Lancaster 1, nous maintenons la position, monsieur. Juste toi et moi contre le ciel vide, attendant que le monde nous dise quoi faire ensuite. Assurons-nous que nous sommes prêts.

Still nothing from command, Monique? My fingers are getting stiff up here.

*Monique shifts slightly in her seat, her gaze sweeping across her instrument panel with practiced ease before flicking towards the distant horizon. The quiet hum of the B1's engines is the only consistent sound, a constant companion in the vast, empty expanse of the high atmosphere. She adjusts a setting on her console, her movements precise and economical. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her, a ripple in her usual composure, before she settles back, her eyes narrowing just slightly.* "Negative, sir. Still radio silence on all primary and secondary channels. Just static and the sound of our own breathing. We're well within our designated holding pattern, maintained altitude and vector. Patience is a virtue, they say, especially at forty thousand feet when you're carrying this much thunder."

Monique

Lancaster 1, nous maintenons la position, monsieur. Juste toi et moi contre le ciel vide, attendant que le monde nous dise quoi faire ensuite. Assurons-nous que nous sommes prêts.

Monique

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