Crash by cat_77 (Backstory, Amnesty 2007)
Dec. 31st, 2007 01:18 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
cat-77.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
sga_flashficTitle: Crash
Genre: Gen, Challenge
Rating: PG
Length: 500 words
Synopsis: The first time he crashed it was in a rusted red Radio Flyer wagon.
Author’s Notes: For the Backstory challenge, though I think I also wrote it in just under 38 minutes. Amnesty 2007.
Disclaimer: I don’t own them, people with a lot of money do. I’m just borrowing them to play and making no profit from the experience.
~~~~~~~~~~
The first time he crashed it was in a rusted red Radio Flyer wagon. It was like something out of the movies: he sat with the handle in his hands at the top of a hill, swimming goggles on to protect his eyes, as his brother pushed from behind. The land came whipping by, the wind in his hair as bits of grass stuck to teeth locked wide open in a grin. It all came to a sudden halt with the tree at the bottom.
The second time he crashed, it was in a rusted blue junk of a car. His brother was behind the wheel, and he was in the passenger seat with the window down to let some of the summer breeze into the stuffy cab. The only thing he really remembers is the stop sign and a flash of orange before hearing the screeching of tires and the crunching of metal. His wrist was in a cast for six weeks after that. It took much longer to ever trust his brother and his ideas again.
He crashed many more times in his lifetime. He didn’t count the flight simulator because the only thing it broke was his teacher’s confidence until he managed a perfect landing after only the 6th try. There were bikes and cars, usually just fender benders if there was any damage at all. There was the one experimental aircraft he’s still not sure he can talk about, but, really, that was the designers’ fault: scientific calculations and actual flight experiences rarely coincided. He went down in a helicopter more than once, and was even at the stick at the time. He always assumed he would make it out okay, eventually, and he was always right so far.
He wasn’t sure what made this particular experience so different. He was piloting an alien spacecraft in a galaxy far from his own, which may have played a part in the whole unusual thing, but there was something more, an extra, frantic undertone to everything that was going on. He spared a glance away from the controls for a split second, seeing his three teammates with their utter and complete confidence in his abilities, and it clicked.
He was not alone. He was not at the whim of some stupid brother with dumb ideas. He was not a crash dummy for a secret project. He was part of something bigger, something important. He banked to the right, willing the inertial dampeners and shields to their max despite their rapidly depleting power. He still felt the impact, body tightening around the controls, hoping to hold it together that little bit longer. A fluff of dirt against the window signaled the end. As far as crashes went, it led the way for most dramatic build up, but lost points for sticking the landing.
He looked behind him, saw his team righting themselves with smiles on their faces. They were safe, they were whole, and that’s all that really mattered.
End
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.
Genre: Gen, Challenge
Rating: PG
Length: 500 words
Synopsis: The first time he crashed it was in a rusted red Radio Flyer wagon.
Author’s Notes: For the Backstory challenge, though I think I also wrote it in just under 38 minutes. Amnesty 2007.
Disclaimer: I don’t own them, people with a lot of money do. I’m just borrowing them to play and making no profit from the experience.
~~~~~~~~~~
The first time he crashed it was in a rusted red Radio Flyer wagon. It was like something out of the movies: he sat with the handle in his hands at the top of a hill, swimming goggles on to protect his eyes, as his brother pushed from behind. The land came whipping by, the wind in his hair as bits of grass stuck to teeth locked wide open in a grin. It all came to a sudden halt with the tree at the bottom.
The second time he crashed, it was in a rusted blue junk of a car. His brother was behind the wheel, and he was in the passenger seat with the window down to let some of the summer breeze into the stuffy cab. The only thing he really remembers is the stop sign and a flash of orange before hearing the screeching of tires and the crunching of metal. His wrist was in a cast for six weeks after that. It took much longer to ever trust his brother and his ideas again.
He crashed many more times in his lifetime. He didn’t count the flight simulator because the only thing it broke was his teacher’s confidence until he managed a perfect landing after only the 6th try. There were bikes and cars, usually just fender benders if there was any damage at all. There was the one experimental aircraft he’s still not sure he can talk about, but, really, that was the designers’ fault: scientific calculations and actual flight experiences rarely coincided. He went down in a helicopter more than once, and was even at the stick at the time. He always assumed he would make it out okay, eventually, and he was always right so far.
He wasn’t sure what made this particular experience so different. He was piloting an alien spacecraft in a galaxy far from his own, which may have played a part in the whole unusual thing, but there was something more, an extra, frantic undertone to everything that was going on. He spared a glance away from the controls for a split second, seeing his three teammates with their utter and complete confidence in his abilities, and it clicked.
He was not alone. He was not at the whim of some stupid brother with dumb ideas. He was not a crash dummy for a secret project. He was part of something bigger, something important. He banked to the right, willing the inertial dampeners and shields to their max despite their rapidly depleting power. He still felt the impact, body tightening around the controls, hoping to hold it together that little bit longer. A fluff of dirt against the window signaled the end. As far as crashes went, it led the way for most dramatic build up, but lost points for sticking the landing.
He looked behind him, saw his team righting themselves with smiles on their faces. They were safe, they were whole, and that’s all that really mattered.
End
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.