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Dec. 30th, 2004 10:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bodldopsWell, parents are home, and the stress level jumped a few notches. *sigh* Why does that always have to happen? In other news, one of the plots they looked at in Oregon is absolutely stunning, is right next to this cute little B&B and an equestrian center, is huge, and evidently the people around there would love for a veterinarian to move in. Hmmmmm.... I know mom and dad would love it if I lived near them, and the area sounds wonderful. Ah well, first I need the actual veterinary degree, which means I need to get into veterinary school... one step at a time.
Also, I have finished one of the ordered fics. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fondued_jicama, I present:
Comm Chatter
It was a well known fact, Han mused, that war is made up of two distinct and unequal time frames – there is the frantic, scrabbling, heart-pounding terror of battle where it was all you could do to stay alive, and there is the long, unbroken stretch of complete and utter boredom between battles. This was definitely one of the latter times. He stared out the Falcon’s cockpit viewports at the swirling magenta gasses of the nebula they were flying through, hypnotizing in their endless random patterns. He agreed, wholeheartedly, that this was the safest and most direct way to the latest hidden Rebel base, but since flying through the protective nebula would be certain suicide, he was forced to maneuver the Falcon at sublight speeds through the maze which resulted in this half-day long journey. At least he had company this time around.
Slightly forward both port and starboard, he could see a pair of X-wings pacing him easily, and knew there was another pair stationed behind his beloved ship. The Alliance brass has insisted – evidently, some of the cargo he was carrying was especially important to them. Force knew that the concern wasn’t over his personal safety – they’d never seen fit to assign him an escort before. He was thankful that he had at least gotten lucky enough to get some Rogues assigned to this duty, rather than some of the more formal squads. There were definitely worse ways to spend the time than chatting with the amiable and informal Rogue squadron.
“Hey, Han old buddy, you asleep back there?” Luke’s static-punctuated voice broke into his musings, sounding over the clank of Chewie working on something in the common area behind him. The tone of Luke’s voice alerted him to the fact that he had probably missed a few calls while he was thinking.
“Might as well get some shut-eye, Kid.” He grumbled. “This run’s deader than gundark in a rancor pit.” It was true, and they all knew it. Only the most suicidal of pilots would come into this nebula on a path other than the one they were following, and thus far they had found no one, and there had been no alerts from the base.
“Oh Force, you just had to say that, didn’t you?” Hobbie broke in gloomily from his position flying port and behind. “You do know we’re doomed to run into something now, right? Something heavily armed and decidedly unfriendly.” Han rolled his eyes, but Wes, also flying behind but to starboard, beat him to the punch.
“Aww, that’s alright Hobbs, we’ll just send you against it. You’re due a new fighter, right?” he retorted, laughing, referring to Hobbie’s unfortunate reputation of wreaking his fighters in unusual and imaginative ways. Han winced. That was a sore spot for the older Rogue, and was sure to elicit an angry response. Normally he was all for riling up his fellow pilots, but doing so when they had to fly a precise path to avoid damaging the fighters on hidden asteroids in the nebula was insanity.
“Hey Han, you ever get that mess over your PPC straightened out yet?” Wedge broke in hastily, clearly attempting to change the subject. Han took the opening gratefully.
“What, that pilot’s payroll chit? Nah.” He huffed dramatically. “Evidently they can’t decide if they’re gonna pay for my meals or not. Or pay me at all, seemingly.” He was beginning to grow tired of the continual excuses he got whenever he demanded payment for his services. All he seemed to get now were more requests for ‘emergency’ cargo hauls. Obviously they did not understand that he could really use ready cash.
“And you still did this run?” Luke asked incredulously. Han could just see the young commander raising one eyebrow, a habit he had picked up from some of the Corellian pilots in his squadron. “Rogues, roll two klicks starboard, starting in three, two, one, now.” With a precision many Imperial pilots would envy, the four X-wings rolled in perfect formation under Luke’s orders, Han following the path they outlined easily. He could hear Chewie grumbling something further back in the ship, but he ignored it. If it was serious, he was sure Chewie would make very sure to get his attention. With a blunt object, if necessary. Han waited until they had settled back into a straight flight path before responding.
“Yeah, well, they promised me double for this one.” He explained, though the excuse sounded weak even to his own ears. It definitely didn’t convince his flying partners, since laughter came in over the comm. from all four pilots. Han scowled, but knew any further protestation in his part would only amuse them further.
“Han, you sure you want to stay independent? At least we get fed.” Wedge chortled. “You do know double of nothing is still nothing, right?”
“Contrary to popular opinion, I do have a few moments of intellect, thank you.” Han growled into the speaker, hoping the other pilots couldn’t hear the chuffing Wookie laughter coming from the Falcon’s common area. Obviously, Chewie was listening in on the conversation.
“I plan on getting paid, one way or the other. The Falcon needs some new parts…” he was interrupted with laughter and teasing remarks, and spoke louder to override their comments, “And now they can’t refuse me, see?”
“Yeah Han, you go on believing that.” Luke laughed. Han secretly agreed with Luke, he was more likely to get credits than parts, but it was worth a try. At least if he went to the supply depot instead of the brass, he wouldn’t have to face Leia’s scornful looks. She just didn’t understand that he was a business man, and the Falcon just couldn’t run on dreams. He was still trying to think up a good reply when the bright gaseous clouds dissipated, and the small planet that sheltered the newly formed Rebel base spun beneath them. Time to get back to business. Luke's voice came over the comm, all of his previous amusement gone.
"Gentlemen, foursquare diamond, bring it in tight. Let's show them how it's done." Han might have protested having the X-wings fly within inches of his ship if he didn't think one of the Rogues might retaliate with a prank of some sort later for hurt pride. If anyone could pull it off, it would be them. Besides, wouldn't hurt to show off a bit, would it?
(Interests included: PPC, Moments of intellect, Raising one eyebrow, laughing, and gentlemen)
Enjoy!
Also, I have finished one of the ordered fics. For
fondued_jicama, I present:Comm Chatter
It was a well known fact, Han mused, that war is made up of two distinct and unequal time frames – there is the frantic, scrabbling, heart-pounding terror of battle where it was all you could do to stay alive, and there is the long, unbroken stretch of complete and utter boredom between battles. This was definitely one of the latter times. He stared out the Falcon’s cockpit viewports at the swirling magenta gasses of the nebula they were flying through, hypnotizing in their endless random patterns. He agreed, wholeheartedly, that this was the safest and most direct way to the latest hidden Rebel base, but since flying through the protective nebula would be certain suicide, he was forced to maneuver the Falcon at sublight speeds through the maze which resulted in this half-day long journey. At least he had company this time around.
Slightly forward both port and starboard, he could see a pair of X-wings pacing him easily, and knew there was another pair stationed behind his beloved ship. The Alliance brass has insisted – evidently, some of the cargo he was carrying was especially important to them. Force knew that the concern wasn’t over his personal safety – they’d never seen fit to assign him an escort before. He was thankful that he had at least gotten lucky enough to get some Rogues assigned to this duty, rather than some of the more formal squads. There were definitely worse ways to spend the time than chatting with the amiable and informal Rogue squadron.
“Hey, Han old buddy, you asleep back there?” Luke’s static-punctuated voice broke into his musings, sounding over the clank of Chewie working on something in the common area behind him. The tone of Luke’s voice alerted him to the fact that he had probably missed a few calls while he was thinking.
“Might as well get some shut-eye, Kid.” He grumbled. “This run’s deader than gundark in a rancor pit.” It was true, and they all knew it. Only the most suicidal of pilots would come into this nebula on a path other than the one they were following, and thus far they had found no one, and there had been no alerts from the base.
“Oh Force, you just had to say that, didn’t you?” Hobbie broke in gloomily from his position flying port and behind. “You do know we’re doomed to run into something now, right? Something heavily armed and decidedly unfriendly.” Han rolled his eyes, but Wes, also flying behind but to starboard, beat him to the punch.
“Aww, that’s alright Hobbs, we’ll just send you against it. You’re due a new fighter, right?” he retorted, laughing, referring to Hobbie’s unfortunate reputation of wreaking his fighters in unusual and imaginative ways. Han winced. That was a sore spot for the older Rogue, and was sure to elicit an angry response. Normally he was all for riling up his fellow pilots, but doing so when they had to fly a precise path to avoid damaging the fighters on hidden asteroids in the nebula was insanity.
“Hey Han, you ever get that mess over your PPC straightened out yet?” Wedge broke in hastily, clearly attempting to change the subject. Han took the opening gratefully.
“What, that pilot’s payroll chit? Nah.” He huffed dramatically. “Evidently they can’t decide if they’re gonna pay for my meals or not. Or pay me at all, seemingly.” He was beginning to grow tired of the continual excuses he got whenever he demanded payment for his services. All he seemed to get now were more requests for ‘emergency’ cargo hauls. Obviously they did not understand that he could really use ready cash.
“And you still did this run?” Luke asked incredulously. Han could just see the young commander raising one eyebrow, a habit he had picked up from some of the Corellian pilots in his squadron. “Rogues, roll two klicks starboard, starting in three, two, one, now.” With a precision many Imperial pilots would envy, the four X-wings rolled in perfect formation under Luke’s orders, Han following the path they outlined easily. He could hear Chewie grumbling something further back in the ship, but he ignored it. If it was serious, he was sure Chewie would make very sure to get his attention. With a blunt object, if necessary. Han waited until they had settled back into a straight flight path before responding.
“Yeah, well, they promised me double for this one.” He explained, though the excuse sounded weak even to his own ears. It definitely didn’t convince his flying partners, since laughter came in over the comm. from all four pilots. Han scowled, but knew any further protestation in his part would only amuse them further.
“Han, you sure you want to stay independent? At least we get fed.” Wedge chortled. “You do know double of nothing is still nothing, right?”
“Contrary to popular opinion, I do have a few moments of intellect, thank you.” Han growled into the speaker, hoping the other pilots couldn’t hear the chuffing Wookie laughter coming from the Falcon’s common area. Obviously, Chewie was listening in on the conversation.
“I plan on getting paid, one way or the other. The Falcon needs some new parts…” he was interrupted with laughter and teasing remarks, and spoke louder to override their comments, “And now they can’t refuse me, see?”
“Yeah Han, you go on believing that.” Luke laughed. Han secretly agreed with Luke, he was more likely to get credits than parts, but it was worth a try. At least if he went to the supply depot instead of the brass, he wouldn’t have to face Leia’s scornful looks. She just didn’t understand that he was a business man, and the Falcon just couldn’t run on dreams. He was still trying to think up a good reply when the bright gaseous clouds dissipated, and the small planet that sheltered the newly formed Rebel base spun beneath them. Time to get back to business. Luke's voice came over the comm, all of his previous amusement gone.
"Gentlemen, foursquare diamond, bring it in tight. Let's show them how it's done." Han might have protested having the X-wings fly within inches of his ship if he didn't think one of the Rogues might retaliate with a prank of some sort later for hurt pride. If anyone could pull it off, it would be them. Besides, wouldn't hurt to show off a bit, would it?
(Interests included: PPC, Moments of intellect, Raising one eyebrow, laughing, and gentlemen)
Enjoy!
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Re: *Grins*
Date: 2005-01-01 05:53 pm (UTC)Glad you like your fic. *grin*
Re: *Grins*
Date: 2005-01-01 09:22 pm (UTC)