fighting_mad | [OOM] Simulator Room

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[OOM] Simulator Room

Juke left, juke right, juke left, juke right; lure your opponent into a false sense of security, make him think he knows exactly what you're going to do.

Lasers flash by on the screen.

One last juke to the right, and there's the light-up of a targeting lock; she yanks the stick back and to the left, throwing the sim fighter into a tight roll that should press her back against the seat with its force. Of course, this machine isn't nearly complex enough for that.

She's got to find some way to throw the Priamsta off guard like that. To catch the rebels--the ones who say they're lead by Harran but they're not they can't be--off guard and--

The flash of an explosion and the screen goes dark.

"Sithspit!" Plourr slams an open palm against the overhead frame of the simulator, then lets her hand rest there, hooked on the frame.

She runs her other hand over her head in an unconscious motion; auburn stubble still foreign to the touch, too rough and scratchy. Hell, her whole body feels foreign; her tunic is smooth and skintight, eggshell-colored with deep purple, allowing every cord of muscle to show. She's not used to anything so fine, and she's definitely not used to the matching skirt, to seeing her legs bare in anything but athletic shorts. High heels. She'd drawn whistles from the Rogues that afternoon; joking whistles, yes, and ones that had earned several of them glares and thwappings, but she had caught admiring looks from not a few men at court, too. From the nobles at dinner.

Dinner.

"The tyranny of the nobles is at an end, Laabann. I will see to that. If you wish a place in the future of Eiattu, either stand with the throne-- or fall."

The crash of a breaking wineglass.

"The choice is yours."

Plourr hits the top of the simulator again.

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In her own simulator, Plourr sits still, frowning quietly, and then she rolls her eyes and taps a button.

Aeryn may or may not realize it, but there's now a TIE Interceptor in the sim that isn't quite as automated as the rest.

Of course she realized it. She would be dead already if the difference wasn't obvious. Between her emotions and her damn anger, Aeryn could barely keep her head above water as it was; firing at everything in sight. She knew it was bad flight sense, ignoring all the training that had been drilled into her, but this was only the sims. These ones couldn't kill you.

But Plourr could. Plourr could beat her easily, she had the advantage, she was familiar with the machines much more than Aeryn was. That didn't mean she was going to make it easy.

She dodged a series of attacks, loosening her fingers, keeping sharp, pressing the annoyance down where it couldn't get to her.

TIE Interceptors, to be fair, aren't the sort of craft Plourr's used to. X-wings are fast, but squints are blindingly quick; the things could turn on a cred coin, she's sure. No shields weighing it down; no hyperdrive, either. Flying coffins, they are. She hates them. She's never been in the cockpit of a real one; she'd flown a standard TIE once or twice while doing some mechanic work, but never in combat.

Have we mentioned yet that she hates them?

Still, it's a ship, and she's a pilot. She stops the curses before they come out as the screen moves impossibly fast in front of her, and it's a moment before she brings it somewhat under control. Once she's got it, though, she's checking the rudimentary sensor board for Aeryn's craft, and she's starting on a loop that will bring her in that direction, all the while juking and dancing, firing off potshots here and there at A-wings and X-wings. Her primary focus, though is trying to stay alive. Kriffing Empire.

The worst thing was, when something entirely unexpected happened. Like almost flying straight into the enemy ship.

Frelling X-Wing sensors.

Aeryn scraped a turn just in time, clipping off the edge of Plourr's wing.

"If that's you, I'd advise you to stop. I didn't come here for a showdown with you."

The obscenity that echoes out of the simulator when the crafts' wings collide probably answers the 'if that's you' comment.

"No, you came here to blow shavit up," she says once the spinning has stopped and she's gotten the battered TIE turned around and headed back toward Aeryn's ship, lasers flashing. "And that's why I'm here, too. So just fucking fly, Sun."

Firing everywhere. She didn't know X-wings well enough. She was going to die. She had failed and now she was going to die. Except Milliways wasn't the Peacekeepers. As her knuckles whitened, gripping onto the controls, Aeryn realised just how stupid this was.

"No. I refuse your challenge." She slipped out past the console and leaned against the wall of the machine.

Plourr lets her squint collide head-on with a Y-wing, and there's the ghost of a grin at seeing both craft blow up. Then she turns to face outward, resting her shoulder against the side of the sim booth and (belatedly) crossing her legs. "It wasn't a challenge. Just trying to cause some mayhem. What's the problem, Aeryn?" She's not referring to the other woman's refusal to engage in simulated space battle.

"You ask that like it's so easy to answer. Is that a human thing?"

Aeryn folded her arms, staring the floor; speaking quietly. There was none of her usual bite in the sarcasm.

"No," she says evenly, "there's usually a whole bunch of problems at once; that's the way life works."

"I did a thing."

In the back of her mind, Jaina's words echoed. 'Just stay on your guard, Aeryn.'

"Some sort of Jedi mind thing, with Kira...the Exile."

She didn't volunteer anymore information, just picked at a small cut on her palm.

"A Jedi mind thing." Frown. "Why would you want to do that?"

The soldier clenched her teeth together, muscles shaking quietly.

"Because I was tired of feeling this way."

"And, what, the Jedi quick-fix didn't take?"

"It wasn't a quick-fix." She threw an angry glance at Plourr.

How could anybody be so arrogant?

"It was supposed to show me what I wanted. Which path to take."

What? Plourr doesn't trust Jedi. Of course, she doesn't really know any besides having met one or two once or twice in Milliways, but that's beside the point.

"Oh, right. Sorry." She just avoids an eyeroll to go with the sarcasm. "It didn't?"

Aeryn turned away, the short exhalation betrayed her annoyance, her...everything.

"No. It did."

"Then I'm back to my original human question."

"I found out something I didn't want to know. I know what I have to do, but I don't want to do it."

She wanted to pace, to run, to scratch an itch she couldn't reach. Her feet only took her a short distance, right to the wall. This place, Milliways, was a cage.

A considering moment, shifting in the sim and tugging her skirt down. "What is it?"

"I have to break it off with Jack."

Laughter suddenly bubbled forth, bitter and a bit hysterical. She couldn't hold it in any longer.

"Not that we were ever together. But I can't keep waiting for him to change his mind. I'm sick of his games."

The sarcasm drops away at that laugh.

"Is this the same man you told me about down by the lake? Aeryn..." She's a little concerned now, watching her with serious brown eyes. "That was ages ago. He's still stringing you along?"

She inclined her head. "He's not here. Went back home."

Angry, violent hands, pushed back her hair, because this was no time to lose it. Over such a ridiculous thing.

Get a grip, Sun. Self control. Forget him.

"I'm just frustrated. I'll be fine."

She gets up, immediately wobbles for balance, kicks off both shoes with a black look, and then finally crosses her arms like she had been planning to in the first place, standing there barefoot. "Can't be easy," she says speculatively, kind in her own gruff way. A snort at herself. "Not like I'd know."

Startled, she looked up momentarily. Ebony eyebrows raised in surprise. "You've never been in love?"

Aeryn couldn't say why the thought surprised her.

She laughs darkly. "Do I really seem like the type?"

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