[b][i]OOC: Cal meets Hook in the galley for breakfast[/i][/b]

As the stroke of his pocket watch passed 24-hundred, the captain found not a wink of sleep in his bunk. The night wore on and he heard the engine cut off which meant the China Doll floated through space on nothing but auxiliary. [i]Mechanic-slash-nun they picked up wasn’t half bad,[/i] he thought; after take off she’d alerted him to some serious build up in the catalyzer. Was a shame, too. No spares in storage--not much of anything in storage, matter-of-fact. The Baker woman said she might be able to breathe more life into the catalyzer, depending on how it looked opened up. Though his face didn’t show it, least he hoped not, seeing the China Doll in such a state made his stomach churn. It was kind of the nun, thinking farther than her one-way trip, but he needed someone who could take proper care of the Doll.

As he dozed, Cal couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a wrench in a nun’s hand. Hadn’t seen many nuns, come to think on it, ‘cept in naughty captures, but those were of the frocking variety. The nun’s that is. Even among the fuzzy images dancing behind his eyelids, Captain Strand was still far from sleep. Opening his palm, the pocket watch read four-hundred hours. With a sigh, Cal dragged his fingers across his face and got up to use the head. Kicking the toilet seat up, Cal wet his hands before stretching his stiff, restless back. Badger’s face swum in his head, and Penelope’s words that she checked for anything ‘extra’ fixed to the Doll was a small thread of relief. This whole job smelled of desperation, no doubt, but at least he was still flying. That meant something, he reasoned, and grabbing his towel he headed for the showers. 

After a shower and a shave, Cal scowled at his bagged eyelids in the mirror. One sobering thought rose to the surface while watching those steeled eyes: coffee. After dressing, a brown pair of slacks, suspenders, and a green plaid button down, Cal entered the empty galley and sorted out the beans to the mill. Crew would be up soon, he reckoned, and his left hand worked the hand mill after he set the kettle to boil. The grounds done, Cal considered breakfast at the behest of the grumbling in his stomach. They’d had enough for some food fare for take off, these beans included; the theory was to set folks at ease as they settle down to a voyage. The budgeted food for the rest of the journey was more mundane: powdered coffee from here on out, eggs, bacon, fish, potatoes, and protein paste, should they need it. 

Captain Strand donned a denim apron before wielding the ten-inch cast iron over the element, placing a few strips of bacon in to render.

“Good morning,” Joe Hooker announced as he walked into the galley. He didn’t know who this man was, but figured he knew what he was doing. He had only been on the job for less than a complete day, but he was tired. It was the usual fatigue. The one he’d been living with for the past ten years or more. Joe noticed the coffee on and found a mug to pour some into when it was ready. He then went to the pantry and cold storage to see what food was available for breakfast.

Joe returned to the galley, put his white apron on, placed his mug on the table and took a seat. He rubbed the sleepy seeds from his eyes, yawned one time and thought to introduce himself. “Are you a member of the crew or a passenger?” Joe thought to ask. “I’m Joe Hooker, but most folks call me Hook.”

“Oh so you’re the fella I have to thank for last night’s feast,” Cal tipped his invisible hat with the bacon-greased chopsticks in his hand, “Cal Strand. This here’s my boat, and it’s a crime I’ve met the food before I met the man. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Joe.” The captain put down the utensils and took a step toward Hook before wiping his hand on his apron and extending it toward him. “You and Abigail did a mighty fine job strappin’ down. I’m not quite sure where she gets the energy, but I’m conjure bein’ young ain’t hurtin’.” After shaking Hook’s hand, he picked up the chopsticks again and started turning the bacon. “You sure know your way around a grill, sir, and of that you have no idea how grateful I am,” he said, nodding as he fondly remembered the burger and fries he inhaled, cold, after most had gone to bed. On the subject, Hook was up a mite early himself. Come to think of it, he may have heard some shouting from someone in the crew quarters.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“I’s always been a early riser, suh,” Hook responded. “As far as the cookin’ goes, ah grew up on a farm on Hera. We worked from sun up to sun down. On occasion, the woman of the house taught mah self and anotha how ta cook. I guess I actually took to it. To be honest with ya, suh. I’s a lookin’ forward to gettin’s some seafood on New Melbourne, which I can cook up here in da galley. I have a woopin recipe for some shrimp gumbo. Mebee some other stuff as well.”

“Mr Strand, I shore do appreciate you given me this here job. I really needed somethin’ to do. It had been near fo’ weeks since I had a job. Last ship I worked on went to the scrap yard. Thank you, Mr. Strand.”

Cal’s bacon hissed in the skillet as he set a fresh side into the iron, “I needed hands, you needed pay. I couldn’t think of a better fix to both our problems. Say,” Strand gestured with the chopsticks toward Joe, “A little bird told me you were packing some firepower when you came a-callin’.” He placed the already cooked bacon on a plate and handed it to Hook. “You jest a collector or have some history under your belt?” The way Hook stood, Cal inferred he’d seen combat. There was a sort of resting that men and women who’d served adopted when they were comfortable, and one for when they weren’t. 

Joe used the grill, the same grill he used the night before with the burgers. He poured some oil onto the grill and rubbed it around with a wide spatula. Then cracked three eggs directly onto the grill. “Ah hope there is enough bacon there for two?” Joe asked his host.

“Ah do have a few firearms, suh,” Joe admitted. “When ah was a boy, the other boys and ah would go plinkin once in a bit on the back forty. We also used to hunt and fish. I’m hopin’ there will be time for that on New Melbourne.” Joe didn’t feel comfortable talking about the war. But felt, maybe this man had some experience too. “Ah grew up on Hera and fought on Hera. Ah was at the Valley with Sargeant Reynolds.” Joe didn’t want to talk about that. They lost so many people that day including his brothers. The mention of the Valley disturbed Joe. He stopped what he was doing, retrieved a mug from the pantry, filled it with coffee and placed it on the table next to the previous cup of coffee. He returned to cooking his eggs. It was a time in his life, he wished he could forget. The nightmares haunzim. He remembered what the few who remained often said about that battle...

[center][color=8882be][i]’...no one leaves Serenity, you just learn to live there.’[/i][/color][/center]

Cal nodded as the man shared a piece of his upbringing, then a part of his grim past. Serenity Valley, all knew it, all had seen the holos distributed by the Alliance in the name of ‘documenting’ the battle. Really, it became a public spectacle of what happened when folk disobeyed. In silence, Strand watched the man break from what he was doing to fill another mug of coffee and place it on the table. The act itself wasn’t the strange thing; it was the look on Joe’s face, the way his movements went rigid, the far off look in his eye. 

Having been to Hera in the days leading up to the onslaught, Cal could have said he’d met the man Hook described, or that he’d shuttled weapons to the Alliance and Browncoats alike for that very battle. Instead, Cal respected the man’s silence and when a minute or so had gone by, offered, “I’m sure we can make some time on New Mel for a spell. Not a hunter myself, but I do like to fish.” Cal put the finishing touches on the strips of bacon for two and untied his apron, hanging it on a hook beside the ice box. Hook had taken the lead on the grill, so Captain Strand rounded the counter to the table and chairs where two mugs of coffee sat, tendrils of steam stretching upward. “May I?” Cal asked, pawing a mug of fresh coffee and placing the plate of bacon in the center of the table. The smells of coffee and bacon set his stomach to grumbling in earnest now, and he sat opposite the kitchen as he watched Hook finish up.

Hook put the eggs on a plate and placed them at his seat on the table. He went back to the grill, turned off the burners, ready to clean it after breakfast. He came back to the seat at the table, gave Cal Strand a smile. “This sho’ does look tasty, Cap’n Strand. Enjoy!”

“The nice thing about fishin’ is the peace and quiet. Ah can do either one if you want some company.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” he said, tucking into the food. “What sort of fishing are you keen on? Lake or sea? Crabbing? Personally, I’m a fan of the lake; the sea’s beautiful, but the serenity of the lake gets me every time.” Between mouthfuls, the captain alternated sips of coffee the skilled deckhand had prepared. If eating on the China Doll was always like this, Rex was going to be vindicated in his slanderous accusation of his expanding waistline. 

“Ah sho can appreciate yo sentiments to the lake. I would have to agree. But I have certain marine wildlife ah aim to catch. One being shrimp, which is a whole lot different than fishin’ ah’d be OK with buying some if we had to. But what ah truly want to catch is a swo’fish and we won’t find any of them in no lake, Cap’n Strand.” Joe allowed a smile, thinking about the possibility of reeling in a large fish like that. “I could go for some salmon in one of the larger rivers or even in that lake a’ yours. Salmon will gather in a lake before heading upriver to spawn in the springtime. I guess I could skip the swordfish and go for Salmon.”

Joe turned to the Captain, “Would you be OK with salmon fishing, suh?”

Food in mouth, Cal let out a sound of pure delight, “Hook, you and I are gonna get along just fine.”

When breakfast ended and the Captain went about his business, Joe Hooker took the dirty dishes to the sink. The grill was cooled off enough to clean and he did just that. He scoured the grill to ensure it was free from food debris, sparkling. Next, he turned his attention to the dishes in the sink. He filled the sink with hot soapy water and scrubbed the utensils, dishes, and mugs, leaving them to dry in a rack. He left his apron on, poured another cup of coffee, and waited to see if the passengers would come to the galley for bacon and eggs. He could pull out the toaster too if needed.