Atton Rand (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stuck_mynock) wrote2008-04-11 11:56 pm
stuck_mynock) wrote2008-04-11 11:56 pm
(no subject)
“I have a smuggling mission to be getting to, you know. Very important. Very smuggley. Can’t wait.”
“It’ll have to.” The Disciple waved a hand dismissively. “We’re short on Jedi Knights, but we cannot simply ignore a request for aid, especially from a developing world.”
“You mean a backwater. I don’t have to do what you say, y’know. I can just resign.”
“You could. That’s why I’m going through the considerable difficulty of offering you a substantial fee.” The Disciple replied, smoothly. “Tell me what you’re getting for your smuggling job, and I’ll double it.”
“They’re people in need, Blondie.”
“So are these. Your price?”
-------
The day before could be summed up in two words: Ooh, Disciplemunnies.
Atton’s next day could also be summed up in two words: Stupid salvagers.
He was just coming out of hyperspace when the parts they sold to him cut out, and then exploded. The ship shuddered as it was ejected violently into real space, spinning down towards a rather pretty planet as the back end of it disintegrated, leaving air rushing out as the ship hit the atmosphere.
The containment fields snapped into place. Atmospheric shields came up, flickering half-heartedly as the temperature in the shuttle skyrocketted.
Lack of air. Unpleasant heat. Shaking and, now, turning around and around as gravity kicked in. Atton found himself tossed about the revolving ship, flailed about as he clung onto the controls and attempted to guide the ship into a landing.
They were helpfully fried. Atton’s swearing was cut off as the shuttle hit the water.
“It’ll have to.” The Disciple waved a hand dismissively. “We’re short on Jedi Knights, but we cannot simply ignore a request for aid, especially from a developing world.”
“You mean a backwater. I don’t have to do what you say, y’know. I can just resign.”
“You could. That’s why I’m going through the considerable difficulty of offering you a substantial fee.” The Disciple replied, smoothly. “Tell me what you’re getting for your smuggling job, and I’ll double it.”
“They’re people in need, Blondie.”
“So are these. Your price?”
-------
The day before could be summed up in two words: Ooh, Disciplemunnies.
Atton’s next day could also be summed up in two words: Stupid salvagers.
He was just coming out of hyperspace when the parts they sold to him cut out, and then exploded. The ship shuddered as it was ejected violently into real space, spinning down towards a rather pretty planet as the back end of it disintegrated, leaving air rushing out as the ship hit the atmosphere.
The containment fields snapped into place. Atmospheric shields came up, flickering half-heartedly as the temperature in the shuttle skyrocketted.
Lack of air. Unpleasant heat. Shaking and, now, turning around and around as gravity kicked in. Atton found himself tossed about the revolving ship, flailed about as he clung onto the controls and attempted to guide the ship into a landing.
They were helpfully fried. Atton’s swearing was cut off as the shuttle hit the water.