Floodwaters
Inactive Member
Sienna could barely believe what she was hearing, but when the crippled shuttle suddenly banked, she knew that at the very least, Natsumi was deadly serious about going back. She grabbed the back of one of the passenger seats to steady herself, squeezing to one side as Egil shoved past her. Neither of the choices Sune offered sounded reasonable to her, but she was certainly not going to be talked into simply sitting down and waiting. She stood there in silence for a few moments, hoping against hope that someone would come to their senses and realize just how crazy it sounded to tempt death yet again after they'd barely scraped out of there with everyone's lives and limbs intact.
She wanted to protest, even demand that they continue to flee. Her freedom was so close, she had no delusions of dying in some heroic fantasy. But the words were simply caught in her throat. She was outnumbered and in a small space, and these were trained soldiers. Even if by some miracle she did manage to overpower them and escape in the shuttle, presuming she was able to figure out the controls before they crashed, where would she go? She had no experience in interstellar navigation, and if she simply sent out an emergency broadcast, whoever picked her up in this system would likely not be friendly. Who was to say she wouldn't end up sold back to Olaf, or kept as a slave someplace else?
Gritting her teeth in frustration, she swore under her breath as she slid her knife back into her boot. She looked over her shoulder to see Egil coming back out of the cockpit, carrying two coils of high tensile cord and a medkit. After watching him stare helplessly at the rope for a few seconds, she groaned and moved to assist him, obviously not looking pleased, but with no other rational options available to her.
"Gimme those," she said quickly, not waiting for his answer before snatching the coils off his arm. She slipped her arms out of the straps on her backpack and opened the zipper. Carelessly she turned it upside down and dumped the contents of the pack out in a pile on the row of seats next to her, then repeated the process with all of the side pockets. Clothing, undergarments, toiletries, and one or two tools fell in a disorganized heap, one or two effects falling from the seat onto the cabin floor. She yanked off her outer jacket, leaving her in a snug fitting tank top, and wadded it up, stuffing it inside the backpack to give it some of its weight back. If she lost her pack in this harebrained stunt, at least she'd still have a few clothes to get by with.
She threaded one cord through each of the pack's straps, securing them with a tight bowline, and turned the pack upside-down so that the narrow parts of the straps were facing upwards, and the broader, more comfortable halves would bear Bors's weight under his arms without cutting into him. Warily watching Conrad, she moved to the back row of seats and sat behind them on her backside, off to the starboard side. Looping one of the cables around one of the struts that anchored the seat to the floor, she tied off the other end of one of the cables with a slipknot, then braced her foot against the seatback and pulled as hard as she could with both hands, straining to tighten it as much as possible. She then moved to the port side and secured the other cable. As she was tightening the other side, she looked up at Egil. "Come check the other one and get it as tight as ya can," she shouted over the noise.
She wanted to protest, even demand that they continue to flee. Her freedom was so close, she had no delusions of dying in some heroic fantasy. But the words were simply caught in her throat. She was outnumbered and in a small space, and these were trained soldiers. Even if by some miracle she did manage to overpower them and escape in the shuttle, presuming she was able to figure out the controls before they crashed, where would she go? She had no experience in interstellar navigation, and if she simply sent out an emergency broadcast, whoever picked her up in this system would likely not be friendly. Who was to say she wouldn't end up sold back to Olaf, or kept as a slave someplace else?
Gritting her teeth in frustration, she swore under her breath as she slid her knife back into her boot. She looked over her shoulder to see Egil coming back out of the cockpit, carrying two coils of high tensile cord and a medkit. After watching him stare helplessly at the rope for a few seconds, she groaned and moved to assist him, obviously not looking pleased, but with no other rational options available to her.
"Gimme those," she said quickly, not waiting for his answer before snatching the coils off his arm. She slipped her arms out of the straps on her backpack and opened the zipper. Carelessly she turned it upside down and dumped the contents of the pack out in a pile on the row of seats next to her, then repeated the process with all of the side pockets. Clothing, undergarments, toiletries, and one or two tools fell in a disorganized heap, one or two effects falling from the seat onto the cabin floor. She yanked off her outer jacket, leaving her in a snug fitting tank top, and wadded it up, stuffing it inside the backpack to give it some of its weight back. If she lost her pack in this harebrained stunt, at least she'd still have a few clothes to get by with.
She threaded one cord through each of the pack's straps, securing them with a tight bowline, and turned the pack upside-down so that the narrow parts of the straps were facing upwards, and the broader, more comfortable halves would bear Bors's weight under his arms without cutting into him. Warily watching Conrad, she moved to the back row of seats and sat behind them on her backside, off to the starboard side. Looping one of the cables around one of the struts that anchored the seat to the floor, she tied off the other end of one of the cables with a slipknot, then braced her foot against the seatback and pulled as hard as she could with both hands, straining to tighten it as much as possible. She then moved to the port side and secured the other cable. As she was tightening the other side, she looked up at Egil. "Come check the other one and get it as tight as ya can," she shouted over the noise.