• Archive through October 02, 2002 10/02 08:42pm

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• Archive through October 08, 2002 10/11 07:34am

By Ryu Connor (Hellfire) on Tuesday, October 08, 2002 - 10:36 am:

Spades Faloise:

I suggest your character take it easy before you suffer a Roy Focker and end up suddenly dead.

By Ryu Connor (Hellfire) on Tuesday, October 08, 2002 - 10:59 am:

"Ah, Captain Sanderson."

Colonel Thompson extended his hand.

"Congratulations on your recent promotion and command position. I'm sure you'll serve the UNMS proud."

"I'm sorry this has to be so curt, but these orders arrived with some urgency attached to them. Our communication just moments ago is the whole story on current logistics. As mentioned the "Wolfpack" will be boarding this shuttle with the "Silverhawks." You will rendevous with the UNS Raven who will take you to meet with the UNS Phoenix."

"Your Top Gun candidates will take this second shuttle," Thompson paused to point at a shuttle to his left.

"This shuttle will deliver them to the UNS Gabriel."

"Do you have any questions, Mr. Sanderson?"

By Maj. Amaris Martin (Vagabond) on Tuesday, October 08, 2002 - 12:28 pm:

He could only gaze in frozen, half-horrified amazement as Kit Malak fell off the gurney, flopped back onto the gurney, spun flailing in place, and finally gave in to her cold, hard destiny with the floor.

"Uh, ah..."

Finally able to move again, Amaris hastily stepped forward, stooping to drag Kit up by one arm. He wasn't one of those manly men; in fact he was far beyond it, so he couldn't simply lift her in his arms himself and place her back on the cot. Instead, he pulled her to a standing position, then provided her with a support to push on so she could climb back onto the gurney.

"Get back up there, Lieutenant, and I'll wheel you aboard the shuttle. We're about to ship out."

He was embarrassed by his momentary inability to move. Obviously it was caused by his belated realization, but still, it must have been rather strange to see a woozy, injured woman slumping to the ground while her superior officer merely watched. Amaris grimaced, looking away from Kit for a moment, and that was when he spotted the helmet.

"Ya-Allah," he whispered inexplicably, then stretched out his arm and knocked the helmet to the floor before Kit could see it.

By Spades Faloise on Tuesday, October 08, 2002 - 03:26 pm:

OOC: Sure, Chief.

IC:

She was startled at the exclamation somewhere to the back of her, and before she knew it, a pair of familiar hands were reaching for her. It looked familiar. Really familiar, and that was when she suddenly realized that her vision wasn't exactly as it was before. It was blurred around the edges, fuzzy and unclear, and she could only blink uncomprehendingly.

"Dammit, Spades, if you needed something, you didn't have to rip open every injury on your body to get it. A simple 'yo' would have gotten my attention."

"......Yamada...?" It was as if Araika didn't recognize him, but as soon as his hands were grasping her for support, she felt her knees lock together to keep herself from falling. She was barely aware of Jiro dragging her back to her gurney, before he vanished again to god knows where. Was she dreaming again?

If it was, why was she dreaming about Jiro helping her again? It was supposed to be the other way around, that unpaid debt lingering at the back of her head.

She offered no resistance once he came back, and gladly took the bottle of water from him. At his inquiry, she gave him a nod, her eyes sharpening back to their usual, cat-like clarity and turning her head to meet his gaze. "Yeah...'m fine." Programmed response, to be sure. Her hand came up to touch the reopened wound on her shoulder, feeling the tattered bandanna fall from her touch.

The inference of the moment brought a sharp stab of realization through her as her fingers fell away bonelessly, Jiro coming up to offer his unwanted (or was it?) aid. She groaned, and turned her head away, lifting her other hand to try and push his own from her skin as he started tending to her reopened injury.

"No..." she muttered, only Yamada, damn his usual brickheadedness, wasn't listening. She could practically feel his eyes stop to burn holes in the indicative string of letters and numbers branded on her pale flesh, outlined with crimson oozing from the cut. It didn't matter now, she realized, once Jiro calmly reapplied the bandage. He saw.

And she thought she would've been able to keep it. It had been two years.

She fell silent then, her eyes fixed on a blank point in the wall once her oftentimes partner stepped back to look at her, and hesitantly offer his inquiry of her health once more. She could only close her eyes momentarily, perhaps mentally kicking herself. Or perhaps her eyes couldn't stay open at the present moment.

The former perhaps. Her catlike eyes opened to glance over at Jiro. "....I'll live," she said, her voice clearer now after she had taken several, thirsty swigs of her water. "...tha's all tha' really matters, no?"

She fell silent then. Half of her wanted to address what he saw, the other half wanted to keep her mouth shut. But there was no need to clamp her teeth down, was it? By the look on his face in those brief moments, he already knew.

"....I was makin' things easier for myself. As much as I could," she explained under her breath. "....you can prolly tell by now tha' I ain' 'ere by choice. Hope tha' don' matter to you, much." She averted her face to glance stonily on the opposite wall, the very picture of a petulant child who got her hand caught in a cookie jar before dinner. "...'f it does, hope y'understan', at least. I've gone long connin', stealin', piratin', blowin' things up and shootin' people dead so I could live. Really live. My Purple Heart's all been a facade. I ain' like my father, y'know. Ne'er was."

"...but I don' regret anythin' I've done tha' put me here. Even after all th'fire an' blood." She looked over at Jiro, and her lips quirked into a faint smirk. "Mebbe tha' makes me a demon. Question is, can y'fly wi' one?"

By Mark Sanderson (Bishop) on Wednesday, October 09, 2002 - 01:02 pm:

Mark was standing next to the Colonel, his hands still covered in dried blood.

“Thank you Sir. I’ll make sure my team gets on the right shuttles. As for questions none come to mind. I’m sure accommodations have been made for us when we get to the Raven, as well as medial treatment for the wounded. Do you know how long the transit will be to the Phoenix?”

Bishop had some command experience from his previous posts. Being in command of a force was just the next step in the evolution of a career. But he hardly knew any of the people he would be flying with. He didn’t know their personalities, which in his experience greatly translated into their flying styles. On top of all that, was that they all had been upgraded to flight status from enlisted positions. He hoped it wouldn’t go to their heads. Mark had originally enlisted early in his career, he ended up going through the academy for his flight training. In a way because of this he wasn’t a stickler for command protocols, maybe with this team they wouldn’t either. What mattered was getting the job done and getting it done right.

By Warlock on Wednesday, October 09, 2002 - 01:03 pm:

"Huh?" Murdoch replied as the fear that hid in the back of his mind, returned to the forefront. The thought that the Marines were still stuck inside the burning hull of the Eagle, haunted him. He had heard Jade's voice whisper in his mind during the conflict and with everyone else taken on this day, it would have only made sense that God would have taken everyone. "What shuttle?!"

Murdoch glanced over his shoulder and saw the over stuffed pigeon that carried the name Falcon. Without a second thought he left Malak's side and in a brisk walk headed in that direction. His heart began to race and about half way there he almost tripped over his own feet. But after a few moments he finally arrived and made his way up the ramp.

"Where is she?!" Murdoch demanded from everyone within the range of his voice. He looked pretty bad considering he was covered in mud and dried blood. With the beating his body has taken, he was actually breathing harder than normal. But he had found her ship, but he still hadn't found her. "What happened, where's the pilot?!"

By Ryu Connor (Hellfire) on Wednesday, October 09, 2002 - 09:13 pm:

"The UNS Phoenix is moving to rendevous with the UNS Raven so were thinking it will be around twelve hours. It could end up slightly shorter or longer than that," said Colonel Thompson.

"Sir!" Exclaimed the shuttle pilot as he stood at the entrance ramp of the transport.

"The UNS Raven says we need to get our guest aboard now, otherwise they'll be unreasonably late."

"I understand Captain. Make a deckwide announcement," said Thompson.

"Aye, sir."

Thompson turned to Sanderson.

"Saddle up."

The shuttle pilot's message broadcast across the deck.

"Silverhawk" and "Wolfpack" pilots, your flight is leaving in five minutes. Please board immediately."

By Mark Sanderson (Bishop) on Wednesday, October 09, 2002 - 10:31 pm:

Mark nodded.
“Yes, Sir.”
He saluted once again before moving back onto the deck. He waved the other Marines of squad so they would know which shuttle to board.
“Come on we have plane to catch.”
His feet stomped on the alloy deck plating of the ramp as he stopped at the interior hatch waiting for them to arrive. All the while resisting the urge to hum Leaving on a jet plane.

By Kit Malak on Thursday, October 10, 2002 - 08:56 pm:

Kit did her best to not hinder the help that Major Martin was giving although the forces of nature, namely gravity, did it’s best to drag her down once more.

“Yes sirrrrmmmph.”

Kit’s right hand suddenly clamped over her mouth as the gravity in her stomach threatened to reverse itself. The threat was followed by a warning shot of bile that left a wonderful taste in the back of her throat. Fortunately, it had been many hours since she’d last eaten. She couldn’t even remember when or what it was at this point but then again, food was the farthest thing from her mind at the moment. She was just trying to keep what little dignity she had left from being lost on the Major.

As luck would have it, Kit had her back to the Major as he stood by to help her back on the gurney so he couldn’t see the nauseous look of terror on her face. For that much she was grateful and she used his support to get back on the contraption. Actually, she more fell forward onto the oh so comfortable military corkboard than climbed back on. The end result was the same however; she was off her feet. Her legs still dangled off the thing but she was no longer in danger of falling though her double vision and nausea suggested otherwise. She decided to just wait it out instead of attempting to move again, tempting the evil seductress named fate.

“I’m all set.” Kit’s voice was stressed but she tried to hold onto at least a hint of humor. “You know what the in-flight movie is? I hope I haven’t seen it yet.”

Closing her eyes would have been a mistake so Kit simple stared at the white sheet under her, which effectively changed her double vision into a just a swath of white. Now if only her head would stop throbbing.

By Rachel Nexx on Thursday, October 10, 2002 - 11:34 pm:

It had been a long arduos journy for Rachel. She was reminded of an old show about this tour boat and its small crew getting stranded out on an island. Thats exactly how it felt. A three hour tour of CAP duty lead to a long flight outto meet a fiasco and then get moved into another unit and reassigned right there...stranded with a new place before she was able to get used to the one she had just moved into.

She had only her flight bag with her from the thunderbolt she had been flying. Her eyes were heavy. Maybe this wasnt such a bad thing. At least she would be able to get some sleep on teh ride out to the Raven. She knew what ship she was going to because she had been moving around in teh hanger and passed Sanderson as he was being talked to. She had been looking for her brother, but so far had found no sign of Ikaru.

She remembered the name of the shuttle he piloted, the Falcon. She was looking long and hard due to all the damage the Falcon looked like it had taken. She worried for her brother. And now as she was walking to board the shuttle taking her to her new life she cought glimps of his face. It was by pure chance that she had. It was one of those few times you look around and your eyes simply fall on exactly what your looking for. Her jaw instantaniously dropped. The strap of her bag slid away from her shoulder and hit the floor almost as hard as her heart did.

The clank of boots could be clearly heard as Rachel ran accross the hanger to the gurny that carried Ikaru. Not thinking she almost slammed into it and put her arms around him.

It didnt matter how mutch sedative Ikaru was given, the preasure of his sisters body weight on his injuries forced an audible moan out of him. His face winced showing only a fraction of the pain he was feeling as he came out of his unconsious slumber.

Moaning and mumbling is all that he uttered. The sedatives kept him obviously under the influance and all the moovment he could manage was to move his head back and forth and lift his good arm and loosly shake his fist. A few seconds passed and his arm dropped back to teh gurny and his face lost all expression again. Another moan showed he had not passed out again though. Laying there his face peacefull once again Rachel was left with no solace.

"How, what happened?" She wimpered. Not to anyone specific. She said it more as a reflex to seeing Ikarus situation. It was obvious she was trying her best nto to fall into tears but, however it was clear she was doing a poor job.

She looked up at the red headed laidy moving her brother towards the other shuttle inthe hanger with the largest doe eyes that begged for answeres.

"Whats wrong with him?"

By Jade on Friday, October 11, 2002 - 01:12 am:

Jade brought the gurney to an abrupt halt as a missle in the shape of a young woman barreled towards it. She had to just stand back and watch as the girl put her copilot through an enthusiatic, if not medically preferred, greeting. Ikaru didn't seem to mind too much and judeging from the complexion, facial and body features, Jade guessed that the young woman was related to Ikaru somehow.

Though it seemed impossible for such a chance reunion out in the middle of nowhere, weirder things had happened that day already.

Finally, when the girl turned to plead for answeresr, Jade smiled reasurringly and patted Ikaru's foot.

"Nothing some beer and a few combat missions won't cure."

She tilted her head towards where the planet would be if it was visible through the bulkhead.

"We were caught in the Eagle's hanger when all hell broke loose. Fortunately, everyone was still suited up so when the hold depressurized not all was lost."

Jade glanced down at Ikaru, then at the girl and continued.

"And Iky here, according to what I was able to catch, broke an arm and a couple ribs. Nothing serious."

Jade smiled again, glad to be telling someone some good news admidst all the bad.

"Like I said, he'll be up and around before we're ready for him to be I'm sure. By the way, I'm Jade..."

She extended her dirty hand towards the girl but paused halfway as a familiar and nearly frantic voice bellowed from the Falcon's ramp.

"John?"

It was the only word she could get out, too stunned to think. Over the last several hours, she'd kept herself busy just so she wouldn't have time to think about the endless possibilities that...that could have never been.

All she could do now was simply stand there, staring. Emerald embers glowed hopefully, disbelief and relief vied for control in the worn out marine.

By Kim Malak on Friday, October 11, 2002 - 01:42 am:

Kim smiled to himself as Murdoch hurriedly beelined for the Falcon. It was good to see his partner distracted from something other than the death and loss they had received. There was always something to be glad for. Too bad Kim couldn't convince himself of that.

Luck, fate or destiny had spared the lives of a handful of the Eagle's crew and the fact that he was friends with many of them seemed unfair and yet, he couldn't rejoice over that. He wanted to shake his fist at the gods in defiance, to declare his vendetta against anything or anyone who had a hand in recent events. Then again, he believed in no such thing or entity.

Kim's knuckles were white from the fists he now held across his chest. The anger had returned so quickly he almost didn't catch it in time. He had to force himself to relax and shift his attention back to watching John. The man was halfway up the ramp when Kim noticed the not as red-haired as normal marine pilot pushing a gurney a few feet away. John had totally passed her in his hurry. That almost forced a laugh but not quite.

Keeping one eye in John's direction, Kim scanned the rest of the hanger; the people shuffling from one place to another, the wounded being treated and then loaded, the small groups collecting and then dispersing. As usual, the UN was sending it’s sons and daughters out unprepared, unrested, and uninformed into that great unknown. But that’s what they all signed up for and he wasn't the type to compain about S.O.Ps. Still, some days there wasn’t a card game worth sitting in and other days, you literally didn’t know what day it was, like today. And Kim was pretty good at judging time but he really was at a loss as to how many hours it had been since Mithril Force has launched off the Eagle.

He supposed he could climb up into his Excal and check the mission clock but it really didn’t matter. He'd never be allowed to talk about the last mission or the demise of the Eagle. They'd prolly chalk it up to a gravitational anomaly during a planetary recon that forced the Eagle to crash. In the end, any details he had in his head were pointless propaganda the Spacy would deny even if he took the time to find out. Besides, there was too many, other, interesting things to take note of here in the hanger.

Kim watched amused as Kit did a three stage fall to the floor with Major Martin watching from above. Muscles tightened as he saw her fall, instinctively wanting to help but he restrained himself as there was little he could do from so far away.

Kit had taken quite the blow to the head and shouldn't have even attempted to sit but like her twin, nothing would keep a Malak down for long. And he knew the Major wouldn't be so resentful of Kim that he'd not help Kit because of it.

He wished he could see the Major's face but he couldn't have everything from his current vantage point which happened to give him a fairly clear view of most of the hanger without being too conspicuous himself.

Since he was too late to be the first, Kim fully intended to be the last to board the shuttle to the Raven and from where he was standing, it was only a short jaunt across the deck and up the ramp. In the meantime he could watch the chaos unfold.

By Maj. Amaris Martin (Vagabond) on Friday, October 11, 2002 - 04:47 am:

Amaris chuckled softly. "You shouldn't scare me like that." Inwardly, he was again wondering why the UN was shipping him off with wounded pilots. Perhaps the decisions as to who would go had been made before the extent of the damage was fully known to all parties.

He wondered who did know about all this, and what was being told on the Galaxy Network.

But he was tired. There were so many questions, and very few answers. He could have asked Thompson...but in all truth the man was simply there to get them on their way, not to coddle them. Whoever their contact would be at their final destination would be the best one to ask, and in the meantime Amaris needed to focus on his people and not his own confusion.

He moved around the gurney, tapping the handle. "All right, hang on...you might want to lie back down," he said to Kit, waiting until she seemed secure before beginning to move. He wheeled the gurney across the hangar and up the ramp, again trying hard not to bump as he changed surfaces.

Heading for the rear area where he'd left the other injured, Amaris noted two things: first, that Forte Gospel hadn't returned with the other gurney yet, and second, that Araika Faloise was sitting up with a water bottle in her hand. Jiro Yamada was next to her. Amaris smiled in greeting, wheeling Kit abreast of them and engaging the wheel brake.

"Good to see you looking so alert," he said to Araika.

Not far beyond the two, Krystal Thornton sat next to Kyoko Kanzaki's stretcher. "Everything's all right here, I hope, Lieutenant Thornton?" Amaris asked. "For the duration of the shuttle trip, I'd like you to watch over these two as well." He waved a hand, indicating Araika and Kit. "Try to see that they're comfortable."

Amaris glanced to Jiro. He hadn't seen the boy--odd, that he thought of him as a boy, when their ages weren't all that different--at all since before the mission, at least not face-to-face. Even when he'd been calling people together to discuss the transport to their new home, Jiro had remained in his fighter, apparently only getting word through his external microphone. Amaris felt a slight rush of guilt that he hadn't thought more of that. Was Yamada all right? Physically, he seemed fine, but emotionally...?

Reaching out, Amaris patted a hand on Jiro's shoulder. It was a rather odd thing for him to do; anyone thinking back along the brief relationship the Hawks had had with him would sense that he typically didn't touch other men, and only rarely touched women. Though he was friendly, there seemed to be something of a bubble around him. Barely tangible, but there.

"Good to see you, Lieutenant Yamada," Amaris said.

By Yamada Jiro, 1st Lt. on Friday, October 11, 2002 - 06:39 am:

"Mebbe tha' makes me a demon. Question is, can y'fly wi' one?"

Answers bubbled forth in his mind, fighting for dominance. Some shied away from her question, others thrust it aside with humor. Still others wanted to snap out a hurt retort. But Jiro knew with certaintly that only one answer was true. He'd flown with her for two years, and she'd never been anyone but herself, and that was good enough for Jiro.

He could see that Araika's eyes weren't focusing properly, so he held his tongue until their eyes met. Face to face, watching those gold-flecked eyes, Jiro felt the bonds of friendship take hold. He knew that it was important for Araika to understand he meant exactly what he said, so he kept his eyes on hers until he saw that glint of recognition, where her mind connected with the images that passed before her retinas. And when he saw it, he began to speak.

"Good to see you, Lieutenant Yamada."

The words weren't his and he silently stammered for a second, wondering how such words found their way into his mouth. He turned at a light touch on his shoulder and came face to face with Major Martin. "Major," he stammered once more, his mind trying to shift gears at the sudden switch in conversation partners. His words all left him then. He knew that Araika didn't speak openly of her past and though, undoubtedly, the Major knew of it, Jiro respected that unspoken wish and avoided the topic.

"I'm fine, sir," he replied, giving a completely wrong answer to the statement that asked no such question. The words were out, hanging between the Major and him, and Jiro immediately felt stupid for uttering them. "I mean, thank you, sir. I was just checking in on Spades." He could feel the warmth of blood flushing into his cheeks as he flustered about with words, searching for the ones that would suit the conversation best. "She was hurt."

...

Well duh.

By Maj. Amaris Martin (Vagabond) on Friday, October 11, 2002 - 07:34 am:

To say "I appreciate it" would be trite and meaningless, as Yamada and Faloise were obviously friends from long before they knew Amaris existed, but it was all he could do to keep from saying it anyway. There were certain things you're just trained to do and say when you're in charge of something, and it's hard to break those habits. He did appreciate it...but it was fair to assume that he didn't appreciate it nearly as much as Araika did.

Regardless, Yamada's stammered answer warranted some kind of response, and so Amaris smiled wryly and commented, "If I had that effect on everyone, UN negotiations would have been so much easier."

He wasn't part of this group yet, not totally, and he filed that knowledge away. It would be a long while before he and the others shared the kind of camaraderie that was obvious between Yamada and Faloise...if it ever happened. There was a subtle something, a 'command detachment' that usually existed, had to exist, rules of fraternization being what they were. But it was important to build towards a stronger bond, tactically and morale-wise.

He could break it down all the ways he wanted, but Amaris knew that underlying it all was the quiet desire to find a friend here. There'd been no time before...and really, there was no time now, but he was still enough at rest to feel the lack of a confidant.

Amaris felt his fingers curling around the antique watch in his pocket. He withdrew his hand and nodded around at the group. There were still things to be done...best to let them alone for now.

"I'll see about your things," he said, casting his words to Kit, Araika, and Kyoko. He didn't know if the third heard him, but if not, Krystal would pass on the message. Amaris smiled once more and then turned to leave.

As he strode down the ramp once more, Amaris called over a technician. "I need you to get all the equipment and personal effects owned by the three injured women who are leaving for the Raven. Gather it all up and stow it on the shuttle. We don't have much time, so I'd appreciate your best speed."

He sent the man off, then jogged over to his own fighter. Swiftly ascending the ladder, he peered into the cockpit section, searching for anything he might want to bring along.

He didn't care about his helmet...a helmet was a helmet, and he hadn't had time to grow fond of it. Besides, they were getting new equipment, and perhaps that meant a different style of helmet. Amaris shrugged and passed the headgear over.

His attaché case was not here. That meant that his only changes of clothes were down on the planet, burnt to a crisp. But all of Amaris' paper money--not that there was much left--was rolled up and stuffed into his boot, and his military ID and PDA were, as always, on his person.

There really was nothing in the cockpit worth saving. He hadn't been with the group long enough. Indeed, his fighter practically reeked of 'new car smell'...although obviously he'd inherited it from a former Silverhawk, and not the CO since her custom fighter had left with her, all traces of whoever had flown the craft before Amaris were gone. There was no personality here. Nothing to miss.

He looked one last time over the array of buttons, knobs, switches and levers that had been his world for the past day, then shunted back down the ladder and headed for the shuttle.

Amaris took one long, last breath, turned at the ramp, and gazed back out over the hangar. The 'organized chaos', as many were wont to call it, proceeded efficiently. He didn't know what they were going to do with the Hawks' gear, but he realized he didn't care. He hadn't had the time to grow attached.

In a way this was a cleansing. It was all being washed away, and they were being reborn as something new. On a ship called the Phoenix, no less.

Amaris smiled, then glanced over to where the technician he'd pulled aside earlier was rounding up Kit Malak's things. He hadn't seen the helmet, as Amaris had knocked it to the ground. Amaris strode over, found the helmet, picked it up and just stared at it for a moment.

It would certainly be unusable...and for Kit to see it now might be damaging. But for Amaris to unilaterally decide that she should never see it would be wrong, not to mention unnecessary. He handed the broken headgear to the technician. "Pack that away, too," he said. "She might want it later."

The tech seemed to grasp the implication, and put the helmet in a box.

Amaris took one fleeting look around, then jogged up the ramp and glanced into the shuttle. Fazia Al Hamza seemed to be quite settled in; apparently she'd been here awhile. Bill Lee was all ready to go as well. He smiled; there was something to be said for dutiful second lieutenants. Rachel Nexx was here, too. She seemed to still be situating herself. Amaris nodded and smiled at the three of them. Hopefully they would get to talking; maybe Fazia would induct the other two into the Hawks. Amaris didn't realize how much he was unconsciously leaning on Fazia; somehow, though, he felt he could trust and rely on her.

Krystal Thornton was in the back, with Jiro Yamada, Araika Faloise, Kit Malak, and Kyoko Kanzaki. That left three people, Amaris figured, but he opened the manilla folder he'd been carrying tucked under his arm to check and make sure.

He was right. Forte Gospel, Kim Malak, and John Murdoch.

Amaris smirked a little. Fitting that those three were the only ones who weren't on board.

Turning, he tromped to the end of the ramp and scanned for the three of them. Murdoch was nowhere in sight. Gospel, he noticed with relief, was finally returning with a gurney for Kyoko (OOC: if I may take that liberty, Forte). And there was Malak, scanning around the hangar as if he had all the time in the world to people-watch.

Amaris drew a long breath, willing himself not to strike out in impatience or bruised ego, and simply folded his arms over his chest, gazing at Malak. He was sure the other man had already seen him--there was just something about the male Malak twin that made him seem conscious of everything. But still Amaris gazed, waiting for eye contact...upon which he would raise an eyebrow in silent question.

By Ryu Connor (Hellfire) on Friday, October 11, 2002 - 10:42 am:

The shuttle began running through it's preflight sequence. The pilot and the copilot were flipping switches, punching buttons, and talking to the AGCTO.

The pilot came over the intercom within the shuttle.

"UN Spacy Airlines would like welcome the "Silverhawks" and "Wolfpack." We appreciate your patronage, but not enough to provide any peanuts, drinks, or in-flight movies. Today's flight is going to be a short ten minute journey. We will make our departure from the luxurious Joan of Arc hangar bay and proceed straight through a small bit of uncharted space beside an unnamed planet, which will finally place us at our destination within the hangar of the UNS Raven. Please make sure to have your seatbelts buckled and your trays in an upright position. Thank you again for choosing UNS Airlines."

The turbines of the shuttle began a slow whir as it prepared for ignition. The last of the stragglers and collected effects were placed into the hold only mere moments before the shuttle ramp began to close. As the door began to shut the engines went from a whir to a roar as they came alive. The rumble from their power could be felt as a slight vibration throughout the ship.

Music began playing from the intercom system in the shuttle. It was a heavy metal pieces with a slight mix of orchestration. The electric guitar and drum beats were very prominent and managed to easily drown out the roar of the engines.

End of passion play, crumbling away
Veins that pump with fear, sucking darkest clear

Taste me you will see
More is all you need
You're dedicated to
How I'm killing you

Obey your Master
Master

Master of Puppets I'm pulling your strings
Twisting your mind and smashing your dreams
Blinded by me, you can't see a thing
Just call my name, `cause I'll hear you scream
Master
Master
Just call my name, `cause I'll hear you scream
Master
Master

Everyone had to fight slightly against the effects of inertia as the shuttle lifted off the deck and exited the Joan of Arc. Once in space it became a smooth and easy ride. The only discomfort the possible dislike of the current choice of music.

By 1st Lt. Krystal Thornton (Doc) on Friday, October 11, 2002 - 04:21 pm: