Coming To Terms.

Posted on Sun Sep 14th, 2025 @ 2:58pm by Lieutenant Commander Ferrand Beaulieu & Lieutenant Commander Victoria Aries

1,980 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: Let That Be Your Last
Location: Main Hanger Bay
Timeline: Post Explosion.

The flight back to the Dreadnought was perhaps the hardest flight Ferrand had flown to date, but it wasn't because of the damage he'd caused to his fighter, but blame. Ferrand blamed himself for not being able to stop the missile he was chasing which ultimately led to a disaster that claimed the life of the Admiral. He was no rookie pilot, he had skills and experience and yet for all of them it lead to nought in his mission. His mind raced as his hands trembled from his emotionally charged situation, the comms system was ignored as he wasn't ready to face the questions and voices just yet.

Looking over his shoulder and a slight dip of the wing he could see the cloud rising through the sky, a mushroom of white tinted with greys. The Dreadnought itself was not hard to miss, the light reflected off his armoured surface as he grew in size from the closing distance.

Pulling into the Hanger Bay he saw a sectioned off landing zone for him, clearly the ground techs had monitored his approach and traffic control had advised them of the damage. His landing was harsh, unlike his otherwise caring and gentle touchdowns and the frame even creaked from it. He could see his ground crew and others running towards the craft with safety equipment, fire prevention gear and slings to secure munitions. The emergency release was pulled and the canopy opened, lifted by force with the aid of several pairs of hands. Everything was done with trained ease as they freed Ferrand from the fighter and assisted him down the ladder to the hanger floor.

"Give me a moment." He mumbled as his feet touched the floor but hands still tried to assist him. "GIVE ME...a god damn moment." His voice louder, demanding, angry. The bark sent people backing away slowly, even his own ground crew.

Taking off his helmet Ferrand walked to the wing that had suffered the engine failure. It was a mess of twisted and contorted metal jutting up like a volcano, the wing tinged black from the smoke, even the underside bulged out distorting the sleek design and angles. The anger resurfaced, raw, unrefined, unfiltered as he slammed his helmet against the leading edge of the craft. His fingers curled around the chin section and slammed the helmet over and over again against the craft. He heard the helmet crack after the third impact, the visor had shattered on the forth. After the seventh hit he hurtled the helmet against the body his fighter that broke the headpiece into 4 core pieces that clattered to the ground when they slid down the fighter's surface.

With his club broken Ferrand grabbed hold of the wing and flexed on it as if trying to pull it from the frame. Some part of him knew it wasn't possible as it was far beyond his abilities but from all his groaning, straining, even rocking the damaged wing, for all his effort all he got for it was a trivial tilt for a moment before the craft settled again. Rage surrendered to aches and blame caved to acceptance. It was done, the Admiral was dead, he'd failed.

His hands trembled from his highly charged emotional state and nearly everyone understood why when whisper and word spread by those that saw the explosion. He walked to sit on the stair ramp that was next to his fighter that he'd used to get out of it.

Nobody had ever seen Ferrand lose it like that, anger towards someone like a cocky new pilot sure but this....this was something else. He wanted space and was given it but that didn't mean things were motionless.

=^= Commander Aries, this is Technician Williams in the main hanger bay. The CAG has just landed, hes fine, mostly, but.......one woman to another, he needs you. =^=

=^= I'm already on my way, I was watching the landing from DCC. Give me three minutes, just... Leave him alone for now, and the ship, I'll need data from her anyways. Aries out. =^=

Williams saw the signs, she'd grown up with it from 5 Brothers. Ferrand was boiling in his own stew, building walls up, withdrawing himself. Williams knew that if he completed those walls the result would be messy and could potentially cost the CAG his active status or worse....his wings. She could see that Ferrand was a raw, sensitive nerve right now and anything someone did had to be beyond gentle.

"Give him a moment, we have work to do." Williams spoke to the crew chief. "We can deal with the fighter later, it's not going anywhere but the longer we stand here, waiting, staring at a hurting man the worse it's going to get."

As she entered the hanger, Victoria's eyes went straight to the fighter sitting where it had come to a halt, clearly worse for wear but in one piece, mostly. One engine node was clearly blown but hadn't taken the wing with it. As she came closer, at a walk than at a run this time, she saw Ferrand hunched over on the stair staring into nothing. She caught the eye of the crew chief and nodded once to Williams in silence, giving a slight angle of her head to let her know that she'd take care of things.

Victoria made sure to approach from the front, though at an angle, so that he could see her coming if he so chose to. She waited until she was about ten meters away before she first spoke his name softly, "Ferrand." She said, her voice quiet and slow as she approached, glancing back at the fighter and seeing the remains of a flight helmet in pieces on the ground paused for a half a moment then continued on, "Ferrand, it's just me, it's Victoria."

Ferrand heard a familiar voice, but with that familiarity came embarrassment. He didn't want Victoria seeing him like this and the only consolation was she didn't see, he hoped, his outburst before hand. "Not now....just..." Ferrand spoke as he tried to wave her off, his head low as he leaned forward with elbows on knees as he sat on the step of the ramp.

Victoria ignored the attempt to deflect her, closing in just as slow, now only about ten feet away. It hurt to see him like this, a broken person who desperately needed her even if he didn't know it. She crossed the last few feet and squatted down in front of him, "Ferrand, I'm here for you, for better or for worse, in sickness or in health, when the going gets tough. I'm not going to abandon you just because something bad happened."

"Bad....." Ferrand spoke looking up at her. "Bad....." Rising to his feet. "Bad is stubbing your toe on a table, bad is forgetting to strap in during maneuvers. What I did, what Ive done, or more importantly what I failed to do, is far worse than just Bad." Even Ferrand could feel his face was red, his blood pressure was high as he could feel his heart thundering within him.

Victoria swallowed as he stood over her while she rose to her feet with him, "You did everything you could do, I was watching. I..." She shook her head, "There was nothing else you could do." She wanted to say she even knew what he'd tried to do in the end and how does someone tell someone they loved that they were happy it was someone else who'd died?

"I....should have tried harder." Ferrand spoke as he paced, first towards his fighter then back towards her. "I'm not some rookie pilot, I've thousands of flight hours on my record, I should have pushed it, everything was on the line and I fell god damn short of it."

"You did push the bird hard, past the line and past what even I thought she could do." She didn't try to stop his packing, it would be good for him to get the nervous energy out of his system, "It wasn't you that fell short, it was the fighter, I didn't build her durable enough."

"This isn't your fault, its mine. I was down there, I had the tools and I messed it up and now....the Admiral is dead." He replied. "You will be remembered for the one that built and provided the tools, I'll be remembered as the pilot that got the Admiral killed, no glory or achievement will wipe that shame away." Which sent Ferrand down another path, how could Victoria be with the man that got the Admiral killed?

Now she stepped in his path and gave him the choice of running her over, stopping or changing his course. Victoria shook her head, "And what will that make me, you being miserable that you're alive and the Admiral isn't?" She was trying to be as gentle as possible, but it was hard, "And I don't dare ask how you think of me, because I'm overjoyed that you're alive and the Admiral is dead. If you'd succeeded, it would be the other way around and I'd always be wondering 'What if?'"

It was a hard rebuttal and a factual one. If he'd pulled off his plan it would be exactly how she had said it. It was an instance where his thunder was harshly snapped away. He had nothing to come back to that with, she had a point, nailed it right on the head and he had no hammer to remove it. He looked at her, then at his fighter which stood broken. "I broke what you made for me." He said softly, his anger diminishing rapidly.

The thought of what could have been misted her eyes and she blinked back tears, "Forget the fighter. I can fix her, she's just a thing in any case. I'd rather lose a hundred of her than one of you." Victoria reached out with her arms to wrap him in them, "I was scared, Ferrand, so scared."

Women had a knack, a man could build tall walls, barriers when hurt that they could hide behind, yet a woman could batter them down with a gentle word and touch with relative ease. He held onto Victoria firmly, his hand fisting into hair not harshly but enough to gether and hold it. His face to the base of her neck as he held her, the scent of her hair and the shampoo she used bringing his some comfort.

"God, I know that's what I signed up for when I started dating you, but I still don't have to like it, do I?" Victoria talked into his shoulder, "And I know that if you had succeeded, I wouldn't hold it against you... At least not for longer than a decade or so."

"Only a decade?" Ferrand spoke softly as he held her. "I'm sorry I scared you." He added knowing that what he was prepared to pull off, she'd fine out sooner or later in all it's detail.

"Only a decade." She confirmed, squeezing him tightly one more time, "Let's get you home and in the shower before Commander Aventnova gets her claws into you. She's probably going to want to debrief you herself."

"Yeah, yeah probably." Ferrand knew that briefing was going to be a difficult one. Considering it was the death of a Flag Officer, that was something that even command brass would want every answer, every dotted I, every crossed T

Victoria extricated herself from the embrace and took his hand to place it around her back, giving a wave to Chief Williams that the coast was now clear to tend to the fighter, "And I'll stay with you the whole time, all right?"

"Yeah, ok." Ferrand followed, being lead to clean up, freshen up.

RSS Feed