driftfleet | the veil is thin . . .

[ On the night of the 16th, the feeling of tension and horrid anticipation comes to a head. Everything stops when the sun goes down-- even the ever-present music in the hoppingest part of the city center. One by one, everyone turns their eyes to the skies. The young and old alike pour out of their houses, some in bare feet, and they point to the velvety blanket of stars.

It takes a second to find it, especially if one is unaccustomed to the starscape. But even a casual observer can see it.

A brightly-shining star, larger than the others, and growing larger.

An announcement cuts across all communication channels that encourages people to evacuate to the space station, but it’s clear that these are just people and they’ll need some help. Supplies, equipment, organization, there’s something for everyone to do.

Civilization is disrupted by a panicked stampede of people vying for limited seats aboard spacefaring craft. Within hours, there will be crushed glass, looting, and chaos.

The clock is ticking. Will you help? Or would you rather watch the dying gasps of a Singing Planet from a safe distance? ]

[OOC: Please see this post for plot details. Phase two has begun! Feel free to use this post as a reaction post, mingle, etc. or make your own!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[At least there's that.

Felix takes a deep breath, planting his feet a little more widely apart as he recovers from the dizzy spell that caused him to falter in the first place.]

I'm not hurt. Just...lost my balance for a second.

[But his face is too pale and way too tired for that loss of balance to be just a fluke.]

Too many margaritas will do that to anyone. [Cheerfully. She'll let go once he's standing, but her eyes are tracking the pallor.]

Can I get you anything? Hot soup to go with you? If you get too exhausted, you might do more harm than good.

[At her flippantness, he smiles tightly. It's not that he doesn't appreciate it, it's just....]

Right. Margaritas.

[He almost refuses her offer. Even though she's right. He hasn't crashed a shuttle yet, or made any mistakes, but in the back of his mind even Felix is aware he's teetering on the edge of being more than a little stupid.]

I guess I can take a very short break. I was on my way back to the command room anyway.

What a good plan. [She isn't going to ask for more than that-- a few minutes to recharge a little, get some more energy into him. They can all sleep later.] You're not allergic to any sort of food, are you? There's some kitchen sink stew someone's concocting, but it's not for everyone.

Nothing that I know of.

[As they talk about food, it occurs to Felix that he...really is hungry. Actually. He's been out on shuttle runs, which means there's been no one to make sure he eats.

It would probably be better if he didn't go back to the command center and Chekov only to be reminded to eat. Again. He can only imagine it's getting old for Chekov.]

[Well, then. She's going to attempt steering him to the nearest place to sit.]

I'll bring you some. You eat it, whether here or on the go. That's all I ask, all right?

I promise I'll eat it.

[He even lets her steer him. The way he sits down is maybe not entirely graceful. He closes his eyes for a few seconds, but his posture doesn't really relax at all.]

[The promise gives her pause, frankly, a hesitance on what to do. Promises mean something to Katie. This one is, at least, a simple one, easily fulfilled.

She watches him sit, making sure he's not about to list sideways, then touches his shoulder gently.] You should be careful with those. But I trust your promise. [So no harm done. Just a warning for next time, if he even picks up on it-- she likes him enough she'd hate to accidentally trap him.

She leaves after that, comes back with a bowl of the threatened stew. It's not huge, nothing that will take forever, but it's enough to shore up reserves a bit longer.] Here.

[Felix's eyes open at her gentle warning as he blinks up at her. He's a little too distracted and tired to really decode it right now. But later. Hopefully. It's strange enough that it will probably stick with him.

By the time she comes back, his head is resting against the crates that make up the back of his makeshift seat. His eyes are closed again though the way he's sitting, the way his hands are threaded tightly together in his lap, makes it pretty clear he's not sleeping.

Felix glances up, taking the bowl from her. He shifts over slightly, motioning her for Katie to sit too. If she wants to.]

Thanks.

....How are you doing?

Better than many, not as well as some. [How's that for a non-answer. But she smiles briefly, taking the offered seat.] You should ask me that again when we're done here.

Or perhaps you shouldn't. All things considered.

[Nobody's going to be happy.]

...It'll be better when it's all over. I think.

[Sure, there will be a ruined planet. But if they all keep working, the death count will be minimal and that will be the most important part.

It's a wary, tired optimism. And might only ring true for him, particularly. Eventually, this reminder will be gone. Life will be a little less fraught.]

[It's never better when it's all over, she thinks. Even now, the fraught energy in the air is a little better than the absolute death of the planet, the last shreds of unrealistic hope denied, and the weighty despair of its surviving inhabitants.

But they'll be alive to start again. There is that. It's just painful to watch the transition.]

I think you're right.

Do you think... there's anything more we can do for them? After.

the veil is thin . . .

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