11-08-2025, 03:23 AM
(This post was last modified: 11-08-2025, 03:25 AM by Hallowette Maxas-Darl.)
==Ens. Oliver Pearson, Security NRC==
The last burst of green fire fizzled out across the horizon, leaving only the sound of cooling weapons the slight buzz of phased energy residue that was one of the signatures of the newest compression rifles. Ollie kept his sights up for another few seconds, then exhaled hard, letting the rifle dip.
“Well,” he muttered, voice echoing slightly in the sudden quiet, “that was about as coordinated as a dingo on skates.” He cracked a grin. “Not that I’m complainin’.”
He popped the diminished power cell from his rifle, slid in a fresh one, and glanced toward the rear alcove. Svenson was there—steady, professional—and next to her, Hallowette. The pilot looked rattled but still upright, her phaser arm trembling slightly.
Ollie keyed his comm. “Boss, window’s team is clear. Klinks are down. Still got all me parts - far as I can tell.” He paused. “Assumin’ that crack you gave my helmet didn't knock something loose."
He laughed, his eyes carrying a self satisfied twinkle that was there more often than not.
Miller’s voice carried from across the room, confirming what he already saw through the haze. “It’s over.”
Ollie gave a small nod to himself, then a quick glance toward the alcove where Svenson was still standing guard beside Hallowette, the young pilot looking pale but unbroken. He felt a flicker of pride, then that familiar, weary fondness. “Flightsuit, you did bloody brilliant,” he said, voice softer now, almost warm. “Could’ve fooled me you weren’t born with boots on the ground. You alright there, love?”
“Think it’s broken,” she said, short and breathless.
“Yeah, it sure looks it,” he muttered, shaking his head with a crooked grin. “You pilots and your dramatic landings. You can fly a shuttle through a needle’s eye but can’t manage three steps without breakin’ somethin’.”
The pilot looked as amused as annoyed. This made him grin even wider.
As Calleja gave the next set of orders, Ollie strutted over, winking at Svenson as he did so. “You did bloody brilliant, Flight. You kept your head, proper like, even with a busted wing. That’s more than I can say for half the blokes I trained with.”
He grinned at Svenson, that familiar twinkle in his eye as he peered down at her, "You did pretty good yourself there lady. And you did it all pretty too." He bit his lip, nodded and added answering her luck wish, "Yeah, you too sweetheart. Keep it intact, eh?" Then gathered up his phaser and set off, only stopping to turn once more to Hallowette, "Look afta' her, will ya? Might be a strikingly handsome bloke with plans to wine and dine her, should she get out of this mess."
==MDM. Hallowette Maxas-Darl==
Hallowette exhaled through her nose, forcing her breathing steady. The fight had ended minutes ago, but the pounding in her chest hadn’t caught up yet. Her wrist throbbed like it had its own heartbeat, each pulse sharp and insistent beneath the brace of her armor.
She activated her comm, voice taut but controlled. “Robin - Doctor Mayfair—this is Maxas-Darl. Yeah, I’ve sustained an injury. Suspect fracture, right wrist. Stable, but mobility’s limited.”
Her thumb released the comm switch, and she rested her head briefly against the wall. The air smelled of dust and ozone, the kind of scent that clung to combat zones long after the firing stopped.
Pearson’s words reached her a moment later, rough-edged but kind. You did good, Hally. She managed a small, pained smile. The human was loud, uncouth and full of himself, but it was obvious he had a big heart. His fancy for the other security officer, the one that had stood by her was sweet, and seemed genuine. She wondered how long that had been brewing, and if she liked him in the same way.
The romantic drama was an odd companion during a battle, but she had to admit that it was kind of a nice distraction. The shooting had been terrifying - a mix of awe and fear that only her duty and training had seen her through. For some reason she kept thinking back to her Starfleet ethics class, the words of an old Human Captain named Kirk who once recounted being told:
How we face death is at least as important as how we face life.
She looked down at her wrist—angry, swollen, trembling faintly inside her glove—and adjusted her stance. Then she drew relifted the phaser with her off-hand, setting her sights toward the rear access.
The ache was there, and the fear lingered, but beneath both was something stronger. Determination.
“Rear’s still clear,” she muttered to herself, standing straighter. “Let’s make sure you make it to that awful date.” she said Svenson with a mischevious grin.
==tags==
The last burst of green fire fizzled out across the horizon, leaving only the sound of cooling weapons the slight buzz of phased energy residue that was one of the signatures of the newest compression rifles. Ollie kept his sights up for another few seconds, then exhaled hard, letting the rifle dip.
“Well,” he muttered, voice echoing slightly in the sudden quiet, “that was about as coordinated as a dingo on skates.” He cracked a grin. “Not that I’m complainin’.”
He popped the diminished power cell from his rifle, slid in a fresh one, and glanced toward the rear alcove. Svenson was there—steady, professional—and next to her, Hallowette. The pilot looked rattled but still upright, her phaser arm trembling slightly.
Ollie keyed his comm. “Boss, window’s team is clear. Klinks are down. Still got all me parts - far as I can tell.” He paused. “Assumin’ that crack you gave my helmet didn't knock something loose."
He laughed, his eyes carrying a self satisfied twinkle that was there more often than not.
Miller’s voice carried from across the room, confirming what he already saw through the haze. “It’s over.”
Ollie gave a small nod to himself, then a quick glance toward the alcove where Svenson was still standing guard beside Hallowette, the young pilot looking pale but unbroken. He felt a flicker of pride, then that familiar, weary fondness. “Flightsuit, you did bloody brilliant,” he said, voice softer now, almost warm. “Could’ve fooled me you weren’t born with boots on the ground. You alright there, love?”
“Think it’s broken,” she said, short and breathless.
“Yeah, it sure looks it,” he muttered, shaking his head with a crooked grin. “You pilots and your dramatic landings. You can fly a shuttle through a needle’s eye but can’t manage three steps without breakin’ somethin’.”
The pilot looked as amused as annoyed. This made him grin even wider.
As Calleja gave the next set of orders, Ollie strutted over, winking at Svenson as he did so. “You did bloody brilliant, Flight. You kept your head, proper like, even with a busted wing. That’s more than I can say for half the blokes I trained with.”
He grinned at Svenson, that familiar twinkle in his eye as he peered down at her, "You did pretty good yourself there lady. And you did it all pretty too." He bit his lip, nodded and added answering her luck wish, "Yeah, you too sweetheart. Keep it intact, eh?" Then gathered up his phaser and set off, only stopping to turn once more to Hallowette, "Look afta' her, will ya? Might be a strikingly handsome bloke with plans to wine and dine her, should she get out of this mess."
==MDM. Hallowette Maxas-Darl==
Hallowette exhaled through her nose, forcing her breathing steady. The fight had ended minutes ago, but the pounding in her chest hadn’t caught up yet. Her wrist throbbed like it had its own heartbeat, each pulse sharp and insistent beneath the brace of her armor.
She activated her comm, voice taut but controlled. “Robin - Doctor Mayfair—this is Maxas-Darl. Yeah, I’ve sustained an injury. Suspect fracture, right wrist. Stable, but mobility’s limited.”
Her thumb released the comm switch, and she rested her head briefly against the wall. The air smelled of dust and ozone, the kind of scent that clung to combat zones long after the firing stopped.
Pearson’s words reached her a moment later, rough-edged but kind. You did good, Hally. She managed a small, pained smile. The human was loud, uncouth and full of himself, but it was obvious he had a big heart. His fancy for the other security officer, the one that had stood by her was sweet, and seemed genuine. She wondered how long that had been brewing, and if she liked him in the same way.
The romantic drama was an odd companion during a battle, but she had to admit that it was kind of a nice distraction. The shooting had been terrifying - a mix of awe and fear that only her duty and training had seen her through. For some reason she kept thinking back to her Starfleet ethics class, the words of an old Human Captain named Kirk who once recounted being told:
How we face death is at least as important as how we face life.
She looked down at her wrist—angry, swollen, trembling faintly inside her glove—and adjusted her stance. Then she drew relifted the phaser with her off-hand, setting her sights toward the rear access.
The ache was there, and the fear lingered, but beneath both was something stronger. Determination.
“Rear’s still clear,” she muttered to herself, standing straighter. “Let’s make sure you make it to that awful date.” she said Svenson with a mischevious grin.
==tags==