R.S.S. Konstantinov -- Over Bahamut, Nokgorka

[theredstars]

His ship is burning.

His ship is burning, and in the heartbeats of silence between explosions, Skymarshall Urik Antares prowls the length of the observation deck, the controlled chaos of the Konstantinov's command center sealed away behind blast doors

Comments

[joiningyousoon]

"Urik, come in! It's Maya!"

Maya is perfectly aware that she is shouting at the small red rectangle with Urik's upper body in it (he's dragging a soldier along, looking ready to start firing over his shoulder), and she doesn't give a good goddamn. Warkasters are working furiously all around her, manning comm stations and monitors, keeping the skyfurnace in the air.

She's more out of her chair than in it. "Gimme status!"

[theredstars]

Men lay at his feet, their crumbled forms almost that of toy soldiers strewn in the grass after a long afternoon's campaign, and he turns to snap yet another shot over his shoulder, dragging the wounded Captain Zubov with him as he runs for cover.

"One more push and they would've had us," he gasps, "They were ordered back-- the Taktarov's pulling behind us, damnit! They're trying to--"

[joiningyousoon]

"--Slave onto our jump coordinates; I know, Uri!" she snaps.

There is a lieutenant trying to catch her attention; Maya takes a cursory glance at her screen and waves her off. She'll deal with it in a few seconds, provided that they're still here in a few seconds.

[theredstars]

"Volkov is too damned good!" Urik growls, fumbling another clip into his gun while silently praying to any listening god that he doesn't drop it.

"He's trying to kill our jump with the added mass--how the hell do you plan to compensate, Major?"