::This is Rosa to Moth, requesting your coordinates and ETA, please respond::
Silence filled the commline, the harsh, buzzing scratch of static reverberating through Rosa’s skull and filling her right ear with white noise. Scowling, she lifted a hand and gently tapped at the earpiece with two fingers, the worn leather of her gloves brushing over military-grade, shatterproof plastic components and leaving behind a faint streak of dirt and sweat on the surface.
Licking the surface of her cracked lips and grimacing slightly at the bitter tang of salt against her tongue, Rosa repeated the command, her wind-roughened voice hoarse and edged with the beginnings of desperation as she barked into the commline. The skin along the back of her neck had already begun to redden and blister from the sweltering heat of the twin suns that rose into the sky above the planet’s blue horizon, and the back of her standard-issue uniform top was spotted with dark patches of sticky sweat and shades of a darker crimson; the mixed fluids slowly trickling down her skin and dripping to stain the earth below her feet.
::Moth, REPORT! This is Rosa, I need an ETA now, before the situation grows any worse- do you copy?::
Shifting position from where she stooped half-crouched on scorching desert sand behind the cover of a large boulder; the young lieutenant shifted her grip on the standard-issue phaser in her right hand and peered above the top of the boulder’s jagged edge in an attempt at gaining a better viewpoint of the approaching hostiles; swiftly ducking back down with a muffled curse as a sudden burst of rapid fire erupted at the motion.
::This is Rosa reporting to the bridge. I am unable to make contact with Moth, and have multiple hostiles approaching my location from all directions- I’m not sure I’m going to make it out of this firefight alone. Captain, do you copy?::
The commline crackled with a faint, warbling burst of static in reply to the delivered plea, and for a brief moment Rosa felt hope surge to life in her chest once more- but any attempts at deciphering the scrambled message on her end was cut short by another volley of attacking fire from the advancing Klingon warriors; and she was forced to retreat from her hiding spot in order to evade the virtual shower of phaser-bolts. Her heavy-duty combat boots, laced with thick straps of woven imitation-leather material, scrambled fruitlessly against the ever-shifting grains of white-hot sand as she made a desperate bid for the relative safety offered by a nearby cluster of similarly-sized boulders; and as she stumbled forward, the phaser clutched against her palm flew forward and clattered to a halt on the earth just a few feet beyond her reach, a bolt of energy firing from the end and scoring a deep scorch mark into the burning ground.
Choking back a pained scream as the thick sole of a Klingon boot landed heavily at the base of her skull, halting her desperate groping for the wayward phaser and forcing her entire head downwards and into the searing grit, Rosa curled her fingers into fists inside her gloves; pushing off of the ground and forcing her body to surge up and backwards into her attacker. A strangled cry tore from her throat as she felt another bolt of energy rip into her side, the wound filling with blood and joining the other scores of burns and near-misses that littered the lower half of her torso; and with a sudden jerk she felt a hardened, gnarled hand curl itself roughly into her hair, her eyes filling with involuntary tears of agony and clogged with needles of burning sand as she was forced to her knees upon the desert floor and held there in a merciless, unwavering grip to face her pursuers.
Pressing her lips together in a thin, bloodless line and choking down another cry as the muzzle of a Klingon phaser, heated to white-hot temperatures by constant firing; was pressed against her left temple, Rosa trembled against the grip of her captor in a combination of fading adrenaline and pain; already feeling her limbs slacken and give way against her will. Any attempt to escape at this point was futile- she was entirely weaponless, and had already lost far too much blood to survive for more than a few minutes out in the desert heat even if she did manage to break free- however the mere thought of simply giving up and admitting defeat was one that she did not relish in the very least, and it shamed her deeply to know that she had met her end in such a way…alone, seemingly abandoned by her fellow crewmember; and left to bleed out on the sand after her ordeal at Klingon hands had finally ended. It was hardly the heroic death she had imagined when she first signed up for a position aboard one of Starfleet’s ships, she reflected wryly; and her battered lips twisted in a small, bitter smile as the Klingon holding her in position barked something in her ear; doubtless in an effort to extract any viable information before her consciousness was too faded for her to be of any further use.
Glancing up at the bright, heat-hazed sky above her head, the red-haired lieutenant felt a small, hacking chuckle rise from somewhere within her tattered chest and torso as her captor roughly shook her in a final attempt to gain her cooperation; the sharp, copper bite of blood spattering across her chin and coating her teeth as she murmured her parting words to the ship she knew still orbited somewhere above the glare of Tattooine’s suns; perhaps still fruitlessly waiting for her final transmission to come through.
“This is Lieutenant Rosa to Captain Smith…signing out for the last time. It’s been an honor serving with you, boys…keep exploring, yeah?”
And then there was only the parting echo of a single phaser bullet left to break the silence of the desert’s heat; her lifeless body toppling forward to land with a dull thud against the scorching sand and parched, cracked earth of Tattooine’s wastelands. The leader of the Klingon ambush party gave the battered, bleeding form one final glance over, and then turned his back on the dismal scene with a dismissive grunt; motioning for the remainder of the pack to follow as he faded back into the heat waves of the distant dunes ahead.
After all, the next party of Starfleet crewmembers would be arriving shortly…
michelle
“Altitude, latitude? Where are we on this map?”
I continued turning the map of squiggly lines and gibberish around in my hands, getting frustrated by the moment. My partner in crime merely shrugged, not knowing the Elvish tongue as well as I. You’d think Dwarves, AKA mountain dwellers, would eventually crawl out of their caves to learn of their neighbors at some stage.
Some people in this world are given all of the latitude that they want . Others have to operate within defined constraints.
Does moving up the “ladder” get you out of the “latter” group?
I hope so …
s madison-boyd
latitude with attitude
conversation’s aptitude
lousy
Latitude is the opposite of longitude. It is the measurement of horizontal space on a map and when you’re in the Southern latitude, you have a better attitude!
Cartologists are experts in the study of latitude.
Eileen
Versus the longitude of your glance
Past scrolls in the desert of Alexandria
The last length we parted the pages
And said to do away with wispy voices.
Megan Vollstedt
“What’s our position, Captain?” The young man asked. Josh noticed he wrapped his hands naturally around the wheel. “Don’t tell me that we’ve passed them already.”
Doug
The worlds were constantly slowing down…the end was coming and they are latitudes appart, something she could never forget herself. If time stoped right now, this moment will be for eternity and he would never ever know.
I couldn’t tell you the latitude or longitude of the place, but I know this place. I’ve been here before–in a dream, fucked up as that sounds. There’s something in the feel of stone as I brush my hand against the wall, something in the sharp tang of the air–it’s familiar. I don’t have a damn clue where we are, but I know it.
How many of us know – I mean really know – where we want to end up in life?
“Your attitude determines your altitude”, or so they say, but what determines your “latitude”?
This city had burned me out, or I had grown weary of its constant, dreary attempts to welcome me. I had to go. I didnt have a plan, but then, I had no purpose. One cannot have a purpose without a plan.
Kevin
Latitude. Dean looked down at the rumpled map, rubbing his chin with one hand and tracing the lines with his other. Sam looked over his shoulder, smiling and sipping his coffee.
Sarah
e many implications in the word “latitude”. It can mean space, reasonable doubt or coordinates on a map. It can mean grace, a gift of time
I can never find the right words to write down, to type about. I can only amount a small list of vocabulary I simply don’t understand. As often as I try to avoid the simple banter I may share with myself typing, I believe it is my limit.
What surpasses the heavens? The latitude beyond our dimension, striving toward belated cognizance to surpass the limitations of our very imagination. Only the mere concept justifying an edifice conceived of such quarrels distraught Simon. Simon digs an elusive reconciliation to pierce the heavens.
Latitude is one of the ways you measure where you are at on the globe. There is Latitude and longitude. And you are able to measure it with numbers. Everywhere has a specific Latitude and Longitude.
Abby
it’s still all about the latitude
the distance
how far away
how far away are you?
too far away
and it sucks
Brittany
latitude
longitude
this has been used before
the distance between us is so large
we can mend it with communication
if you would only help me out by turning on the connection
Brittany
You can quit whenever you want. There is no such thing as indentured servitude in the United States. However the latitude of your character will be halted.
What in the world. Latitude? I thought I did this yesterday. Why am I doing it again? Maybe because of my attitude. I’m glad to be pool bar jim ranger, I’ll tell you that ahead of time.
Jim Ranger
latitude
my kind of attitude
not to be rude of course
but I rather be crude then
eluding or alluding
“An Untimely End…”
::This is Rosa to Moth, requesting your coordinates and ETA, please respond::
Silence filled the commline, the harsh, buzzing scratch of static reverberating through Rosa’s skull and filling her right ear with white noise. Scowling, she lifted a hand and gently tapped at the earpiece with two fingers, the worn leather of her gloves brushing over military-grade, shatterproof plastic components and leaving behind a faint streak of dirt and sweat on the surface.
Licking the surface of her cracked lips and grimacing slightly at the bitter tang of salt against her tongue, Rosa repeated the command, her wind-roughened voice hoarse and edged with the beginnings of desperation as she barked into the commline. The skin along the back of her neck had already begun to redden and blister from the sweltering heat of the twin suns that rose into the sky above the planet’s blue horizon, and the back of her standard-issue uniform top was spotted with dark patches of sticky sweat and shades of a darker crimson; the mixed fluids slowly trickling down her skin and dripping to stain the earth below her feet.
::Moth, REPORT! This is Rosa, I need an ETA now, before the situation grows any worse- do you copy?::
Shifting position from where she stooped half-crouched on scorching desert sand behind the cover of a large boulder; the young lieutenant shifted her grip on the standard-issue phaser in her right hand and peered above the top of the boulder’s jagged edge in an attempt at gaining a better viewpoint of the approaching hostiles; swiftly ducking back down with a muffled curse as a sudden burst of rapid fire erupted at the motion.
::This is Rosa reporting to the bridge. I am unable to make contact with Moth, and have multiple hostiles approaching my location from all directions- I’m not sure I’m going to make it out of this firefight alone. Captain, do you copy?::
The commline crackled with a faint, warbling burst of static in reply to the delivered plea, and for a brief moment Rosa felt hope surge to life in her chest once more- but any attempts at deciphering the scrambled message on her end was cut short by another volley of attacking fire from the advancing Klingon warriors; and she was forced to retreat from her hiding spot in order to evade the virtual shower of phaser-bolts. Her heavy-duty combat boots, laced with thick straps of woven imitation-leather material, scrambled fruitlessly against the ever-shifting grains of white-hot sand as she made a desperate bid for the relative safety offered by a nearby cluster of similarly-sized boulders; and as she stumbled forward, the phaser clutched against her palm flew forward and clattered to a halt on the earth just a few feet beyond her reach, a bolt of energy firing from the end and scoring a deep scorch mark into the burning ground.
Choking back a pained scream as the thick sole of a Klingon boot landed heavily at the base of her skull, halting her desperate groping for the wayward phaser and forcing her entire head downwards and into the searing grit, Rosa curled her fingers into fists inside her gloves; pushing off of the ground and forcing her body to surge up and backwards into her attacker. A strangled cry tore from her throat as she felt another bolt of energy rip into her side, the wound filling with blood and joining the other scores of burns and near-misses that littered the lower half of her torso; and with a sudden jerk she felt a hardened, gnarled hand curl itself roughly into her hair, her eyes filling with involuntary tears of agony and clogged with needles of burning sand as she was forced to her knees upon the desert floor and held there in a merciless, unwavering grip to face her pursuers.
Pressing her lips together in a thin, bloodless line and choking down another cry as the muzzle of a Klingon phaser, heated to white-hot temperatures by constant firing; was pressed against her left temple, Rosa trembled against the grip of her captor in a combination of fading adrenaline and pain; already feeling her limbs slacken and give way against her will. Any attempt to escape at this point was futile- she was entirely weaponless, and had already lost far too much blood to survive for more than a few minutes out in the desert heat even if she did manage to break free- however the mere thought of simply giving up and admitting defeat was one that she did not relish in the very least, and it shamed her deeply to know that she had met her end in such a way…alone, seemingly abandoned by her fellow crewmember; and left to bleed out on the sand after her ordeal at Klingon hands had finally ended. It was hardly the heroic death she had imagined when she first signed up for a position aboard one of Starfleet’s ships, she reflected wryly; and her battered lips twisted in a small, bitter smile as the Klingon holding her in position barked something in her ear; doubtless in an effort to extract any viable information before her consciousness was too faded for her to be of any further use.
Glancing up at the bright, heat-hazed sky above her head, the red-haired lieutenant felt a small, hacking chuckle rise from somewhere within her tattered chest and torso as her captor roughly shook her in a final attempt to gain her cooperation; the sharp, copper bite of blood spattering across her chin and coating her teeth as she murmured her parting words to the ship she knew still orbited somewhere above the glare of Tattooine’s suns; perhaps still fruitlessly waiting for her final transmission to come through.
“This is Lieutenant Rosa to Captain Smith…signing out for the last time. It’s been an honor serving with you, boys…keep exploring, yeah?”
And then there was only the parting echo of a single phaser bullet left to break the silence of the desert’s heat; her lifeless body toppling forward to land with a dull thud against the scorching sand and parched, cracked earth of Tattooine’s wastelands. The leader of the Klingon ambush party gave the battered, bleeding form one final glance over, and then turned his back on the dismal scene with a dismissive grunt; motioning for the remainder of the pack to follow as he faded back into the heat waves of the distant dunes ahead.
After all, the next party of Starfleet crewmembers would be arriving shortly…
“Altitude, latitude? Where are we on this map?”
I continued turning the map of squiggly lines and gibberish around in my hands, getting frustrated by the moment. My partner in crime merely shrugged, not knowing the Elvish tongue as well as I. You’d think Dwarves, AKA mountain dwellers, would eventually crawl out of their caves to learn of their neighbors at some stage.
Some people in this world are given all of the latitude that they want . Others have to operate within defined constraints.
Does moving up the “ladder” get you out of the “latter” group?
I hope so …
latitude with attitude
conversation’s aptitude
Latitude is the opposite of longitude. It is the measurement of horizontal space on a map and when you’re in the Southern latitude, you have a better attitude!
Cartologists are experts in the study of latitude.
Versus the longitude of your glance
Past scrolls in the desert of Alexandria
The last length we parted the pages
And said to do away with wispy voices.
“What’s our position, Captain?” The young man asked. Josh noticed he wrapped his hands naturally around the wheel. “Don’t tell me that we’ve passed them already.”
The worlds were constantly slowing down…the end was coming and they are latitudes appart, something she could never forget herself. If time stoped right now, this moment will be for eternity and he would never ever know.
I couldn’t tell you the latitude or longitude of the place, but I know this place. I’ve been here before–in a dream, fucked up as that sounds. There’s something in the feel of stone as I brush my hand against the wall, something in the sharp tang of the air–it’s familiar. I don’t have a damn clue where we are, but I know it.
How many of us know – I mean really know – where we want to end up in life?
“Your attitude determines your altitude”, or so they say, but what determines your “latitude”?
This city had burned me out, or I had grown weary of its constant, dreary attempts to welcome me. I had to go. I didnt have a plan, but then, I had no purpose. One cannot have a purpose without a plan.
Latitude. Dean looked down at the rumpled map, rubbing his chin with one hand and tracing the lines with his other. Sam looked over his shoulder, smiling and sipping his coffee.
e many implications in the word “latitude”. It can mean space, reasonable doubt or coordinates on a map. It can mean grace, a gift of time
I can never find the right words to write down, to type about. I can only amount a small list of vocabulary I simply don’t understand. As often as I try to avoid the simple banter I may share with myself typing, I believe it is my limit.
What surpasses the heavens? The latitude beyond our dimension, striving toward belated cognizance to surpass the limitations of our very imagination. Only the mere concept justifying an edifice conceived of such quarrels distraught Simon. Simon digs an elusive reconciliation to pierce the heavens.
Latitude is one of the ways you measure where you are at on the globe. There is Latitude and longitude. And you are able to measure it with numbers. Everywhere has a specific Latitude and Longitude.
it’s still all about the latitude
the distance
how far away
how far away are you?
too far away
and it sucks
latitude
longitude
this has been used before
the distance between us is so large
we can mend it with communication
if you would only help me out by turning on the connection
You can quit whenever you want. There is no such thing as indentured servitude in the United States. However the latitude of your character will be halted.
I’m suspended in the clouds, dropping by the second and moving ever closer to the solid ground that will welcome me with fatal impact force.
What in the world. Latitude? I thought I did this yesterday. Why am I doing it again? Maybe because of my attitude. I’m glad to be pool bar jim ranger, I’ll tell you that ahead of time.
latitude
my kind of attitude
not to be rude of course
but I rather be crude then
eluding or alluding
we were even. the sea lay quiet like a sheet of aluminum foil. the sun scalded us in our sweat. the dog lay under…