SoS B1 C1 X1: StarCrest
The shuttle’s descent straddled that unnerving line between a freefall and a guided decline. The anemoi, the winds, were of no help--their unseen hands played the vessel to and fro with nary a care for its occupants. Capricious things.
Two rows of three seats lined the cabin walls, with two more in the open cockpit seating pilot and copilot. Without accommodation for the tall, hands tended to guard groins in case an errant bump sent a knee into unpleasant venues.
"This is Aliese Krollof pulling into station," the pilot said. The pale FirstHeart squinted through the rain smattering the windshield as her copilot tapped a dial.
They both froze and listened to their headsets.
"Excuse me... repeat?"
A pause, then "I read."
Another pause. "Da, I read." There was a tension in her voice now.
"Visual," muttered the copilot. A part in the swollen clouds permitted a glimpse of a shimmering spire and a parapet, they seemed to sway in the wind as the vessel rolled to the left. The pilot nodded. "Roger. I will attempt stabilizing maneuvers.". She swore under her breath, shared a meaningful look with her copilot, and squared her shoulders. "Alright," the copilot said, accent thickening from worry as he spun his seat to face them. "I am being honest with you. This is first time in a few hundred years that anyone has attempted space-to-surface flight, and nobody is trained. Some of you are very large and heavy, so we're going to need your help to roll the shuttle in the right directions. Okay? Please stand up and form a line down aisle, and hold onto handrails along the roof if you can." Upon hearing the copilot's request, Immuena decided to stand and grab the rails. Immediately, she felt insecure with her positioning, but if she was going to endeavor to lead a group, through example would be best. "You all ready for this?" She hollered over her shoulder, hoping to see the others standing and ready—or at least in the process of positioning themselves. With a brief grunt of compliance, Don pulled himself to his feet, and then the railing. "Ready as I'll ever be." he said nonplussed, his watch Quigley already at work straightening his outfit, and holding on for dear life. Allarah secured her bag firmly to herself before standing. She gripped the railing and called out to Immuna. "Are you going to be alright? I could help you get a better grip if you need it." Tskhan stood as well, leaving his bag and other equipment behind in his seat, a scowl on his face the events preceding his actions. Ulysses was the last to rise, readying his gear. He grabbed the rail so hard that his knuckles turned white. Looking to the others, her tried assessing whether or not they were truly ready for the fall. 'Ah yes,' He thought, 'The fall; Ulysses remembered it was the only true peace he felt before battle, before blood, before steel. He shook those memories from his head choosing instead to revel in the inertia. Once the passengers were as lodged-in as they could get, the copilot patted the pilot's shoulder. She nodded and hunched farther over the controls, gripping onto them as tight as the party was gripping the rails. There was a sense of unease on her expression, something beyond the fear of turbulence. It took Immuena a moment to spot it, but once she was looking for it she recognized it: their pilot had no idea what she was doing! The clouds roiled, rushing headlong into themselves in one spot and in another parting to reveal further strata of turmoil below. The pilot watched the nebular war with eyes wide. “Everyone… lean right!” Immuena squinted her own eyes a bit, focusing more on the pilot than her own footing; readying herself to take the wheel at a moment’s notice by sacrificing her purchase, and when it passed she knew what the others didn't. They had the wrong pilot for this trip! Immuena let herself be taken by momentum, shifting her weight and feet the best she could to prevent herself from simply flying into the cockpit. The turbulence wasn't completely against her, nor were her feet. She threw herself toward the wall as the ship leaned right, slipping a little as she fell forward into the cockpit. Her hands slammed on the windshield, startling the pilots and getting just enough of their attention. "Miss, you really need to give me that wheel before this storm takes us all." the Faecha’s tone was strained, though she attempted to remain composed. The Pilot's wide eyes now more resonated with surprise than fear. There was a hesitation, and then a nod, and she tore herself from the seat to trade spots with Immuena. Feeling the tumultuous action within the ship reminded Donald of why he wasn't a fan of flying. It's not that he was afraid of it, per se, just that bad things had a habit of happening when he did. Still, he coiled his hand around the railing, hoping to get this spot of bother dealt with as soon as possible. Allarah couldn't comprehend what was happening before her eyes. This was not the start she had imagined when signing up for this mission. Still, this was simply a means to an end. This self reassurance, however, did nothing to stop the rush of panic from rising in her chest. She could feel her palms sweat, which only made gripping the rails all the more difficult, so she chose to rely on her legs to hold her steady, hopping she lived long enough to see the surface. Tskhan rushed back to the seat wear he left his equipment, grabbed it, then blitzed past his crew mates to enter the cockpit. "What in the name of the four houses just happened?" Tskhan barked, bracing himself. Ulysses took a deep breath, as an involuntary smile stretched across his lips. The words escaped him before he could think, “Just like old times.” He remembered what his captain said to do when the shit hit the fan on a drop: "For those of you sorry louts who like living, remember to use both your legs and arms to keep in one place, and if the pilot tells you to do the macarena, I better see you fucking dancing!" Muscle memory took over. He grabbed the rails and locked his arm, using his legs to stop from moving. Looking forward, his smile brightened into a wide grin. The turbulence came, bringing with it a tumbling, twisting motion. Everyone braced hands and feet and rode the rolling and pitching with ease… well, everyone save for Donald, who merely held onto the rail and didn’t budge an iota. Worrying groans wracked through the fuselage as control of the ship changed hands, but as soon as Immuena was in control things began to right themselves. Though she wasn’t vastly a better pilot, she was definitely a much better one, and was more naturally able to ride the winds and thermals as they came at her. “Where… where’d you learn that?” The pilot asked. Not taking her eyes off the currents, Immuena's face softened a bit. "I… uh... used to race. But that's not important right now." Immuena made to harass whoever burst into the cockpit at the first available break in the winds, "Hey! Tskhan, be my second set of eyes, will yeh? Yell at me if you think I'm don't notice something!" Refocusing on her driving, she nimbly flew through a seedier part of the t-storm she felt the FirstHeart would've likely torn this ship asunder in. She gripped the wheel and let the euphoria of life or death driving consume her. "You're being pretty damn bossy. Fine, I'll be your escort." Tskhan broadcasted across the cockpit. He walked over to the co-pilot and gestured to them to get out of their seat by pointing back and saying " Get up." The copilot had been quick to leap out of his seat at Tskhan's command. He edged away from the Sazashi as much as he could, avoiding eye contact yet also never letting him out of his site. He quipped something to the pilot. She nodded. Both of them glanced at Tskhan, and together moved to the back seats of the vessel. As he felt the ship start to correct itself under the Faechaverin's ministrations, Donald slowly relaxed his body, and within seconds the sound of gently boiling water started to emanate from Quigley. "Rather unfortunate that," he says, more to himself than the crew. "May I take my seat now? Is it safe?" Allarah called to Immuna. She could feel her hands shaking now. "Pheew... Allarah, feel free to sit, same with the rest of you that feel like relaxing." Immuena called back to the crew now that she felt it was safer than before. "And you, Tskhan! I'm sorry... If you're offended, by all means, let me know." Making sure to glance at the Shejlt Rah when she could while talking, Immuena hoped not to offend him again. After all, this team needed to work together for their mission to succeed. She added in a hushed voice, "I'd damn well be pleased if you were my escort." Remembering when he saved her ass in the battle on Casmir VII. "Hppff, well since you're willing to assume all blame, I think we can move on." Looking out on the horizon from the cockpit Tskhan grinned. "I'll keep an eye out for you since you're so easily overwhelmed." Tskhan's quick eyes and rapid reports on the dials (written close enough to Ubiq that he could understand their purpose) made for an easy flight on Immeuna's part. The original crew sat at the back, quiet, blushing slightly that these offworlders had made asses of them. They didn't argue, however, and seemed to take comfort in the way Immuena gracefully rode the currents. They slipped through the clouds, and there it was. The great, top-shaped city of Starcrest floated gracefully above the world. At it's peak was a castle, and along it's body, solar-mesh webbed plates were opened to reveal villas, pools, and parks within. With Tskhan at the coms (the operator confused by his accent and his inability to understand Saumain) they came in for landing at the castle, settling down in a great garden, where diplomats clustered together, looking as standoffish as they could while also being incredibly interested. The meissner engine of the shuttle hummed itself to sleep, and they had arrived.
A pause, then "I read."
Another pause. "Da, I read." There was a tension in her voice now.
"Visual," muttered the copilot. A part in the swollen clouds permitted a glimpse of a shimmering spire and a parapet, they seemed to sway in the wind as the vessel rolled to the left. The pilot nodded. "Roger. I will attempt stabilizing maneuvers.". She swore under her breath, shared a meaningful look with her copilot, and squared her shoulders. "Alright," the copilot said, accent thickening from worry as he spun his seat to face them. "I am being honest with you. This is first time in a few hundred years that anyone has attempted space-to-surface flight, and nobody is trained. Some of you are very large and heavy, so we're going to need your help to roll the shuttle in the right directions. Okay? Please stand up and form a line down aisle, and hold onto handrails along the roof if you can." Upon hearing the copilot's request, Immuena decided to stand and grab the rails. Immediately, she felt insecure with her positioning, but if she was going to endeavor to lead a group, through example would be best. "You all ready for this?" She hollered over her shoulder, hoping to see the others standing and ready—or at least in the process of positioning themselves. With a brief grunt of compliance, Don pulled himself to his feet, and then the railing. "Ready as I'll ever be." he said nonplussed, his watch Quigley already at work straightening his outfit, and holding on for dear life. Allarah secured her bag firmly to herself before standing. She gripped the railing and called out to Immuna. "Are you going to be alright? I could help you get a better grip if you need it." Tskhan stood as well, leaving his bag and other equipment behind in his seat, a scowl on his face the events preceding his actions. Ulysses was the last to rise, readying his gear. He grabbed the rail so hard that his knuckles turned white. Looking to the others, her tried assessing whether or not they were truly ready for the fall. 'Ah yes,' He thought, 'The fall; Ulysses remembered it was the only true peace he felt before battle, before blood, before steel. He shook those memories from his head choosing instead to revel in the inertia. Once the passengers were as lodged-in as they could get, the copilot patted the pilot's shoulder. She nodded and hunched farther over the controls, gripping onto them as tight as the party was gripping the rails. There was a sense of unease on her expression, something beyond the fear of turbulence. It took Immuena a moment to spot it, but once she was looking for it she recognized it: their pilot had no idea what she was doing! The clouds roiled, rushing headlong into themselves in one spot and in another parting to reveal further strata of turmoil below. The pilot watched the nebular war with eyes wide. “Everyone… lean right!” Immuena squinted her own eyes a bit, focusing more on the pilot than her own footing; readying herself to take the wheel at a moment’s notice by sacrificing her purchase, and when it passed she knew what the others didn't. They had the wrong pilot for this trip! Immuena let herself be taken by momentum, shifting her weight and feet the best she could to prevent herself from simply flying into the cockpit. The turbulence wasn't completely against her, nor were her feet. She threw herself toward the wall as the ship leaned right, slipping a little as she fell forward into the cockpit. Her hands slammed on the windshield, startling the pilots and getting just enough of their attention. "Miss, you really need to give me that wheel before this storm takes us all." the Faecha’s tone was strained, though she attempted to remain composed. The Pilot's wide eyes now more resonated with surprise than fear. There was a hesitation, and then a nod, and she tore herself from the seat to trade spots with Immuena. Feeling the tumultuous action within the ship reminded Donald of why he wasn't a fan of flying. It's not that he was afraid of it, per se, just that bad things had a habit of happening when he did. Still, he coiled his hand around the railing, hoping to get this spot of bother dealt with as soon as possible. Allarah couldn't comprehend what was happening before her eyes. This was not the start she had imagined when signing up for this mission. Still, this was simply a means to an end. This self reassurance, however, did nothing to stop the rush of panic from rising in her chest. She could feel her palms sweat, which only made gripping the rails all the more difficult, so she chose to rely on her legs to hold her steady, hopping she lived long enough to see the surface. Tskhan rushed back to the seat wear he left his equipment, grabbed it, then blitzed past his crew mates to enter the cockpit. "What in the name of the four houses just happened?" Tskhan barked, bracing himself. Ulysses took a deep breath, as an involuntary smile stretched across his lips. The words escaped him before he could think, “Just like old times.” He remembered what his captain said to do when the shit hit the fan on a drop: "For those of you sorry louts who like living, remember to use both your legs and arms to keep in one place, and if the pilot tells you to do the macarena, I better see you fucking dancing!" Muscle memory took over. He grabbed the rails and locked his arm, using his legs to stop from moving. Looking forward, his smile brightened into a wide grin. The turbulence came, bringing with it a tumbling, twisting motion. Everyone braced hands and feet and rode the rolling and pitching with ease… well, everyone save for Donald, who merely held onto the rail and didn’t budge an iota. Worrying groans wracked through the fuselage as control of the ship changed hands, but as soon as Immuena was in control things began to right themselves. Though she wasn’t vastly a better pilot, she was definitely a much better one, and was more naturally able to ride the winds and thermals as they came at her. “Where… where’d you learn that?” The pilot asked. Not taking her eyes off the currents, Immuena's face softened a bit. "I… uh... used to race. But that's not important right now." Immuena made to harass whoever burst into the cockpit at the first available break in the winds, "Hey! Tskhan, be my second set of eyes, will yeh? Yell at me if you think I'm don't notice something!" Refocusing on her driving, she nimbly flew through a seedier part of the t-storm she felt the FirstHeart would've likely torn this ship asunder in. She gripped the wheel and let the euphoria of life or death driving consume her. "You're being pretty damn bossy. Fine, I'll be your escort." Tskhan broadcasted across the cockpit. He walked over to the co-pilot and gestured to them to get out of their seat by pointing back and saying " Get up." The copilot had been quick to leap out of his seat at Tskhan's command. He edged away from the Sazashi as much as he could, avoiding eye contact yet also never letting him out of his site. He quipped something to the pilot. She nodded. Both of them glanced at Tskhan, and together moved to the back seats of the vessel. As he felt the ship start to correct itself under the Faechaverin's ministrations, Donald slowly relaxed his body, and within seconds the sound of gently boiling water started to emanate from Quigley. "Rather unfortunate that," he says, more to himself than the crew. "May I take my seat now? Is it safe?" Allarah called to Immuna. She could feel her hands shaking now. "Pheew... Allarah, feel free to sit, same with the rest of you that feel like relaxing." Immuena called back to the crew now that she felt it was safer than before. "And you, Tskhan! I'm sorry... If you're offended, by all means, let me know." Making sure to glance at the Shejlt Rah when she could while talking, Immuena hoped not to offend him again. After all, this team needed to work together for their mission to succeed. She added in a hushed voice, "I'd damn well be pleased if you were my escort." Remembering when he saved her ass in the battle on Casmir VII. "Hppff, well since you're willing to assume all blame, I think we can move on." Looking out on the horizon from the cockpit Tskhan grinned. "I'll keep an eye out for you since you're so easily overwhelmed." Tskhan's quick eyes and rapid reports on the dials (written close enough to Ubiq that he could understand their purpose) made for an easy flight on Immeuna's part. The original crew sat at the back, quiet, blushing slightly that these offworlders had made asses of them. They didn't argue, however, and seemed to take comfort in the way Immuena gracefully rode the currents. They slipped through the clouds, and there it was. The great, top-shaped city of Starcrest floated gracefully above the world. At it's peak was a castle, and along it's body, solar-mesh webbed plates were opened to reveal villas, pools, and parks within. With Tskhan at the coms (the operator confused by his accent and his inability to understand Saumain) they came in for landing at the castle, settling down in a great garden, where diplomats clustered together, looking as standoffish as they could while also being incredibly interested. The meissner engine of the shuttle hummed itself to sleep, and they had arrived.
Comments