ataraxion | [ 6 ] [ video ] less derring-do than quiet care

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[ 6 ] [ video ] less derring-do than quiet care

[ The really interesting thing about this video broadcast is the fact that it's not actually coming from inside the Tranquility. Hotspur's in the pilot seat of the first shuttle - the one he affectionately named Faith all those months ago back when they all first arrived. His face is lit by the soft glow of the avionic displays in front of him and he sits back from the controls, slack-handed and staring with thick pre-occupation out of the shuttle windows instead.

His comms device - propped up on the co-pilots seat beside him - offers a profile view of Hotspur's features... and beyond him, a bit of the outer hull of the Tranquility suspended against the backdrop of deep space.

Red-eyed, ashen-faced... Hotspur's clearly hasn't been sleeping very well. Being the robust, brick-outhouse sort of fellow that isn't prone to negativity it usually takes a hell of a lot to make him feel less than 100% of his usual awesomeness but here we are. His expression is pained and with one hand he absently fidgets with the loose-hanging metal dogtags that fall around his neck. He doesn't speak up immediately but when he does it's a distant murmur. ]

...Full of them. Even the bad ones.

[ It's an off-hand comment more to himself than the video feed running live beside him. But then, as if only just remembering that it was recording, he seems to pull himself together and turn his head to address the comms device directly. ]

Look, I know not everyone out here's got much time for talk about the Gods and religion and all that but for those folk that do...

[ He pauses and exhales a brief sigh; this little crisis of faith is turning out to be pretty damn painful and he briefly struggles to hunt down the right words to express what he wants to ask. ]

Well. I'm kind of strugglin' to see how this whole... adventure fits in with whatever it is the Gods have got in store for me. For us all. I mean, it's not that I don't have faith that They know what's best, I... I just --

[ He pauses again and his gaze travels wildly around the cockpit until it fixates on the massive hull of the Tranquility beyond the shuttle's screen. ]

I'm not really sure if demons and possessions and all that is just a really really effective test of faith or that maybe we're all just a little bit too far away for the Gods to help us.

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Yeah, no, I wasn't looking for hand-holding or anything, but... [ He pauses to scratch his nose thoughtfully, still gazing out at the hulking mass of the Tranquility before him. ] I don't know. There's been a lot of bad stuff happening to good people lately. It's getting harder to keep believing in - well, like you said: that little bit in your heart. It's not a nice feeling, do you know what I mean?

[ His gaze flits to the video feed and he regards the other man thoughtfully. Hotspur appreciates this, appreciates these words; and, yes, he does hope that this man knows what he means.

And then there's that little mention of flying. Ships, possibly plans, or so Hotspur assumes. ]

What did you fly?

Can't help but think what we need is a chapel. Nothing much like going into a church and feeling God right there to remind you of your own faith.

[ After he got shot, he'd gone to the church. It had seemed like he was alive for a reason, and he couldn't afford to waste his second chance. Or was it third? ]

Pretty much everything they put you in when you're in flight school. Flew an F14 Tomcat back when I was on active service. [ He gestures. ] I'm guessing that tin can of yours isn't what you're used to flying?

A chapel... [ Hotspur echoes the other man's words distantly. The idea is lovely - painfully so - and it draws a rueful smile. ] Maybe. It'd be nice... I'll ask the captain; see what he says.

[ It's Ward's ship after all and Hotspur won't set a single foot afoul of what Ward might or might not like. Not even for the Gods. ]

Hey, woah there - tin can? [ Hotspur grins despite the mock-outrage at Nathan's less-than-complimentary terms; in the half a year that he's been on board he's grown pretty damn fond of his horrible little shuttles. ] I know they're not much to look like and they fly like bricks but that all adds to the character, you know? They're not all that bad when you get the hang of the stick...

At the very least need somewhere for people to get hitched, right? And it'd be nice for people, you know, no matter what their faith. [ He means that. The chapel on the aircraft carrier he'd been stationed on hadn't been reserved for any one kind of worship. ] I hope the captain clears it.

[ He leans forward slightly, can't help but be a little jealous. It isn't exactly feasible to fly inside the ship. ]

Maybe you gotta show me the way around them some day. Prove it, you know?

So what did you fly?

I don't reckon he'd say no, but. The captain's blessing would make all the difference.

[ The idea of having a little place tucked away in the depths of the Tranquility for the spiritual to call home evokes such a sharp sense of yearning - and homesickness, oddly - that Hotspur can't help but nod. He makes a mental note - because this is something they should have, that should definitely happen - that as soon as he is able he'll approach Ward about it. ]

Uh - me? I've flown a bunch of different ships so far. A couple of interceptors - Darts, mainly - but lately it's been all heavy types. Fenrir ships - big, heavy fighters. I'm not so fond of the single-seat gigs any more; I kinda prefer being part of a team. It's good to have company in the hotseat, you know?

[ He inclines his head, hoping he goes through with the request if only because he can see in a month or two further down the line he's going to be feeling exactly the same way--that prayer just isn't enough. ]

When you say ships you mean... Out here? Back where I'm from the only ships that fly are blimps. [ Or on TV. That's the only reason why he makes the guess. His voice softens. ] I know what you mean. Co-pilot passed out one time; pretty sure it was up there in the worst experiences of my life. Bit more used to flying solo lately.

'Out here' as in space? Yeah. [ Hotspur laughs quietly. Over the various jumps he's grown use to the idea that defensive spaceflight fighter ships aren't exactly the norm to most of his fellow passengers. There's a little prickle of pride behind his smile as he explains: ] I'm an astronautic, not aeronautic, pilot. I don't reckon I've flown a ship in atmo' for, what, five or six years now? I wasn't a big fan of all that turbulence. Or the birds.

[ A pause, then he adds: ]

What happened to your co-pilot?

Yeah, the birds are less of a problem when y'don't have a jet engine to worry about. All kinds of other problems once you're in a vacuum, though, right? Space-dust, glare, all that stuff?

[ Tilting his head. ]

F14 was one of the fastest planes in the world when I was still flying. We made over 2 Gs maneuvering, which is all well and good unless something comes up you're not expecting. We span, lost altitude, damn lucky we didn't rip our wings off. He was fine once he came to.

Sounds like you must have done pretty well to get the both of you back in one piece. [ Hotspur's not being generous; the way in which he says it makes it just a simple fact. ] Back home we've got a new line of Valkyrie interceptors that will pull five – maybe six Gs on a turn. But that's a bit out of my league nowadays... [ He stretches out a gloved hand to brush along the avionics screens of the shuttle before him, remembering his old Fenrir. ] Glare and debris – they're not so scary. De-pressurisation, now that's a nasty way to go.

[ Suffocation too, but Hotspur doesn't talk about that. Not any more. ]

Nothing that wasn't in basic emergency procedure. Still not much fun.

[ Okay, he's definitely jealous. His eyes flicker across the screen, tracking Hotspur's movements wolfishly. ]

Loss of pressurisation's no fun on a plane, let alone in a vacuum. You talking from experience?

De-pressurisation? Sort of. I've seen the effects, at least.

[ A hull integrity breech on one of the Corp's larger warships; nothing overly-complicated. Hotspur can wave these kinds of things off so nonchalantly purely because he's seen so much worse. ]

But I've been spaced though. A bit of stupid skylarking between me and a couple of pals ended badly.

[ His gaze is drifting to idly inspect the seams of the reinforced glass that separates him from the vastness of space on the other side. ]

But I guess... I'm still here... still flying. Be it loss of control of a 'plane or ejecting in deep space, we don't let these things put us off, right?

[ Nathan nods. He knows that look, knows that everyone who's served in any kind of military has one like it. For him, it was the Siege of Sarajevo. His father? Didn't talk about his, but Nathan knew it was deep, knew it hurt. Nathan had only been a baby when he'd served in Vietnam.

Quietly he inclines his head. The last bit rings true. ]

If we did, we wouldn't be flying in the first place. But it's in our blood; it's unavoidable.

Yeah. Unavoidable.

[ He echoes Nathan's last word distractedly and glances back out to the depths of space beyond the shuttle screen one last time before returning his attention whole-heartedly back on to the screen. ]

What's your name, anyway? 'Cause if you feel like giving it a go I wouldn't mind giving a crash course on the shuttle controls. [ A crooked smirk, and Hotspur allows a creep of that familiar kind of military banter that exists only between those who've served to creep in to his voice as he adds: ] If you still feel you can handle a stick, that is.

Nathan. [ He says it firmly, in that 'call me by my first name' tone, then completes the introduction. ] Nathan Petrelli.

[ His answer to the last bit is the slightest cock of his head, and a similar grin, all shining political and dazzling over the top charm. Pilot, politician, slimeball lawyer--it's the smile that helps him to fit them all. ] I might be a little out of practice but you never forget how to fly. You'll give me a call when you've got the time?

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[ 6 ] [ video ] less derring-do than quiet care

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