Feb. 21st, 2010

hallelujahpilot: (you can't take the sky from me)
“Next time, I’m not bailing you out.”

“I owe you one, Trude.”

“I’m serious. Next time you find yourself a nice bit of tail and forget what time we’re bouncin, I’m lettin you explain.”

“Ah-huh. And Chacon?”


Ingrid Schmidt grins at her co-pilot. “Happy birthday.”

Trudy stops jogging and stares after her. “I always freaking forget. How do you remember?”

“What can I say, it entertains me how young you are.”

“Cute. Real cute, Schmidt.”


“Good morning and thank you for flying Air Pandora. I’m Ingrid Schmidt and this is Trudy Chacon, and we’ll be your pilots for the day. Emergency exits are to your left and right,” Trudy glances at her and snorts. Emergency exits her ass – both sides of the Samson are wide open. “And remember to claim your frequent flier points when we get back.”

Samson Three One, you are clear.”

“Roger,” Trudy says, reaching up to flip some switches.

Work, work, work.


“Hey, Ing?”

“Mm?” Schmidt glances over – talking to Trudy is far more interesting than watching cargo being unloaded.

“You ever…open a door at base and not end up where you expect?”

“How do you mean?”

“Like, end up somewhere completely different.”

“…not unless I’m really drunk. Why you ask?”

“…no reason, I guess.”


It starts when they are heading back to base; a shadow over them and then a large thump that shakes the whole craft. “Holy shit, what the fuck was that?” Schmidt automatically twists her head back.

“Instrumentation seems-” But before Trudy can finish, something grabs the tail of the Samson and swings. The two pilots scramble with their instruments, desperately (but it’s the controlled desperation of the highly trained) trying to pull themselves loose.

“Hang on!” Trudy shouts at the Marines in the back, hoping they’ll find something, anything.

Samson Three One, what’s your status?

“I don’t really wanna talk about it right now!” Schmidt snaps. “Jameson! Get your ass over here.”

Dragon on your tail,” Jameson radios back, flying in towards them. The Great Leonopteryx – Dragon – evidently doesn’t like being shot at, and lets them go to launch itself towards the gunship.

Samson Three One is sent flying, tumbling over and over in the air. Trudy can’t see the gunship attacked, she can’t see a second Dragon go after the third Samson in their convoy. All she can see is sky-ground-sky-ground-sky and the blurrings of the instruments in front of her as she fights to gain control.

“Samson Three One, going down,” Schmidt radios the COC, voice clipped. “Samson Three One going down.”

Somehow, they manage to bring the nose of their craft up – just in time for the Samson to crash into a tree, bouncing off it to be sent into the ground. The right of the nose hits the ground first, and the Samson slides along on its side before finally coming to stop.

Neither of the pilots see the gunship follow them down to the ground, spinning over and over in the air with one of the Marines flying out. Neither of them see the other Samson hit the ground and explode.

For a long time, neither of them see anything at all, and the only thing that moves is the blades on the remaining wing.


hallelujahpilot: (Default)
Trudy Chacon

November 2011

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