Hamerlins time aboard was defined by general duty, he had spent many months at sea and the routine helped especially as the shocks and impact on people would show itself once the short term rush of survival ended. This was normal for him at least, he clung to that one normal fact of life as he manned the bridge, checking the course and helping out with small tasks such as taking over the wheel when the helmsman needed to go to the head, fetching coffee or checking the maps and routine checks on their progress..
He had spent his down hours waiting teaching a few basics of chart reading and how to check that they had not drifted when he needed to sleep, he needed rest as any man, more than he used to as well. He could not teach anyone to be able to do anything too advanced so soon but making sure they least in the direction they meant to be going was progress. it made him feel for once, useful in a way he had not felt since he had to leave the service due to war injuries.
He took his meals in the dining area, its simple metal tables, polished smooth steel, where so very military and far unlike what this airship was planned for. It's history was visible where you could see where they would have hung fine art works, niches for plants and statues, or pottery. Instead they had a simple collection of generic posters, a niche housed a brewing vessel and a second used to store the basic and functional mugs.
“History. Look up not down” He remembered, people were lazy and this was refitted in hurry most likely so he saw a element of decorative trim that hung on, the drab military paint where the bright and cheerful Civilian colours shone through just in a corner where a soldier had left it to likely go to the bar instead of doing a perfect job.
He took a coffee like he had chosen to do several times and sat on an ammo crate outside, he needed the air, the open space and time to think. He felt the weight of his weapon, he saw his stained sea knife when he went to bed.
He had found an unused space, this airship had many, a few boxes of what turned out to be heavy yet surplus to use for now, engraved metal items probably for the crew in detailed font the airships number. He lifted it, he used it as a gym, his muscles burned, his fingers hurt, his artificial fingers dug into his flesh but he needed this. He worked, he least had to try to regain some of his strength, to be better able to serve. Even a small advantage as narrow as a razor was something.
On that thought as he felt his stubble as he watched, he had no shaving kit.. maybe there be one he could scavenge aboard or he would be like the crews of old Favain Navy, beards as water was luxurious, shaving was a waste unless close to shore.
Maybe he had it right, his ancestors would approve, he hoped, even if his father would have said he looked like his Grandfather's portrait over the fire. Navy might be in a ship of the air, but he would honour his name, his Oath and do his best in hard times.
And.. that scarily. Felt like he was living again.
He had spent his down hours waiting teaching a few basics of chart reading and how to check that they had not drifted when he needed to sleep, he needed rest as any man, more than he used to as well. He could not teach anyone to be able to do anything too advanced so soon but making sure they least in the direction they meant to be going was progress. it made him feel for once, useful in a way he had not felt since he had to leave the service due to war injuries.
He took his meals in the dining area, its simple metal tables, polished smooth steel, where so very military and far unlike what this airship was planned for. It's history was visible where you could see where they would have hung fine art works, niches for plants and statues, or pottery. Instead they had a simple collection of generic posters, a niche housed a brewing vessel and a second used to store the basic and functional mugs.
“History. Look up not down” He remembered, people were lazy and this was refitted in hurry most likely so he saw a element of decorative trim that hung on, the drab military paint where the bright and cheerful Civilian colours shone through just in a corner where a soldier had left it to likely go to the bar instead of doing a perfect job.
He took a coffee like he had chosen to do several times and sat on an ammo crate outside, he needed the air, the open space and time to think. He felt the weight of his weapon, he saw his stained sea knife when he went to bed.
He had found an unused space, this airship had many, a few boxes of what turned out to be heavy yet surplus to use for now, engraved metal items probably for the crew in detailed font the airships number. He lifted it, he used it as a gym, his muscles burned, his fingers hurt, his artificial fingers dug into his flesh but he needed this. He worked, he least had to try to regain some of his strength, to be better able to serve. Even a small advantage as narrow as a razor was something.
On that thought as he felt his stubble as he watched, he had no shaving kit.. maybe there be one he could scavenge aboard or he would be like the crews of old Favain Navy, beards as water was luxurious, shaving was a waste unless close to shore.
Maybe he had it right, his ancestors would approve, he hoped, even if his father would have said he looked like his Grandfather's portrait over the fire. Navy might be in a ship of the air, but he would honour his name, his Oath and do his best in hard times.
And.. that scarily. Felt like he was living again.