Alarms blare. Lights flash. People rush and clutter. It’s chaos, but it’s the kind of organised chaos Erebus can tolerate. Almost enjoy, in fact. Everything is much simpler in times like these.
A Fighter jostles past him in the hangar, and for a moment he’s disturbed, knocked off his course. Only by an inch, but nonetheless. He always has trouble dealing with any loss of physical control, slight or otherwise. “Come on, moron,” a familiar voice yells at him over the sirens, as a small hand grabs his wrist, “get in the damn Starfighter!” Nyx pulls him forwards and shoves him roughly into his half of the cockpit, which only serves to get him more agitated. Angry, even.
“We’ve talked about personal space, Nyx.”
“Colterons are firing right at us, and you’re gonna bitch about your personal space?”
“Yes.” It was obvious. His personal space was important. Now he’s upset, and his entire mindset has been disturbed. He has to readjust himself for the battle all over again. The fact that she can’t or won’t understand this fact only serves to upset him further.
Nyx has no sympathy as she takes her controls, grumbling. “You really need to get your priorities in order.”
“My priorities are fine. Have the shot ready.”
“Wh-” She’s cut off by a jolt. Not the smoothest takeoff Erebus has ever maneuvered, but given that the hangar was just hit by wayward debris, he decides not to bother about it. Not too much, anyway. “Fuck me, are you trying to crash?”
“Have the shot ready, Nyx, I’m lining it up.”
He already has it lined up by the time she turns around. She slams a hand down on her controls wildly at the sight of the Colteron ship flying straight towards them. The blast hits its mark perfectly, and the Aether soars cleanly through the scattering debris. “Shit.” She sits back down - why she ever thinks it wise to get out of that seat in the first place is entirely beyond Erebus - and takes her controls properly.
Good. Now Erebus can focus less on aiming her weapons for her, and more on keeping them alive.
Deep breath. Steady fingers. Organised chaos. This, he can do. This is easy. Simple rules to follow, and nobody dies. As long as Nyx does her part, that is, but she will. It’s odd how he wouldn’t trust Nyx to borrow a can of deoderant, but he entirely trusts her with his life.
Dodge the fire. Draw attention away from the ship. Follow orders. The firing of Nyx’s weapons, her shouts of rage and joy. She’s turbulent at best, but somehow battle brings out the best in her. She forgets to put on an act, forgets to hate herself, and just does what she loves, and does it excellently.
He wouldn’t trade her for another Fighter, not for anything the world could offer.
Three enemy ships remaining. Two. Practically one, because one is clearly surrounded and trapped. The other is in range of the Aether, but at an odd angle. “Nyx?”
“I got it, turn us around.”
He knows he won’t make the full turn, but he angles the Aether to give her a slightly better vantage, and the Colteron craft explodes like a firework.
Fireworks. He hasn’t thought about those in a long while. There are a lot of memories there. Summer nights on the rooftop, cold sugary drinks and hot food. Fried fish and chips. The taste of salty batter. Flashes of colour. Familiar voices and laughter. The popping of the fireworks. The smell of the roaring sea.
He’s suddenly jerked away from the rooftop and back to the cockpit as the radio crackles to life, instructing all units back to the base. Nyx gives him a look, which she manages because for some unknown reason she’s out of her seat again. Why can’t she stay still for just two minutes? “Erebus? Hey, Simon. You okay? Kinda zoned out.”
“Oh. I’m fine. I was just...thinking.”
“You gotta stop doing that in the middle of battles.”
“The battle is over. I never get distracted when I need to focus.”
“No, never.” He can practically feel her sarcasm crawl up his spine. It’s followed by an odd warmth that settles in his chest and brings a smile to his face.
“Thank you for worrying about me, Alexia.”
“I wasn’t-” She almost looks offended. Of course she does. She would have him believe she has no heart. “I just don’t want to die out here because you’re too busy daydreaming!”
The radio crackles again, “Aether, return to base immediately.”
Nyx gives Erebus a smug smile. Erebus tries not to let it bother him. He’s done nothing wrong. “Right away, Sir.” He turns back to his controls and returns the Aether to her resting place. He’ll be visiting her a lot over the next few days to patch up the damage she took. She deserves praise for her good work, so before leaving the cockpit, Erebus pats the wall of the ship gently, smiling a little. His thanks is silent, private, but it doesn’t need to mean anything to anyone but him. He loves that.
He drops lightly to the ground, and as Nyx soaks up the excitement and celebration of a battle won, Erebus scans the room. Nobody is missing. Good. He lets out a sigh, tension he didn’t know he had rushes from his shoulders, and he nods to himself. Everything is fine. He did his job well.
After his silent self-affirmation, he turns and begins to leave, entirely uninterested in the whooping and cheering. As always. He’ll give Nyx her congratulations later, when they’re alone. For the time being, he should get back to what he was trying to do before the alarms sounded.
He can still taste salt, bright colours flash each time he blinks, and the air smells like the sea.
