This fic is rated R
-----
Tomlin woke up with a head wound. His men were laying about, some dead, others wounded.
"Son of a biscuit eating bulldog. I take it we've landed?"
"Crash landed." Torn told him. Trent was shaken but wouldn't let it show. The rest hauled their butts up, some with utter pain though they too wouldn't it be known.
"Son of a bitch! That's the worst landing I've had to go through. Torn, Trent, get a pair of teams together and help the wounded. I'll see what I can salvage from the ship."
-----
"Molly, are you all right?"
Chris was more than a little worried. He couldn't find her for the longest time. He then entered what was once their bathroom and there she was looking a little worse for wear.
The expression on her face was something he recalled seeing before. She rubbed her hands together and looked to him. She reached out to him telepathically and he knew as well as she did. The real battle was coming.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment