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drabble: Thinking of You
Feb. 12th, 2012 02:30 am[ Written for Cry aka Chaoticmonki the LPer on youtube, based off something he said in his livestream tonight. Also posted to devianTART. ]
Cry surveyed the aftermath, blue eyes under short blonde hair wishing the outcome had been better. He was one of the main gunners for the starship David, flagship of the Legion's fleet. While quite a lot of wreckage floated where attackers bombarded the ship all too recently, there was also a lot of damage to the ship itself. The sort of damage that could jeopardize the entire mission.
Others were in charge of what to do now. All Cry could do was wait, seated behind his turret guarded by polyglass dome and invisible energy shielding. Stars glittered across the black backdrop of space, and as the ship's engines struggled to shift its position in that space, the thin edge a water-bound planet lit by distant sun slid silently into view. There was land down there, though not much, and not inhabited as Cry recalled. Centauri VI, nobody wanted it, there were no mineable resources.
Water and a little sandy island sounded nice right about now. The planet had that, at least. Cry considered it a worthy resource at the moment, stress level still too high even though all he could do was... yes, sit. And think. It was at times like this that he thought of someone very specific, someone he was hoping was alright elsewhere in the system. Another worry, but also the usual calming effect, thinking of... him.
Battlestar. One of the best pilots in the fleet, stationed on another cruiser housing over seventy-five one-man fighter ships. Had they fallen under attack too? Other people would know the answer to that. People whose job it was to communicate between ships. That was not Cry. As I am well aware. He sighed, he did like his job and it was in truth vastly important, but... well, even when he could be worrying even worse now, somehow thinking of Battlestar made Cry feel better.
The intercom buzzed, captain's deep voice bringing crew a much-needed update. "Annette here, Goliath is en route with full complement, it seems the enemy's forces were directed solely our way. ETA two point five hours."
Cry breathed a sigh of relief, barely hearing the rest of directions to more specific areas of the crew. Battlestar was okay, probably annoyed he'd missed out on a good fight. The pilot was like that, and it was one of the many reasons Cry liked him. Maybe it was more than that. It wasn't like Battlestar knew. Too much awkward when Cry thought about telling him... asking him... yeah. Awkward.
But it wasn't awkward now to sit back and watch the stars and think of a certain special someone two point five hours away.
Cry surveyed the aftermath, blue eyes under short blonde hair wishing the outcome had been better. He was one of the main gunners for the starship David, flagship of the Legion's fleet. While quite a lot of wreckage floated where attackers bombarded the ship all too recently, there was also a lot of damage to the ship itself. The sort of damage that could jeopardize the entire mission.
Others were in charge of what to do now. All Cry could do was wait, seated behind his turret guarded by polyglass dome and invisible energy shielding. Stars glittered across the black backdrop of space, and as the ship's engines struggled to shift its position in that space, the thin edge a water-bound planet lit by distant sun slid silently into view. There was land down there, though not much, and not inhabited as Cry recalled. Centauri VI, nobody wanted it, there were no mineable resources.
Water and a little sandy island sounded nice right about now. The planet had that, at least. Cry considered it a worthy resource at the moment, stress level still too high even though all he could do was... yes, sit. And think. It was at times like this that he thought of someone very specific, someone he was hoping was alright elsewhere in the system. Another worry, but also the usual calming effect, thinking of... him.
Battlestar. One of the best pilots in the fleet, stationed on another cruiser housing over seventy-five one-man fighter ships. Had they fallen under attack too? Other people would know the answer to that. People whose job it was to communicate between ships. That was not Cry. As I am well aware. He sighed, he did like his job and it was in truth vastly important, but... well, even when he could be worrying even worse now, somehow thinking of Battlestar made Cry feel better.
The intercom buzzed, captain's deep voice bringing crew a much-needed update. "Annette here, Goliath is en route with full complement, it seems the enemy's forces were directed solely our way. ETA two point five hours."
Cry breathed a sigh of relief, barely hearing the rest of directions to more specific areas of the crew. Battlestar was okay, probably annoyed he'd missed out on a good fight. The pilot was like that, and it was one of the many reasons Cry liked him. Maybe it was more than that. It wasn't like Battlestar knew. Too much awkward when Cry thought about telling him... asking him... yeah. Awkward.
But it wasn't awkward now to sit back and watch the stars and think of a certain special someone two point five hours away.
