IKC FHew 7C6110
Forgotten Glory – Mr Air
by HoD Ro' Matlh
Post Details
Ro' looked at the young human who sat relaxing in the chair opposite him. He wore a pair of short trousers and a loose shirt exposing a fair amount of bronze skin and casual disregard for his safety in equal measure.
"You want to be my pilot?" Ro' made sure he understood the man's proposal.
"No, mate," the man replied with an easy grin, "YOU want me to be your pilot."
Ro' sighed inwardly. Human arrogance never ceased to amaze him, "No. I do not."
"See, that's where you are wrong," the man continued, "You don't know what you want, but when you work it out, I am it."
Ro' looked around the bar at the collection of Klingons, "I have people who have waited years to be a member of my crew."
"Yep," The man said, "and you have gone through four pilots in as many years. Two humans, a Romulan, and a Klingon. And right now your quartermaster is doing the flying, right? You are running out of passable applicants."
"As you have pointed out I have already lost two human pilots. Taking the position would mean facing death on a daily basis."
The man laughed, "Mate, I am from the Northern Territory in Australia. We face death every time we go to the dunny."
"The… what?" Ro' found the man's vernacular difficult.
"Dunny. Bog. Outhouse. Crapper. Loo. Toilet."
"Ah!" realization dawned finally on the old Klingon.
"Besides," the man continued, "You aren't going to find better than me. I am Alpha Squadron from the academy. I can put a Fokker F27 Friendship under a gum branch at 400kmh. I have held a Cardasian Groumall to a complete stop at 150cm. I could make your B'rel dance like a Goanna on sand."
Ro' looked at him hard, "One week. You have one week to impress me and not die. What's your name, Human?"
"Bruce Air," the man smiled easily again, "and I have already impressed you. Now all I have to do is live up to it."
by HoD Ro' Matlh
Post Details
| Title | Mr Air | |
| Mission | Forgotten Glory | |
| Author(s) | HoD Ro' Matlh | |
| Posted | Tue Feb 18, 2014 @ 3:43am | |
| Location | A pub somewhere | |
| Timeline | T -24:00 |
"You want to be my pilot?" Ro' made sure he understood the man's proposal.
"No, mate," the man replied with an easy grin, "YOU want me to be your pilot."
Ro' sighed inwardly. Human arrogance never ceased to amaze him, "No. I do not."
"See, that's where you are wrong," the man continued, "You don't know what you want, but when you work it out, I am it."
Ro' looked around the bar at the collection of Klingons, "I have people who have waited years to be a member of my crew."
"Yep," The man said, "and you have gone through four pilots in as many years. Two humans, a Romulan, and a Klingon. And right now your quartermaster is doing the flying, right? You are running out of passable applicants."
"As you have pointed out I have already lost two human pilots. Taking the position would mean facing death on a daily basis."
The man laughed, "Mate, I am from the Northern Territory in Australia. We face death every time we go to the dunny."
"The… what?" Ro' found the man's vernacular difficult.
"Dunny. Bog. Outhouse. Crapper. Loo. Toilet."
"Ah!" realization dawned finally on the old Klingon.
"Besides," the man continued, "You aren't going to find better than me. I am Alpha Squadron from the academy. I can put a Fokker F27 Friendship under a gum branch at 400kmh. I have held a Cardasian Groumall to a complete stop at 150cm. I could make your B'rel dance like a Goanna on sand."
Ro' looked at him hard, "One week. You have one week to impress me and not die. What's your name, Human?"
"Bruce Air," the man smiled easily again, "and I have already impressed you. Now all I have to do is live up to it."