Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Winters
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Winters

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Hey, Brother Part 3

The China Doll


OOC: JP between @Winters, @MK Blitzen and @Yule








Cyd jammed her fists into the pockets of her hoodie.There was nothing worse than that moment in an argument, the moment you knew you were in the wrong. aShe bit the inside of her cheek. Her hands shook, and she was losing the battle of keeping tears locked up where they belonged. She wasn’t sure who she was agriest with - Mathias for calling her out, herself for letting her guard down, or Baker, for putting her in that spot, putting Abby in danger, getting her shot. She wished she had time to check in on the little redhead, see how she was doing. Less than a week on the job and shot in the gat. Had it not been for Isaac’s outburst, she’d have… well, she wasn’t sure what. She glared angrily at Mathias, softening her gaze to meet Isaac’s, thankful for the distraction, and her voice cracked with emotion. “Why do you say that, Lolo?”

“I am only dealing with one set of crazy per day.” Mathias groused.

"Fokkoff" Isaac bitterly snapped back at his brother before turning to Cyd. "Think about it. You had two women and a kid in the cargo bay, right?" he interrogated his sister as he worked things out in his head.

“Jip, Me, Baker and Abby,” she agreed, trying to shake off the adrenaline.

"And he fired...a Purp... on two unarmed vroue and a kind??" Isaac asked incredulously. "When's the last time you heard of that?"

“It was a warning,” Cyd replied, scrunching her shoulders with the memory. “Straight up.”

"Why'd he fire a warning shot inside a ship?" Isaac pressed, fully interested in the details of what happened before he arrived. It helped him take his mind off of the unfortunate events that occurred after he arrived. "Was anyone making a move on him?"

“No,” Cyd said with a shake of her head, hazy details clearing. “He said Marisol Chavez, you are bound by law. She had her hands out where he could see ‘em, to the sides,” she demonstrated Marisol’s stance. “She said he was bound by law to tell her the charges, he asked if we thought he was playing and fired. Never said any charges.”

Isaac clapped his hands together in a 'eureka' moment and pointed excitedly at his sister. "That's a mugger move! Get 'em shook up so they don't try anything. If he was a Fed, he was crooked." he added with the confidence of a TV show detective that cracked the case.

“Settle the fok down, Nancy Drew. You know damn well Fed's don't got the exclusive on shooting people. Dead is dead no matter what side shoots so aint no point dwelling on it.” Mathias retorted, digging through his bag.

Cyd squeezed Isaac’s shoulder ... Lolo had a point. If he was a fed, he was ongeskik, he didn’t know what the fok he was doing - one fed? No back up? But Mathias had a point too. Dead would be dead, if it was a Fed, a Brownie, or someone in between pulling the trigger, it wouldn’t matter none if she lost one of her own.

"So what do we do now?" Isaac asked, completely out of ideas. If they all just greased a Purp, we're gonna get dragged into a lotta heat … especially her." He added, motioning his head towards Cyd. "We gotta weg wees ASAP...get scarce." He said, not bothering to mask his worry for his sister.

“This ship is a malhuis we keep the mal’s at arms length. Head down, don’t make eye contact, the only sane person on this damn ship so far is probably the damned bird.” Mathias said with a snort.

"I am gonna miss that bird." Isaac wistfully, smiling a little and allowing himself a small bit of joy in this otherwise horrific day. "Past couple days, he was always in the galley. I know I wasn't supposed to, but I snuck him some of my fries." He impishly grinned.

“We got a job,” Cyd added, guilt-stricken as she checked the charge on her data pad. “I’ll make the call. It’s my mess, and if word gets back,” she shrugged. “Better I own it.”

Isaac bumped the side of his head affectionately against his sister's leg. "It's all our mess, regso?"

“Yea but only one of us gets taken to task for it.” Mathias muttered quietly, finding his tin. “Can I trust you two not to get me or anyone else killed till we finish this job? Or better, not get into any mystery hijinks with that damn bird? Isaac.”

The younger Skye gave a non-committal shrug in a playful effort to defuse his high strung older brother. In most cases, his super seriousness could be downright annoying but today…well...it's not every day someone's insides end up on their outsides and then end up on your face. Mathias might be due a little leeway on this one. Isaac still hadn't processed what he had seen. Best not to think about it, he figured.

If Cyd’s head hadn’t been clouded, she’d have thought to bring up the oddity of the Neko cats on board, thinking there was something likely housed inside them. Drugs, she briefly thought, or more microchips, or it was the Alliance, they could be bugged or full of explosives for all they knew. That would all have to wait. They had a job to run.

“You need new shirts,” Cyd reminded, glad to change the subject to something, anything else. One more thing they didn’t account for while budgeting. “Job board said white shirts over black, black shoes. Event starts at 7, we’re there at 6 to set up. Not a lot of time. Let’s hit the shops for some button ups. We’ll need the money unless we want to get stranded. Then we go see the planet’s biggest cannon, maybe the pirate cove, like we planned.” Like we planned. Cyd thought, as she mentally practiced what she was going to say.

"Stranded beats getting caught up the stink that's gonna follow this boat and crew if they don't take issue with smeering someone, Fed or otherwise." Isaac reasoned, his attention back to finishing up his board. He gave one of the wheels a firm spin and watched as it went on turning, near silent, for well over a minute. "Baie mooi." He said, looking satisfied with the results.
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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Xandrya
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Xandrya Lone Wolf

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OOC: collaborative post with @sail3695

The scan showed the bullet hadn’t penetrated all that deep, thankfully, and Alana reassured Abby removing it would be a quick procedure. Though, from what she’d learn thus far about the young deckhand, Alana didn’t need to pile on the words of encouragement simply for the sake of it. Abby was brave, and she admired her for it. She helped Abby lie belly down for optimal comfortableness, as that’s where she’ll remain for the foreseeable future.

Abby’s layin’ in her least favored spot on any boat...the Doc’s exam table. Her right hip n’ cheek was hung out through an open square of them surgical sheets Alana set down. Things hurt pretty bad, but by far worst had come when she heard the doc cuttin’ off her jeans an’ unders tah git the fix started. Aunt Lupe tole me, she thought all remorseful like, ”never wear yer ‘goin’ tah town’ jeans afore touchdown.” Now, for her foolishness, weren’t just socks she was in need ‘o’ buyin’ this stopover.

“I’m going to administer a local anesthetic, get you nice and relaxed. The extraction will be quick, so I reckon you’ll be alright with that?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the girl answered. “Local? That mean jest somethin’ they use here on New Melbourne?”

She couldn't help but chuckle at the girl's comment. It'd honestly caught her off guard. "No, not at all; it just means you won't go night night before I pull the bullet out..." Her gaze shifted downward accompanied by a slight smile. "Unless you want to? It'd take you a bit longer for you to come to, so you'll be groggy and the likes but nothing some rest can't put a fix on."

Abby shrugged. “Long’s I’m numbed up down there, don’t rightly need tah be put under.”

"Alrighty love, I got you."

Things was warmin’ up well enough under these sheets, ‘cept fer where cool air raised goosebumps on her pi gu. Doc had give her a pillow; Abby tucked arms underneath of it an’ lay her head down. Afore now, she really had no idea of Alana. Met her once, then agin when she come seekin’ dramamine fer him what shot her.

She knew some docs. Ones worked on Mariposa over time was kinda straight up no nonsense types who jabbed needles an’ rushed stitches afore pushin’ her out with a handful ‘o’ pills. But Alana was...diff’rent. Somethin’ ‘bout her voice, an’ the way she touched Abby. Gentle...kind, she conjured. How I reckon a mother would.

For the remainder of the time, Alana worked in silence. Not because she didn't want to engage Abby, but she'd much rather let her simmer down some instead of forcing her into conversation. Alana prepped the gear to have it set up adjacent to her. She double checked to make sure she had what she needed before moving forward.

"This just be me giving you the anesthetic, hold tight," she whispered as to not catch the girl off guard. The minor discomfort from receiving the anesthesia was rather brief, something so quick it barely registered in the moment. Alana then put that down, momentarily waiting for an adverse reaction but thankfully there was none. You never knew with some people...given the job, she'd seen it all at her age. The lights were dimmed, Abby seemed to be alright, and Alana carried on. She shone the overhead light directly into the wound and took a closer look. "Huh..."

Them needles jabbed alright, but how Abby conjured t’was like pokin’ about the edges of a hornets’ nest...not even enough tah raise a flinch. But jest like the doc promised, sting began droppin’...like Penelope’s dialin’ a knob down on her console. Abby liked thinkin’ on it that way...picturin’ tha pilot, that grin bright as the deckhand’s hurt cycled right down tah zero.

Got all quiet in Medbay. Ever’ now and agin she heard a tool clink soft against the tray, or rustlin’ of Alana’s operatin’ gown when she moved. Abby got all relaxed...even took drowsy under tha dim light. Her mind wandered...past him what shot her. There’s jest too much happened last three days tah stick on that sumbitch. She thought on her new boat. It’s kinda weird, everything’ bein’ almost exactly like her home on Mariposa, but still jest a touch diff’rent.

Like a dream.

An’ tha folk. The Cap’n. Penelope. Hook. Ms. Baker...Marisol. Alana. It’s like someone give her a whole shelf of books all at once. New ways ‘tah talk...new ways tah think. Fer all her years, Uncle Bob an’ Aunt Lupe tole her ‘bout tha world she’s in...an’ that become her take on life. Now, layin’ here gettin’ a bullet yanked, Abby commenced tah wonderin’ about tha truth of things…

“Huh.” So caught up was she, that’n almost got by. Doc said “huh” same way Marisol did when she found somethin’ weird. Same way Cap’n did when he seen all them Lucky Cats…

“Huh?” Abby asked. “Yew say somethin’, Doc?”

"I did...because I saw something." Alana regretted her words instantly. She was thinking out loud again, despite her discovery not being all that grave. There was no use in hiding anything from Abby though as she'd gotten around to figuring out something was not all there, and she was right. "The bullet's lodged in there a little deeper than I originally thought. Nothing to worry about on your end, I simply have to be a little more careful, that's all." There was nothing but honesty in Alana's words, and she could only hope some form of reassurance was conveyed to the young girl. "I got you, Abby, you have my word."

“It’s ku,” the girl said. “Long’s tha bullet didn’t hit nothin’ important, it’s all shiny.” Had been moons since she’d looked over pitchers of a woman’s innards. Abby couldn’t conjure up anythin’ major down there…’cept fer mebbe one thing. She reckoned if the bullet did any harm tah that, the doc woulda tole her straight up. Shame tah conjure losin’ somethin’ afore she ever...Abby put it from her mind. Gittin’ way ahead ‘o’ yerself, girl.

Alana wiped her brow with her forearm, and she looked over the tray of instruments off to her left. A moment later she reached for her trusty pair of forceps, the very same one that had gotten her out of one too many binds in the past. Well, not so much her really, but her various patients. Alana let out a slow breath and went in. Her hand was steady, maybe from years of practice or maybe from the fact that despite not knowing Abby for all that long, she truly cared about her. Or in all honesty, a combination of both. As she guided the instrument down, she was met with some resistance. Yes, that would happen more often than not, unfortunately. Alana narrowed her eyes just the slightest. She was nearly there, though she wasn't deep enough just yet, or so she thought. Her eyes widened in surprise when she had the bullet within grasp. She held her breath and shifted the forceps to align with the bullet and a moment later, she had the intruder tightly grasped.

The extraction was successful, that much was evident when a clank interrupted the silence as the bullet landed on the tray. Next up was sewing her up, though that was the easy part.

"See, what did I tell you? Easy as pie."

Abby let out a happy sigh. “Didn’t hurt none,” she agreed, but she felt that tool reachin’ in deep, a feeling tah put a body right off. She looked over her shoulder. “Thanks fer gittin’ it outta me, Doc.” Worst part’s done, she reckoned. Now come the stitchin’. She settled in, her head down on the pillow.

Uncle Bob would talk ‘bout folk meetin’ up with their bullet. “These ain’t mine,” he tole her one time when he unloaded. “Each one’s got a name on it. Name of a man, Chick Pea. I jest carry if fer a spell...til I send it to its’ owner.”

So that’n had my name on it, she pondered. Should I keep it? Don’t much want to. Uncle Bob never had advice fer that. Mebbe, she thought as her eyes got heavy, if I do keep it…. Abby yawned, snuggled into the pillow. ...won’t come ‘round looking’ fer me no more…

Closing her on up didn't bring about any burdens. Alana was fast and efficient while she worked, just as she'd done so in the past many times before.

"Well that just about does it," she whispered, cutting the last bit of thread. She'd noticed Abby had gotten nice and comfortable, and she wouldn't wanna disturb that. "I suggest you stay here for a bit and rest, though it ain't required of you if you so wish to up and go. I can always grab some water for ya too, or anything else you may need. I don't have much going on out there either way."

“Wouldn’t mind,” Abby drowsed, “layin’ here fer a spell…thank yew, Alana.” She closed her eyes. “Yer so nice…” The girl went quiet, but for the sound of deep, even breathing.
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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by sail3695
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sail3695 If you do, I'ma do too.

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Joint post from @Aalakrys and @sail3695





Typically, ridin’ waves air and ocean alike had Penelope ridin’ a high long after she landed whatever bird she was pilotin’. But, there was somethin’ about flyin’ blind that had nothin’ to do with the weather leavin’ a sour taste on her gums. Likely the resultin’ wounded deckhand in the sickbay and the gun firin’ that caused it, not to mention the dead officer.

She was a pretty easy-going free spirit, Penelope. Didn’t mean she breezed off folk endin’ up dead, even if’n they were the ones startin’ the whole mess. She’d heard everythin’, thanks to Sam - or near ‘bouts everythin’ she needed to hear to know this whole run would label her an outlaw by association. Didn’t need the finer details - she might not have fired any guns, but she was the one pilotin’ the ship while the whole shindig went down. No matter which way ya looked at it, she was an accomplice.

That uncomfortable feelin’ she had when she’d first asked the captain on anythin’ else she needed to be awares of was now an itch. As she packed up her things for the planet-side visit, she figured that was likely why the captain stayed long as he did on the bridge with her - makin’ sure she didn’t go rogue with the ship. Mutual trust only went so far, after all.

With all her things tucked back away in her bag on her back, she started climbin’ the ladder, not sure if she’d be comin’ back down it. The idea of hitting the beach for some sea-shellin’ to clear her head was steering her, so she’d dressed appropriately in a pastel rainbow-striped sundress. The wide-brim sun hat with some flowers self-stitched in the side hung off her bare shoulders, resting against the top of her backpack. She’d pull that on once she were outdoors. First though, she wanted to go check on Abby.

Crossing through the galley and down the stairs to the medbay, Penelope peeked in to see if Abby was out. Gettin’ a bullet removed tended to do that to ya.

Most like it was the drugs, but Abby’s feelin’ right lazy.

Middle-‘o’-tha-black-an’-no-passengers-tah-fuss-over kinda lazy. She pondered if Cap’n might give ‘er the rest of today off tah lay about? If rumor held, they’s spendin’ a few days waitin’ on a cargo ‘o’ fresh fish. Passengers was all offloadin’ today, and none checkin’ in. She could afford to hold off cleanin’ rooms til tomorrow.

From the corner of her eye come a flash ‘o’ color what stood right out in the medbay. Penelope stepped in closer, pretty as all get out in some clothes what looked to float on air. Weren’t no way such a sight couldn’t lift a smile, even when her face was all knitted in worry. “Hey, Penelope,” Abby rolled up on her left side, “Where yah headin’?”

"Hey, Abbs." Seeing Abby lying there in the med bay all dazey-eyed had pulled at the more tenderhearted side of Penelope. She was glad to see her awake and obviously not in terrible pain, maybe for the drugs but it was the one case Penelope understood the use. After all, she came from a place that's was the legal supplier - and the illegal one, but that was another story. There here and now had Penelope moving to Abby's bedside, hand fallin' from a strap on her pack to brush back stray hairs across the patient's forehead. "Just headin' out to the shore. Ain't nothin' like a beach at the tail of storm. All sorts of treasures get washed up, and I aim to go huntin'."

She'd spoke gently, her delicate fussin' hand coming to rest just above Abby's shoulder on the bed, though that same contained excitement lit her eyes with a shine that turned soft once more ask she asked: "Want me to pick up somethin' for ya since the doc might not let ya go huntin' with me?"

It was a funny thing, listenin’ tah Penelope talkin’ ‘bout rovin’ a beach. Abby had seen a beach once afore. She remembered folk all around her, stripped down tah swimmin’ trunks and bikinis. And her, done up in her chinos an’ boots…’bout as outta place as a fish got washed up at her feet. She hadn’t thought on it since, but now? Mebbe she weren’t conjurin’ the place proper...like other things she’s learnin’.

The smile stuck to her face as she answered, “sounds mighty nice. Once Doc chases me outta here I git tah move intah a room. If yah find a shell looks nice, I’d be proud tah put it up with pitchers an’ such on the bulkheads.”

"A shell, hmm?" Penelope played the part to look as if she was considering. Her full grin was back though as she continued the bit. "Reckon there might be one or two of them I can find out there. I'll save the best one for your wall."

“Mayhaps next time I’ll be fit company tah go huntin’ with yah. Sounds like it could be a fine time,” Penelope’s kindness, an’ tha doc’s gentle way, lay in Abby’s heart like a warmth. She liked the Cap’n. The way he trusted her tah do her job an’ no lollygaggin’ made her feel proper growed up. But now, a friendly hand on her shoulder and kind words was somethin’ she ain’t known since Aunt Lupe passed. Uncle Bob loved her...she knew that. But after Lupe died he fell inta a bottle an’ never escaped til...well, that ain’t fit fer the moment. Point was, she conjured, that there’s other folk in the ‘verse...them of good hearts. Lookin’ on Penelope right now, Abby conjured she’d lucked inta meetin’ a few.

"Ain't nothin' like it." Penelope confirmed, the gave Abby's shoulder a rub. " You rest now and concentrate on healin' up so ya won't miss out."

She wouldn't yet say if she herself would be able to go a next time from the Doll yet, not till she had that talk with the captain, but that weren't a concern for Abby right yet. The girl did need to recover, and worryin' over findin' a pilot wasn't somethin' she needed on her plate in her current condition. She seemed the sort to do just that, so Penelope kept it to herself with the silent promise she'd at least keep good on bringing a shell by.

“Best orders I heard today,” the deckhand give a tired grin. “Thanks, Penelope.” Truth was, she could use a bit more shuteye. With a half wave, Abby rolled back onta her stomach...like Doc wanted...an’ snuggled inta her pillow.

"Welcome, Abbs. Sweet dreams, pilot's orders." Seeing Abby in a fair state of health had taken some of that mood off Penelope, but she knew not everything was square just yet. There was still the matter of talking with the captain. So, she thumbed both straps at her shoulders and headed towards the exit of the ship.
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Hidden 3 yrs ago 3 yrs ago Post by Aalakrys
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Aalakrys

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dǒng ma

JP between @wanderingwolf & @Aalakrys





“Fixin’ for some time in the sun, Freckles?” Cal called after the flowery pilot. He rose from the deck after loosing a crate from its constraints. With Abby down for who knew how long, the Captain had to get off his high horse and pick up the slack. With a lift of his hat, Strand coiled the cord around his elbow and thumb before approaching the woman.

The normal smile permanently stitched to the woman’s face was missing, replaced by a pensive expression. If he didn’t know any better he would have guessed she’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed, but he did; and it didn’t take no art of deduction to read what’d soured the pilot. The blood from the Fed and Abigail was wiped clean, but where they laid on the deck shined brighter than the rest. He could only imagine what she might be feeling about it, but that would require asking which would require talking about it and the less they talked about it the better it felt in his estimation.

Still, there seemed a spectral weight on the woman’s bare shoulders, so the Captain asked of his pilot, “How you holdin’ up?” eyes rising from the ground to glance at hers.

Hazel eyes lifted from the spot the captain’s had gone to just in time to meet his searching ones, leaving her assuming that spot was where it had happened. This was the first time Penelope’d ever been part of a murder, and likely that was what had her head in a bog. The question the captain asked hit the nail on the head. Her response wasn’t one she’d readied, but it’d come just as everything else did to her - fluidly, though her accented way of speaking had dropped as it had when first meeting Rex. “No amount of sunshine’ll make right being kept in the dark on this one, Cal. A man’s dead, and Abby could’ve been too, while I was flying the ship it happened on.”

The usual cheer in the her tone was absent, obviously, but she held his gaze as she’d spoken. There wasn’t accusation, or irritability. Perhaps a little bit of disappointment and sadness at the thought of people being hurt. She didn’t care about Alliance folk, not for all they’d done to her planet, but she didn’t like the idea of surprise gunfights that resulted in someone like Abby getting caught in the crossfire. Maybe if they’d known of the possibility, the danger, someone could’ve been on standby to protect her. It was a recurring thought in the reel that she kept waving away until she had sand under her feet, but here was the captain pressing play for her thoughts.

He watched her through steel eyes as she laid out what was on her mind. It wasn’t his first Fed, nor was it his first bullet-injured deckhand, but he could tell she felt a shadow of responsibility, “The verse can be a dangerous place, even for those just lookin’ to mind their own business. Reckon we saw first hand just how perilous.” Cal sighed, “You heard Sam clear as I did; we didn’t know who the Fed was, let alone whether it was a Fed what sent the wave. Weren’t no way of knowing how this’d turn out.”

Captain Strand set down the cord on a nearby crate and fished for his silver cigarette case. With a flip, the slender white, cylinder was lit, and Cal turned back to Penelope. “You were flyin’, sure, but that’s like expectin’ the finch to know where every hawk is on the horizon. All the finch can do is worry about the here and now, and let nature run its course.” Strand drew on his cigarette, careful to release plums of smoke away from Penelope.

Appreciative as she was of the smoke not being sent her way, Penelope sighed out a bit of her concern with a glance away, but her gloved palms felt the press of her bare fingers as her hands tightened around the straps at her shoulders. She looked back to him, not able to let one little piece go. It was important - morals and all. So, with her brow set and her eyes locked on him, she continued the anology. “This particular finch ain’t so worried about the danger of a hawk, but more so who she’s flyin’ with and where they’re takin’ the group. Ya ain’t one keen on sharin’ details.”

“It was a gamble to hope a backwoods forester like me wouldn’t drive the ship into a star to save our souls from heresy when Sam came online.” Her eyes glinted a bit as she gave example, amusement returning to her despite herself, relaxing her grip a bit as she gave a little shrug. “All I’m tryin’ to say is... when it comes to a job, I’d like to know I’m on one ‘fore I’m in the middle of it.”

“It’s all part of the job, and we’re simple folk. People pay for what needs ferryin’ off world and we oblige. Everyone gets their cut; pilot included.” Cal took a drag, watching Penelope, “Sometimes the Captain don’t know all the details, righteous foresters included, and sometimes it’s safer if it’s only him what knows them.” Strand leaned against the crate, scratching the back of his neck. Lowering his voice he went on, “You mighta heard the Fed threaten to shoot a passenger, and you mighta heard the same Fed say he was goin’ to take us all in. On top o’ that, you definitely heard the bullets start flyin’ when he shot Abigail.” He shook his head, “Anyone who comes for my crew gets what’s comin’ to them. Simple as that.”

"Tha's more than shiny," Penelope said after a brief moment of considering his words. She honestly didn't have a problem with those stipulations as they were, but… "S'long as I get a straight answer on if we are on a job, details not always necessary, suppose it'll stay that way."

She said the last bit in her usual breezy tone, giving a little nod with her head as she winked and added: "Cap'n." by way of a departing gesture. Though, before heading off to enjoy some turbulent winds on the beach, she did wait to see if he did the same in turn to show she wasn't tryin' to push weight.

Cal smiled at that, “S’long as you’re signed up, consider yourself ‘on the job,’ and paid to boot. How’s that for straight?” Seeing as Penelope looked to be on her way, Cal added, “Pilot,” with a wink back, and picked up the coiled cord again.

That pondering expression crossed the young woman’s features again as she lightly tapped the toe of a sandal against the metal grate she’d stood over. “Near-abouts anyone can fly the Doll, Cal. Ya know the difference of what I was meanin’.”

Again, it wasn’t a question, though her smile did return - albeit small. “Or this little finch gots more thinkin’ to do on that beach than she figured.”

“Whether I know the difference or not, Freckles, you and the whole gang will know when we get our next job.” He paused, maybe catching her meaning. Cal hired Penelope to fly to New Melbourne without telling her about the cargo they carried; hell, he’d tried to introduce her to Sam, but, well anyhow, she seemed to get on with it just fine. Now the argument could be made as to whether the pilot ought to be troubled with nought else but the sky, but Penelope had a head on her shoulders--a good one, too. Nodding, he affirmed his promise. There were plenty of pilots in the verse, but something told him he, Penelope, and the China Doll could strike an accord.

With that, Cal looked toward the stairs to follow Ms. Baker’s advice and squirrel Sam into a safer hole than in plain sight on the console. The avionics bay ought to do fine, he thought. Tipping his hat, Captain Strand added, “Enjoy the shore.”

"You know what they say after a storm like that passes?" The light of her smile returned to her eyes with the call back over her shoulder as she made way down the ramp. Lacking the gusto due to her natural disposition didn't curb the pirate flare in her spoken words delivered with a wink. "Thar be treasure."

Feeling all the ease in her breezy stride as anticipation of sand under her toes and wind in her hair, Penelope the pilot turned treasure-hunting, wild-wind seeking pirate when in the presence of the big blue. And she was off on another sort of adventure. But, with a departing glance up at the China Doll, her little smile wasn't a final one after all. She had plans set by a ship's departure. Though she loved the sea and her wind, there was reason the gal was a pilot rather than sailor - she was born to fly. And it seemed like she found a home doing just that after all.
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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Gunther
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Gunther Captain, Infantry (Retired)

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Collaboration with @sail3695

Word had made its way to the galley that Abby was out of surgery. Hook was curious to know how she was getting on. He let her sleep for a bit thinking she would need it. He didn’t know exactly what the doc had done to her, but worried nonetheless. AFter his chores were complete in the galley. The place was spic and span and everything had been put away, he headed down the steps to see ifhe could visit her.

Abby slept. Ever’ now an’ agin she’d open an eye at some sound or t’other. Usually, it’s the Doc, checkin’ in on her. Alana kept them lights down low, which come as a comfort.

Her mind, grogged out as it were, eventually come ‘round tah tha shootin’, All still seemed right strange tah her...nothin’ like what they showed on her cortex shows or books she’d read. She seen the gun...seen him wavin’ it. Only thing she really conjured was if’n she’da stayed down, ‘stead ‘o’ jumpin’ up when Ms. Baker...Marisol...pitched herself through tha bomb bay, she’d as like not be layin’ here with a bum fulla stitches an’ a bullet she’s keepin’.

Thing troubled her the most was that she wasn’t really troubled by it.

Sure’n there was luck wrote all over this. Bullet tah tha pi gu was scads better’n bein’ hit someplace else. All she conjured was bein’ knocked sideways afore the hornets set tah stingin’,

Joe Hooker made it to the infirmary and looked through the glass window. It appeared Abby was stirring. Even so, just in case she was sleeping, he slid the door open as quietly as he could, but then just before he entered the door, he wrapped his knuckles on the door and audibly spoke just above a whisper, “Knock knock.”

Just struck her weird. Mayhaps she’d feel different after a spell, when she’d had chance tah think on it. Come a knock on tha door frame, and a voice she knew. “Hook?” Abby rolled onto her left side, eyes playin’ toward her feet to get a look upon him. “Hook.” A sleep touched smile crossed her face. At sight of the cook, Abby lifted an arm, wavin’ him in fer a hug.

Joe smiled a white pearly smile through his full beard. He came inside and wrapped his arms around her. She was a very small young woman in his arms. Their embrace felt warm, then he backed off. “How ya doin? Miss Abby? I was all worried about you.” Joe was truly concerned about her welfare. He was happy to see her in good spirits. He wondered if she would be unconscious.

Her smile held at sight of the first friend she’d made on this crew. “Tolerable well,” the girl answered. “I’s jest thinkin’ if I’s gonna git shot, a shot in tha ass is ‘bout tha best place. Doc says I can roll outta here after a tad more rest.” Her smile faded a might. “Wanna say thank yew,” she offered. “We’s all drawin’ breath ‘cuz what yew an’ the Cap’n done.”

Joe did not want to comment on his part in that event. “Bah! I did nothin’,” Joe tried to silence it. He really felt uneasy about what he did. “I was shot once a long time ago. Doc took the bullet out like yours and ah mended up real quick. Sho the same fer yew too.” Joe smiled at Abby.

“The Captain and I are going to go fishin’ tonight. We are heading up to the lakes to get some Salmon. I’ll make sure to cook some up the next few days. I hope you enjoy seafood. I do and want to share some of the misses’ recipes. I have a book of recipes I copied from her’s years ago.”

”A missus,” she caught. “Hope I git tah meet yer missus someday,” Abby piped up. “If it’s her got yah so well heeled in tha galley, than we all owe her a debt. An’ yes,” her smile come back, “Ah love seafood. Only had it twice, but both times was memorable tah me. So…” she asked, “y’all fish at night? Ain’t never done it. Don’t ken the first thing on how it’s done proper.”

Joe let loose a boisterous laugh. With a wide toothy grin, “Tha missus was na mah wife, she was Missus McGinnis, the lady of the farm I grew up on. I loss mah parents before I had memory and the McGinnis family took me in. There was seven of us boys who lived on the farm with Mr. and Mrs. McGinnis, their son Walter and daughter Penelope. But yes, Mrs McGinnis taught me to cook. If she was around, I’m sure she would love to meet you.”

“Mrs. McGinnis was one of them sweet women who knew juss the right thing to say at juss the right time. She was a wonderful woman. I wanted to call her mom, but never did. It juss didn’t seem right. I would say, if anyone was created to be a mother, it was the missus. She was perfect at it. She had nine chillin’ to take care of and did a fine job of it.”

“Fishin’ at night is the same as fishin in the day. You juss do it in the dark.” Joe smiled at that, thinking it might sound a bit confusing.

She give a nod. “Been thinkin’ on tha fact there’s a whole ‘verse fulla what I ain’t never done. Growed up on another Firefly belonged tah my Uncle Bob an’ Aunt Lupe. Ma an’ Pa fought in tha war,” she explained. “I loved mah aunt an’ uncle, but these past few days I’m gettin’ a look at things need learnin’. Like fishin’,” she added. “Hope you’ll tell me all about it whan yah git back.”

“Will do.,” Hook responded to her query about the fishing. “Lots of good folk died in that terrible war. It took the missus and my brothers too. I don’ know what happened to Miss Penny or Mister Wally, but their folks didn’t make it outta that war.” Joe’s face went grim. He stared off into the distance thinking about the war. It seemed he couldn’t escape it. He tried the best he could to forget about it.

“If you go up into the galley later, there is some ice cream in the freezer. Go ahead and hep yerself to some if you like.” Hook offered the treat to her.

She seen the look. Weren’t much she claimed tah know ‘bout folk, but one thing she’d conjured right quick was the fact fer many talkin’ ‘bout that war was akin tah putin’ salt on a road rash. Best thing tah do was let tha moment pass right on by an’ wait fer somethin’ more agreeable tah come about. “Sounds nice,” Abby give her friend another smile. “I’m most like headed fer mah own bunk, but if I git hungry I’m sure doc would approve me doin’ some walkin’.”

“Ok, well you take care of yourself, Miss Abby. I need to take care of a few things before the Cap’n and I go fishin’,” Joe smiled at Abby. “Get some more rest.”

“I plan on bein’ good an’ hungry tomorrah,” she smiled warmly. “Y’all have fun.”

“Take care, Miss Abby,” Joe smiled, patted her shoulder and turned to leave the infirmary. He turned back at the door. “I’m happy to see you lookin’ better.”

“We got us a good doctor,” Abby replied as Joe excused himself. “Good people,” she conjured her fortune once again. “We got good people.”
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Hidden 3 yrs ago 3 yrs ago Post by MK Blitzen
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MK Blitzen Have Plot, Will Travel

Member Seen 10 mos ago

Workin’ For A Living Part 1

New Melbourne - Late Afternoon


OOC: JP between @Winters, @MK Blitzen and @Yule







Mathias could not get off that ship fast enough and not just because they were tight on time but also so no other random act of violence would burst out before their hasty exit! There wasn’t time to dwell or mull over the event further, they had work to do and in a way, it was a good thing. It helped him move past it all the faster. Still the further from the ship they got the better he started to feel.

Cyd felt better the moment she breathed in the salty air, even if it wasn’t the good ‘beachy’ kind. It was humid enough however to slightly curl her aqua hair into waves that cascaded down her back. She’d likely have to tie it in a braid for the job but for now, she could enjoy the sun and scent of the water - as soon as she checked in. The middle Skye tapped a few keys on her datapad and pointed them towards a row of shops where the boys could get new dress shirts.

Isaac dropped his board and hopped on as soon as they hit the pavement. The board barely rumbled as he glided alongside his siblings. The extra height finally making him every so slightly taller than his sister, a fact that sat well with the teen. His backpack slung off of his left shoulder, swayed lazily. Packing light was a way of life for the trio and Isaac made a point to pack up in the event they'd be leaving by some other means. "Always be ready with a contingency." It happened often enough that he was used to it by now. "So," he broke the ice as the three made their way towards the shops, "this gig...am I bussing again?" He asked with a hint of distaste for the chore in his tone.

“Sorry, Lo, someday, you’ll appreciate the fact that you look a few years younger than you are,“ Cyd said, ruffling his hair before the boy skated just out of reach.

"N aap in die moi he?" Mathias snickered. "You always have fun and you know, plus the perks … all the lekker sweets at the end!" He pointed out to his younger brother.

“Mathias, you're waiting tables. Salad, entre’, dessert, “ she said pointedly, “and I’m on cocktails, so at least one of us will get tips. Shop over there has button-ups. You take Lolo, I’ve got a call to make.”

Isaac grumbled but he couldn't be too annoyed. He didn't want to admit it but they were right. Sure, the work was hard, but some of the best perks were the free food back in the kitchen, especially at those high-end events. Best of all, you didn't have to put on fake smiles or anything to get it like what Mat and Cyd would have to while they worked. In the end, he had to confess, it wasn't that bad a gig. Plus, where else would people like them get to eat so fancy? Now if only he could get them to stop messing his hair, he thought as he pawed at his head trying to smooth out all back into place.

"Come on, you, let's grab a halfway decent shirt and be done with it," Mathias said, taking his turn to muss Isaac's hair as lead the way into the store. Siblings could be such bastards.
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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Yule
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Yule

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Workin’ For A Living Part 2

New Melbourne - Late Afternoon


OOC: JP between @Winters, @MK Blitzen and @Yule








Mathias hated clothes shopping, it being such a chore to him. He really didn't care about the style so long as the shirt was white, a button down and it fit for the event.

The shop wasn't big and the clothing was either packaged neatly on shelves or hanging on racks. The cashier was reading from a data pad and it was clear the place was not getting a ton of traffic today. The duo received a halfhearted grunt of a hello.

Mathias zeroed in on the shelf focusing on the plainest simplest look that just happened to also be the cheapest. He rifled through the stack trying to find his and Isaac's sizes. Mathias tried not to look like he was chewing on rotting lemons as he searched further and further down the stack of folded button down shirts.

Isaac looked at Mathias quizzically. "Why do you always do this?" He asked. "They aren't gonna be any different further down." He added with a roll of his eyes. "Me Medium, you Large." He said as he pulled the first two from the stack that matched those criteria. "See? Simple. Why are you always so picky?"

"Because they never put them in order and larges are never actually large and the mediums are either too big or too small. You have to check the numbers on the back." Mathias said, flipping one over to show the measurements printed on the back. "Otherwise you're looking like a ten year old wearing one of my shirts. Be my guest if that's the look you wanna go for." He prodded his brother. "If mine is too small it'll tear if I move the wrong way too fast. Remember Yu city on Shion? Not looking to repeat that."

Isaac snickered remembering the time Mathias's pants didn't fit quite right and tore at the seat. "You gave those rich old bitties quite a show." He laughed. "As I recall, you got some baie mooi tips that night. Just had to deal with a little grab ass." He teased with a grin.

"I am a human being! Not some slab of meat to be ogled and fondled by thirsty cougars!" Mathias with dramatic flair.

"Eh...tips are tips." Isaac shrugged nonchalantly and then smirked at his older brother. "So what's it gonna be," he asked, holding up two shirts for comparison, "barely enough to afford protein paste or fresh strawberries for a week?" He held the second shirt a bit higher and made suggestive looks.

Mathias gave his brother an oblique look. "Oh look! A medium that might just barely fit you. Only one I could find. Show off those budding biceps of yours, too bad we can't find one that fits better, oh noooo." He said in a deadpan tone, nabbing a more appropriate large for himself.

"Doos." Isaac said, hardly amused, as he snatched the button down from his brother's hand and marched to the nearest changing stall just to make sure it fit properly. Would Mathias be so petty as to "accidentally" grab a Small shirt and pass it off as a Medium just to watch Isaac suffer? Yes, Isaac reasoned, yes he would.

"Remember the potential tips!" Mathias called to his retreating brother.

Issac made a rude gesture before closing the stall to try on the shirt causing Mathias to laugh.

Cyd leaned her foot against the wall of the shop, taking care not to rest her shoulders against the bricks, briefly wondering if every temp worker in the verse had this hard of a time keeping themselves clean before a gig. She traded flirty eyes with a sailor passing by who returned the gesture, but work first, play later.

"We weren't on the ship that long were we?" Mathias teased his sister as he exited the shop. He was walking out in his crisp new white button down. Cyd chuckled stealing one more glance before falling in line with her brother.

Isaac followed close behind, tugging at some parts, scratching at others. "How come yours doesn't itch like mine does?" He complained to his older brother. "You're all like 'Oh, look at me, I'm so cool. I can wear a shirt straight out of the shop'" He mockingly imitated Mathias.

"And when you grow up big and tall you might be as cool as I am. Someday." Mathais said innocently as they trotted along.

Isaac opened his mouth to retort and then caught the insult. He closed it in a tight frown as he followed close behind, careful to remember not to tuck his board under his arm like he usually did. He didn't need an earful from Cyd about messing up his shirt in addition to dealing with his brother's stupid needling.

Cyd slung her bag over her shoulder, data pad in hand, “Ian Vanderhull is hosting the gala. Vanderhull is heir to the fish stick fortune, you know...the little minced mystery fish …” Cyd immediately had flashbacks to fish finger Fridays, images she managed to push down unlike the fish sticks, which usually came back up. “He’s throwing the gala for himself, the dopkaas, in honor of his 40th birthday. Prime mid-life-crisis time.”

Mathias shuddered at the mention of fish sticks. "I still have my doubts as to the authenticity of there being genuine fish in those fish sticks." He said scrunching his nose. "Well at least you know there won't be any fish sticks being served there." He laughed, rich assholes never eat their own crappy product.

"What's wrong with fish sticks?" Isaac grumbled at his siblings disparaging his beloved childhood snack. "I always got extra!" He added beaming with pride.

"Those were ours, we slid them on your plate trash can." Mathias reminded.

"Still extra!" The younger Skye pointed out, totally undaunted.

“All right,” Cyd said when they got to the gates, practicing her non-accent accent. She straightened her blouse and gave her brothers a last once over, giving a look of disapproval to her younger sib. “Gum.”

"Busted." Mathias said quietly to no one in particular.

"Yeah, so glad it wasn't me this time." Isaac grinned as he waited for his brother to give up his contraband.

"A little sympathy? Hm?" Mathias said locating a trash bin to spit into. "Arrite … time to pretend to be educated rich folk." He said, clearing his throat. These parties were so stuffy you could suffocate in them and walking around sporting any kind of accent would get you 'the look'. So it was easier to drop it for something a bit more universal sounding.

“That’s the plan,” Cyd said, pressing the buzzer to be let in. Part of it, anyway.
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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Winters
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Winters

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Workin’ For A Living Part 3 - Early Evening

New Melbourne


OOC: JP between @Winters, @MK Blitzen and @Yule








The trio reported, like the job ticket stated to Ms. Gershwitz, an imposing looking woman with short cropped hair and deep set brown eyes furrowed just enough to portray she wasn’t looking for any shenanigans. The Skyes along with about a dozen other temps like them were quickly put to work setting up tables for the soon-to-be arriving guests.

“Forks on the left, salad, dinner, fish, on the right it’s knife, weird knife, spoon and water glass,” Cyd reminded Isaac under her breath. She should have made a chart and had him study.

"I know!" Isaac hissed at his sister as he placed the flatware on the table, copying one of the other workers but trying his best to not make it look obvious. The last thing he needed was for Cyd to know he had forgotten. He'd never hear the end of it.

"You two, don't dawdle." Ms. Gershwitz instructed in a very crisp tone while snapping her fingers at Cyd and Isaac. She didn't seem the type that tolerated dawdling. Worse still, she did, however, seem the type that might watch them like a hawk all evening. A fact that neither sibling particularly relished. Every time the woman's severe eyes fell fell upon Cyd's aqua hair, one thing was certain...she did not like it.

Isaac gave a small curl of his lip to his sister that simultaneously said both "Nyah" but also "Get lost!" They didn't want to spend the entire evening under the withering gaze of the Eye of Gershwitz. He continued busying himself with the place settings of this and then the next banquet table.

Should have gotten a wig for Cyd. Mathias chided to himself. Isaac wasn't helping with the sour faces he was making. "Excuses Ms. Gershwitz I'm noticing my layout is a bit off. I know it's supposed to be a thumb space from the edge but … uh … I got big hands." Mathias said, pointing out the predicament. Hopefully with a different bone to chew Cyd and Sourpuss face could rocket through and keep under the radar.

“You do indeed, “ Gershwitz said with a smile. “Here, let me help.”

Cyd tried not to laugh at her brother’s expense. She made small talk with a few other temps hired for the event, avoiding Gershwitz at all costs.

Ms. Gershwitz leaned in close to utensils … and Mathias. Oh when plans go much further then it should. When the forks and knives were fixed she had given him a pat on the shoulder that lingered a little too long then what someone might consider appropriate. Either this was going to work really well for them or backfire spectacularly. The night was young!

Isaac's annoyance at his sister soon evaporated as he watched his brother be …"mentored"...by the cougar. It seemed everyone has their weakness and Madam Librarian's weakness was "big hands". The teen bit his lip hard trying to maintain his composure. Then he heard it. He managed to be allowed to hold onto his earbuds, feigning a disability and explaining how they helped him to hear. While the former wasn't true, the latter most certainly was. The sound of six bright, unique beeps being entered on an access panel chirped happily in his earpiece. The panel in question was connected to a door at the far end of the room that led to Master Ian Vanderhull's study. Isaac noticed a rather sizeable guard pulling a key card from a slot in the access panel where the code has been entered and the lock on the door disengaged with a click. The guard stepped through and the door closed behind him, giving another click as the lock re-engaged. As he set the next place setting, he briefly tapped out "G-E-T C-R-D" with the butt end of the flatware as he placed them. He repeated it with the next place setting and glanced to his siblings to see if his message had been received by either of them.

Mathias thrummed his fingers on the on the table as Ms. Gerswitch fixed Mathias' collar that definitely did not need fixing! "O-N-I-T"
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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by MK Blitzen
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MK Blitzen Have Plot, Will Travel

Member Seen 10 mos ago

Workin’ For A Living Part 4 - Early Evening

New Melbourne


OOC: JP between @Winters, @MK Blitzen and @Yule








This was an old song and dance. Mathias made his escape from the woman's claws, work still needed doing and there were so many because she could use them to keep him in one place. Mathias lifted some extra chairs to move them to the next room. He struggled with the door and the security guard nearby moved to help. Mathias nearly lost his grip on the stack of chairs and the guard put a hand out to help steady the stack. "Thanks, it's getting kind of crazy ain't it!" He said with a bashful smile.

"Tell me about it!" The guard agreed as Mathis shimmied through the door.

Cyd made eye contact with Isaac and dipped her head slightly in recognition. Just before seven, she made a visit to the washroom, which was easily double the size of the cabin they shared back on the China Doll, and without a shower or tub would be considered a half bath, despite its size. In the full-length mirror, she swabbed another coat of lipstick and spilled her hair free from its ponytail. If Gerswhitz had a comment, she’d say the elastic broke - nothing was built to last anymore. As a final touch, she dabbed an extra bit of Bluebell… or at least, a Bluebell knock-off on her fingertips before running them through her loose hair. Her belongings were returned to her small hip bag, and leaving the room, she scanned for her mark.

Ian Vanderhull was apparently nursing his midlife crisis by making sure there were plenty of attractive women to fawn over him… or rather… his money. It wasn’t that he was unattractive per se, it was more a case of the more you listened to him, the less attractive he seemed.

Still, she had a job to do and as for Ian, he needed a drink.

“I believe there will be a toast soon, Mr. Vanderhull?” Cyd said, sidling up beside him with a tray of champagne flutes and one tumbler. “For your birthday, that is.” She wasn’t sure if that was fact or fiction, but she needed him to take a glass. “Unless you prefer something else? The bartender said Jack on the Rocks was your drink of choice?” She held the tray out to him as his gaggle of gold-diggers grabbed at the glasses. The area reeked of Jasmine, the fishmongers ‘favorite scent.’ It was enough to make anyone’s eyes water. She’d done her homework but didn’t want it to look like she’d done homework, obviously, these women stopped at page one. Two of his admirers put the champagne back claiming they’d like the same thing because giggle-giggle surprise, it was their favorite drink too! Nauseating. Fishsticks gave Cyd a wry grin and took one of each. Cyd sent a look back, the same one she’d use if someone pulled up in a really flashy car or knew one of her favorite DJs, something that conveyed how impressed she was even though he literally just removed two drinks from a tray and nothing else.

“Hey, Blue, Is that your real hair color?” He teased, using an inspired pet name as she spun to walk off.

Cyd smiled back, making sure he saw her check him out. “Only one way to be sure,” she shrugged, playing with the black lace choker around her neck.

“About that Jack and Coke,” one of the gaggle said in an irritated tone.

“Bar’s that way,” Cyd let her know, eyeing Fishsticks one more time. Fishsticks made a show of downing his Jack on ice as Cyd turned, catching Isaac’s eye.

Isaac moved in so smoothly, one might have thought he snuck his board with his whisper-quiet lekker trucks into the soiree. He wove through the crowd of hangers-on, flashing an oversized smile and giving an obsequious nod to each as he collected their drained flutes onto his empty tray. He worked the crowd with his overly sweet deference as he made his way to his target. Rich folk loved being doted on by "the help" and he must have been playing them upright, what with the complimentary murmurs about "how wonderful the service is this year". Isaac sidled up to the man of the hour just as Master His Lordship Baton von Vanderhull was finishing gulping down his mixed drink while eye humping the teen's sister. The tumbler was a brilliant move on Cyd's part. It helped to make it stand out on the tray that was quickly filling with flutes. He'd have to make a point to thank her later.

"Sir?" Isaac saved his brightest most servile smile for the guest of honor as he gently poked his tray forward for Mr. Vanderhull to relieve himself of his now empty glass. The young man's voice managed to draw Vanderhull's attention away from Cyd just long enough to turn and nearly elbow into the flutes that were already on the tray were it not for Isaac's fast reflexes pulling it back just enough to dodge the oaf's errant limb. He gave a nod and maintained his fawning smile as if to say "Completely my fault entirely, m'lord, I'm sure!" Vanderhull took in the teen's appearance, his almond eyes and mocha skin juxtaposed by his sandy hair, and snidely quipped "Didn't know they came in blonde" before looking to his little coterie who immediately laughed at his little joke at Isaac's expense. Awesome. A racist. he thought to himself as he feigned a laugh along with the others and added "Only one way to find out for sure" just loud enough for Vanderhull to hear as he gave a sly smirk, turned on his heels and slipped away, leaving Vanderhull choking from the embarrassing proposition.

The younger Skye scanned the room until he found his older brother coming back into the room from the main doors. He worked his way through the crowd to intercept Mathias.

Mathias smiled, patting Isaac on the shoulder. “Let me switch that out for you.” He offered, relieving his little brother of the tray full of empty flutes while handing him a fresh, empty tray. “Don’t forget to smile! If your face ain’t hurting you're not smiling enough.” He joked.

"Pip pip! Tut Tut, your Grace!" Isaac said with the stiffest upper lip he could muster. "I'll be back for that refill." He added, smiling at his brother before wading back into the throng of snooty revelers.

Mathias chuckled, weaving through the crowd and delivering the tray at the bar. He nabbed a bar towel to wipe his hands and headed to the bathroom. With all the flutes on the serving tray, it was next to impossible to notice the small little gap where the tumbler had once been.
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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Yule
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Yule

Member Seen 2 yrs ago

Workin’ For A Living Part 5 - Early Evening

New Melbourne


OOC: JP between @Winters, @MK Blitzen and @Yule








The next part was easy but he had to work quickly. You never know when working a gig when someone might notice the tall redhead is missing for too long. The bathroom for the ‘help’ was still pretty nice and clean and plenty of space for him to work in. Just to be safe he cracked the window, so the fumes that would be produced would dissipate faster.

Everything in his pockets were of some genuine use, glue, strips of tape, bandaids and a lighter. Working with practiced ease he used a tape strip to lift the thumb print off the tumbler, next Mathias wiggled a ring off his finger. It was a trick ring any aspiring street machine could get, he tugged it to expand it some. Next after putting the ring on the tape with the print in the center he took some of his liquid glue and filled the ring to begin making a print mold.

Now for the tricky part, it needed to be heated. There had been a lot of trial and error getting this part right, and more than once a fire being set while practicing this. Mathias stood by the window, one side of the tape in his teeth the other in his left hand keeping it taut while he held the lighter underneath making circular motions with his right hand. To close and fire, to far and … well … nothing. It would still be a goopy mess.

He hummed a little tune as he saw the glue slowly turn opaque. He played back down on the small counter and checked to see if it was firm enough before popping it out for inspection. He held up the rubbery disk to the light. There it was. Lord Fishsticks thumbprint, the virtual keys to the kingdom.

Now to deliver it to his sister. Mathias scooped up his tools putting it back in his pocket, flushed the toilet, ran the water to wash his hands and headed back out to the party floor.

Cyd pocketed another few credits when she spotted her twin. Glancing at her watch she could see that they were just slightly off schedule. She moved to the next table to take their drink orders when she grazed a passing Mathias with her elbow.

“Oh don’t forget to grab something to eat.” Mathias reminded her in passing, smoothly picking up an empty tray as the workers started to rotate out for their own time to eat.

The Aqua-haired girl didn’t need to look - Mathias had made the drop.

The event was going smoothly. Cyd made decent tips, Isaac was keeping the tables clear, and Mathias had put some of the little hot dogs Isaac liked so much aside for his brother. There did end up being a toast to Vanderhull, and the middle Skye had been off and on flirting with the man for the majority of the evening. With the guests all seated and served, Mathias taking care of his tables, and Isaac taking over on drink duty, hah, duty, Cyd retreated into the house. She checked for staff, most of the security would be outside with the Fishstick king, but if anyone stopped her, she had a back up plan. Luckily that wasn’t the case, and thanks to Mathias, she easily slipped into Vanderhull’s office and put her hands free earbud and mic in place. Even his office was pretentious. A tufted leather chair behind a mahogany desk, and at least four monitors. “Fishsticks, you loerder” she giggled under her breath as she set up her Data. A few keystrokes and she was asked for a thumbprint to access the security system cameras, which she easily provided. “Let’s roll back a bit, take me out of the picture here, and… let’s see what we can do.” Figuring the password was the easy part. A simple script tried random combinations, and Vanderhull wasn’t the type to make it too secure. She rolled her eyes when it turned out to be his middle name and the year of his birth backwards. No sense in letting an opportunity go to waste, she decided to tiptoe around in his files as she waited for her brothers to come online.

Mathias ran his fingers through his hair as guests absently loaded him down with their empty drinks. He hummed tunelessly. Just loud enough for Cyd to know he was online.

Isaac gave two short coughs and a touch to his TV totemple signifying he was online and assuming Cyd could see her via the monitors. He wished he could see himself at that moment. He'd seen that move in a spy action movie he watched not too long ago and was positive he pulled it off perfectly and looked awesome.

Mathias gave his brother a dry look that screamed 'REALLY?' and shook his head at his little brothers antics.

The younger Skye met his brother's gaze and traced his own to the rather large guard in front of the door he needed to get through, the same guard Mathias had the good fortune of 'running into' a little while earlier.

"I think our brother is a potato in disguise." Mathias muttered quietly.

The hacker’s eyes scanned the monitors with the actual feed from the cameras, as all other locations would get more of a static loop. ‘We’ve got twenty-three minutes until the system resets itself,” Cyd warned them. “That’s when the camera system resets and I’ll only have a brief window to get it back offline before you’re seen.” Now wasn’t the time for joking around - they had work to do. “Let me know if you need me to send a distraction for security. I’m in the system.”

"Chop chop little brother …" Mathias hummed, exchanging a full tray for an empty one at the bar. The upshot of this kind of event is the ridiculous amount of alcohol these kind of people consumed.
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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Winters
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Winters

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Workin’ For A Living Part 6 - Early Evening

New Melbourne


OOC: JP between @Winters, @MK Blitzen and @Yule








Isaac worked his way over to the locked door on the far side of the room. Cyd's timeline was spot on. With the main course served, the staff got a bit of a reprieve, having only to only tend to the guests every few minutes or so. Hell, even security was using this downtime for bathroom breaks and the ones still at their posts stealing the occasional quick bite. The window was small, but it was doable. Isaac was in position as he waited for Mathias to draw the large man's attention.

Mathias put together a drink and a small plate of appetizers. He walked up to the guard whispering discreetly, pointng to the kitchen door as he passed the guard the plate and whiskey. Gig workers were always buttering up security and staff so this was far from unusual. Plus Mathis has the forethought to set up a little chair just inside the kitchen door for him to discreetly enjoy a few things that would traditionally be way above his pay grade.

The man smiled quietly, thanked Mathis and sauntered off with a smile to enjoy the delicacies.

All too easy.

“Nineteen minutes,” Cyd reminded them over the coms.

As soon as the guard was off, Isaac made his move. He popped the security card out of his pocket that his older brother slipped into it earlier. The guard hadn't even noticed it missing when he helped Mathias with those chairs. The younger Skye slid the key card in and, working from memory, played the notes of the key code on the pad as the lock disengaged. The teen slipped inside, leaving the key card still in the slot. He noticed the doors were unusually thick but slid effortlessly on perfectly balanced hinges. If the room Cyd was in was all show, this room was all business. It was a respectably adorned, albeit rather muted. This was where all the transactions Vanderhull didn't want folks to know about were conducted, Isaac was sure of it. "Just like the crime shows" he whispered to himself in awe, respecting the man's commitment to the part. If the doors were any indication, there was likely soundproofing, maybe the whole room was blast proof. A panic room maybe? All he knew was it was all pretty ongelooflik.

"Seventeen." Cyd's tone was firm yet even and was just enough to snap Isaac back to reality. He scanned the room. The bookcase was exactly where the floorplan said it would be. He knelt down and ran his hand along the kickboard until he found a small protrusion. The intel was good. He pressed it freeing the bookshelf to turn out into the room on a hinge exposing a wall safe.

"Bingo" he whispered.

Cyd kept an eye on her brothers, as well as the clock, tapping in a code to disable the silent alarm that would have alerted Vanderhull or his men by Datapad. “Sixteen. No pressure, Lolo. Gershwitz is in the kitchen, Mathias - you’re clear.”

Mathias offered to load up the empty boxes on a cart for the bartenders. Drunk party goers were happy party goers and the whole thing just helped him look like a go getter. Best part, so long as it was carted out of sight, say around the hallway, no one would really care. Given how crazy things could go it could be easily dismissed as the help forgetting it or some shit.

Isaac adjusted the frequency on his earphones as he prepared to crack the safe. The particular model, a Jensen SP-15, was a bit older but an industry workhorse as safes go. He was only going to get one shot at this. Any mistake and the safe would activate the spring loaded deadbolts. After that, only a Jensen representative or a jackhammer were getting in. There was talk in circles about ex-employees leaking the method to disable the failsafe but it, by design, took time. Time he didn't have. So no screw ups, Isaac thought to himself. He rubbed his fingertips and hesitated for just a moment, wishing he had some sandpaper for them like on his shows. With one hand, he applied steady pressure to the release handle as he slowly rotated the safe's dial to the left, only stopping when he heard the faintest sounds of metal on metal.

"One down" he whispered.

“Fourteen minutes,” Cyd counted, her eyes scanning all of the feeds. All of the cameras were still clear, the feedback loops were still displayed. She took a quick glance at the tables, all was going well at the dinner party, so as Isaac worked, she worked, scrubbing any trace of the three of them from the recorded footage.

"You know, you constantly telling me how much time is left? Great for my nerves." Isaac griped at his sister. He took his fingers off the dial for a moment and drew in a few slow deep breaths to steady himself before returning to his task.

“How about … you have one minute less than before and not a lot of minutes left?” Mathias offered quietly.

“You rather I wait until there’s zero time and let you--” Cyd stopped mid sentence when she heard the giggling from the otherside of the door, followed by the jiggling of the handle. “Fok,” she swore under her breath, quickly grabbing her datapad. “Come on….” She pressed the power button to hard shut down Vanderhull’s computer and dove under the desk, just as the door opened.
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Hidden 3 yrs ago 3 yrs ago Post by MK Blitzen
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MK Blitzen Have Plot, Will Travel

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Workin’ For A Living Part 7 - Early Evening

New Melbourne


OOC: JP between @Winters, @MK Blitzen and @Yule







“This is where the magic happens?” A female voice giggled.

“It will tonight,” he chuckled back as she let out a yelp of delight at whatever move he just pulled. Cyd leaned her head back. Trapped like a fokkin’ rat.

Isaac moved to rest his hand back on the dial and continue working when his sister's sudden change in circumstance caused him to flinch, barely grazing it. He held his breath as he looked at the dial wide-eyed. Still on 23, he hadn't botched it. He gave a long sigh of relief and kept his hands off of it until he could shake off the tension. But that would have to wait as he realized Cyd wasn't alone in her part of the house. He quickly tapped on the bone-conducting mic "S-I-T-R-E-P".

“Focus on your job.” Mathias reminded Isaac quietly.

“T-R-A-P-D”, Cyd tapped back. “F-S-H-T-C-K A-N-D G-R-L.” Well, she lamented, Upside is this probably won’t take long. The downside was that Mathias and Issac no longer had eyes on their side.

“Can you give me a description? You remember what table she’s from?” Mathias asked and he excused himself to run to the bathroom. At least then he could talk more freely and not sound like a muttering loon.

Cyd let out a slow breath as silently as possible. She had no visual from beneath the desk, so from her voice, she tried to place the woman. More giggling, then a playful yelp from the woman. Come on, Cyd, think, she chided herself.

“I remember the last time I was in here,” the woman said in a teasing voice.

“Oh, yeah?” He asked, as she dissolved into another fit of giggles. Clothes were definitely hitting the floor.

Bay Breeze, she ordered a bay breeze, “T-B-L-E S-V-N,” Cyd tapped out. “L-M-N D-R-E-S-S, B-R-N H-A-I-R”

Mathias moved at a trot to the table chart in the kitchen looking over the names and seating. He tapped table seven on the wall thinking. “Hold tight.” He assured her as walking to the bar. Mathias nabbed two flutes with champagne. Weaving around tables and people he found his mark on table 7.

“Mr. Pierce?” Mathias said calm and pleasant.

“Yes?” He asked, breaking away from his conversation. He was an older man, greying he wasn’t either unpleasant or over pleasant.

“Your wife? Mimi? Ask to see you, privately in the office.” Mathias stated quietly.

“Oh?” The gentlemen blinked, clearly not quite understanding.

“And to bring some champagne,” Mathias said less than subtly holding out the two flutes. Apparently, the guy was thick to boot.

‘“Oh!” Mr. Pierce said realization dawning on him. “Thank you, my good man.” He beamed and sauntered off with the champagne.

“Incoming …” Mathias whispered to his sister.

“S-H-O-T” she tapped back, waiting patiently. The anxious feeling in the pit of her stomach returned briefly as it became apparent the desk she was under was their horizontal surface of choice. The worry of getting caught suddenly intensified.

Isaac knew he didn't have a whole lot of time with the unplanned entertainment Mathias just sent Cyd's way. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He opened them, laser-focused on his target. He blocked out the chatter in his earpiece and listened only for the sound of the gently rubbing gears turning just millimeters away inside of the steel safe door. He heard the telltale brief silence, the metal touching again, and the change in pressure on the door handle.

"That's two." He whispered into his comm.

“Mimi,” a male’s voice called in a sing-song voice. The office door swung open. “I got your… What the fuck!?”

Mimi’s being caught in the literal act quelled Cyd’s fear of the same, and it was obvious her less-than-significant other was less-than-significantly happy. Please don’t instigate a threesome, Cyd silently wished.

“You son-of-a-bitch!” The male voice roared. The desk Cyd was under rumbled as the jilted man went after a half-naked Vanderhull.

“Jon!” The woman yelled as the desk rocked again. Cyd’s eyes flicked left to right as she tried to ascertain when would be the best time to make an exit. Someone got hit - her money was on Fishsticks, but Fishsticks was fighting back. It was hard to tell who Mimi was trying to help, but she threw herself in the mix.

The middle Skye cringed as she listened to the fight at hand. At least this time, no one seemed to be pulling a gun. “Put your damn dress back on!” Jon spat, throwing what had looked like an expensive party dress at Mimi. Fishstick took advantage of the distraction, and with what was supposed to be a guttural roar, tackled Jon into the desk. Vanderhull’s laptop crashed to the ground. Cyd squished into a tighter ball as she saw the tail end and legs of Jon hit the floor. Obscenities flowed from all of them, and apparently, Fishsticks made a break for it to find security, Jon and a now sobbing Mimi hot on his heels.
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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Yule
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Yule

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Workin’ For A Living Part 8 - Early Evening

New Melbourne


OOC: JP between @Winters, @MK Blitzen and @Yule








Isaac could hear that the 'distraction' (Gorram it, Mat) was getting out of control and redoubled his efforts. The fight had spilled out onto the main hall. Even without the earpiece, even despite the considerable soundproofing in his room, he could hear the commotion outside of the door. He chewed his lip, turning the dial agonizingly slow for his liking given the current situation. This was it. Home stretch. If he hurried and screwed this up now, all the planning, everything, would have been for nothing. Suddenly, the resistance on the handle vanished. As it gave way and the teen almost yelped in alarm.

"That's three!" He whispered urgently into his mic.

“Four minutes,” Cyd whispered back, checking her datapad. “Do you have it?” Gingerly, she peered out from behind the desk. Vanderhull’s tuxedo pants lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, and Cyd tried not to giggle, picturing the man running out in his broekies.

It became quite a stir when Fishstick ran in damn near streaking in his boxer, followed by jilted husband raging and streaming obscenities hot on his tail and the Mimi behind him sobbing loudly. It was a hell of a sight as everything ground to halt.

Fishstick crashed spectacularly into another person, given he was in socks and the wood floor had been polished to a mirror shine. Jon, the jilted husband wasted no time and soon enough the two men were rolling around knocking a few other people down and they throated like a pair of lame school boys on the ground. This left mini sobbing for them to stop, unable to do much of anything.

Security was a bit slow to react as they, Mathias and a few other waiters came in to break up the fight and help the party goers who had fallen over back up. Mathias along with one of the security guards managed to detangle Jon from Fishstick. The guards grip on Jon had been tenuous and Jon, still furious, lunged at Fishsticks again. Mathias held on in spite of his thrashing and shoving which unfortunately got him an eye full of elbow for his effort.

The safe door swung open to reveal a rather sizeable black velvet bag sitting in the middle of the otherwise empty safe. The ruckus outside sounded like it was hitting a fever pitch and Isaac even heard his brother's voice among the ones grunting and shouting. He grabbed the bag and couldn't help but noticed how light it was for its size. "Got it." He triumphantly whispered into his mic. Closing and locking the safe, he pulled his pocket square and quickly wiped down the areas he had touched on the safe door and bookshelf before sliding it back. The bookshelf have a gentle click when it fell to rest in its original position. He made his way to the door but before opening it, he stopped and unzipped his pants, pulling a small bit of his shirt tail through the opening. "Ready to go." Isaac said to his siblings over the mic, signifying he was in position.

Finally with the two men separated Mathias was left with a torn suit jacket and nursing a growing shiner. He leaned next to the security door taking off his jacket to inspect the rip. Security had their hands full and all eyes were still on the shouting men. ‘N-O-W’ Mathias tapped on his mic as if he were inspecting his tender eye.

Isaac tucked the bag under his arm inside of his jacket and, using his pocket square, grabbed the door handle and opened it ever so slightly. Seeing Mathias's back acting as a physical blinder, the younger Skye has one of those rare moments where he appreciated how much shorter he was than his older brother. He slipped out and gently closed the door behind him. "Your jacket." Isaac tsked with disapproval as he tugged at the top of the sleeve where it had torn free. "Give it to me." He scolded Mathias. "I'll need to fix that."

Cyd scurried out from her hiding place when the coast was clear, slipping her data pad back into her bag. “Reset,” she told her brothers. By then guests and patrons were milling around uncomfortably, talking in hushed murmurs, skinner about what happened between Fishsticks and Mimi. A security guard handed Vanderhull his tuxedo pants, but like a petulant child, the minced fish mogul tossed them aside as a gaggle of women offered to console the man. Cyd gathered a cloth napkin full of ice, and standing on her tiptoes she pretended to scan the crowd until she found her kin. “For your eye,” she offered, checking their surroundings. “Bekkie, 9:00.”

“Haven't I taken enough hits today.” Mathias sighed, pressing the ice to his swelling eye as Ms. Gershwitz trotted up to the trio.

“Oh you poor thing!” Ms. Gershwitz cooed, inspecting Mathias' face. She shot Isaac a look and an arched eyebrow, she cleared her throat for emphasis shooting a look at his pants.

Isaac gave her a confused look, following her gaze down before gasping in embarrassment as he fumbled to zip his pants. "Bathroom break." He said with a sheepish grin which was met with a stern ‘Hmm’ from Ms. Gershwitz, who had now latched on quite firmly to Mathias's arm.

"No matter," she said in an uncharacteristically forgiving tone, "it would seem the festivities are ending early again this year and to think we almost made it to dessert this time." She sighed wistfully. "Come, you've been through quite enough" she said, presumably to all three of them but keeping her eyes firmly on Mathias when she did. "We'll get you settled up and...maybe something a little extra for your trouble." She added with a small devilish smirk that quickly vanished whenever she looked at anyone who wasn't Mathias.

Cyd kept her head down, her eyes away from Gershwitz’s gaze as she followed behind her brothers. They were almost home free.

Gershwitz paid each of them their own separate credits, and as promised, Mathias - did get a hefty bonus, right after he agreed to sign a waiver saying he wouldn’t sue for getting injured on the premises. He even managed to up that when he balked at signing, saying he was having trouble reading the agreement, what with his eye so swelled up. Gershwitz also offered them a dozen or so coupons for free fishstick boxes, which Isaac, of course, would think was lekker. Between that, their pay for the day, her tips, and of course, Isaac’s score, they made out, Cyd snickered inwardly, like literal bandits.
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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Winters
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Winters

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Workin’ For A Living Part 9 - Evening

New Melbourne


OOC: JP between @Winters, @MK Blitzen and @Yule








Once a safe distance away, Cyd untucked her shirt and tied it around her waist. “So? Izzit kief, or did the mountain give birth to a mouse?”

Isaac unwrapped their prize from the swaddled layers of his brother's jacket. He untied and pulled open the drawstring and looked inside. "Die fokk??" was all he could manage. Worth a look of confusion firmly etched on his face, he passed the bag over to his sister.

“This is it?” she asked, curling her lip. She pulled it out of the velvet bag to reveal a fake fish on an equally fake 'wooden' trophy board. “We risked life, limb and Mathias’ virtue for plastic?” She flipped the ‘piece’ over to see if there were anything more intriguing on the far side. “Maybe there’s something inside it? Like those cats on the China Doll.”

When Cyd flipped it back to the front side, Isaac read the name aloud on the little plaque underneath the the hideous thing. "Crooning Carp Carl." He said matter-of-factly I'm the hopes that his understanding tone would make it all magically make sense. It didn't work. He looked back up at his siblings no less confused than before.

“Don’t scratch a lion’s balls with a short stick. Job’s a job. We get paid for the delivery … no matter how weird it is. Damn rich folk …” Mathias said, shaking his head at the stupid fake looking fish on a plaque.

“Let’s get ‘er packed and posted,” Cyd offered. “Then I can send the tracking info and we’re good.”

Isaac hung his head in disappointment and jammed his hands into his pockets. "A stupid gorram fish."

“Carp.” Mathias corrected.

"A stupid gorram carp." Isaac amended his gripe.

“It sings,” Cyd said optimistically. “You know how collectors are with this stuff from Earth that was.”

"Sings?" Isaac scrunched his nose at his sister's suggestion. "How can you tell?"

“It’s called Crooning Carp Carl, isn’t it?” She asked in response. “So… it croons.”

Isaac gave a noncommittal shrug. "Thought that was something like crowing. Makes about as much sense as singing." The enlightenment regarding the difference between the two did little to improve his mood. "Rich folk are weird."

“Does it matter? It could be a jewel encrusted turd, some bendan paid to have it stolen.” Mathias pointed out. “So long as we get our share.”

Cyd purchased a mailer, and affixed the preprinted tag. Isaac made a goofy face that she cropped out when she took a photo for proof and then gently dropped it into the postbox. “Lekker job,” she complimented her brothers. She typed quickly on the datapad, sending off the encrypted text and photo. Just a little extra insurance. By now, he trusted them, or as close to trusted as he could get, she reckoned. “Now… about the planet’s biggest cannon!” Within seconds, she received a message back that stopped her in her tracks. Generally it was a simple GJ, “good job”, but this came with an extra set of instructions that she had to read twice. Afterward, Cyd quickly closed the data pad. Later. She could tell them later. “So, Bru! Who's up for Pirate Cove?"
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Hidden 3 yrs ago 3 yrs ago Post by Aalakrys
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Aalakrys

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Stepping off the ramp and into the port, the wind that had been coursing up through the cargo bay struck against Penelope like a wave. She caught her hat so its floppy brim danced along her head just as the skirt of her dress flew. Of course, she always wore her knee-length leggings beneath, because she weren’t foolish to go out in a gale like this one without them. ‘Sides, the tight bodice kept it from inching up, so she had no worries of showing off any skin without meanin’ to. Not that she were either shy or equally modest. Just reasonable to not want unwanted attention - though she’d get it sometimes anyway.

The pilot was more than capable of taking care of herself against the common drunkard, if it came down to it, so she never walked anywhere alone in a state of fear or anticipation looming over her. Wasn’t her style. Likely why should could walk with that easy sense of security like she did, breezing on through the places she passed like a spring wind. That, and a smaller, sharper reason tucked away on her person, of course.

The wind tossing all around her though was what she lived for. The otherwise seemingly good girl secured that hat with the twine and bead strap attached mostly to keep her hair from tossin’ all abouts in her face and she let the wind carry her away. There weren’t a specific destination - rarely was. Any beach would do with the waves tossin’ like they were after a storm.

If there were any rain that planned on coming back for a second dousing, Penelope welcomed it. She loved a good storm. It cleared most folk from the beach, leaving her the choice of treasures that washed ashore. A nice shell was already on her list, for Abby, and she hoped to find some sea glass and maybe a little snipper to show Sam. Of course, she’d return it - no ocean critter belonged in space. Not free enough, in a little tank. At least Lucky had the ability to escape and wander where he pleased aboard. Sea critters wouldn’t fare as well.

That was what led Penelope’s thoughts predominantly as she got directions to a good shore spot, and a few curious looks at her outfit compared to the weather. Not that it dimmed her sunny disposition none. It could’ve been a different story had the conversation with the captain gone poorly, but no sense on wandering on what-ifs. That weren’t her style either.
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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Winters
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Winters

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A Pirate’s Life For Me - Evening

New Melbourne


OOC: JP between @Winters, @MK Blitzen and @Yule








Pirate’s Cove was a jol, even though the Skye’s had gotten caught in one of New Melbourne’s famous sunshowers, Jakkals trou met wolf se vrou, as they would say back home. Home, Cyd thought bitterly. a four letter word. She managed to get lekker photos, a selfie of the three of them by the Planet’s Largest Cannon, Isaac with his head in the barrel of the Planet’s Largest Cannon, and some Pirates Cove maintenance workers helping unstick Isaac’s head from the barrel of the Planet’s Largest Cannon. It did settle the argument that his head was in fact larger than a cannonball though. They were extremely nice about the entire ordeal, and assured them that it happened more often than they’d have thought.

“See?? It's practically BEGGING to happen!!” Isaac had said, his voice muted and echoey inside the cannon.

The theme park had a variety of rides and attractions, they dug for buried treasure, went on an interactive boat ride where cannon’s fired, and Isaac - wearing a souvenir eye-patch - was in his element. He was a katjie van die baan all right, a kitten off the track. He and Mathias had a dramatic looking sword fight with realistic looking foam swords, Mathias - with his longer arm span had the advantage and used it fully, but, Cyd mused, Isaac didn’t seem to mind.

With the amount of traveling they did, souvenir’s weren’t practical. They were expensive and you had to lug them around, Cyd would rather keep photos and memories, but she did pick up a tiny treasure chest for Abby, maybe she wanted to save the bullet or a special treasure. Besides, it’s not like she was able to find an ‘I-was-shot-in-the-ass-and-all-I-got-was-this-lousy-t-shirt” or anything. Isaac was busy with a cotton candy, and Mathias was having his third deep-fried-on-a-stick treat. Gross. Any round rides they passed on the way out would have to be skipped.

"So where we off to next? Tell me it's someplace interesting." Mathias probed between bites. "Maybe we can fly on a bigger ship, one with a bit more space." He suggested.

Isaac gaped "Like one of them big long haulers?" He asked excitedly. "Tell me we're going on one of them!" Massive freighters that you could get lost inside for the better part of a whole day just wandering the corridors. Ships so large they couldn't come into atmo, so they need smaller shops to ferry their loads planetside. They weren't normally stingy for space and took boarders for the extra fare. It wasn't glamorous but you got to eat as well as the crew, which was pretty well on those things. Isaac even had a stateroom all to himself, not just a cot or a bunk but a whole stateroom. "I dunno why people don't do it more. They'd rather go on those luxury liners and be guided around like cattle for triple." He scoffed.

"Come on, you must know something …" Mathias probed

“Kinda...” Cyd said dismissively, “sorta. Look! An old timey photo booth! We can get our photo done. Let’s see how much it costs!”

Cyd's sudden change in tone Isaac's head instinctively wheeling around in the direction of said photo booth. Even as he was complaining "You always wanna do those things" his body language betrayed him as he quickened his pace so as not to get squished in the middle position like he usually does.

“Yea, blame Cyd.” Mathias chuckled, trailing behind his sibling. “It's not Aberdeen is it?” He asked quietly. “Because last time we went to Aberdeen …” He started winding up on why he hated Aberdeen.

“I remember Aberdeen,” Cyd giggled, holding up both hands defensively. “I don’t think so. No real details as to where, actually. Isaac! Let Mathias go in first. Otherwise we won’t see you, Lo!”

"Gorrammit" Isaac muttered, defeated once again he held open the little curtain with one hand and gave an exaggerated bow. "M'lord." He added as he offered the first seat to Mathias.

"Soon enough you'll make it past cabin boy, my wee little buccaneer." Mathis smirked, patting Issac on the head before heading in first.

"Only if you die." Isaac muttered through a grimace.

"So … forever." Mathias snarked, settling in.

“Quit it, nice photos,” Cyd warned, fanning out her hair and checking to see which side it looked best from. “Lo, you got the middle.”

“I can’t help it!” Mathias said defensively. “All I see is the adorable chipmunk cheeks who got free Jalebi with those doe eyes of his.”

"Hate you…" Isaac pouted, which just caused his cheeks to betray him and puff as he frowned. He caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection in the glass, "...even if it is true." He finally conceded. "So," he looked innocently to his sister, "you gonna answer Mat or keep dodging?" He asked as he gave an exaggerated smile to his sister and batted his eyes. He never did bother getting the license plate of the Mule he just threw her under.

“Photos first,” she insisted, swiping her credit stick against the payment pad. “Promise me at least one nice one and then you can be as yourselves as you want.”

“Okay so constipated face first and then our natural looks after …” Mathias repeated with a nod. The boys high fived each other looking sweetly to their sister.

“Inverse proportion,” Cyd replied, posing just so as the first picture snapped.

"I don't know what that means," Isaac shrugged, "but I think what she just called you ugly." He glanced at his older brother. "Yeah, proportions are all inversed and whatnot."

“How did you survive childhood again?” Mathias inquired, tugging his brother's ear.

"Her." Isaac said without hesitation as he jabbed a thumb at Cyd a bit too close to her face given their current confined space.

Cyd had crossed her eyes looking at Isaac’s thumb as the second photo snapped. She did give them the okay to go bosbefok. “Come on, with your chipmunk cheeks.”

Isaac complied and turned to fully face the camera putting on his most saccharine Sunday smile.

Mathias sighed, complied and put on his best stepford smile as well.

The counter on the screen let them know there was ten seconds til the next photo. Cyd took a breath as the numbers flashed on the screen. It was time to drop the other shoe. Mathias was not going to like this, not one bit. 7-6-5... “Choon, next trip, we’re staying with the China Doll.” The camera flashed.
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Hidden 3 yrs ago 3 yrs ago Post by sail3695
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sail3695 If you do, I'ma do too.

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Boat had gone quiet. Abby knew Pen’s out beachcombin’. Hook an’ the Cap’n was off fishin’. Night fishin’ she pondered on that. Made no sense to the girl how a body might want to toss them sharp hooks about in the dark...sounded like a recipe fer the doc havin’ tah do some fishin’ of her own to pull one out. But she ain’t never held a fishin’ pole or done more’n watchin a few seconds on the cortex, so she decided best not tah judge on somethin’ she ain’t never done.

She knew the Doc was about. Cup ‘o’ water an’ two ‘o’ them pills went down the hatch nigh on fifteen ticks hence. “To keep ahead of the pain,” she been told. They’s some feelin’ comin’ back, the girl conjured as she probed about her nethers. Bandage seemed bulky and way bigger’n was needed fer coverin’ a bullet hole. But that, she reckoned, was jest like fishin’. What she don’t know, she shouldn’t judge.

No sounds from the upper deck. Chances were ever’body stepped off fer the night. Abby felt fer the Doc, stuck on board with a patient as she was. Perty as she is, the deckhand conjured, she should be out tahnight...havin’ fun, ‘stead ‘o’ tendin’ my pi gu.

Mebbe she could help that along. Doc had cleared her tah leave medbay. Mayhaps it was time.

She give a gingerly push, risin’ up til she’s sittin’ on her left hip, feet danglin’ off tha table. Didn’t feel wunnerful, but weren’t no worse’n the bandage tape tuggin’ at her skin. Abby leaneed back, hands spread fer balance as she slid off, the ball of her left foot touchin’ tha deck afore she let all her weight come down. A skosh wobbly, she thought. Right leg would take some weight, but everythin’ above tha knee was gettin’ a might stiff. Tolerable, she decided after a couple steps.

Passengers was all gone. She could finally settle in her room. But first come a couple chores. The girl limped slowly out of the medbay, makin’ the turn tah the cargo bay hatch. Weren’t dogged down, but seein’s they’s most like unloaded, didn’t need tah be. Abby swung it open afore peerin’ into tha empty bay. Tha entry bulkhead with its’ personnel door was in place. China Doll was buttoned up. Fer a moment she pondered if Cap’n had handed out the door code...she didn’t know it...but more’n likely he done spread it tah them was leavin’ fer a spell. Her mind set tah ease, she closed the hatch.

Ms. Baker...Marisol whatever her name was...done had her bag packed an’ sittin’ on her bed all proper. Abby slung it on her left shoulder. Boat might have a lost ‘n’ found, or they’d hold it til it could be sent tah her next of kin. Either way, she’d keep it safe ‘til she knew which.

Typical quarters fer a bottom rung deckhand such as she was usually meant starboard aft, with a bunk laid out behind storage shelves fer linens an’ cleanin’ stuff. As she opened the door, Abby give a smirk. “Them horn-dogs paid double fares each tah stack up in here.” Sorta shrewd on her part...til she ‘membered givin’ Green Haired Girl half fares fer three singles on tha next run. Cap’n might fire her fer that’n…’less he felt all sympathetic like over her catchin’ a bullet. Mebbe she should prettify herself afore breakin’ that piece ‘o’ news.

Room was long an’ narrow...deckspace mebbe five foot wide. Right bulkhead was straight as any wall should be, but tha left, bein’ aft as it were, had a curve went out and up like tha boat’s hind end. The reg’lar shelves was laid in tah take advantage an’ offer deeper storage. T’was here she placed Ms. Baker’s bag. A minute later, after retrievin’ her duffel and the Mosin, she laid’ em at the foot of her bunk.

Doc wasn’t lyin’. Abby felt weak as a kitten. She gazed on the bunk, sheets an’ blankets all tousled from whichever horn-dog won tha coin toss. Not like she never slept on another person’s dirty sheets afore...when she’s little, Uncle Bob an’ Aunt Lupe let her crawl in twixt them when the scaries come at night...but that was safe. Thought ‘o’ lettin’ her skin touch same sheets been pawed over by one ‘o’ them perverts wouldn’t stand. Wore out as she was, Abby still pulled fresh beddin’ from tha shelf.

Her hip was tinglin’ a bit as she finally slipped inta clean sheets on her bunk. It’s alright, Abby thought as she lay on her stomach. It’s alright.
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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Xandrya
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Xandrya Lone Wolf

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She gasped herself awake, beads of sweat on her face and neck adorning her skin, making it glisten from the soft glow of the night light. Alana glanced around her space, the gunshots somehow deafening even though the dream from a moment ago was now a thing of the past. She breathed a little slower, looking up at the crease where the ceiling and bulkhead met. Curse her for letting sleep take her unwillingly, though the true culprit was the boring novel which lay on her chest. Just who in their right mind would conjure up such nonsense? But on second thought, she was the one reading it, so maybe that judgment could be tossed aside, at least for the moment being.

Finally getting herself up on her own two feet after tossing the book aside, Alana shuffled on her way to the galley. Her mouth was extremely dry and if she didn’t eat anything soon then it would leave her feeling miserable just as well. She reckoned Abby to be sleeping away the pain and medication in her system, and who could blame her. Hell, Alana didn’t know what it was like to take a bullet, but she wasn’t planning on finding out any time soon, not if she could help it... Even though one could have easily killed her years ago, but that was a thing of the past.

“Sure...” she whispered bitterly to herself, shaking her head in defeat against her own thoughts. Alana continued making her way across what appeared to be a lifeless ship. Well, they were docked, so it wasn’t any surprise there was a lack of bodies through every turn she took. She too could have been out and about, minding her own business by her lonesome self while eavesdropping on those conversing nonsense thanks to the drinks in their systems, but in that moment, the allure wasn’t enough to maker her wish for such freedom. Whether Abby was down or not, staying onboard didn’t bother her any that evening. And even if it did, the sweet girl at the very least required her nearby presence.

A moment later, Alana reached the galley, which was unsurprisingly just as empty and lifeless as the halls. The young woman would go on to prepare herself a quick snack after downing what could nearly pass off as a week’s supply of water. Maybe that evening wouldn’t be so bad after all.
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Hidden 3 yrs ago 3 yrs ago Post by Aalakrys
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Aalakrys

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By the time Penelope had her feet in the cool, moist sand of the long stretch of beach, she'd already made some new friends and had set up plans with them for the next day. They'd left her at the coast to do her thing while going off to get what they needed for tomorrow's adventure. She'd always been glad for company, so had been thrilled to be offered a ride to where she was going by the pair. They told her all about what gave them cause to be on New Melbourne, how the season was expected to help out their business, and then gave her the sort of tips you could only glean from locals.

The trip to the secluded beach had been a long one, but well worth it to find it mostly deserted and stocked full of fresh sea treasure. Her new friends had promised that as she had rode on the back of their little truck, talking through the window as wind helped carry them along at times and rock the little beater at others.

That gentle smile lit her face as she strode down to the shore, arms rolling on the waves of wind as she danced with it. Penelope didn't need music, the waves rolling in a strong lap with the remnants of storm made its own melody. Along the way to dip her toes in, she'd pause if something caught her eye and kneel down to inspect it. The pattern continued all without interruption until her backpack was full and she stood watching the sun set over the steady waves, thigh deep in the cold water as salty spray misted her with each pull.

She'd sighed happily as the final glint of sunshine disappeared over the horizon, and turned to head back into town. If she didn't quite make it to the ship, that'd be fine. Penelope quite liked sleeping outdoors. There were less trees here than home - hard pressed to find a planet that had more than Greenleaf - but the sound of the ocean made up for it. Couldn't quite hear that everywhere, and she wasn't one to turn down a good relish.
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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Gunther
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Gunther Captain, Infantry (Retired)

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Mood Music: Gone Fishin' with Bing & Louie
Collaboration with @wanderingwolf


The sun was setting on the horizon, a marine layer of haze painted the sky in orange and pinks. Captain Strand cast a glance at the sight, a cigarette already hanging from his lips. If memory served, he and Hook had planned to get some fishing in when they set down; in a place like New Melbourne, there seemed to be myriad ways to scratch that itch. They could head inland to the lakes and rivers to fish them, or the docks and piers, or even a boat on the ocean, if the mood caught them. Cal wasn’t picky, some time with a rod in the water and a cold drink suited him just fine all the same.

As fate would have it, there was an eight-and-a-half foot rod stored off the cargo bay with a modest tackle box, but he hadn’t touched it in seasons; it was an inheritance from Strand the first, of whose namesake he’d appropriated. Cal scratched his chin and strained his eyes peering into the dark of the Doll’s cargo bay for Joe before returning his gaze to the light display of New Melbourne’s sunset over the water.

Joe Hooker did not forget about fishing with the Captain. He slowly made his way down the grated steps to the cargo bay below. He wore his blue coveralls with the web belt around the waist and his pistol on his hip. He had exchanged the spent casing for a live round earlier. No reason going out with one chamber empty.

When he reached the cargo bay, he saw the Captain smoking a cigarette. Remembered the cigar he left in his breast pocket. Hook took the time to retrieve the hand wrapped tobacco and relight it. He hadn’t taken the time to finish it earlier when the Jinks brothers were there to pick up their cargo.

“Are we ready to go fishin’?” Hook asked the Captain as he stepped closer. Then took a drag on the cigar. He sent the smoke billowing out into the cargo bay. “How we gettin’ out there? Horseback?” Joe smiled at that. He hadn’t been on a horse in quite some time.

“Now that’s a fine idea,” Cal called, dropping his cigarette and grinding it beneath his heel. “Let me grab my pack and let’s get out--the dusk is creeping up on us and it’s perfect time for fishin’.” His rod and tackle box was close at hand, tucked behind a crate, strapped to the metal meshed wall. “Reckon we’ll need to find you a rod; I’m sure we’re bound to run into a shop in any direction… Let’s head down to the livery stable, then we’ll head in toward the boathouses. Shiny?” Captain Strand had his tackle box in one hand, the rod in the other as he looked to Hook.

“Shiny,” Hook smiled. He walked off the ramp behind the Captain. They headed up the dirt road in the direction of who knows what, looking for a livery. “Do you happen to know where the stable is?” With the thought of fishing on his mind, Hook was reminiscing back to his boy hood days on the farm. He would often go fishing or hunting with his brothers. Riding horseback was something they did often. He couldn't remember if he rode a horse since he left the farm. “Did I tell ya, I was raised on a farm? We used to ride often back then.”

“Just up the road, here. Won’t take but a minute.” The captain nodded, “Don’t remember you mentionin’ it. What’d your family farm?” As he listened to Joe’s response, the pair of them arrived at a copse of wooden structures, a livery stable among them, judging by the ornate sign depicting two rearing horses, hooves meeting in the middle. “Pensacola Livery Stable,” the sign read. Simple, as the building was, it appeared the inlaid gold to those letters was just about the breadth of their budget.

Before entering the livery, Hook snuffed out his cigar. He had just less than half left. He shoved the remaining stub in his shirt pocket and followed the captain’s lead. Joe dazed off for a few seconds before answering Cal’s question. “We had horses and cattle, some corn, both the kind you eat and the kind cows eat. The misses had a small farm out back she tended to with her daughter, Penelope. Mah brothers and I had plenty of chores to do around the farm. I would imagine it was a good life.”

Entering, Cal put down collateral for two paints with the attendant, and the pair of them were saddled up in near no time at all.

Upon entering the building, Joe was transported back in time. The conversation about the farm outside and now the smell of horse manure and the equine sweat brought him back to his teen years. A time where there was not a care in the world. Joe breathed it in. It was a good smell. Reliving his past with the sights and sounds of this distant world. Everything that happened after time spent on the farm was erased from his memory. He decided he was having a good day after all. He needed to put that earlier event out of his mind anyway.

Cal and Joe lead their mounts outside. Joe put his left foot into the stirrup and swung his right leg over the saddle. He allowed the toe to insert into the stirrup like it belonged. Somehow Joe’s mind confused Cal Strand with Jake, his oldest brother, “Hey Jake…” he started to say, but then cut himself short. “Cap’n do you know where the lakes are? I never been ta New Melbourne before.”

It caught him by surprise, Joe’s calling him by another name, but it got the wheels turning. Between glances inside the livery and the reminiscing of his old farm life, it seemed to Cal that Hooker had just his feet on the ground here, his mind a million miles away. Swinging himself into the saddle, he clicked his tongue to his horse. “Been to New Melbourne before, not this town, but one like it. This direction should take us to the river,” he said, pointing. Now, though, the horse turned toward the opposite, in search of a tackle shop.

“I muss admit, talkin bout the farm and these horses have taken me back to another place,” Joe admitted to Cal Strand. “You do remind me ah ma oldah brothah. His name was Jake. Not sure what it is yet, but you do trigger him for me.” Joe pulled his cigar stub back out and relit it. He smoked the tobacco as they rode along, headed to wherever they were going to get his fishing gear. “I wonder if we’ll run into them Skye kids out here?” Joe thought aloud.

“I just got that kinda face--least that’s what they tell me.” Ca smirked at Hook’s question. “Skye Kids?” He asked, “Is that some new hip band the kids are listening to nowadays?” He chortled, “Give me a tune from Earth-that-was anyday to drown out the electronic bebop they plaster across the cortex.” The main stretch down to the docks opened up before them as their horses slowly walked in the dimming light. As they turned down Palafox Street, one by one the shops that remained open lit their windows. There was “Carry’s Clever Catch,” and “Tina’s Tackle.” Cal shook his head. Was this whole town built for tourists or seamen? Down on the corner there was “Jinks Nautical Outfitters” and beyond that was “Bait, Tackle, and Rig.” Simple and straight to the point, Cal steered his paint in that direction.

“You know those kids that were on the Doll with us from Persephone? Two boys and a girl? They was the Skye kids. I member one of them telling me their names; Sid, Mathias and, what was the third one’s name? Oh yea, Isaac.” Joe followed along with the Captain on his mount. It sure did feel great to be back in the saddle again.

When they cantered past Jinks Nautical Outfitters, Hook pointed the place out. “That was the place those boys came this morning to pick up their crates for Seatronics. But we don’ hafta stop there. How bout Tina’s Tackle? That sounds inviting.”

Joe led his horse to the front of the shop and headed inside. He knew the rod and reel he wanted and would pick up only a few items for a small tackle box. He wouldn’t need a lot. He planned to pick up a few lures to try out on the lake.

“Ah, Ball-bearings, Pipe, and Blue. They seem like good kids. Shame they had to get caught up in everything...” Cal’s voice faded as he changed the subject to Hook’s suggestion.

“You’re the boss,” Cal called, hopping down from his saddle. “I’ll wait here while you settle up. If you’re keen, you’re welcome to share my tackle line and lures; been seasons since they’ve seen any use.” Cal took in the sight of the town coming alive for the night life. There was a sea of its own swimming in the Captain’s mind. It felt good to breathe the free, salt air of New Melbourne, but this nagging feeling in his gut told him not to get too comfortable, especially since the only reason they managed to get here was at the hands of Badger. Not only that, but the Fed they’d shot full of holes and turned on the sharks was certainly an omen of something on the horizon. Cal considered another cigarette, opening the silver case only to think better of it, seeing only five neatly rolled soldiers left.

Joe went inside the store and returned to the captain and the horses less than fifteen minutes later. He had a rod and reel similar to the one Cal carried. A satchel contained some fishing line, hooks, sinkers, bobbers and a few lures as well as a small box to carry them all in. “I’d say I bout ready to do some fishing, boss.” Joe smiled ready to go.

“Well let’s get goin’--moon’s ‘bout up and I’m hankerin’ for some o‘ whatever you cook up once we get back.” So far as Cal saw it, this was a much needed time to forget; a permitted absence from the weight of what it meant to Captain the China Doll, and what he was beholden to for his troubles. Tonight, all that mattered was the cool calm of the night air, the quiet of the evening, and fish he knew to be spawning just up the river, all with a man who didn’t know Cal from Adam. “Heeyaw,” he called, leading the way inland.

It wasn’t long before they caught the river up from the delta and Cal clicked for his paint to halt. Hitching her to a nearby tree, Cal began removing his tackle and rod. The water looked alive, even from here on the bank, and though there were no other fishermen nearby, Strand had a good feeling, “This is the spot.”

Joe spurred on his mount with a whistle and dug in his heels. The paint took off sharply, appeared to be four year old Filly by the looks of her gumline. She kept pace with Cal’s horse with no problem. She was a strong mount. Joe enjoyed the galloping pace as the the two horses sped down the dirt track.

Finally, they arrived at their destination. It was dark except for the moonlight. Joe was looking forward to this distraction. He needed it about as much as anyone. He would have been perfectly fine without it, but he appreciated being here with this man he had only met recently. But he was his employer and he trusted him for simply that.

He hitched his horse up to the tree and spent a few minutes talking to the horse, “Good girl, You are a fast little filly, you know that? You are so fast.” He reached into his satchel and pulled out carrot. “I brought you a treat. Thanks for letting me ride, you are good girl.” He patted the horse’s neck as he talked to her. Mr. McGinnis told the boys on the farm to treat their animals well, talk to them and they will treat you well in return

Joe spent several minutes setting up the rod and the reel, attaching a hook with lure, sinkers and a bobber. Once he was ready, he caught up with Captain Strand. “Looks good, boss. I’ll move down here ways so as to not cross lines.” He only moved about 20 yards down the bank. Not a whole lot, just to spread the fish out and like he said, prevent their lines from crossing.

Cal watched from beneath his brim while Joe spoke to the horse and offered her a carrot from his satchel. The man had a way about him--it was was in his solemn respect for others and the cautious, wild look in his eye. Much like the horse, Cal reckoned, Hook was always watching, wanting to be treated fairly, to be directed this way and that. In the short time he’d known him, he’d sussed that orders were paramount to the man, and the pecking order meant more to him than a paycheck: it meant order, peace, and rightness in the world. There were demons behind his eyes, Cal knew the look.

Winding his knot, Strand went with a fifteen pound line, glancing over the fading light reflected in the river as it opened to the lake. For the sinker, he chose a slinky drifting weight, and set his hook with roe, leaving the pack out for Joe to use, should he want. Stepping out into the river, Cal reeled back his line and cast at a thirty degree angle up current, to let his line drift downstream and catch the attention of any salmon going the same way.

“So, Joe, you grew up on a cattle farm, with corn, brothers, and sisters, where someone taught you how to make a mean pattie, of which I can attest firsthand. Why’d you leave?” The Captain’s tone was inquisitive as he turned up the bank toward Hook.

Joe thought about the question for a minute or so. He knew different. “To be honest, I would have stayed on tha’ farm if the McGinnis’ allowed me. Life was peaceful. It was grand.” Joe drifted for a few, reflecting back to those blissful days. “But then the purple bellies came and shattered mah life. My brothers and I left tha farm to fight in the war. When the war was over, my brothers were gone, tha McGinnis’ were gone and tha purple bellies had taken tha farm. There was no goin’ back. I decided right then to take to tha heavens. To ply my abilities with people like yahself. Ah’ve been doing it ever since. Ah have not gone back. Tha war took my family. Now, mah crew is mah family.”

Joe had his rod and reel set, he had the line on, sinker, floater and lure all rigged up. He moved a bit further from Cal and cast his line out into the lake. Bringing up those dark memories seemed to provide him with a bit more adrenaline to get a decent heave to his cast. It was not in the river like Cal had, more into the lake itself. He slowly wound the line in, simulating prey a healthy salmon might like to take as it swam lazily near the surface of the water.

Focusing on the stillness of the lake and the receding light calmed Joe Hooker down. This place, this moment was going to be a temporary safe haven. A place to push those memories down deeper. He didn’t want them bubbling back up to the surface.

Like when he shot the Fed. It was more a reaction than an intention. The man was an obstacle that needed to be removed. He was a threat to his family. It was nothing more. Any normal person would have done the same thing. Shooting that man in the head was akin to taking out the garbage or cleaning the dirty dishes up after a meal. It needed to be done to preserve the serenity.

Cal thought on that last line from Joe. Was crew really family? You paid them to do a job, you shared meals, chores, hell, even air. The China Doll had been a lightning rod for relationships, that was certain. Cal had met Strand there, and some sort of father figure had emerged. He’d seen fresh-faced Billy grow into a capable and bright-eyed young man from just a teenager--much like Abigail. He’d also met Leticia… and let her go.

Maybe there was something to Hook’s pronouncement. Maybe crew was family, and, standing there, knee deep in the river with Joe on the bank, the wind whipped the silence out to sea, bending the pines in alternating rhythm. The last light of the sun was yet a green glimmer on the rounded edge of the sky, casting monochrome light on the lake and beach. Hook was a dimming figure on the sand, and Cal could feel himself caught up in the wind as the current pulled his lure across the bed of the river. The war had brought change to all of them, but here? Here, the war couldn’t reach.

“Fish on!” Joe called out. He felt the nibble on his lure, then the tugging. He jerked the rod to the left, he had definitely hooked something. He began to reel the line in quickly. The fish began to fight. He stopped reeling letting the fish try to fight away from him, giving him a little bit of line in return. Then the fish tired out. He returned to spinning the reel in again as fast as he could. The line got to about ten yards from the bank and the fish fought again to get away from the invisible string pulling him towards the shore. Joe gave him a length of fishing line allowing the fish to run for a bit, then after a few seconds it tired out again. Joe was able to pull the line back in and a large healthy salmon leapt out of the water wiggling at the end of his arced rod. Joe had a big smile on his face. “It’s a big one!” He didn’t have a net and simply let it drop on the mossy bank. He quickly dropped the rod and grabbed the fish. He got the hook out of its mouth. “Did ya bring anything to put the fish in, Cal? A bucket or something?”

When Cal heard the stirring, he started walking his line back in until the pole was free and his boots were on the shore next to Hook. Resting his rod against the tree his paint was fixed to, Cal wrested something off the ground from behind his mount.

“‘Deed I do!,” he said, bringing the cooler to the water to flood it. Pulling it back in toward shore, Captain Strand looked over the ‘big one.’ “Wuo Duh Tian Ah, you ain’t kiddin’. That thing could feed a family for a week... Or Abigail for a day. Here, drop it in,” Cal said, holding the lid open. He had a great big smile as he tipped his hat back. For a city boy, he was enjoying the peace and quiet of the dark river, just fine. With a snap of the cooler lid he added, “You can rest assured just ‘cuz you pulled the first one, don’t mean you’ll take the grand tally! Just watch me work,” he said, chucking his hat into the darkness on shore.

In a deft movement, the Captain had taken up his rod again, set fresh roe, and was reeled back to cast, ankle deep in the river. “And go find my hat!” He called facetiously.

Joe chuckled at the Captain’s comment about finding his hat. “So we having a competition here? Is that it?” Joe chided.

Then he thought about Abigail. “So, Cap’n you have history with Miss Abby? You knew her before this trip? She often talks about her Uncle Bob. And how did you come by the China Doll?”

The look in Cal’s eye said that, yes, it was a competition, “More of a gentlemen’s agreement that when I bring home the biggest haul, I get bragging rights.” He cast out again toward the mouth of the river at thirty degrees. Of Abigail, he replied, “No more history than you or I do; just the right place at the right time. Though she has grown on me, and I think it’s the way she puts Rex in his place.” The Captain smiled at his own joke before answering Hook’s last question, “China Doll’s been my home for more years than I care to count, ever since I was a young buck. Could say it was passed down to me, but that’s a story for another time--don’t think I don’t see what you’re doin’! You’re trying to ply an old man for steamy details from the past to put him off his fishin’! Oh--” the captain perked up as his rod shivered under the tug of something along the bottom. With a gentle nudge Strand realized the weight wasn’t stuck on the bottom and he yanked to set the hook. “Tian-Ling-Ling, Di-Ling-Ling!” (Abracadabra-alakazam).

Hook continued to grin. Obviously the Cap’n had caught something.

Joe reeled his line all the way in. set it for another cast. He pulled back and to the right, then cast the line forward in a similar direction as the past two casts. ‘Plop!’ the lure dropped into the lake. He slowly began to reel the line in. The line stretched out as it acquired taught while pulling it in. Hook looked out across the lake. At night everyone learns how much they can see. It isn’t like being in a dark closet with no light. There is always some light and you can make out figures.

He continued to reel the line in. He looked across the lake at the pine trees assembled in formation along a slope stretching out for miles into what can only be described as a mountain. The star-speckled blackness illuminating the land with sufficient light to see the beauty of the landscape. The sound of the horses snorting. It might have been something, but he didn’t know the horses, so it might be nothing. But if it were something, the horses would know it before either of the humans detected anything.

He reeled the line in all the way, set it for another cast and repeated the process dropping the lure back into the lake. “Did you catch somethin’ Cap’n?” Joe continued to reel the line in. He heard the horses snort again. Decided it was time to at least give a cursory glance. While reeling the line in, Joe scanned the tree line behind them. He watched the horses, they appeared to be sleeping. He could not see their eyes. ‘Probably nappin’,’ he thought to himself referring to the horses. He smelled the air, but it was a gentle breeze coming in over the lake rather than from the direction of the trees. That would be of no use.

By now Cal was holding up a hefty ten pound salmon to Joe as he gently unhinged the hook by groping fingers alone. Sure, he stabbed his finger once or twice, but there was no way to break his humor now. “I got a good feelin’ about tonight, Hook,” he said before slipping the fish into the cooler. “Just you wait, in a couple hours we’ll be full up with all the main event of your next fish-fry.” Captain Strand had already baited his hook with some more roe before he waded back out into the water.

True to his word, the captain brought in a grand total of five fish, and with the three Hook caught, there was a mighty feast brewing in that clear, windswept sky ahead. As he hitched the now heavy cooler to his horse, he delegated his tackle box and rod to Joe’s. Mounted up in the cool evening air, he watched as Hook led the way back to the livery, and then to the Doll herself.

"I'm gonna need some help gettin' this here cooler up to the galley." Joe was already thinking of the recipe he was going to break out. "Might as well save this for Tamarraw night. If anyone needs food tonight, I'll make some burgers and dogs. They easy. But I will look to see if'n ah need some spices for the recipe."

The men got the fish stored in the freezer. Hook planned to clean them all tonight before he went to bed. He agreed it was a good day after all.

Cal helped Hook to the freezer, then sat on the empty cooler in the galley, “Good idea you had,” the captain posited with a yawn, “The cold and quiet did me some good.” Strand surveyed his still soggy boots and britches, “But now I could do with some cleaning up. Same goes for you; There’s no gettin’ the smell of fish off while here in Pensacola, but we earned some ‘r-and-r,’ I’d say.”

He got up to head toward the showers, “Oh, and if anyone asks who bagged the most fish, you’ll tell them true, won’t you?” The grin he wore stretched from ear to ear.

“Yes sah!” Hook responded. He was fine that the captain caught more fish than he. A shower would definitely be on the agenda.
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