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Post by anders on Dec 1, 2009 23:47:54 GMT -6
The air was as cold and unforgiving as the landscape that birthed it. He had dressed in his warmest clothing, worn layers, but that hadn’t kept the chill from creeping into his bones as he stood on the loading ramp and watched the dwarves pull the salvage from the hold. He raised a hand to his brow in a mock salute as the last of his customers departed on an all-terrain vehicle, towing a trailer of strapped down ship parts. He watched as the small, bearded man vanished into the swirling snow before he turned and walked back up the ramp. Hitting the button just inside the door that caused the hydraulics to come to life with a low groan to shut the door behind him.
The change in temperature was almost immediate, and he welcomed the absence of the piercing wind. In his head, the numbers played again on a running tally. This had been a good haul. The kind that they needed to keep the ship in the air and food on the table. If he had wanted to take coin instead of credits, he could have fetched an even higher premium for the salvage out here on the rim, but that was risky business. Its hard for a man to know how much the Terran government will pay at any given time when turning coin to creds.
As he started up the stairs, he put the could have been’s out of his mind and let the warmth and the closure of a job behind him sink in. As he ascended the stairs, he reached up and unwound the cloth from his face. Then, upon reaching the galley, he put on a pot of coffee and settled into a chair at the table. From the bridge he could hear the sound of the comm that he’d left set to the open channel.
He let his eyes close as he focused in on the distant voices. With any luck he’d get some word about a mechanic on the channel. That was their first order of business before they considered another job. The last monkey-wrench he had hired on he had dropped on Antheia just on a week ago. Formally, it was because the man’s family was in a foul place, but Roland knew it’d had just as much to do with personal differences as with the man’s family. So, they’d rest here for a day or two before they were on their way. In that time, they’d need to find a mechanic worth a damn.
The scent of brewed coffee would spread through the ship, slowly but surely. Maybe it’d be enough to rouse his sleeping first-mate without having to get on the intercom. There were things to be discussed.
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Post by DM Vance on Dec 2, 2009 0:37:01 GMT -6
DM was still deep in dreams when the ever tempting scent of fresh coffee wormed its way into her dreams and pulled her back into the waking world. She glanced at her watched, squinting to read the numbers through blurry eyes. Past seven. She was supposed to be up by now. She groaned and lay in bed a minute more. But the smell of coffee couldn't be denined.
Her glasses were where she left them, in the drawer beside her bed, and she slipped them on, padding over to the closet and dressing in something warm. Glacies was always cold as balls, and she wasn't about to freeze anything off that she needed. It was only Roland on deck, so she just gave her hair a quick brush-through with her fingers and headed to the lounge.
"Morning." She greeted Roland, bee-lining straight for the coffee pot. Her mug was sitting in the sink, and she gave it a rinse before filling it with fresh coffee. She gulped down the black stuff, feeling it warm her insides and wake her up.
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Post by anders on Dec 2, 2009 1:14:56 GMT -6
Roland’s eyes flicked open as soon as he heard footsteps in the hallway. He was tired, but it wouldn’t do to show it. Tending a boat with only two bodies was tough work, but he would soon put that behind them if there was any mercy in the world. Then they could abandon the hellish two-man rotation they had been running for the last week. Even if he couldn’t scrape up a mechanic on Glacies, he intended to spend a few days here to let them get some decent rest.
“Morning,” he repeated somberly as he tugged off his gloves and tossed them on the table in front of them. “How about you make it two cups and have a seat? I got some news.” Last she would have heard, he wasn’t sure if their buyer would come through for the price they had decided over the wire. He had, and the creds they’d earned today were enough that they would have split nicely four ways; divvying them up for two was just icing.
He rubbed his hands together for a moment and then moved to remove one of the jackets that he had worn against the cold. The features of his face hard set as he watched her make the coffee and waited for her to take a seat.
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Post by DM Vance on Dec 2, 2009 1:30:55 GMT -6
She filled up a mug for Roland and carried it over, setting it down in front of him. DM grabbed the seat beside him, taking another long swallow. Mmm, caffeine. Still the preferred and best liquid stimulant.
The mug was heating up under her hands, and she turned it in them. DM could almost feel the cold radiating off Roland. He'd probably finished unloading the salvage. Good. With it gone, they'd have more money. And hopefully, with money, they'd manage to get someone willing to come work with them. DM liked her sleep, but more than that, she liked not being the only person awake in the damned ship, and when they were running a two-man crew, she only saw Roland when she woke up and when she went to bed. If you did too much of that, you'd end up with Ship Fever, and then somebody would end up blown out an airlock.
"What's up?" DM asked Roland, waiting to hear what was up. Good news would be nice, but DM wasn't holding her breath. It wasn't that she always expected the worse. It was just that life had taught her that it usually was the worse when somebody said 'I got some news'.
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Post by anders on Dec 3, 2009 12:22:23 GMT -6
He reached out and took the mug with a cold-stiff hand, tugging it across the tabletop until it rested underneath his chin. It was the smell that made coffee the preferred morning beverage, he’d argue. There was nothing like it for clearing the mind of the cobwebs of tiredness, of the remnants of sleep. It was intentional the way he held onto the silence, taking a sip of the black liquid in his mug before he would look up to DM.
"What's up?"
“Beards came through on the creds,” he said as he wrapped both hands around his warm mug. A person could see it in his eyes that the coffee was doing him some good. “Could’ve probably made more if we’d taken their coin, but I didn’t want to gamble it all on the whim of the Council. Was a nice payday, anyway,” he concluded with a snort. Most people’d probably think he had tried to stifle a sneeze, but DM would know the instinctive gesture for what it was: derision. Roland didn’t like putting his fate in anybody else’s hands. Especially not the Terran government. “I was thinkin‘, maybe we’d lay low here for a day or two. Restock, fuel up, and be out by Wednesday.” And that was that. His gaze fell back to his coffee and the steam rising up in front of his face as he awaited her response.
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Post by DM Vance on Dec 3, 2009 16:33:20 GMT -6
DM nodded, keeping her own rant silent. Roland had heard it enough times, and it was a bit too early to get all riled up. They both felt the same way about the Council, and Terra's constant attempts to cripple development and sharing of technology with what they considered to be 'primitive' cultures, yet another sign of Terran's imperial ways and their inability to consider some of those 'primitive' cultures were just as advanced in Terra. Just because they didn't ruin their environment, or build cities that consumed and killed every inch of soil, plant and wildlife, didn't mean that they were less advanced.
But, again, Roland had heard that. And preaching to the choir, while fun, got old. She'd save it for someone who hadn't heard it all before. "Alright. I'll see where I can get for med supplies here, we're running a bit low in some areas. Not dangerously low, but... if anything's on sale, I'll pick it up. And I'll see if I can find a new joint for your knee, but I'm not holding my breath."
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Post by anders on Dec 3, 2009 22:08:32 GMT -6
Roland took her nod to mean that they were in agreement on his decision to take the solid credit over the more fluid coinage. Typically, he wouldn’t care whether crew agreed with his business decisions, but DM was different. When it came down to it, she was as much responsible for the success or failure of the ship as he was at this point. She kept him on his feet and in one piece, she guided the ship while he slept, and there were all things that he couldn’t do solo.
"Alright. I'll see where I can get for med supplies here, we're running a bit low in some areas. Not dangerously low, but... if anything's on sale, I'll pick it up. And I'll see if I can find a new joint for your knee, but I'm not holding my breath."
“Ain’t no rush on the new joint. Bein’ this far out from the central planets we’d end up paying more for it than its worth,” he said. Hard as he was on the things, though, maybe she was right. Its hard to get around in a spacesuit when a man is left to hobble around on one working leg and a cane. “We can head up to the main port sometime in the afternoon. Take the workhorse,” that was what he called their ATV, “and get a start on restocking the ol’ girl.” At that, he tapped his foot once as if to demonstrate it was the ship he was talking about. “Sound fair?”
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Post by DM Vance on Dec 3, 2009 23:23:52 GMT -6
"That joint keeps you moving." She reminded him, "It's always worth the cost. I don't think I'll see anything around here, but you never know. Some widow could be selling her dead husband's stuff and we could get lucky." Roland never took good enough care of himself, and somebody had to, so she was doing it. He always found reasons to push that leg of his too far.
"Fair as anything." DM agreed, sucking back more coffee. "That'll give me time to wake the hell up and get my list together." And she would need a list. If she didn't, she'd get off task and come home with a dozen of whatever she didn't need, and nothing that they did. They weren't tight for money, but that still wasn't an excuse to go wasting it.
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Post by anders on Dec 3, 2009 23:40:59 GMT -6
"That joint keeps you moving. It's always worth the cost. I don't think I'll see anything around here, but you never know. Some widow could be selling her dead husband's stuff and we could get lucky."
The look that he gave her said that he had said all that he was going to say on the issue of his old injury. It wasn’t the sort of thing that he liked to linger on, and if she had been anyone else, he would have told her to drop it at first mention. But, she was the medic. “Lucky’s not something we often get. Lucky would be a new mechanic or a fresh set of hands,” he said. “Which reminds me. I put out a call on the planet-wide. If we get any hits and I’ve got my head too far up my ass to notice, respectfully help me to remove it.”
"That'll give me time to wake the hell up and get my list together."
“Right. A list. Just what we need. We still have to refuel, and we don‘t yet have another job lined up. Best to hang on to as much as we can.” His voice was stern and chiding, but his hawkish eyes were alight with faint amusement. Without a list, she’d restock the entire med-room, and then some. They have enough stim-packs from one of her purchases to last them for the next decade.
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Post by DM Vance on Dec 4, 2009 0:09:02 GMT -6
"You'll know if we do. You'll hear me celebrating from clear across the ship." More than a joint, they needed a mechanic. Or anybody really. They didn't have to be good at what they did, just able to stay awake and man the ship. And not kill them all. That was a must. And it would be nice to have someone else around, not just for keeping the ship running, but to just talk to.
"Don't worry dad, I won't go on a spending spree." She didn't hide the teasing tone in her words, smiling a bit. He could try and sound gruff, but she knew him too well for that to fly. "I'll just get the essentials. And I'll make sure they're at a good price."
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Post by anders on Dec 5, 2009 20:18:37 GMT -6
"You'll know if we do. You'll hear me celebrating from clear across the ship."
Roland wasn’t the sort to be overly concerned about socializing. As often as not, he found other people to be an irritation as much as a relief. Unfortunately, Glacies wasn’t the place to be picky when it came to recruitment. Aside from the occasional inexperienced dwarf, there aren’t a lot of hands available to join up with a boat. At least, none worth a damn. Let ‘em prove him wrong. “Shouting at a man while he’s sleeping is a good way to catch a bullet,” he said in reply. He was tired enough at this point to be defensive about his sleep.
"Don't worry dad, I won't go on a spending spree."
“See to it that you don’t,” came his reply. The joke was lost on him, it would seem. That, or he just had not found it funny. There’s not much that he does find funny coming from other people, and certainly not when it was at his expense. "I'll be there anyhow to keep a hand on the checkbook. Have a few things need to be got for the rest o' the boat."
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Post by DM Vance on Dec 5, 2009 21:55:08 GMT -6
DM thought about calling him on his grouchiness, but let it pass. He had good reason to be so gruff. Hopefully it didn't scare off any potential customers. Though, if Roland scared them off, they probably weren't worth dealing with, espeically not on Glacies. People (and Dwarves) were hard as nails out here.
Instead, she looked at her coffee. Still plenty left to go, which was good, because she really needed it. "Sounds fine." DM said, and got to her feet, stretching. Her back popped and she scowled. Damnit, she was getting old. "I'll get my list done. Meet you in the cargo hold?"
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Post by anders on Dec 6, 2009 22:23:50 GMT -6
Trying to force a change in his mood to the positive was a dead-end road. The only way that his mood was bound to be provoked was towards the bad. It hadn’t detoured any customers he would be interested in having yet, though it may have cost them a couple of passenger fares. Hell, he’d care when he was really hurtin’ for money, maybe. People nosin’ around the ship were rarely worth it, ‘less you just needed to look legit.
As she moved to stand, he remained seated at the table. Their conversation had went well enough to his mind. He wondered for a moment if he had upset her, but his curiosity was gone in the span of a breath. Woman was as hard as he was, and he’d be a fool to be doubtin’ that. The fact that he had even considered it left a bad taste in his mouth, and he unceremoniously downed the rest of his coffee.
"I'll get my list done. Meet you in the cargo hold?"
“Be down there ‘round three. You need me, I’ll be in my bunk,” he said. He waited until she was gone on her way before he stood from the table and made his way to the sink. He hastily rinsed out his mug and placed it top down on the counter before he headed towards his quarters. What had he been up, thirty-six hours? A little shuteye would do him well.
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Post by anders on Dec 28, 2009 1:35:01 GMT -6
Roland hated to be late, and he wasn’t the sort to have much sympathy for those who weren’t prompt, either. So, come a quarter ’til three, he was already down in the cargo hold, prepping the workhorse. He hadn’t seen DM yet, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t around. Most of their inventory was kept on the upper deck of the ship, so that’s where he figured she’d be. Long as she was ready to head out by three, everything’d be smooth.
Until then, he had a few odd-end jobs to keep him occupied. Glacies was cold enough to freeze an engine that wasn’t in good repair, so he was checking the various fluids in the old ATV. It wasn’t that he was one to let such things lapse, but the conditions on this planet were harsher than most. Shortcuts that’d hold a vehicle together on Antheia would leave your ass stranded on Glacies.
So, seat removed, he was bent over the rundown engine. A fluid cap in one hand and an dirtied rag in the other. He could have nearly passed as a mechanic were it not for the lack of confidence in his eyes as he wiped the dipstick and tucked it back into the tank, before pulling it out and looking at it again. It wasn’t that he was completely clueless. He understands the basics. But the basics can only take you so far.
Once he was satisfied, he would screw the antifreeze cap back on and replace the seat over the engine compartment. Soon as he was done, he couldn't help but throw a look in the direction of the stairwell, muttering to himself, "Where the hell is that girl, anyhow?"
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Post by DM Vance on Dec 28, 2009 20:58:18 GMT -6
Time got away from DM, but time always got away from her. She could be keeping an eye on the clock and she'd look away for a second - just a second - and it would be half an hour later. The military had did their best to get rid of that habit, but a decade out of the service had allowed her to fall back into old habits.
She had been cataloguing the contents of the medical bay, hoping to get it into her head that they didn't need any more stim-packs (or bandages for that matter). But once that was done, she'd gotten caught up organizing and reorganizing the medbay. There was something relaxing about it, putting everything in order (and then promptly disorganizing it).
Luckily for her, she'd glanced at the clock and realized that she was ten minutes away from having Roland tear a strip off of her. She got the worst of the mess lying around back into the cupboards, grabbed her coat and bag, and headed down to the cargo bay. The smell of oil was inescapable. Roland was probably messing around on the ATV again.
DM zipped her coat up and slung her bag over her shoulder, boots thunking on the deck. "Ready to go?" She said, knowing the answer already. Roland was always ready. But it would keep him from asking her why she was cutting it so close.
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