Crack in The Wall

[Noth Squadron]

. . .Theodore Syd, Noth Squadron . . .Vicinity of Planet Wiesbdaden, Omega-55 INS-Fretensis and INS Justicar There you are, wounded like a dog, licking its wounds expecting them to heal just like that. My finger slides over the console, opening a direct channel to that hulk's command bridge. The connection was poor, even this close. Sometimes words would lose themselves in the static, I know it. "This is err...we've got a delivery for you." why did I stumble in my own words? I've practiced this all day. "We're supposed to see it through with you. Can you let us in? There I am now, waiting roughly seven clicks away from whatever is left of that fleet. A minute passed, then five. The green light did not turn on -- that tiny LED that's supposed to flare up when they're transmitting. I started to fear for the worst when their fighter patrols were deployed. Did they see through us, I wonder? They couldn't have. The intel had to be right. "Maybe the officer's out for a leak." words have never been spoken more sarcastically. Then my head turns to my co-pilot. "Hey, Walt. Keep an eye on the intercom. I'll bring us something to drink while we wait." In reality, I just needed an excuse to leave that tiny bridge in order to do anything other than wait in silence. Climbing down the ladder I'd find myself staring at a small hallway containing both beds and kitchen -- more importantly, a small fridge under a bolted down counter containing about ten bottles of prime quality Liberty Ale. I never understood why everyone hates it. That fuzzy sweetness is nothing to scoff at. Especially when they're cold. I slam a bottle against the counter in a swift motion, then the next. Nothing beats that satisfying pop as soon as the cap releases that sweet, fruity flavor in the air. First whiff, then taste. "Perfection." -- I just needed to take in the moment now. Wait one more minute before heading back.

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