January 9th, 2020

star wars!

fic: Out of the Swing of the Sea, ch. 2 [star wars]

Wooley clearly doesn’t like it, from the way his expression goes completely blank, but Cody anticipated that. Rivet doesn’t say anything, just curls down so that his forehead touches Bliss’s. If his shoulders start shaking a little, Cody’s already turned away, tugging Wooley in the direction of the pilot seats and monitors. “Until Waxer and Boil get back, Sixer’s our best source of intel  for planning this. And we’ll need to get everyone up now—Flare to take over comms, Bang-Bang and Jumbo and Pen to help Rivet start prepping Bliss and the general for transport. Alpha team will be handling contact with the locals, Pen and Bravo team our exfil if plan Aurek goes bad. Either way we’re going to need travoises or stretchers just to get the injured safely out of the shuttle.”

“Sir,” Wooley says, somehow combining both affirmation and unhappy question. He’s still holding himself awkwardly braced beneath Cody’s arm, and it’s uncomfortable, keeps pulling Cody off-balance and slowing him down, so Cody stops and risks falling over just so he can remove his bucket, resting his forehead against the side of Wooley’s. Wooley softens enough to lean into it, even though the bruising on his face must hurt.

“If it was just the general I’d probably have us run.” He pitches his voice so only Wooley can hear, because he can’t let on to anyone else just how dubious he feels about the orders he’s giving. But he needs Wooley fully on board to make this work, and Wooley needs this lesson in making the best of an *osik* situation. “Aside from refusing to wake up he seems sound enough—we could probably just throw him over somebody’s shoulder without causing damage. Probably. That’s definitely not the case with Bliss, which means either we leave him behind, or leave a trail that any half-competent tracker could follow with his eyes shut. I don’t like either scenario, so I’m going to follow General Kenobi’s frequent example and take the third option instead. Understood?”

Wooley releases a long shuddering breath, the remaining tension easing out of his shoulders. “Understood, sir. Sorry, sir.” He’s only a few months younger than Cody, but sometimes it feels like decades. Or what Cody imagines decades might feel like, at any rate.

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