All things considered, he should count himself lucky to be alive. Piloting a ship manually through that kind of magnetic turbulence with half of the sensors down could not have been easy. It's a testament to Akaya's skill as a pilot that they're more than a smoking crater on the planet's surface right now.
And as a result of that skill, there's work to be done. The communicator offered nothing but piecemeal words between static on the way down; it won't be in any better state now. Moreover, the ship is surely too damaged to handle lift-off and propulsion through the heavy atmosphere. And yet, the idea that they should content themselves to securing basic needs and then waiting for a rescue party is unconscionable. No, they must act decisively, first to secure survival needs and then to either repair and reinforce the shuttle or to attain some other means back to the ship.
Right. Time to move.
It's with this thought that Sanada wills himself to open his eyes, then to release his seat buckle, then to rise to his feet and verify that no one is in need of emergency medical attention. His left leg hurts to walk on, and he suspects he's suffered several burns from the heat of the particle emitter leaking in through a crevice in the cabin where it had crumpled in against his seat. These injuries will not impede him. They mustn't.
Niou's forehead is bleeding, but he seems conscious and alert and warns him he's ready to be turned over with his usual enigmatic half-smile. This is hardly the time for such jokes. Sanada will, however, take that comment to mean that the man is fine, and that he should move on to Akaya.
He braces a hand on the back of the pilot's seat as he steps forward through the pain shooting through his leg, checking him over even as he says his name in a bid for his attention.
"Akaya."
He disciplines his voice to remain level, strong. They cannot afford panic. And, he's not sure how comfortable he is broadcasting the full depth of the concern he feels in that moment at what his eyes have found.
no subject
And as a result of that skill, there's work to be done. The communicator offered nothing but piecemeal words between static on the way down; it won't be in any better state now. Moreover, the ship is surely too damaged to handle lift-off and propulsion through the heavy atmosphere. And yet, the idea that they should content themselves to securing basic needs and then waiting for a rescue party is unconscionable. No, they must act decisively, first to secure survival needs and then to either repair and reinforce the shuttle or to attain some other means back to the ship.
Right. Time to move.
It's with this thought that Sanada wills himself to open his eyes, then to release his seat buckle, then to rise to his feet and verify that no one is in need of emergency medical attention. His left leg hurts to walk on, and he suspects he's suffered several burns from the heat of the particle emitter leaking in through a crevice in the cabin where it had crumpled in against his seat. These injuries will not impede him. They mustn't.
Niou's forehead is bleeding, but he seems conscious and alert and warns him he's ready to be turned over with his usual enigmatic half-smile. This is hardly the time for such jokes. Sanada will, however, take that comment to mean that the man is fine, and that he should move on to Akaya.
He braces a hand on the back of the pilot's seat as he steps forward through the pain shooting through his leg, checking him over even as he says his name in a bid for his attention.
"Akaya."
He disciplines his voice to remain level, strong. They cannot afford panic. And, he's not sure how comfortable he is broadcasting the full depth of the concern he feels in that moment at what his eyes have found.