A/N: This is for the TLC Shipweeks 2018 prompt Aviator for Cresswell. It's pretty much what the title says – all about flying.
A/N 2: I don't own the Lunar Chronicles. All I do is attempt to avoid wrecking it with my stories – much like Cress in this story!
"Do you want to take over?" Carswell glanced over at Cress, even as his hands never left the controls.
Cress looked up in surprise. She had been working on a program to more efficiently use the engine power during takeoff and landing by shutting down unnecessary systems.
Her attention returned to her screens. "You're not going to use the auto pilot? I updated that one last week."
Carswell reached over and caught her hand mid keystroke. "No. I mean take over our landing."
Shock left her speechless. Carswell was very protective of his ship. He wanted her to fly it? "I'm, um, kinda busy, and well, I don't have any experience, and."
"You can't get any experience if you don't give it a try." Carswell's voice was encouraging. "And I'll be right here the whole time."
Shaking her head, Cress pulled her hand away from his. They'd barely been on the Rampion alone for a whole day – they'd left Scarlet and Wolf at the farm that very morning. There was still a lot of work that needed to be done – both or antidote delivery and regular maintenance around the Rampion. The software systems were woefully out of date – never mind the technology solutions she had innovated on her satellite that would greatly enhance the life and longevity of the Rampion.
She didn't need to wreck their future by destroying the Rampion. "I'll pass."
Carswell wasn't happy with that answer. "Come on, darlin'. You should at least take a gander at these. You know, in case of emergency or something." He winked at her. "We wouldn't want to have any distressed damsels floating around in space."
Cress had to relent a bit at least. He did make a practical point, and if she understood the controls better, than she could improve the program she was writing for computer assisted landings.
"Alright, I'm ready." Her voice waivered. "I think."
"That's my girl. We're not quite ready to start the descent, so we've got plenty of time to prepare."
It was nearly an hour before they were in position. It was both the longest and shortest hour of her life. There had been plenty of preparations – she had insisted unnecessary systems were shut down, and after making all the manual adjustments, Carswell had insisted on going over the entire proceedings, explaining each step and every control, dial, and read out they would be using during the landing. Her palms were sweaty be the time Carswell flipped the first switch to begin their descent.
"All yours." He leaned back, his hands behind his head, chair tipped.
Cress felt her heart pounding. Her tongue felt thick. This was more than landing a spaceship the size of a small planet, hurtling towards the ground at approximately half the speed of sound, possible crashing and casing damage and harming others or even themselves. Of course, all these possibilities resided in the corners of her mind. If she focused on them, her mind would run the probability of each result, and she could eliminate some of the fears.
The thought that occupied her consciousness was the knowledge that Carswell had placed something precious into her safekeeping. It was a sign of his commitment to her. She owed it to him to do this right.
She couldn't deny that he was a terrible teacher.
"This one?" She pointed to the switch she thought came next in the sequence Carswell had shown her not that long ago.
He nodded, smiling encouragingly. Her confidence boosted, she flipped it, and her fingers moved to the next. It was halfway to its new position when Carswell's hand landed on top of hers, the force of his grab for control slamming the switch into its original position. "That's the last one." His voice held the relief found after a rush of adrenaline. He patted her shoulder as he settled into his chair. This time, he perched on the edge, ready to intervened whenever necessary. "I made that mistake a few times," he added. "It could be worse, but it makes the landing pretty bumpy."
Cress filed that information away for future reference – she'd make a point to double check that switch at every landing. Just in case.
The remainder of their trip passed in much the same fashion. She was tentative on the controls, and Carswell darted in to correct errors before they became disastrous. They finally settled into a cadence of Carswell talking her through the steps.
It wasn't smooth. Actually, Cress figured it could be accurately compared to her satellite's freefall from orbit in its severity. Her stomach rose to her throat as the final system checks were completed, sure one of them would flash a fatal error. When the last light turned green, she nearly collapsed with relief.
Carswell looked over at her crumpled form and laughed. She couldn't find the energy to think the situation amusing or to retaliate with an appropriate response. He continued chuckling as she wiped sweat off her forehead. Finally summoning a glare, she pulled herself out of her seat.
"Flying is not for me." A few quick keystrokes, and the program she had been working on before this fiasco was saved and dismissed.
Carswell's face fell. "You did really well, for the first time and all," he finished lamely.
Cress shook her head. "From now on, I leave flying to the experts."
He sidled closer, his arm wrapping around her waist. "Thanks. It's good to know someone has confidence in my abilities."
She turned away, her face warming. "You're much better at it then I am."
"A little practice could fix that."
"No. Thank you." Carswell laughed at the finality in her tone.
"Eventually, it will wear off on you, and when you're ready, I'll teach you."
Cress mumbled her thanks, which seemed to satisfy him as he moved away, whistling. She followed more slowly, silently vowing that this ship only needed one pilot.