Morse Code

In the Galley

Cress Perspective:

I was working on a complicated code to disable the more high tech programming hidden on the Rampion.

Thorne had removed the obvious equipment, but if the Eastern Commonwealth Tech Team was somehow able to tap deep into their computer system they could track us.

My fingertips danced along the keyboard. Creating all sorts of firewalls and other strong protection (a/n: I know absolutely nothing about coding)

With a few more taps, I was finished and bright yellow words appeared on the screen:

Transaction Complete

I smiled and cracked my knuckles; no-one's getting in here anytime soon.

Suddenly, the cockpit felt claustrophobic. I got up and practically ran out into the hallway.

In my mind, I had been only working for an hour or less, but the ache in my back, neck, and shoulders told me otherwise.

"Darla, what time is it?" I addressed the ship.

"It's 15:00," the system answered.

3:00! I had started at nine which meant I'd been cooped up in the cockpit for, I quickly did the math, six hours. No wonder I was aching.

As if on cue, my stomach growled, reminding me I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. I walked to the galley, lethargically sliding my hand along the cool metal walls.

It felt good to be home.

Cinder Perspective:

I honestly don't know what happened. I had just finished fixing a strange noise in the engine room when I made the dumb decision to walk into the galley.

It was there I saw two idiots slapping the table. Okay, maybe Wolfs not an idiot, but Thorne definitely is. No doubt about it.

They were sitting across from each other and glaring. Wolf looked downright murderous, and surprisingly- so did Thorne.

Thorne started furiously tapping the table, a series or long and short sounds. Wolf tapped back.

After a few more rounds of the this, I realized they were talking in Morse Code (or more specifically- arguing.)

I just stood there dumbfounded for a second before downloading a program so I could understand them.

Thorne: So that's what you believe

Wolf: That you're a no good troublemaker? Yes, yes I do.

Thorne: Says the genetically modified wolf soldier.

Wolf: At least I'm not a thief.

I had no idea what had gotten into them. This was not who they were. I couldn't help but be curious what had riled them up.

Their conversation went like this, just back and forth, insulting each other silently. I sat down on the other side of the table to watch. Neither noticed.

All of a sudden, the rooms doors slid open.