Itineris

[Vogel]

The falling support beam missed him by inches.

James Doyle found himself in the middle of an inferno; he quickly rolled off to the side of the spot where the hunk of metal crashed against the groaning floorboards and staggered to his feet, eyes wide with fright.

A mess, a total mess. The place was coming apart at the seams; what was worse the low level of oxygen present was causing little fire sparks here and there. All itd take was one whiff of a dense pocket in the middle of combustion

My God! A survivor! a silhouetted figure shouted from across the room. Doyles eyes, nearly blinded by the bouts of fire erupting left and right, quickly locked on, and instinct told him to make a break for it.

The figure grabbed him by the arm and yanked him out a doorway just as the entire room he was in caved in on itself.

Who are Lieutenant! Nevermind! Follow me, we need to get the Hell out of here!

General Rockford?

Doyle barely had time to process the identity of the figures voice before he realized the man was already half way down the hallway, at a sprinting gait.

Wait! he yelled after the Generals fiery specter, Where are we going?!

Hangar, theres a shuttle, move it!

Doyle didnt aim to disappoint.

Disappoint 'who'?

Where am I?

He rounded a corner to find the young General ramming himself, shoulder first, into a door that wouldnt budge.

Help me out with this, Goddamnit, before we both die!

Doyle, his mind on autopilot, acted by sheer reflex to his new set of orders and rammed into the door. The weak brackets on it gave in, or more like bent and split thanks to the nearby smoldering wall, and flew off its hinges, a tumbling Lieutenant in tow.

Now, soldier, now! Rockford hollered, dragging Doyle to his feet while still running. The Alliance pilots feet managed to find their way across the ragged floor and prop him up, and before he knew it, he was running in formation with the General towards a rather large shuttle, seated in a rapidly disintegrating hangar bay.

With a quick glance above him, through the smoke and skeleton roof, he could see nothing but swirls of orange and red. It was around this point he felt the gale of venting air shove him in the back and almost cause him to lose balance.

He looked back up.

The General, running. The shuttle, sitting nearby, boarding ramp open.

A Minuteman medium fighter off to the right.

Is that my?




He almost hit the door, were it not for it sliding open, but he hit Jax on the other side anyway.

Shee-it! the technician yelled as they collided and nearly knocked him off his feet, Where the bloody Hell did you come from??

Doyle managed to stop his legs and found himself staring at Jax, wild-eyed, panting, sweating, legs shaking.

W-w-what??

Didnt you leave??

Doyle couldnt swallow; his throat was too dry.

What do you mean leave?? he asked hoarsely.

Jax bit his lip and looked behind him. Well, I guess somebody stole it then.

Stole wha-? Doyle didnt bother finishing the sentence before barging past the man and making a beeline for the hangar.

His fist nearly smashed the console when he hit the open button and the door whined up into the ceiling. Inside was the hangar hed landed in.

His Minuteman was exactly where he left it.

Jax skidded to a stop behind him and let his jaw drop, muttering, But it was just gone

Doyle spun on his heel and stared lasers at the tech, What the Hell do you mean it was gone? Or stolen? Its right here!

B-but it wasnt

Fire. Swirling red and orange. Rockford.

A dream??

I didnt take it anywhere-"

His Minuteman, to the right.

Doyle felt even more nauseous than he did the time he fell out of his cockpit and doubled over, his stomach regurgitating nothing.

God, son! Jax said, sort of stepping back, What the bugger is up with you??

He felt worse. Worse. At least there wasnt anything to left to eject from his throat but the heaving hurt all the same.

I-I dont know

Jax looked around him, as if expecting some kind of help, but finding not a soul decided to help Doyle to his feet and escort him back to his bunk.

He only succeeded in dragging him; Doyle was already unconscious.