Cold Hands, Hot Cocoa
Author’s note: Scenelet from Sun Probe. Published 7/20/2006.
Prompt 11, Chocolate Milk
Virgil cradled the mug of hot chocolate between his bare hands. Mount Arkon was cold, bitterly so, but not as cold as space … and that thought made him shiver. His brothers and Tin-Tin were in that cold void, heading for the sun, to be melted like tiny marshmallows unless Brains worked his scientific magic.
He glanced over at the genius, so intent on recalibrating the transmitter’s frequency, trying to reach out from their snowy perch with a lifesaving beam of energy.
Faster, Brains! Hurry! he thought, staring bleakly out at the driving snow, and clutching the hot drink even closer.
Prompt 12, Coffee
“More coffee, Mr. Tracy?”
Jeff automatically held his cup out to Kyrano. It was a ritual now. When the boys were on a rescue, the retainer brought fresh coffee to the lounge, and Jeff would drink cup after cup, using it as a crutch to stay awake, to stay alert until the rescue ended.
He sipped the bitter brew absently, and only put the cup down when Scott’s portrait flashed to life. “We’ve wrapped things up here, Father. Stand down at 1520 hours, local time.”
“F-A-B, Scott.” He turned to Kyrano. “No more coffee now. The boys are coming home.”
Mud In Your Eye
Author’s note: Jeff’s possible thoughts during a scene from The Duchess Assignment. Published 10/2/2006.
Prompt 13, Whiskey
The elevator ride was eerie. The mechanical voice grated on my nerves, and its answer to my muttered, “Thank you” unnerved me.
Dandridge was effusive as ever. He’s proud of his company; everything’s automated. He offered a cigarette. It was already lit when I pulled it from his machine. He offered a drink; I asked for whiskey – on the rocks. He chuckled, and his automatic bartender poured a Johnny Walker, just the way I’d ordered.
Good whiskey, good company, and a good cause to espouse. I meant only the best when I said, “Well, here’s mud in your automated eye.”
Rum and Coca-Cola
Author’s note: It’s not canon that, while in WASP, Gordon served with George “Phones” Sheridan, from Stingray, but it’s not outside the realm of possibility either.
And I don’t own the song. Published 10/21/2006.
Prompt 14, Rum
“Drinkin’ rum an’ Cocaaaa-Cola!”
John winced at the slurred, off-key singing. He opened the hotel door, finding exactly what he’d anticipated: Gordon, one arm around an equally drunk but considerably more stable George Sheridan. George grinned, and delivered his former shipmate into John’s arms.
“Surfer Dude an’ I had a gooooood time.” Sheridan’s drawl was strong with drink. “Goo’ nigh’, y’all.”
“Good night, George. Thanks for bringing him back.”
“Hey, Phones! Don’ call me Surfer Dooood!” Gordon protested, lunging for Sheridan.
John quickly closed the door. “Phew! What’ve you been drinking?”
“Me?” Gordon resumed his singing. “Drinkin’ rum an’ Cocaaaa-Cola…”
Hurry Up And Wait
Author’s note: Inspired by a prompt from live journal’s fic_simplicity community. Their prompt: #7, Department of Motor Vehicles. Published 10/6/2006.
Prompt 15, beer
Alan flopped into a seat by the pool, looking exhausted. Scott followed, carrying two cold bottles of beer. He collapsed into a lounger, and handed Alan a bottle.
“I thought we would be too late,” Alan groaned, opening his beer and taking a swig.
“All those people, waiting so patiently.” Scott took a long pull, then wiped his mouth.
“It took forever,” Alan agreed, guzzling more beer. “It’s never been that bad.”
Gordon, puzzled, swam up to the pool’s edge. “What rescue was this?”
“Rescue? No.” Scott shook his head, and drained his bottle. “We just renewed our driver’s licenses.”