Voices from Heaven (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thespaceopera) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2017-02-24 02:09 pm
thespaceopera) wrote in driftfleet2017-02-24 02:09 pm
A Rose by any other name...!
Suddenly, the SS Three Twins and the SS Windrose begin to move on their own... slowly, calmly, they drift to into the same direction, away from the other ships of the fleet. Slowly, they move until they side by side.
Over the two ships' intercom, an old song begins to play. And that is all the warning there is before the engines engage -- full speed ahead.
Like a pair of rockets, the ships torpedo forward. As they move, they start circling around each other, like a synchronized dance. They move with incredible grace and skill, far more masterfully than the average pilot augment. Except, each time that they pass each other, they clearly get closer to one another.
And closer...
And closer...
No matter what buttons the crews press, no matter how much they might panic, nothing is going to stop the inevitable. On the final pass, it becomes clear there's not enough room between them to avoid a collision. Any impact alarms on the bridge are blaring at full blast. Any other ships watching will not have time to attempt any sort of interception.
CRASH!!
As if to shield spectators' eyes from the horrors of ships colliding in space, there's a blinding light upon impact -- and once it gradually fades, the results can be clearly seen by all: There is no wreckage. Nothing is broken. But where there were once two ships... now there's only one.
One ship that is looks completely new, but yet is reminiscent of both the SS Three Twins and the SS Windrose.
-----------
On the bridge, the crews of the SS Three Twins and the SS Windrose arrive, along with the usual pop! of Atroma confetti and ridiculous jingle music upon a successful shuffle. Sitting in the captain's chair is a round cake, just large enough for everyone to have one slice. There's a single candle, and the following message scribbled on top in yellow icing:
"Congratulations - SS Twin Roses!
Happy Fusion!"
... What, did you think you were going to die? Sorry about that.
Over the two ships' intercom, an old song begins to play. And that is all the warning there is before the engines engage -- full speed ahead.
Like a pair of rockets, the ships torpedo forward. As they move, they start circling around each other, like a synchronized dance. They move with incredible grace and skill, far more masterfully than the average pilot augment. Except, each time that they pass each other, they clearly get closer to one another.
And closer...
And closer...
No matter what buttons the crews press, no matter how much they might panic, nothing is going to stop the inevitable. On the final pass, it becomes clear there's not enough room between them to avoid a collision. Any impact alarms on the bridge are blaring at full blast. Any other ships watching will not have time to attempt any sort of interception.
CRASH!!
As if to shield spectators' eyes from the horrors of ships colliding in space, there's a blinding light upon impact -- and once it gradually fades, the results can be clearly seen by all: There is no wreckage. Nothing is broken. But where there were once two ships... now there's only one.
One ship that is looks completely new, but yet is reminiscent of both the SS Three Twins and the SS Windrose.
-----------
On the bridge, the crews of the SS Three Twins and the SS Windrose arrive, along with the usual pop! of Atroma confetti and ridiculous jingle music upon a successful shuffle. Sitting in the captain's chair is a round cake, just large enough for everyone to have one slice. There's a single candle, and the following message scribbled on top in yellow icing:
Happy Fusion!"
... What, did you think you were going to die? Sorry about that.
no subject
Alright. I'll won't do it. [It takes that little convincing.] I wasn't exactly comfortable or confident with the idea of someone upgrading me. [His nose turns up a tad at the word upgrading. The idea of artificial enhancing will never sit very well with him. At least when it comes to his own person.]
no subject
She nods, looking thankful and maybe just a bit uncertain, hoping that was the best call to make.]
Thanks for understanding. We'll find other ways to fortify the ship.
no subject
no subject
no subject
[And off he will go.]