranium resting atop of a bio-mechanical module, and guided her step-by-step on how to set up the coordinates, which gelatinous key to push, and how to read the holographic map, Shaw fumbled and was forced to start over twice. Thankfully, David's patience was endless and unyielding.

With the last stroke of the keys, the Engineer ship throbbed, then hummed to life. With no windows in the pilot chamber, only a periscope to see through, to give her a 180° view, her flying was limited; having absolutely no experience in flying a ship only exacerbated the dilemma. With his - no, its, she reminded herself - face was bathed in a blue glow from the module, masked in an unsettling collective calm, David continued to give her directions on how to steer, his eyes never leaving her's.

Shaw felt the powerful tug of gravity as the ship rose and ascended up into the higher atmospheres. She tilted the ship here and there with the foreign, yet highly sensitive instruments. All while she was clutching her still-raw, freshly-stitched abdominal incision.

The world through her scope darkened, the sky vanishing and clouds plummeting, as they left the damned planet behind.


"David."

"Yes, Doctor Shaw?"

"Were any of your investigations able to unearth up any clues, any hints... to see if we weren't the only species the Engineers were hostile towards?"

A pause. "No, I'm afraid I could not." While his voice was unreadable due to the damaged voice box's digital grizzle and static, she could make out a little hint of... disappointment? Of not finding an answer?

Shaw rustled through one of two duffel bags in frustrated silence. They were filled to the brim with necessities, medical supplies and tools she was able to scavenge from Vickers' lavish life-boat. She couldn't remember which bag where she stuffed...

"Then," she started, after she finally fished out the metal container, almost measuring three feet long, "why the excessive stockpiling of biological weapons? They would have only needed a dozen of those cylinders to wipe us out." She hauled the toolbox to the android: his head leaned on the arm of a star-map observation throne, while his body sat before him, its back propped against the edge of the seat.

"It is plausible these beings unleash malice not just towards us... but, possibly towards one another."

With the flick of the clasp, the cantilever trays popped open, with more miniature trays on the sides unfurling. Strange apparatuses and devices lay before her. Her brows furrowed, then flicked her eyes back to him. "Much like how... some mobs, clans or nations of humans wage conflict against another?"

"Religious fundamentalism. Political sabotage. Genocide. After all, aren't you built from their very image?" David quipped.

True. More than just physical traits were passed down from creator to the creation...

Shaw pulled out a high-tech soldering iron, studying it. It was nothing like the ones she had seen back on Earth. "David, what tools will I need for this operation?"

The android motioned with his eyes. "You will need that soldering iron in your hand, the pair of tweezers, clamps, wire snips and pliers at the very bottom, plus those extra bundles of fiberwires and cords." She fished out what was needed.

"Wait." He interjected. Her head snapped up. "Please get the lubricant as well."

"Is it in cans or vials?"

"A metal vial."

Shaw returned with her arms full. Setting them aside in a neat line, she then turned to David's body, placed it down on the ancient floor. His head laid, face-up, before his ghastly wound.

"What do I need to do first?" Her voice wavered, unsure if this amateur mechanic job would help or hurt.

"Press the button on the side, an applicator should come out." With a press, a small shield slid and out popped a butter knife-life applicator with a smooth, but finely-porous end. That in hand, Shaw unscrewed the long, metal vial's cap.

"Dip it into the vial, and apply the oil onto the wires."

"The fiber-optic wires or the thick chords?"

"Fiber-optic. Please apply it to both my neck and the wound site."

She did as requested; once she slathered the milk-like lubricant onto the fiber filaments, the wire ends blinked once, then glowed brightly to life.

"Now... bring the clamps, pliers, and soldering iron," David continued. She began stabilizing the thicker 'spinal' cords, embedded with marble-like orbs (or were they cysts?), holding a few in place with the clamps and pliers. After giving a generous smothering of solder wick, Shaw began the delicate, laborious task of re-connecting his cervical connections.

At one point, sparks flew due to the naked end of an active wire grazing the metal tips of the pliers, causing David to erupt in a series of violent facial tics.

"David! Are you alright?" Shaw held his skull in place as the tics subsided.

"It is nothing. Please continue the operation." He replied, voice rushed but not breathy nor panicky, blinking a few times to get his eyes to stop rolling.

"Reconnecting is far from a ... painless process, is it not?" She said, slightly exasperated, and irritated, at his denial.

"The trick, Doctor Shaw, is not minding that it hurts."


TO BE CONTINUED

Critique and suggestions welcomed. This will be tidied up here and there in the coming days.