Feb. 2nd, 2010

hallelujahpilot: ((ex) marine pilot)
Hell’s Gate feels fricking weird mostly devoid of people. The other Avatars had stayed, as had her and Norm and Max and a couple of the other PhDs in Various Scientific Shit. And Jake, obviously. But everyone else was booted out, the base turned into a ghost-town.

It wasn’t the end of the story, Trudy knew that – there was still a backlog of ships coming, and while the Na’vi had won this battle, she wasn’t sure the war was really over.

But they had about six months to worry about the new shipments of people, and in the meantime there were things to do. Batteries and sources of energy to strip from where they weren’t needed, things to be packed up and neatened before the jungle started claiming the buildings. Stores to sort out, a large amount of which was her job, because have you ever seen a group of PhDs be practical?

Trudy really wished she hadn’t. Fortunately, after thirteen years in the Marines, she had a good voice for authority, and fortunately they still listened to the person wearing the gun.

Even if said person still had a brace on her right leg, and walked with a limp as her fractured bones healed. And although she wasn’t one to complain, her broken bones are a large reason why the pilot can be found in the former JOC, lounging on a swivel chair in front of the giant window. Her right leg is up on another chair, and she has her left knee drawn up to balance a sketch-board.

There are some banshees out, sitting on a truck, and she’s drawing them.

She’s surprisingly good at it…but only if you didn’t know that she was the one to paint the tiger on her old Samson.

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Trudy Chacon

November 2011

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