*The flight out of Obichen had been long, hours long; Samus may have had passenger seats installed, but neither she nor her diplomatic associate could do anything about the traffic
( Read more... )
Telrim’s done a lot of waiting in her time. A few hours in Samus’s ship is parsecs better than a few months in a tank - she can even tell herself that she’s had worse destinations. Whatever’s waiting for them can’t be as bad as the Taxxon tunnels. But thinking like that makes her regret again her lack of weapons, or equipment to check over… or even a body suited for combat. Even making the usual kind of conversation is difficult, so she’s glad Samus chooses to distract them all
( ... )
Aurora also listens to the story with a sympathetic air, being unfamiliar with this side of the Hunter. Her expression flickers a few times, usually in the moment between a question forming and it being suppressed for another time; and once a moment before the ship PINpoints away from her home (this last flicker looking very much like someone ripping off a bandaid).
And then it's time to be professional again. Her face settles into the familiar lines of calm friendliness that so many species find reassuring in a humanoid, and she takes in the details of the exchange with the NovaBurst. There is much to learn, and little time in which to observe and reflect--and no chance to back out.
While they're waiting for their hosts to respond again, she'd lean toward Telrim/Natasha slightly. "Samus is very protective of her friends. She wouldn't have brought either of us here if she didn't believe we would be safe."
*Muting the comm line, Samus' next words are addressed to her companions--all three of them.*
If anyone tries to hurt you, they'll have to deal with me.
*Samus' promise is delivered with the kind of firmness mountains are founded on. For all the confidence in her voice, though, she keeps a close eye on her sensors, a light touch on the throttle. If someone in the fleet is going to decide to swat them out of the sky, it'll be now, while her ship is moving slowly and on a predictable vector. While she hopes anyone treacherous would use a weapon that paints a target and waits for signal lock, she knows they might shoot from the hip, with no more warning than a half-second's power spike in which to react. It's with nerves taut as harpstrings under a facade of calm confidence that she watches the fleet grow nearer.*
*She brazened through this once, she can do it again.*
"I know. I'm not afraid for our physical safety." Telrim's eyes are locked on those ships. "At least, not as much as I should be."
That's why you made Issek stay behind? Natasha asks.
I can't protect him here- not even Samus could protect him from himself. If it's a lie, she'd rather not find out. They're in range of more than one Dome ship now, and the great mushroom-shaped capital ships are sweeping sensors their way. Telrim reminds herself to ignore them. They can't turn weapons this way, not as they are. The smaller assault ships and fighter craft, on the other hand...
But before anyone with maneuvrability can find out who's on the doorstep, the flagship responds again. < You have permission to dock, Samus Aran. Transmitting protocols now. Our fighters will escort you to the designated landing bay. Can you acknowledge? > the officer adds, as a hurried afterthought. He's feeling a particular need for clarity with this visitor.
Telrim gives a low 'hnh' that might translate as Oh, wonderful.
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And then it's time to be professional again. Her face settles into the familiar lines of calm friendliness that so many species find reassuring in a humanoid, and she takes in the details of the exchange with the NovaBurst. There is much to learn, and little time in which to observe and reflect--and no chance to back out.
While they're waiting for their hosts to respond again, she'd lean toward Telrim/Natasha slightly. "Samus is very protective of her friends. She wouldn't have brought either of us here if she didn't believe we would be safe."
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*Muting the comm line, Samus' next words are addressed to her companions--all three of them.*
If anyone tries to hurt you, they'll have to deal with me.
*Samus' promise is delivered with the kind of firmness mountains are founded on. For all the confidence in her voice, though, she keeps a close eye on her sensors, a light touch on the throttle. If someone in the fleet is going to decide to swat them out of the sky, it'll be now, while her ship is moving slowly and on a predictable vector. While she hopes anyone treacherous would use a weapon that paints a target and waits for signal lock, she knows they might shoot from the hip, with no more warning than a half-second's power spike in which to react. It's with nerves taut as harpstrings under a facade of calm confidence that she watches the fleet grow nearer.*
*She brazened through this once, she can do it again.*
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That's why you made Issek stay behind? Natasha asks.
I can't protect him here- not even Samus could protect him from himself. If it's a lie, she'd rather not find out. They're in range of more than one Dome ship now, and the great mushroom-shaped capital ships are sweeping sensors their way. Telrim reminds herself to ignore them. They can't turn weapons this way, not as they are. The smaller assault ships and fighter craft, on the other hand...
But before anyone with maneuvrability can find out who's on the doorstep, the flagship responds again. < You have permission to dock, Samus Aran. Transmitting protocols now. Our fighters will escort you to the designated landing bay. Can you acknowledge? > the officer adds, as a hurried afterthought. He's feeling a particular need for clarity with this visitor.
Telrim gives a low 'hnh' that might translate as Oh, wonderful.
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