Clumsiness and Confidence
24 Nov 2017Illeana Grimm-Turner
Location: Krupkat Orbital (Rauras)Date: 2nd November 3303
A Cobra MkIV passed through the mailslot, its movements careful and cautious. To a casual observer, there was nothing overly notable about it, simply a ship flying a bit slower than usual. To the experienced eyes of Tim at flight control, however, they were the movements of someone still trying to get used to a different kind of handling. Whoever the pilot was, he or she had been flying a smaller, lighter, more nimble ship and was picking their movements very deliberately and slowly. Watching with great intent, Tim sat at his desk and observed the various readouts detailing the vessel’s approach while simultaneously keeping an eye on the ship itself.
The Cobra stopped short of its designated landing pad and hovered some one hundred feet above it. Then slowly but surely it began descending, stopping before it landed on the various structures at the far end of the landing pad. For a moment, it seemed like nothing was happening, and flight control was about to contact the pilot to make sure everything was ok when his coworker nudged him and pointed out the flashes emanating from the rear of the ship. Now the pilot was attempting to feather the throttle and move forward gently, but once again they were struggling to adapt to the weight of their ship.
Some of the other staff gathered to watch the show, nudging and sniggering to each other as the ship moved forward inch by painful inch. Their sniggers were cut short as the Cobra suddenly and aggressively surged forward on a direct course towards their window. Several of them screamed, some dove to the floor, others froze in fear as the colour drained from their faces. Luckily, as quickly as it had accelerated, the ship came to a halt. But now they all had a close up view of the cockpit and could clearly see the platinum blonde woman at the helm turning beetroot red and gripping her flight sticks tightly.
As the staff collected themselves, Tim took a deep breath to calm his nerves, then donned his professional voice and opened comms to the ship.
"Flight Control to vessel ID 'India Golf Lima Dash Zero One', can we be of any assistance?" Looking inside the cockpit Tim could see the woman's face flush red with heat and, through her hands, cried out a series of embarrassed apologies.
“Skatá!..Oh my... I'm sooo sorry!! I'm so sorry! I promise I’m usually better than this, it’s just…” she blustered.
“...New ship?” finished Tim, showing he understood. “Don’t worry, ma’am, you’re not the first and you won’t be the last. Let’s just get you set down, alright? What's your name, if that's ok?”
“I… Illeana… It’s Illeana,” she stuttered, nervously placing her hands back on the controls and taking several deep breaths to calm herself.
“Alright, Illeana. My name is Tim, I want you to follow my instructions carefully. Can you do that for me?” Through his window, he could see her nodding. Silence in the control room followed as Tim expertly and politely guided Illy’s movements and talked her down to the pad. The Cobra moved in synchronisation with his instructions, as though he himself were controlling it from his seat in the tower.
Eventually, and with a loud bang and a hiss, the Elefthería dipped down on its landing gears, at a slight angle, before the hydraulics compensated for the heavier than usual landing and balanced the vessel. Looking down towards the pad, Tim could see Illeana slumping in her cockpit seat.
“Thanks...” came her voice through his headset.
“Not a problem, just happy to help,” he said before signing off. Turning to his colleagues he adopted a sterner tone and berated their lack of professionalism before excusing himself for a break.
Down on the pad inside the cockpit, Illeana was kicking herself profusely. She'd been in her Sidewinder for so long, flying it had become automatic. To move forward gently, she only had to apply the smallest amount of throttle. But now, with a heavier ship she needed to apply more power to make those same small movements as before. She knew this, yet landing here she had completely fallen apart.
Checking the time she noticed that, since waving goodbye to her family in Abrog, she’d been flying pretty much non-stop for almost sixteen hours. She had stopped only briefly to offload and reload on cargo, now that she could hold much more of it. Putting her earlier display of amateur piloting down to exhaustion, she climbed out of her chair and made her way to her quarters just outside of the cockpit. There, she peeled off her Remlock and donned something a bit more casual; a plain grey t-shirt, some elastic waistband trousers and a pair of slip on shoes. Pulling on a flight jacket to counter the cold air of the station, she figured it best to check her cargo to make sure nothing had been knocked over or damaged in the landing. At that moment, a loud banging reverberated from her descent ramp door.
“Yes, I'm coming! Hang on!” Illeana called back, changing direction and heading towards the door, figuring it was the ground crew waiting to unload her cargo.
She hit the switch to unlock the door and it slid open with a quiet hiss. What greeted her was not the disgruntled, slightly greasy and rough exterior of a crew foreman. Instead there was a man in a neatly ironed sky blue shirt, tucked into a belted pair of black trousers with a clip on tie to complete the ensemble. Looking upwards, she saw clear blue eyes and short, black, spiky hair complete with a devilish grin above a chiselled jaw covered in a very thin layer of stubble.
“I… Uh… Hi?” Illeana said, raising an eyebrow at this stranger arriving unannounced.
In a kind voice he replied, “Hi, I just wanted to make sure you were alright. It can be pretty tough when you fluster yourself in front of an audience.” He rocked back and forth on his heels and slipped his hands into his pockets.
Illeana frowned slightly. “Sorry, but who are you?” His voice sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.
“It’s Tim, from flight control?” he replied, with a sheepish grin, “Sorry, is this too forward? I didn’t want you thinking we were all laughing at you.”
“Oh, wow, Tim… No, it’s fine… Thank you so much!” Illy, filled with gratitude for the man, threw herself into a friendly hug, catching him by surprise. Pulling away again, she became very conscious that she might be somewhat underdressed. Here was, she had to admit, a fine specimen of a man, dressed smartly and ready to deal with the galaxy. Then there was herself, dressed like a slob by comparison.
“I wasn’t expecting guests, so I’m uh, not exactly dressed for the occasion…” she said, slightly bashful. “I normally look a lot nicer than this.”
“Why the hell did I just say that out loud?” a voice in Illy’s head called out.
“Oh, I don’t know, I think you look nice enough already,” Tim said, barely skipping a beat.
Illeana became flushed again, “Did he just…?”
“Tell you what,” Tim continued, filling the silence Illy had left, “you’re new here, right? Well, I’ve lived here around twenty odd years. How about you let me buy you a drink and show you the sights?”
Credit where it was due, she thought, he’d had the decency to be looking shyly at his shoes when he did so.She was ready to say yes. Wanted to, in fact. But what came out of her mouth was not the response she expected to hear herself say.
“Sorry, I’m really tired. It’s been a long day and I need to go,” she said, very quickly and abruptly, instantly hitting the door switch and shutting it between them. Very aware she was shaking and sweating a lot, she leant her back against the door and sighed heavily.
“What the hell was that all about?” she chastised herself. Giving herself just a brief moment to think, she plucked up some courage, turned and opened the door again. Unfortunately Tim was no longer there. Fearing she’d missed him, she made her way down the boarding ramp. The young pilot was thankful when she saw the blue shirt just about to pass through an exit.
“I’ll meet you here at six tomorrow night!” she yelled. Tim stopped short of the door, turned and give a quick thumbs up and a wink to show he got the message. Fearing her face was about to turn bright red again, she darted back up the ramp and shut the door.
When she leant back against it this time, she had a huge grin on her face instead of the mortified feeling from earlier.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Location: Krupkat Orbital (Rauras)
Date: 3rd November 3303
“Ela… Why won’t you tell me about him?” Stacy’s voice rang out from Illeana’s datapad while she rushed around her room desperately trying to get ready.
“You know fine well why not. I don’t want to jinx it!” she said in a hurry. She’d been at it for over an hour, but it was already 1630 according to her ship’s clock, and she’d only managed to have a shower and select a few possible outfits.
Stacy was amused. “Fine… but you’re telling me everything when you get back, right? I want all the details!”
Illeana looked into the pad at her sister’s face and rolled her eyes. “Are you going to help me or just interrogate me?”
Stacy raised her hands in surrender. “Kalós, alright… What have you got so far?”
Throughout the conversation, Illeana could feel herself growing more and more nervous. It was just a drink and a conversation with a guy; she’d done that plenty of times before, so why was this any different? Surely it shouldn’t matter this much about what clothes she wore, how her hair was done, or even what colour her nails were. But she still found herself nitpicking over each and every detail. Stacy kept up her upbeat and comforting rhetoric, helping to keep Illy’s nerves in check and preventing any fears that one small detail would ruin the whole experience.
Several outbursts of “I’m not going” and “What if I blow it” came and went, but eventually she was ready to go. Considering how long she had taken, Illy had to admit she’d gone for a fairly simplistic look. Her hair was straightened neatly and let down gently over her shoulders. Dark red eyeshadow had been applied, at her sister’s behest, to accentuate her bright amber eyes, with a small amount of dark red lipstick for balance. This had taken a few attempts, makeup had never been Illeana’s strong point, but under her sister’s guidance she had to admit the result was pretty special and instilled a vast amount of confidence.
Choosing an outfit had proven a great deal more challenging, The woman had no idea what Tim had planned, what sort of place they’d end up in or what was considered proper attire for that location. In the end she’d picked something in between casual and fancy, figuring she’d be slightly overdressed for a bar, but slightly underdressed for a posh restaurant. The finished product was a long sleeved black blouse and dark grey trousers held up by a deep red belt. Adding a pair of black heels to finish, she marvelled at herself in the mirror. Overall, she was very pleased with the result.
“He’s going to be knocked for six when he sees you,” Stacy said, grinning profusely at her sister.
“You think?” Illy said, also smiling at her reflection. “It’ll have to do, anyway. It’s already time to go.”
“I do think so. He’s a lucky guy, Illy, seriously,” came the response. “I’ll let you go. Have fun and good luck!”
Illeana gave her farewells and clicked off her datapad, leaving it at her bedside to avoid it going off and ruining the date. A thought then passed through her mind; “Who said this was a date? He definitely didn’t…” Well, it was certainly too late to change anything now. Grabbing a small purse for carrying a few cosmetics and a credit chit amongst other things, she made her way out of her quarters and exited the ship, making sure to secure the door behind her but leaving the ramp down for the sake of convenience.
With the clicks of her heels echoing off the hangar bay walls she made her way across the pad and to the exit. Her nerves were on edge. The stifling silence of the air around her wasn’t helping the thoughts swirling around in her head of what was to come. The bay door slid open and she stepped out into the empty, and somewhat dimly lit, corridor.
“Empty…?” Illeana looked up and down the corridor, even walking to the nearby junctions to investigate. Checking her chronometer she noticed the time was now 1805; “Not that late” she supposed, opting to give him a few more minutes anyway. As the minutes dragged on however, she found herself pacing up and down the hall. Having not worn heels in a long time this was no mean feat while in the low gravity of the dock area, but she’d had practice back home at Salgari Beacon.
She checked her watch again, “1820… Where is he?” Restless, she decided he had until half past to show or she was going back to her ship, grabbing the first mission contract available and leaving. No sooner had she thought that than she heard footsteps approaching, “Oh thank god!” She spun round, ready to give Tim a good dressing down, but prepared to forgive him if he had a good reason. But it wasn’t Tim; just a trio of men, probably on their way back to their ships.
Illeana huffed. Deciding Tim had stood her up, she decided to wander back to her own ship.
“Alrighty there, missy?” came a loud voice. “You’re all dressed up, going somewhere nice?”
She just shook her head and decided to ignore the cat-calling, jabbing her access code into the number pad by her door.
“Oi! I’m talkin’ to you miss!” came the voice again, much closer this time. She was about to head into her hangar and shut the door when a hand clamped down on her shoulder and turned her round.
“Don’t you know it’s rude to ignore people, lass?” said the man. He was right in her space, and she could smell the alcohol on his breath. One of the other men deliberately blew smoke in her face, but the stench wasn’t strong enough to mask the booze concealed within. The third man wasn’t saying much but by stealing a glance over the first guy’s shoulder she saw him stumble awkwardly. No doubt he too was quite drunk.
Sternly, yet calmly, Illeana growled, “Let go!”
“How about no?” came the response, as the first guy flicked open a switchblade and held it against her side...
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * TO BE CONTINUED* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
With thanks once again to CMDRs NFC Phisto and Stryker Aune for their comments and input. To the real life Mrs Phisto and Marra Morgan for sharing their romantic experiences with me to flesh it out (with a mention to Ryan256 for trying to help out too). Also once again to Jemine Caesar for all of the above and use of herblack magicRed and Green pens (Grammar and Spelling checks)