Krash eased back in his seat as the fighters peeled away, drawn off by the appearance of the Space Fleet fighter. "We're in the clear, guys.", he informed the three conscious
passengers.
Stauch and Broski stepped away from the laser cannon controls, but stayed within reach of the switch board. Triple J, who had been assisting Krashaki in evading the Wyzenhymers, un-strapped himself from his
seat and turned to where the commandos leaned against the bulwarks.
"Either of you guys got any gum?", he queried hopefully.
Sergeant and corporal shared a dry look before indicating a negative with a shake of their heads.
"I got some 'go juice' ", Broski replied, referring to the dark brew that ground troops received with their dry rations, "you're welcome to it, but you gotta find your own cup.", he added hastily.
"Naw, but thanks anyway.", Jennings responded dejectedly.
"How far are we from the ship?", Stauch asked.
"Not far", Krash informed them, "and it looks like the Fleet's sending the Wyzenhymers packing."
The crew should have been jubilant, but with the the events of the previous few hours, they were loathe to actually consider the possibility that they had experienced the worst. Broski began to rifle through
his pack and Stauch patted himself down for a smoke. They were both thrown to the deck as the ship began a series of violent maneuvers.
"OH GOD, WE'RE GOING DOWN!", Krash screamed as the ship lurched and twisted through the sky.
Broski and Stauch scrambled for their seats, but were tossed against the interior of the vessel like rag dolls. They looked at each other, both comprehending that fate had turned against them once again.
"You've been a good troop, Broski.", Stauch yelled over the chaos around them.
"You're not so bad yourself, Sarge.", Broski returned, and with an uncommon burst of emotion, reached out and grasped Stauch's hand.
Immediately, the churning of the vessel stopped, replaced by the soft laughter of Krashaki. He turned to look at his passengers.
"Just kidding, guys.", he said smiling.
The commandos looked up at him, then at each other, letting their gaze drop to their interlocked hands. They pulled their hands apart and regarded each other momentarily, feeling that, perhaps they had crossed
over to another plane of understanding, where two men could break through the societal barriers that forbid such rare displays of affection. Looking into each others eyes, they said, in unison, the only thing
that was appropriate in such a situation.
