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Travis Kroells

With Good Intentions, Part I

“With Good Intentions” Part I



Sick, nauseated disorientated.


River’s fighter spun out of control towards the Hull of the N.F.S. Reaent, or rather, what was left of it. Hull breaches littered the Ambassador Class Carrier, and one of the nacelles was leaking drive plasma.


Travis let out a small sigh as he drifted towards the ship, surprisingly slow, considering that he had been towing Barely in, on one engine before this situation had arisen. His thoughts immediately focused on the Centurian, who had been beamed out, after his cockpit burst into flames.


Was he dead; would there be no more “Oh god, oh god we’re all going to die” sarcasm in his squad? Could he deal with that? Was it his fault? Should it be him-?


“Stop...” He had to vocally force himself to stop thinking of McQueen. As harsh as it was, worrying over him at the moment would only result in his death as well. There would be time for soul searching later...


With the nose of his sarcastic Major lodged in his starboard engine, his only hope was to try to get a sputter out of the port engine that had been damaged by UFP fighter fire back on People’s Head...




Kroells’s brow furrowed, realizing he couldn’t just say please and hope for an “And they all lived happily ever after.” Things were never that easy on the edge... He should have known that by now...


First things first: he had to get fighter in a decent angle if he was even going to attempt to crash this thing into the bay with no engines. He could work up from there. It was important to keep things simple, not think of the big picture; otherwise he knew he’d lose it. Easiest thing he could try was the maneuvering thrusters. He quickly tapped the flight stick forward, forcing the fighter to slowly spin forwards towards the ship, his mind blurring, forcing images of day’s he’d rather forget...

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