The Commander Loves Her

The NS Azura shook, spiking panic in its crew like turbulence panics plane passengers. The pilot grunts, his hands gripping the steering handles like he'd die if he let go. He probably would in this situation. "Ace, what the hell is going on?" Azura captain, Colonel Wests, grabs the back of the pilot's seat to steady himself. The ship jerks to the left, dodging a blue beam of light. Wests drags a hand down his face, a glare settling on his brow. Trouble, that's what's going on. "It's those pirates, Colonel. I found them like you asked, but it looks like―" Azura is spun around, a rain of ship beams entering view from behind. They disappear into the stars, bound to burn up into nothing before they hit anything. "―seems like they were waiting for us." "I don't think we can fight them in this environment." Wests grunts. The crew gasps, at a sudden turn, the sound of things crashing and people hitting walls filling the hallways. "Can you get us out of here, Ace?" "I don' know, Colonel. There's no clear area for lightspeed for another few thousand kilometers." A woman marches into the cockpit. She goes to the other side of the pilot's chair and looks out the windows to get a look at the pirates. She's silent, eyes calculating, observing the ship models and their beams. West doesn't even register her presence as he speaks with Ace, only sparing her a look when she suddenly speaks. "Sir, let me take the jet." She says, her amber eyes not looking away from the action outside of the ship. West turns to her with furrowed brows and frowned lips. His signs of age appear in lines around his eyes, deep and worn in like his body had to work to finally make him look his age. He shakes his head. "Definitely not, airman. You're here for training and observation. You're not permitted to take action." "Sir, I'm the only one qualified to―" "Go back to your cabin. Now, airman." Colonel Wests orders without looking back at her. The airman looks lost for a second, glancing between the window and her Colonel. She could do it. She was the best in her class and the only one who scored high enough to observe with such a high-ranking crew. She could prove herself now, save the crew, and land back on earth a hero. "Stop it." She curses in her head. Clenching her fist, she nods and follows orders. Her feet are steady despite the shaking of the ground. Her bed feels hard when she sits down, chin settling in her hand with a huff. She watches the action through the low porthole of her shared room, taking the opportunity to scoot closer to it as her roommates were working on deck. With a perfect spot in the back of the ship, she can see the pirates doing circles around the Azura. Their ships are far more agile than the dated wartime spacecraft she rode on now. They probably stole their ships from some poor merchant or an unfortunate rich sod that had more ships than he needed. She could take them out though. Her training had proved it. Feeling upset and a bit childish, she made a finger gun at the window and started pulling the imaginary trigger. "Pew! Pew, pew, pew!" She mimicked the sound of the ships she'd seen on an old disk movie back on earth. It was from a tie fighter if she remembered correctly. Star Wars was such an encapsulating universe she found, especially since that old fantasy is so close to her current reality. "Pew!" She laughed softly, aiming at one ship in particular. It was the closest to the Azura, a deep purple with a bright pink stripe on the side. Its beams were pink as well. She leaned closer to the port, squinting to see if she could gauge the exact model. "Hm, a U82―" She is cut short when a blast from the very same ship she is watching lands a hit on her room. The wall busts and she's sucked out so fast that her body doesn't get a chance to experience the burn of the blast. Her suit reacts immediately to the change in environment, a clear holo-mesh forming over her head and exposed fingers. His eyes are slowly blinking, unable to register the stars as she spins rapidly before hitting something. Her body collides with a pirate's jet ship, sliding along the smooth top until her uniform gets hooked in a loose piece of metal that was left jutting up. The first thing she can coherently think is that she's cold. It's basic knowledge that space is cold, so when her fingers start to hurt from the chill she isn't surprised. Next, she can hear the Colonel in her earpiece. His voice is yelling at her, but it barely registers as a whisper. "―man... Airman Feathers, can you hear me?" Feather's hand slowly moves to the side of her head to tap the little device in her ear. "Aye, Colonel." Her voice is quiet. "Thank God almighty..." Wests sighs. But he doesn't relax just yet. "Where are you, Feathers?" Feathers wonders if what she's about to say is actually happening, or if she's just hallucinating from the lack of oxygen in her suit. The suit tech is supposed to be able to recycle and renew what she breathes, but it might be too damages after the explosion. It seems to be only providing enough for her to stay conscious. "I'm... I'm stuck to the outside of a pirate ship, sir." There's silence on the other end. The Colonel doesn't know what to do. They'd been powering on the defense guns before a technical came up, rendering them useless for an indefinite amount of time. Shooting them down wouldn't be an option anyway if the airman is truely tagged on one of the pirate jets. They needed to get Feathers back, but there was no way of doing that now. "Colonel?" Feathers' fingers dig into any grooves that she can hold on to. She heaves in two breaths before pushing herself up. Her uniform is unhooked and she has to cling with all her strength. "I need―" She pants but slows her breath forcefully. If she breathes too fast then her suit wouldn't be able to keep up. "―I need you to... to deliver a message to my grandma. If I don't make it." She curses as her limbs start to ache from the cold. It hurts when she starts to pull herself onto her stomach and drags herselfs toward the cockpit window. She had an idea while she was hanging there, an absolutely insane, batshit idea. But having an idea is better than laying idle, and she doesn't think this is the best time to keep still. She might not be thinking clearing at this moment either, but she knows she'll probably die whether she gives up now or not. It's her time to act. "We'll get you out of this Feathers." Wests' voice is gentle, comforting in a way that you'd only speak to someone who is dying when you know their time is near. Feathers can tell, and continues with her request. "Tell her," the airman finally gets to the cockpit. She can see the pirate inside, a yellow-skinned creature with an oblong head and a clump of bobbing eyeballs on the top of its head. All the pupils are facing forward. Perfect. "Tell her that I was grateful to have her. She made me someone I could be proud of." She reaches for her hip and brandishes her union-issued gun. She presses it to the glass right behind the creature's head. She pulls the trigger. Glass shards are felt in the dust. The alien slumps forward, hopefully dead, and Feathers uses her gun to break more of the glass. The jet starts to spin wildly when she heaves the body up and out of her way. She slides into the pilot's seat. "Airmen Feathers, what was that?" The woman takes a moment to regulate her breathing, dizziness starts to take over. The buttons on the dash blur for a moment, but her hands still reach out to blindly stabilize the vehicle like it's her second nature. She sniffs. Her nose has begun to bleed. "Tell granny that I love her. And I hope I made her proud." Feathers pulls up on the controls, blinking a few times to clear up the button layout. She recognized it from her academy books. Fingers working on autopilot, she increases the fuel output, turning the jet around to catch up with the distancing fight. The beamer's targeting screen clicked to life on her left, the crosshair blinking red on the green screen when she aligned with one of the pirates. She fires, pink closing in on a yellow jet. It explodes, and her jet pins through the pirate's remains, amber eyes already gaining sight of their next target. There are three left and they've yet to notice her or the disappearances of their friends. "Feathers, is that you?" The Colonel is in the main service room of the Azura, watching the holographic ship she controls zip behind them from the ship camera. He looks down at his tablet, watching as her vitals decrease with her oxygen levels. "Aye, sir." Feathers huffs in a breath, before chastising herself for wasting air again. Her body is starting to feel weaker. She's just grateful her trigger finger is still kicking. The jet jumps when she fires three quick shots, blowing up one pirate and decommissioning the other. There's one left, and they're angry. They completely forget about the Azura and gun for Feathers. She is ready for it, dancing around them while fatigue starts to set in. Every blink seems to last longer than the last. She's trembling. "I don't know how much longer I'm gonna last, Colonel." She mutters. Pink beams clip the last pirate's engines. They start to spin, before catching on fire and getting left behind by the NS Azura and their airman. Feathers relaxes, sitting back on her seat and taking her hands off the steering rods. She yawns. "Hey now, I need you to stay awake, airman. You need to get yourself back on this ship." Wests commands. He looks quickly between the cam footage and her vitals. She won't last much longer. "I..." She grabs the rods again and pushes forward weakly. There's no strength to speak. Her brain doesn't even register quite how far she is from the Azura, but it feels like forever before she sees the open bay deck. Staff is running around like little ants, preparing for her landing, unaware that she's almost dead in the driver's seat. The crash is harsh. The entire ship heaves when she comes in a little too fast, sending sparks everywhere as the bottom of the jet drags its belly on the chrome floor. Feathers barely remembers crawling out of the ship and sliding off the wing. Her legs are heavy, and collapse under her, allowing her to land on the cold ground. It feels warm to her though. Warmer than any hug she has ever gotten, like a blanket fresh from the dryer. Hands feel like molten lava when they shuffle her around roughly. She groans something, hopefully a complaint, most likely a mess of noises. She's out cold when they finally get her on a stretcher.