Post by Chan on Feb 25, 2010 16:05:24 GMT -5
2 Days from Earth, Zeon Expeditionary Force
Dren Fleet
Lucifer’s Fury, Tivvay-class
Captain’s Quarters
It is a rare part of the day when Captain Aleksandra “Sasha” Beria can shed the responsibilities of being an officer and the reputation she earned over the years. Steam from the hot shower made her breathe easier and the headache she had almost disappeared.
Almost.
The annoying chirping of the radio on her desk destroyed whatever good feelings she had for the moment. Beria’s hair is still wet as she nearly knocked the radio off the table while reaching for the receiver.
“Kaptain, is Bridge.” It is Commander Dmitry Balaganov.
“Are we under attack, Dima?” snarled the captain,” I do not hear battle alarm.”
“Nyet, captain.”
“Has ship suffer critical failure?”
“Nyet, captain. Ship is operational.”
“Then what is the emergency, COMMANDER?” It is a rare moment that Beria would address her loyal subordinate by his rank instead of his nickname. On the bridge, the crew visibly flinched at the hint of violence dripping from the captain’s words. Balaganov did not show any reaction as he hit the microphone toggle.
“Kaptain, we received Priority Transmission from High Command.” The communications officer is glad that the enormous Russian officer is vouching for him. The junior officer does not have the nerves to call the captain himself.
“Rambling of children is not interruption worthy of my time.”
“Da, Kaptain,” agreed Balaganov,” but transmission is strange.”
In her quarters, Beria brushed away wet hair that strayed in front of her one good eye. Her first officer rarely calls anything strange.
“What do you mean?”
“Transmission came from Side 3 High Command… sent by Wu Jinyuan.”
Dren Fleet
Lucifer’s Fury, Tivvay-class
Captain’s Quarters
It is a rare part of the day when Captain Aleksandra “Sasha” Beria can shed the responsibilities of being an officer and the reputation she earned over the years. Steam from the hot shower made her breathe easier and the headache she had almost disappeared.
Almost.
The annoying chirping of the radio on her desk destroyed whatever good feelings she had for the moment. Beria’s hair is still wet as she nearly knocked the radio off the table while reaching for the receiver.
“Kaptain, is Bridge.” It is Commander Dmitry Balaganov.
“Are we under attack, Dima?” snarled the captain,” I do not hear battle alarm.”
“Nyet, captain.”
“Has ship suffer critical failure?”
“Nyet, captain. Ship is operational.”
“Then what is the emergency, COMMANDER?” It is a rare moment that Beria would address her loyal subordinate by his rank instead of his nickname. On the bridge, the crew visibly flinched at the hint of violence dripping from the captain’s words. Balaganov did not show any reaction as he hit the microphone toggle.
“Kaptain, we received Priority Transmission from High Command.” The communications officer is glad that the enormous Russian officer is vouching for him. The junior officer does not have the nerves to call the captain himself.
“Rambling of children is not interruption worthy of my time.”
“Da, Kaptain,” agreed Balaganov,” but transmission is strange.”
In her quarters, Beria brushed away wet hair that strayed in front of her one good eye. Her first officer rarely calls anything strange.
“What do you mean?”
“Transmission came from Side 3 High Command… sent by Wu Jinyuan.”