Word Count: 884
Pairing/Focus: Chief Tyrol
Colonel Tigh steps forward, breaks the seals on the small doors covering the emergency vent lock. He puts in the key and turns it.
Captain Kelly and Colonel Tigh watch the different gauges on the Damage Control console. As Chief Tyrol watches the ship’s schematics, lights turn from red to green.
“Venting complete. Fires Out,” said Kelly.
Tigh looks at Kelly and Tyrol; he knows what they’re thinking.
“If they remember their training…they had their suits on… and they were braced for possible vent action,” said Tigh.
An angry look from the Chief, “A lot of Rooks in there.”
As Tigh begins to walk pass the Chief. “ Nobody are rooks anymore.”
With those words, Colonel Tigh drifts back to a reawakening memory.
“Turn to vector one-zero-six, for final. Crash crews on stand by, Fire Fox, over.”
“Roger control, and making turn to one-zero-six,” answers Ensign Tigh. “Status update, my right nose control jet still malfunctioning, and nose gear still not deploying, over.”
“Fire Fox/ Tynova Control. Roger that… Good Luck.”
Forgetting his com-link is still open on the squadron band. Tigh responds to himself, “Good Luck! They know something I don’t?”
Tigh hears a gentle voice on his earphone. “They know you’re a Dead Man. You are venting too much fuel from your forward nozzle,” said Ensign Jennifer “Angel” Sacks.
Looking to his right through his cracked and chipped canopy, he sees Angel’s Viper along side his. “Nothing can kill me, I’m on fire, too hot to take down,” said Tigh to cover his concern for his current situation.
“That’s a bit cocky for a virgin. You will be on fire when your nose touches down on the deck and the fumes ignite.”
“It’s a standard text book emergency landing, not a problem for me.”
“Ya, text book for the old Mark I, not the Mark II,” Angel begins to take control. “Listen, to me. I’m going to guide you in. You are going to need to keep you nose up, off the deck until you make it to the catch net. When I give you the mark you will glide in cold, engines off. Understand Fire Fox?”
Angel’s controlling tone reinsures the new viper replacement pilot. It is strange but Tigh is getting turn on by this female pilot assertiveness. He had briefly met her in the squadron ready room when he reported for duty hours ago. It was nothing like the present to ask for a date. What worst can happen, he can crash and burn. Actually he can literally crash and burn. He had to give in and trust her with his life. Only knowing her in these few seconds, his relationship with her was more deep than with any other one before this moment. Ultimate trust, ultimate loyalty.
“Understood, Angel. Would you like to go have a drink with a dead man?” said Tigh awkwardly with that last sentence.
“Keep your eye on the Ball, Fire Fox. On my mark…three, two, one, mark…engines cold.”
Two Vipers, one higher than the other, glide slowly in the stern landing bay of the TYNOVA. Tigh struggles to compensate for the artificial gravity, keeping his nose up as the rear gear touches down, and his wings make sparks as they make contact with the deck. Tigh exaggerates a grimace as if it will help him land his ship better. He can feel the nose starting to lower.
“Take it easy, don’t fight it. You are almost there,” Angel’s voice is truly a comfort to Tigh’s stressed mind.
Then with a sudden stop, Tigh’s Viper is caught in the safety net. He sees Angel fly by above his position and out the other side of the landing bay. The Crash crew rushes to secure the damaged Viper, and move it out of the way to an elevator. As Tigh is in his viper, it is lowered down to the hanger bay, he remembers asking Angel out. ‘No response, I must have crashed and burn’, he laughs to himself.
After getting out of his cockpit and on the deck, the flight deck chief pats him on the back. “Sir, you are one lucky son of daggit. You cost me 50 credits, I was sure you were a crispy cinder.”
Both looking back at his Viper, “Me too.” Then he sees Angel’s Viper pulling into the hanger bay. Her Viper’s canopy raises up, she takes off her helmet and lays it front of her. Tigh watches her as she rubs her golden blond chopped hair. She looks at him with a smile, climbs out of the cockpit.
“Thanks,” said Tigh.
“Your welcome. Oh, by the way I don’t drink with Dead Men…Or Rooks, sorry,” she says with a smile.
Tigh is a crushed, and it shows on his face.
As she nears Tigh, she lays a hand on his shoulder, and whispers softy into his ear. “You’re not Rook anymore.”
She walks off, and Ensign Tigh turn around to watch her go, then she waves and calls out. “Take Care, Fire Fox.”
With a sigh, “Jenny,” said Colonel Tigh quietly as he swallows, his eyes slightly watering, feeling the deep wound. “Damn Memories…Frakking Cylons…Damn this Job.” The Colonel walks out the door of the Damage Control Station.