from the moment of the explosion, was optimistic, he knew. Optimistic in that it assumed that there was anyone left out here to rescue. How long before it no longer mattered?
His screen blipped, and Quatre's eyes snapped open. Despite his control, his heartbeat accelerated as the light on the panel went from red to green. Immediately, he reached out and slapped his com, tuned to a frequency he knew by heart. "Agent Silence. Agent Silence, come in. Do you read me?"
Are you still alive?
There was a moment of silence, and then, "Quatre?"
His voice was hoarse, and filled with shock. But alive. Quatre closed his eyes for a second, a precious second. "This is Auxiliary Preventer Winner. What's your status?"
His cool, formal tone must have conveyed some meaning, because when Trowa answered, he was just as calm. "Stable, for now. Suit is intact, heating and ventilation functioning. Propellent systems are completely out."
"How much time in your tank?" Quatre asked. He couldn't stop himself."
"Seven minutes, twenty seconds."
Seven! Quatre had to close his eyes. That was two minutes less than the countdown on his dash had shown. Before he could move, his radio crackled again. "Agent Winner, what's your ETA?"
He looked at the blip on his radar, made his calculations. And felt his heart chill. "Seven minutes, forty seconds," he reported quietly.
Another few precious seconds ticked by in silence. Then, "Understood."
He wanted to rage against it, deny it, get out of his small craft and push if that was what it took. But there came a time when you took all the shortcuts you could, and in the end you had no choice but to trade time for distance. No matter how precious that time was.
"Quatre..." Trowa's voice ventured after a time. "There are some things I meant to tell you. I..."
Quatre's calm threatened to shatter. He cut off the source of the threat. "Agent Silence, refrain from unnecessary communication. You must conserve your air."
There were two countdowns on his dash now, running a desperate, futile race. One was his. One was Trowa's. And no matter how much he wished, he could not make them even each other.
Re: Seconds & Second Chances
Date: 2006-02-21 04:06 am (UTC)His screen blipped, and Quatre's eyes snapped open. Despite his control, his heartbeat accelerated as the light on the panel went from red to green. Immediately, he reached out and slapped his com, tuned to a frequency he knew by heart. "Agent Silence. Agent Silence, come in. Do you read me?"
Are you still alive?
There was a moment of silence, and then, "Quatre?"
His voice was hoarse, and filled with shock. But alive. Quatre closed his eyes for a second, a precious second. "This is Auxiliary Preventer Winner. What's your status?"
His cool, formal tone must have conveyed some meaning, because when Trowa answered, he was just as calm. "Stable, for now. Suit is intact, heating and ventilation functioning. Propellent systems are completely out."
"How much time in your tank?" Quatre asked. He couldn't stop himself."
"Seven minutes, twenty seconds."
Seven! Quatre had to close his eyes. That was two minutes less than the countdown on his dash had shown. Before he could move, his radio crackled again. "Agent Winner, what's your ETA?"
He looked at the blip on his radar, made his calculations. And felt his heart chill. "Seven minutes, forty seconds," he reported quietly.
Another few precious seconds ticked by in silence. Then, "Understood."
He wanted to rage against it, deny it, get out of his small craft and push if that was what it took. But there came a time when you took all the shortcuts you could, and in the end you had no choice but to trade time for distance. No matter how precious that time was.
"Quatre..." Trowa's voice ventured after a time. "There are some things I meant to tell you. I..."
Quatre's calm threatened to shatter. He cut off the source of the threat. "Agent Silence, refrain from unnecessary communication. You must conserve your air."
There were two countdowns on his dash now, running a desperate, futile race. One was his. One was Trowa's. And no matter how much he wished, he could not make them even each other.