just a couple of fighter jocks | location: hangar [OPEN]
It's been an intense half a day for Tycho, what with arriving here, learning about the destruction of his universe, learning about the existence of other universes, and the fact that he's been dumped in the middle of a whole new war to fight. After talking to Captain Kirk, he'd spent a while reading as much as he could find on the omnicoms about the Ohm and the ship and the entire situation. He'd also messaged his new squadron, the thing he suspects will take up most of his time on this ship. What he's learned so far tells him ... it's going to be a challenge.
Now though... he could really use something familiar, something from home before his head starts to spin like an x-wing with the stabilizers blown. Stacy's hanger is certainly like no hangar he's ever been in before. The air is humid, and his boots echo strangely on the organic floor. It's also large, maybe almost as large as the main hanger on the Lusankya, filled with all kinds of craft he's never seen before, which compounds the feeling of strangeness. Tycho isn't some outer rim dweller- he's been around the galaxy a few times, seen plenty of things, and the unfamiliarity of almost everything here compounds the feeling of how far he is from home. Still though, his heart can't help but begin to soar as he takes in the sight of near two dozen x-wings parked together near one of the edges.
Tycho strides quickly up to them, noting the familiar shape of Wedge's X-Wing, kill decals bracketed by the two Death Stars, before his eyes alight on his own. He traces his fingers up the side, instantly feeling more centered, more at peace for the feel of the durasteel under his fingertips. He's going to be okay. As long as he has his X-wing and his squadron, everything will be fine.
His R5 chirps in greeting, and Tycho pulls a datapad out of one of his flightsuit's pockets. He might as well use his time well and start running some preliminary diagnostics while he waits for Wedge to arrive.
"Yep," he responds in answer to the astromech's query as the translation scrolls across the screen. "We're far from home buddy." He comfortingly pats the X-Wings side. "We still got our jobs to do though, so let's get started."
Now though... he could really use something familiar, something from home before his head starts to spin like an x-wing with the stabilizers blown. Stacy's hanger is certainly like no hangar he's ever been in before. The air is humid, and his boots echo strangely on the organic floor. It's also large, maybe almost as large as the main hanger on the Lusankya, filled with all kinds of craft he's never seen before, which compounds the feeling of strangeness. Tycho isn't some outer rim dweller- he's been around the galaxy a few times, seen plenty of things, and the unfamiliarity of almost everything here compounds the feeling of how far he is from home. Still though, his heart can't help but begin to soar as he takes in the sight of near two dozen x-wings parked together near one of the edges.
Tycho strides quickly up to them, noting the familiar shape of Wedge's X-Wing, kill decals bracketed by the two Death Stars, before his eyes alight on his own. He traces his fingers up the side, instantly feeling more centered, more at peace for the feel of the durasteel under his fingertips. He's going to be okay. As long as he has his X-wing and his squadron, everything will be fine.
His R5 chirps in greeting, and Tycho pulls a datapad out of one of his flightsuit's pockets. He might as well use his time well and start running some preliminary diagnostics while he waits for Wedge to arrive.
"Yep," he responds in answer to the astromech's query as the translation scrolls across the screen. "We're far from home buddy." He comfortingly pats the X-Wings side. "We still got our jobs to do though, so let's get started."