Thread: Student of Dune (DarkAngel & Sync)

So far the other 'thopter - higher up and a couple of clicks away - hadn't seemed to be concerned by them. It seemed to be content to follow a random search pattern, one that didn't seem to include the area Tal was flying in. Maybe a slow-flying craft didn't warrant attention - slow flight didn't generally indicate hurry, after all. But something made them take interest. Tal had no idea what it was, but he saw, about the same time that Helene spoke up, the other craft turning around to head in their direction. Tal kept his slow, low course a long as he could, hoping that the other 'thopter was merely checking them out but when the other craft began to descend and take what looked to be an intercept trajectory towards them, he knew their safety time had run out. They'd been flying for maybe fifteen, twenty minutes when the other craft turned on them long enough to put good distance between themselves and the city. Tal pushed the throttle forward, and the small craft lurched to its full speed...which wasn't a lot, but enough to make it somewhat more difficult for the other craft to catch up. He remained silent as he focussed on piloting the small craft, and he saw that the other craft had dropped to their altitude and was keeping pace. The other craft was behind...but not far enough for Tal to be happy. The 'thopter lurched suddenly, rocked as something hit it. By the maker...! They've got weapons on their 'thopter. They're firing at us. There was a hard edge to his voice as he worked hard on forcing the 'thopter to do his bidding, something made more difficult by the sudden change in aerodynamics of the craft. Then he grinned savagely... Look, ahead... In the distance, the sky was turning dark and sandy. Storm...good to hide in. If we can make it. The storm wasn't too far away, but far enough that their 'thopter might not get there. All he had to do was get close to the edge of it... The 'thopter rocked again, and a small alarm sounded inside their vehicle. Tal knew at one they would be grounded before they could get to the storm's edge. We're hit, badly, he announced. We're not going to get to the safety of the storm, but we'll be close. Hold on... As best he could, he nursed the craft down, but, when they finally met ground, they landed hard. The occupants of the 'thopter were bounced around slightly as the craft skidded over the waves of sand, but they managed to keep their seats. Their craft wasn't going to fly again - what the hostile fire had begun, the storm would finish. The storm was maybe a click away from them, and coming their way - it would pass by them, but they'd be caught in it. Stay here...I'm going to bring them down. He reached into a small compartment under his chair, rummaged around for a couple of seconds, then withdrew a heavy pistol. He looked at Helen as he stood from his chair, placed a hand firmly on her shoulder...then pushed the door open, secured his face-flap of his stillsuit, and went outside. Almost immediately, the strong winds buffeted the interior of the downed 'thopter, blowing sand dust around the inside of the small craft. Tal was apparently unaffected by the wind as he stepped outside, his body braced to resist the winds. Visibility was already reduced, but hopefully not enough to...there! He could see the other 'thopter, hovering nearby, looking to see if they needed to close in. They hadn't seen him...he raised his pistol, aimed, fired, twice, and again. He could see the other 'thopter react to his shots, crashing heavily to the ground maybe a hundred meters away. Had he gotten lucky and killed their pilot? Hopefully. In any case, the craft wasn't taking off again it, too, was grounded for the storm. He turned and ducked his head inside the cockpit. The storm is almost here! he called out, having to raise his voice over the noise of the wind and the hissing of the sand to be sure Helen could hear him. We have maybe fifteen minutes before we must take shelter! In the Fremkit is a tent get it out, be sure it is ready to be pitched, make sure the kit is ready to be used. I'll go and check the other craft, take care of the occupants, then come back. We'll have to pitch the tent on the leeward side of the 'thopter and wait the storm out before we can keep going. He set the pistol down on the floor near the doorway so Helene could reach it if need be, then he turned and disappeared from view. The trip to the other 'thopter wasn't long, but it wasn't easy when fighting the winds of a storm. He reached it in a minute, saw that he'd shot the cockpit windows out. The pilot was dead in his chair, slumped over, blood trickling from a hole in his forehead. No stillsuit...the pilot wasn't planning on landing outside the city. Stupid off-worlder. No sign of any other occupants. He placed his hand on the hilt of his knife and slowly made his way around the rear of the craft...and startled the other person who was standing at the rear of the craft, apparently trying to work out what to do next. Tal's knife was in the man's chest before the other man could react. The craft looked to carry only two occupants...and both had been accounted for. He was tempted to look through the craft to see what could be salvaged, but there was no time if he looked for salvage, he'd never get back to Helene. The wind was gusting harshly around him as he made his way back to his downed 'thopter. He'd been gone longer than he should have been they had very little time left. He had to shout to make his voice heard. Helene Atreides! We have to pitch that tent now! The dark-haired man was in the bedchambers he shared with Ghani. Shared...barely occupied. He knew that Ghani had still not warmed to him, even after all the years that had passed, all the children they'd reared. He had accepted his role as Ghani's consort and Leto's scribe, accepted the name Leto had bestowed upon him - Harq al-Ada - with grace and respect. He knew his lot wasn't going to be easy. But it would be easier if Ghani had let him try...if only she'd open herself to look past his Corrino blood. It wasn't his fault that his mother, Wensicia, had been a large part of the plot against Leto and Ghani when they were children hells, he'd even granted Leto's demand that the Sardaukar be handed over to the Emperor's control. Farad'n heard Ghani approach before he heard the door open the Bene Gesserit training given him by Jessica saw to that. He turned to look at his wife-in-body if not in spirit or name as she closed the door behind her and actually asked how he was doing. How to answer that? Helene was killed by a Stone Burner for all that they'd tried to save their daughter by using now-dead decoys, Helene had still been killed. It was...difficult, and he could only hope that she could see that in his eyes. But he tried to be the rock for her that she needed...the rock his children wanted Ghani to allow him to be. You give water to the dead, he replied softly, using the Fremen phrase to hopefully show her that he understood how deeply this hurt her. He lifted a hand to her face, lightly brushed away another tear with his thumb. He didn't have that Fremen conditioning against shedding tears, and his own started to slowly trickle from the corners of his eyes. I'm sorry, Ghani, he whispered, in part to stop his voice from cracking. We did all we could to... There was no point in saying more they'd done all they could, but it hadn't been enough.