MOAR Procrastination. BIGGAR Procrastination.
He he . . . I have 25 pages worth of work due Thursday. I have zero pages written. So, I'm going to procrastinate a little more, because that makes sense.
The first TEN people to comment in this post get to request a drabble/ficlet of any pairing/character of their choosing from me. In return, they have to post this in their journal.Since I've ( Read more... )
The first TEN people to comment in this post get to request a drabble/ficlet of any pairing/character of their choosing from me. In return, they have to post this in their journal.Since I've ( Read more... )
“I’ve got Kelly on the line,” Tyrol’s voice was terse. “False alarm; it’s the new pilots. Apparently the Raptor came in too hot and bounced off the deck. They’re coming around to try again.”
Tigh muttered a string of expletives. “Frakkin’ rooks.”
“Here they come.”
“Brace for impact,” Bill ordered with only a trace of humor.
It was good advice, as it turned out. A second reverberating BOOM rang through the deck, followed immediately by a third, a fourth, and then a long, grating screech. In the ringing silence that followed, Tyrol looked up, relief written all over his face. “Mag-lock secure.” He hung up the phone and raised his voice to address the rattled deck gang. “Okay, people, let’s bring her in!” The Chief grabbed a wrench in one hand and a fire extinguisher in the other.
“That is quite possibly the worst landing I have ever witnessed,” Saul laughed shakily. “Well, it answers one question, at least.”
Bill ignored him, his attention on the Raptor the knuckledraggers were slowly towing into the hangar. The gleaming bird was smoking from the bottom of the cockpit down. Friction from the deck had left dark scores on the lower fuselage. Before the pilot could even pop the hatch, Tyrol was under the Raptor, flashlight in hand.
“They busted the gimble!” His voice was scandalized. “Brand new bird, and I’ll have to completely replace the-“ The hiss of the ramp lowering drowned out his complaints.
Four junior lieutenants in duty blues spilled out of the Raptor-kids barely out of their teens. Their faces were flushed and they were talking excitedly. They fell silent in unison when they spotted the Commander. The ECO was next. The lanky man’s expression suggested that he was very relieved to be alive. When he saw Adama, he shot a sympathetic look over his shoulder.
Finally, the pilot emerged, her beet red face contrasting sharply with her dark hair and flight suit. Seeing the Commander and the XO wearing identical expressions of disapproval, she swallowed hard. The young woman threw a sharp salute and held it. “Lieutenant Valerii reporting for duty, sir.”
Adama regarded her silently for a moment while everyone on the deck pretended not to notice the slight tremor in her hand. Finally, he returned the salute. “Welcome to the Galactica, Boomer.” He glanced at the other new pilots. “All of you, report to the CAG for your billet assignments. Dismissed.”
Valerii all but crumpled with relief. As the Lieutenants dispersed, she stole a glance at Tyrol. The Chief glared back, his expression promising that the bent bird would be avenged. She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, and fled.
In her wake, Tigh rolled his eyes, muttering something about nuggets so wet behind the ears they left puddles.
Bill hid a smile. “Anybody can make a bad landing. She’ll shape up.”
“I don’t know how you stand it, Bill. All they ever send us is rooks and problem pilots.”
“We were problem pilots once.”
Saul reached for his flask with a noncommittal grunt. “Good thing people change.”
Now it was Bill’s turn to roll his eyes. “Yeah.”
Fin
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So, good bunny!
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