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She’s fighting.
Strapped on her Hornet, the cockpit as always a tad too big for her even while wearing an EVA suit, she grits her teeth as she fires upon the enemy. The fighter shakes with the rumble of its weaponry firing, the protests of the engine and thrusters as they attempt to follow her commands, and the incoming fire sublimating chunks of xirite armor with each hit. The cockpit is filled with smoke, and sparks fly from damaged consoles; the lights cast from the blasts and explosions outside add a lurid strobe effect to the scene. Her helmet is shattered, and a thin stream of blood flows down her forehead, pooling on her left eyebrow, threatening to break free at any moment and reach her eye, adding more difficulty to what is for her an already insurmountable task.
But she cannot lose this fight. She simply can’t.
Beyond this wave of enemies, far ahead and barely visible in her radar, he’s also fighting, for her sake. They’ve been pulled apart, the sheer number of enemies proving too much to keep a wing formation. The Serco and the Outfit and the Hive, they are out to destroy them both, to cast them into oblivion; they have swarmed around them and kept on coming regardless of loss, and there seem to be as many of them as stars in the universe.
She would be dead already, her escape pod tracked and blasted to bits before it could warp out, were it not for him. For the longest, he was her warrior and her shield, his skill and bravery downing foe after foe after foe. However, skill and bravery can only do so much against such numbers, and her telemetry shows his armor all but gone, his systems failing, his reactor on the edge of overload; they’ve pulled them apart, and, recognizing who the real threat is, are concentrating all their efforts, all their might, into killing him. Her, it so far has been enough to keep busy, to whittle away at her hull little by little, to bait and taunt and keep off balance so she can’t reach him. It’s easier this way, desperation in them both leading to mistakes, and perhaps, this has been the plan all along: to have him die before her eyes before she herself is destroyed, to plunge her into the Abyss knowing she was the cause of his death.
She sidesteps an incoming barrage and kicks in the retro thrusters, faking two ships tracking her into flying inside her danger zone. She fires, two Sunflares flying true into their midst, their proximity sensors coming to life just as they pass between them. The miniature twin suns that blossom throw both fighters aside, their hulls burnt and shattered, and she plunges her damaged fighter into the gap, ignoring all enemy fire tracing her flight.
The Hornet shakes with impacts and a number of alarms go off, but she has broken free of the ring imprisoning her. She knows this and her foes know it too, ceasing to fire in order to engage turbo thrusters in pursuit. The Hornet is faster, though, and its reactor can outlast any of theirs in the long run to follow. The enemy falls far behind, and she consults her radar; he’s still there, but barely, and the number of enemies around him is frightening. Still, she will do all in her power to help him. As the distance diminishes in great leaps, she checks her weapon systems and the Sunflare tubes. Not much left, by any reckoning, but it will have to do. A grim determination comes over her features –a sight virtually no one has witnessed- as her ship closes in on those who would hurt him.
One thousands meters, nine hundred meters...
It comes out, or rather, it fades in, from the Void all around her. Her warning systems all come alive, screaming of proximity and incoming fire and imminent overload. Her eyes widen and fill with terror as the shape takes recognizable form in front of her ship, and she finds she cannot move, she cannot react to avoid contact, she cannot even look away.
A wry, bent old man, with a crooked nose and a terrible smirk in his mouth, big as the universe and inescapable as Death looms before her. One of his huge gnarled and calloused hands reaches out for her ship...
With a start, she wakes up.
She’s not the type to scream; she never has been, not since she was four years old, and so she doesn’t now. She sits up on her bed, beads of sweat on her brow, and she closes her eyes and takes deep breaths. Her hair, an unnatural but attractive green color, is also slick with sweat, and both the pillow and the sheets have sweat stains on them, too.
Presently the horror of the dream begins to fade, as her mind rationalizes the images in it. The chaos and desperation of ship combat she hasn’t experienced in a long time; in fact, the memories of her very last fights were taken from her by the old man. As for the old man himself, he thinks her dead, and has returned to hiding, the Union law enforcement agencies now alerted to his return. That danger, too, seems to have passed.
That only leaves him, and the gulf that separates them.
She doesn’t know how it came to that, how they grew more and more apart with each passing day; she knows she’s tried to bridge the gap, only to hit silence on the other side. She knows some times the distance seemed to shrink, even to disappear altogether, but soon after it returned, as cold and intractable as the distance to Olde Earth itself.
All she knows is, she’s had need of him and he hasn’t responded.
Still, that’s just one of the reasons her bed is no longer empty. She looks to her right, and smiles; the young Itani is deeply asleep still, as calm and beautiful as a small child. Had she screamed, no doubt he would have woken up, and she’d be lying in his arms by now; not a bad thing at all by any measure, and she considers waking him for a moment. She decides against it in the end, partly because he needs his sleep, but mostly because she dislikes being an imposition on others. Maybe that’s what went wrong last time.
The other reasons are far more compelling. They’re both very alike, in that they have overcome the flawed, narrow-minded teachings of their childhood and suffered exile because of it, and yet overcome. Also, he’s kind and funny, though a bit shy, and he’s dependable. He has listened to her in both sad and happy times, and he’s also confided in her his sorrows and his hopes and his dreams. He has stood by her side every time she has asked, and more besides, being able to tell when she has need of a friend, and has also asked for and sought her help. In short, he has been there for her, and allowed her to be there for him.
She smiles as she muses on this, still on the bed, the feelings from her dream having fled and a warm happiness replacing them. He rolls closer to her in his sleep, whispering something intelligible, and she turns her attention to him, gently following the line of his chin with her finger, and then ruffling his brown hair a little, tenderly. She looks to the clock on the wall, and notices it is still a couple of hours until the first shift of a new day begins. She considers getting back to sleep, but she knows it’s going to be a busy day; better start off early. She kisses him on the cheek and gets up slowly, so as not to wake him.
She turns on the auto mixer, and punches in for black coffee. While the little contraption whistles and hums, she looks out the viewport at planet Kraz, entering the view from the upper right corner. There was a time she looked at that planet and every time wished it was Arna instead, but that was in another lifetime. She no longer resents the orange planet she sees in front of her, though; through his love, he has come to accept the latest changes in her life, including all losses. Maybe it’s for the best, she thinks, since her last love was part of that past life too. She’s come out of the dark tunnel at last, and is learning to love the new territory before her.
She leaves him a thermo cup filled with coffee by the bed for when he wakes up, a ritual only a few days old that she’s beginning to enjoy, kisses him once again, and leaves the bedroom to begin another day at Corvus Hold, her new home.
Strapped on her Hornet, the cockpit as always a tad too big for her even while wearing an EVA suit, she grits her teeth as she fires upon the enemy. The fighter shakes with the rumble of its weaponry firing, the protests of the engine and thrusters as they attempt to follow her commands, and the incoming fire sublimating chunks of xirite armor with each hit. The cockpit is filled with smoke, and sparks fly from damaged consoles; the lights cast from the blasts and explosions outside add a lurid strobe effect to the scene. Her helmet is shattered, and a thin stream of blood flows down her forehead, pooling on her left eyebrow, threatening to break free at any moment and reach her eye, adding more difficulty to what is for her an already insurmountable task.
But she cannot lose this fight. She simply can’t.
Beyond this wave of enemies, far ahead and barely visible in her radar, he’s also fighting, for her sake. They’ve been pulled apart, the sheer number of enemies proving too much to keep a wing formation. The Serco and the Outfit and the Hive, they are out to destroy them both, to cast them into oblivion; they have swarmed around them and kept on coming regardless of loss, and there seem to be as many of them as stars in the universe.
She would be dead already, her escape pod tracked and blasted to bits before it could warp out, were it not for him. For the longest, he was her warrior and her shield, his skill and bravery downing foe after foe after foe. However, skill and bravery can only do so much against such numbers, and her telemetry shows his armor all but gone, his systems failing, his reactor on the edge of overload; they’ve pulled them apart, and, recognizing who the real threat is, are concentrating all their efforts, all their might, into killing him. Her, it so far has been enough to keep busy, to whittle away at her hull little by little, to bait and taunt and keep off balance so she can’t reach him. It’s easier this way, desperation in them both leading to mistakes, and perhaps, this has been the plan all along: to have him die before her eyes before she herself is destroyed, to plunge her into the Abyss knowing she was the cause of his death.
She sidesteps an incoming barrage and kicks in the retro thrusters, faking two ships tracking her into flying inside her danger zone. She fires, two Sunflares flying true into their midst, their proximity sensors coming to life just as they pass between them. The miniature twin suns that blossom throw both fighters aside, their hulls burnt and shattered, and she plunges her damaged fighter into the gap, ignoring all enemy fire tracing her flight.
The Hornet shakes with impacts and a number of alarms go off, but she has broken free of the ring imprisoning her. She knows this and her foes know it too, ceasing to fire in order to engage turbo thrusters in pursuit. The Hornet is faster, though, and its reactor can outlast any of theirs in the long run to follow. The enemy falls far behind, and she consults her radar; he’s still there, but barely, and the number of enemies around him is frightening. Still, she will do all in her power to help him. As the distance diminishes in great leaps, she checks her weapon systems and the Sunflare tubes. Not much left, by any reckoning, but it will have to do. A grim determination comes over her features –a sight virtually no one has witnessed- as her ship closes in on those who would hurt him.
One thousands meters, nine hundred meters...
It comes out, or rather, it fades in, from the Void all around her. Her warning systems all come alive, screaming of proximity and incoming fire and imminent overload. Her eyes widen and fill with terror as the shape takes recognizable form in front of her ship, and she finds she cannot move, she cannot react to avoid contact, she cannot even look away.
A wry, bent old man, with a crooked nose and a terrible smirk in his mouth, big as the universe and inescapable as Death looms before her. One of his huge gnarled and calloused hands reaches out for her ship...
With a start, she wakes up.
She’s not the type to scream; she never has been, not since she was four years old, and so she doesn’t now. She sits up on her bed, beads of sweat on her brow, and she closes her eyes and takes deep breaths. Her hair, an unnatural but attractive green color, is also slick with sweat, and both the pillow and the sheets have sweat stains on them, too.
Presently the horror of the dream begins to fade, as her mind rationalizes the images in it. The chaos and desperation of ship combat she hasn’t experienced in a long time; in fact, the memories of her very last fights were taken from her by the old man. As for the old man himself, he thinks her dead, and has returned to hiding, the Union law enforcement agencies now alerted to his return. That danger, too, seems to have passed.
That only leaves him, and the gulf that separates them.
She doesn’t know how it came to that, how they grew more and more apart with each passing day; she knows she’s tried to bridge the gap, only to hit silence on the other side. She knows some times the distance seemed to shrink, even to disappear altogether, but soon after it returned, as cold and intractable as the distance to Olde Earth itself.
All she knows is, she’s had need of him and he hasn’t responded.
Still, that’s just one of the reasons her bed is no longer empty. She looks to her right, and smiles; the young Itani is deeply asleep still, as calm and beautiful as a small child. Had she screamed, no doubt he would have woken up, and she’d be lying in his arms by now; not a bad thing at all by any measure, and she considers waking him for a moment. She decides against it in the end, partly because he needs his sleep, but mostly because she dislikes being an imposition on others. Maybe that’s what went wrong last time.
The other reasons are far more compelling. They’re both very alike, in that they have overcome the flawed, narrow-minded teachings of their childhood and suffered exile because of it, and yet overcome. Also, he’s kind and funny, though a bit shy, and he’s dependable. He has listened to her in both sad and happy times, and he’s also confided in her his sorrows and his hopes and his dreams. He has stood by her side every time she has asked, and more besides, being able to tell when she has need of a friend, and has also asked for and sought her help. In short, he has been there for her, and allowed her to be there for him.
She smiles as she muses on this, still on the bed, the feelings from her dream having fled and a warm happiness replacing them. He rolls closer to her in his sleep, whispering something intelligible, and she turns her attention to him, gently following the line of his chin with her finger, and then ruffling his brown hair a little, tenderly. She looks to the clock on the wall, and notices it is still a couple of hours until the first shift of a new day begins. She considers getting back to sleep, but she knows it’s going to be a busy day; better start off early. She kisses him on the cheek and gets up slowly, so as not to wake him.
She turns on the auto mixer, and punches in for black coffee. While the little contraption whistles and hums, she looks out the viewport at planet Kraz, entering the view from the upper right corner. There was a time she looked at that planet and every time wished it was Arna instead, but that was in another lifetime. She no longer resents the orange planet she sees in front of her, though; through his love, he has come to accept the latest changes in her life, including all losses. Maybe it’s for the best, she thinks, since her last love was part of that past life too. She’s come out of the dark tunnel at last, and is learning to love the new territory before her.
She leaves him a thermo cup filled with coffee by the bed for when he wakes up, a ritual only a few days old that she’s beginning to enjoy, kisses him once again, and leaves the bedroom to begin another day at Corvus Hold, her new home.
Who *IS* this mystery Itani? Inquiring minds wanna know!
Based on the response from _____ that was deleted, I'd say its ______. (Yes, I know who it is).
So _____ is sleepin with Joyce now?
So _____ is sleepin with Joyce now?
Yes.
[CENSORED] is sleeping with Joyce, as if you couldn't have figured it out without the story or [CENSORED]'s deleted post.
[CENSORED] is sleeping with Joyce, as if you couldn't have figured it out without the story or [CENSORED]'s deleted post.
-.-
I have a name, you know.
I have a name, you know.
LOL Monk?! Joyce... we're getting you SPAYED.
/me eats Lecter with some fava beans and a nice chianti.
Oh, and... great story, Jex! More!
Oh, and... great story, Jex! More!
Feh. Figures the guys would fixate on the sex.
>.<
It's not the sex, it's the idea of a bunch of little moldymonks running amok in Odia that has me concerned.
(nice story, though, Jex)
(nice story, though, Jex)
-.-
Hmmm... you have a point, Will, but Joyce's a very responsible girl, even if monk is an irresponsible lover.
And thanks for the praise; one does try.
And thanks for the praise; one does try.
Oh, now I'm irresponsible. Humph
Hey, how should *I* know how responsible you're in intimate matters?
I'm just saying, even should you happen to be sloppy, lazy, ignorant and/or clueless about these things, Joyce is not, so everything should be alright.
Then again, if your handling of CDC command is something to gage your performance in other areas on...
I'm just saying, even should you happen to be sloppy, lazy, ignorant and/or clueless about these things, Joyce is not, so everything should be alright.
Then again, if your handling of CDC command is something to gage your performance in other areas on...
Extra senstive today, aren't we?
I just don't like being insulted
Very well, I apologize.
Thank you.
Great. In addition to the horrifying possiblity of (1) Monk passing on his tainted genes, and (2) Joyce whelping offspring...now we have to listen to their spat here.
/me goes to get some nice ADV rails for Monk... a gov bus would suffice for Joyce, of course ;)
/me goes to get some nice ADV rails for Monk... a gov bus would suffice for Joyce, of course ;)
Lecter, i remember you logging off in disgust last time after I beat you FIVE times in a row. As for Joyce, I'll gladly flare your bus to death if you get near.