GENERAL (arkanis) wrote in incompletedata, @ 2018-06-25 20:32:00 |
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Entry tags: | harry potter: harry potter, star wars: canon: armitage hux |
Who: Armitage Hux & Firefly crew
When: Presently
Where: Aboard the Firefly
What: We're going for a ride
Rating: Low.
Hux's shipboard experience was extensive; his earliest memories contained a smattering of rainy cliffs, grey and windy plains, and chilly, sand-strewn underground bunkers, but beyond those hazy images, his entire life had been spent with decks beneath his boots rather than earth. His experience was not, however, varied. His homes had all been warships of one stripe or another, generally Kuat-designed or derived, with plans struck off one of a handful of models which would have been familiar to people inhabiting several generations before his own. If it didn't resemble a constituent of the Imperial fleet, it took him some time to feel his way about it. And he had never, he was sure, been aboard something that was so blatantly a contraband freighter. The thing was dingy and ad hoc, riddled with the kinds of modifications that served only illicit purposes, and kept up with the level of care one might expect from a band of brigands never more than a nose in front of the forces of justice. It was distasteful. ... But it was new, and the call of an unfamiliar bit of engineering was to him stronger than he'd ever really allowed himself to admit, and stronger now that all his very good reasons to apply his attentions elsewhere were far behind him. There was no reason not to linger at the bridge and fiddle, no team of officers whose only function was to execute his orders indirectly on the systems they helmed. There was a strange new map to explore, a curious set of mechanisms by which to do it, and no objective other than staying fed, which, in the scheme of things, was downright relaxing - "Route to Sigma three," he demanded, his usual superior tone slightly modulated by the fact that he was trying not to draw terribly much attention to himself. There was no need to alert anyone to his activities when they concerned nothing but his own curiosity. Threads spread out across the map before him, charting paths around systems and other nebulous features that were as alien to him as this console. Were these jumps? Just simple trade lanes? How long would any of these take? "Route to - Esk ten." Shorter threads this time - and one that stood out as too straight, too cut-and-dried to be any sort of path between two points in space as it usually existed. There was always something in the way, debris, a patch of rock and ice wending its way too slowly into a far-off gravity well, some ship graveyard lying where history had forgotten it. It was likely a glitch, this incongruously neat slash through three dimensions of space. And, as most glitches were when they occurred in the navigational system, it was probably rather dangerous. On the other hand - the spot it wound up in did look promising. And it covered an awful lot of distance. And the temptation to do something that would garner approbation was as shamefully high in him as it hadn't been since he was all but a child, and he was absolutely perfectly aware that he ought to have just gone to his quarters and sat this out and let other people make the decisions for all the good it would ever do him, but - "How hungry are we, exactly?" he called back into the body of the ship, at what he judged to be a reasonable (if not overly intrusive) volume. If no one heard, him, well, there was nothing to be done about that, was there, and it wasn't as though if he slammed this thing into a moon the consequences would be all that dire. (Being able to see Organa's face shortly before impact would make that more than worth it.) Worst case scenario, he found himself at breakfast with Kylo Ren again sooner rather than later. This was a trade-off with which he'd made his uneasy peace some time ago. |