“Well,” Bren said as his flight stepped out into the cool Golgan air, “that was the sim session from hell.”
“Speak for yourself,” Mikele growled. “I’d call that one worse than hell.”
She plopped down on the steps outside the training facility and pulled off the scrunchy holding her hair back. Bren just stared at her as she shook the sweat from her hair and then re-bound it with the scrunchy. Then she shook her head again and fell back against the cool stone steps with a huff.
“I don’t know what the two of you are grousing about,” the massive Cullen said. “You actually scored kills.”
“One apiece!” Mikele cried. “After five hours in a sim!”
“And none over the next two,” Bren added grimly. “I hate to say it, but these Vong might even be worse than Imps.”
Mikele stared at him as if he’d spouted horns. Or perhaps a second, rancorish head. To here Bren Silversun, mister “The Remnant is up to something, you just watch,” call something worse than the Empire was… well, she didn’t know what it was. Just the final cap to ‘one of those days’, she supposed.
They stood – and sat – on the steps for several minutes, watching the sun set over the sea. It was one of her favorite sights, when she went planetside. She found it comforting, odd as it was to be comforted by the sea after getting thoroughly schooled in a seven-hour sim against enemy fighters which – according to rumor – were in-real-life made of flying space-coral.
Space-coral, of all things!
But the play of red and orange on the sea really was quite nice, and she let herself forget the sim and the oncoming war and lose herself in the color and the sound of the tide.
She jumped when Bren clapped his hands against his thighs.
“Well,” he said loudly, “only one thing to do after a day like this. I’m off to the Red. You two want to come?”
“Not really my thing,” Mikele said. While the Red catered to both sexes (and some of the other… variants… found in species with more than two… moving along, quickly) she never felt much need to visit it.
Cullen just frowned and shook his head no.
“Suit yourselves,” Bren said, and headed off to find a hovertaxi. Cullen watched him go.
Mikele looked up at Cullen and grinned.
“Well? What are you up to?”
“Meeting a group of friends for dinner,” he said, smiling slightly. “You’re welcome to come along.”
“Hmm… Are any of them cute guys?” she asked in a hopeful tone.
“I… don’t think they’re your type, really.”
“Ah, well,” Mikele said, and tried not to pout. “I guess they’ll be wanting their steps back, so…”
She stood up and rubbed her hands.
“So… moving on, then?” Cullen asked.
“Yeah, I guess. ”
“What d’you have planned?”
“Oh, I dunno. I’ll think of something.”
“Right. Well, good night then.”
“Good night. Enjoy your dinner!”
They split up, Cullen towards a nearby hovertaxi, and Mikele towards… well, maybe towards the beach. A walk would be nice, and she could see the rest of the sunset. Of course, she was hungry – simming always gave her an appetite – so she could head in the same direction as Cullen and find dinner. Plenty of nice sit-down restaurants in downtown, or a sandwich shop, or…
Or she could just go back to her quarters and read.
She stopped – fortunately not in the middle of the road – and glanced in all three directions: beach, food, or book. She pursed her lips and huffed.
Too many choices. And no squadron – or flight – commander to offer direction.