Snippet: FS, "Hearthfire"
A fragment of the second Aeryn thing. Huge thanks to Al, still the fastest and bestest on either side of the pond, for the beta.
***
The Prowler slipped free of the sheltering moonshadow. Aeryn felt the ache in her shoulders flow away as the Leviathan's familiar silhouette filled the fighter’s forward visor. . Cycles ago, leaving had been easier. Moya would starburst into real space, drop the Prowler from an open bay and disappear again in a flash of nova-light, the fighter spinning in her wake. It had been a rush - the universe flashing past and the controls hesitant to respond, all of Aeryn's skill called into play to bring the ship into balance. A race against an unseen, unreadable chrono to right the Prowler and find her heading before whatever or whoever might be watching could lock on.
There had been a time when Aeryn had lived for those heartbeats of risk, those tiny fragments of existence. Now she lived for days past, for future cycles, for the universe.
The scans confirmed her vision and filled in the gaps. No blast damage. No dark spaces in the power traces. Two entire days, and Moya yet lived. Aeryn's lips tightened. Under her hand, the Prowler swept over the Leviathan’s flight path. Still Pilot did not hail her, even as she approached the hammond-side hangar door.
“Moya? Pilot? What is your status?” As the silence went on, the throb returned to her left clavicle. Aeryn keyed the com again. "Pilot, acknowledge.”
“Aeryn - thank goodness you’ve returned. You should dock immediately, and proceed to the quarters on Deck Nine. There’s...been an incident. “ The suppressed agitation in Pilot’s voice clamped down over the ache and dug its teeth deeper.
“Pilot - what happened? Did J - did he - is he -” Eighteen cycles of never saying the name over an open com kicked in. One part of her mind cursed succinctly - a lifetime of communications security and she forgot as soon as Pilot spoke in that tone.
“Everyone is at present unharmed, and Chiana has just notified me that she is enroute to assist. Please be as swift as you can.” The silence after was tainted with unspoken words.
“Pilot, open docking bay door four, please.” She swallowed. “I have to know, Pilot. Has he...”
Pilot overrode her. “Door four opening. And yes, it appears he has.”
Moya’s hatch cracked and spread beneath her, wide panels sweeping away before the falling fighter and reversing themselves even as the ship slipped past. Aeryn flexed her fingers on the main propulsion controls. The prowler eased forward, the bay opening up before the fighter's night-black prow. Aeryn's departure had left the hangar empty save a scattering of old salvage and an insufficient heap of grey market Prowler spare parts. Now a shining black ship sat to the side, bulbous and high-arched. The prowler shuddered under her hands. Who...? The strange ship's profile changed as the prowler side slipped treblinward. Lo'lann.
“Pilot, is Ka D’Argo onboard Moya?”
“Yes, Aeryn. He arrived approximately four arns ago. He...is attempting to assist Chiana."
Aeryn made no reply. The fighter’s squeal rose in pitch as she flared for landing.
The Prowler touched down on the scarred deck, rocking on its forward support strut. One hand on the canopy rail, one boot on the ladder rung, freefall to touch down on the hangar floor. Her footsteps rang from the far wall, rising in pitch as she reached the main corridor.
***
The Prowler slipped free of the sheltering moonshadow. Aeryn felt the ache in her shoulders flow away as the Leviathan's familiar silhouette filled the fighter’s forward visor. . Cycles ago, leaving had been easier. Moya would starburst into real space, drop the Prowler from an open bay and disappear again in a flash of nova-light, the fighter spinning in her wake. It had been a rush - the universe flashing past and the controls hesitant to respond, all of Aeryn's skill called into play to bring the ship into balance. A race against an unseen, unreadable chrono to right the Prowler and find her heading before whatever or whoever might be watching could lock on.
There had been a time when Aeryn had lived for those heartbeats of risk, those tiny fragments of existence. Now she lived for days past, for future cycles, for the universe.
The scans confirmed her vision and filled in the gaps. No blast damage. No dark spaces in the power traces. Two entire days, and Moya yet lived. Aeryn's lips tightened. Under her hand, the Prowler swept over the Leviathan’s flight path. Still Pilot did not hail her, even as she approached the hammond-side hangar door.
“Moya? Pilot? What is your status?” As the silence went on, the throb returned to her left clavicle. Aeryn keyed the com again. "Pilot, acknowledge.”
“Aeryn - thank goodness you’ve returned. You should dock immediately, and proceed to the quarters on Deck Nine. There’s...been an incident. “ The suppressed agitation in Pilot’s voice clamped down over the ache and dug its teeth deeper.
“Pilot - what happened? Did J - did he - is he -” Eighteen cycles of never saying the name over an open com kicked in. One part of her mind cursed succinctly - a lifetime of communications security and she forgot as soon as Pilot spoke in that tone.
“Everyone is at present unharmed, and Chiana has just notified me that she is enroute to assist. Please be as swift as you can.” The silence after was tainted with unspoken words.
“Pilot, open docking bay door four, please.” She swallowed. “I have to know, Pilot. Has he...”
Pilot overrode her. “Door four opening. And yes, it appears he has.”
Moya’s hatch cracked and spread beneath her, wide panels sweeping away before the falling fighter and reversing themselves even as the ship slipped past. Aeryn flexed her fingers on the main propulsion controls. The prowler eased forward, the bay opening up before the fighter's night-black prow. Aeryn's departure had left the hangar empty save a scattering of old salvage and an insufficient heap of grey market Prowler spare parts. Now a shining black ship sat to the side, bulbous and high-arched. The prowler shuddered under her hands. Who...? The strange ship's profile changed as the prowler side slipped treblinward. Lo'lann.
“Pilot, is Ka D’Argo onboard Moya?”
“Yes, Aeryn. He arrived approximately four arns ago. He...is attempting to assist Chiana."
Aeryn made no reply. The fighter’s squeal rose in pitch as she flared for landing.
The Prowler touched down on the scarred deck, rocking on its forward support strut. One hand on the canopy rail, one boot on the ladder rung, freefall to touch down on the hangar floor. Her footsteps rang from the far wall, rising in pitch as she reached the main corridor.