Marinalia (Romus) Olympus
Old Sol Airport . Wednesday Evening
Marinalia's shift was getting to the end of things and beginning to think about heading home, she was not new to the office and had done a few shifts in the training phase at the cargo office. Part office, part lounge and part a little museum of posters and old deadalus nick macks. She had found it on training and did far better coffee than the trainee centre.
From the way staff had treated her kindly, checks and one of the women offering to walk her to her car after work it seemed someone had quietly told them to keep a eye out for her Deadalus seemed not be taking many chances.
Relaxed in a neat shirt, skirt and jacket hung over the top of a chair, one of a few general female deadalus uniforms she had option of and generic company badge. The one difference to other staff was a set of gold wings and a delicate silver necklace dangling down. Tapping away she had left her ring at home having nearly lost it a few times in filing cabinets and such last time. Her name was on a neat ID badge with the company logo, "Marinalia R Olympus, Deadalus cargo,". They had run out of room to put Romus on there and the name was picked out in gold representing flight status.
A stranger was aproaching now, no buzz so they must of had a Id card for the airport, hearing a loud growling sound earlier it seemed that he liked some horsepower.
Turning first to a pair of flight crew sat round a table with a half dozen coffee mugs and boredly waiting for a shuttle to Neo city after there's broke down..
hey got a flight to Neo. Bay 12A. Two seats free on a old DC6.
Flight engineer slots. Both wished her gruff ly thanks and slowly grabbed there bags walking out the office and heading out to the flight line where the cargo flights and older aircraft oporated. They always had a pilot on duty in regular hours to help arrange flights for crew, expertise useful on ground and air.
A female security guard checked in with her after the incident every so often, it had not been a massive ask and just changed her office she stopped at between patrols of the perimeter fences. Sat reading a newspaper she was just one more employee in the still fairly busy cargo airport and other hangers rented to locals who had aircraft. Fees where alot cheaper than at Sol International.
Turning to the man who aproaching, dressed pretty casually and eyes flared slightly though she had other staff here the past experience had cut deep and slow to heal. Checking the ID carefully, probbly far more carefully than normal for this office. Easing up as the ID was current and matched codes though her English accent was more clipped than normal of late, though did warm slightly as he seemed to be a regular ID and everyone who was had to pass security checks.
sure, Mr Nicolosi. From your card, warehouse 9. Be careful there's a few flights due tonight, 18.15, 19.37 and 21.45.
I'm... OK ernough. So yours is that rumbling monster out there?
My regular DC7 might give you a run for your money with 8800 HP, 74 optinal turbos and 200L of power. It was a distraction, but it got away from the uncomfortable are you alright question, and she could push the old plane to nearly 10,000 but engine life was far longer running lower power. Even then most cargo barely tasked the massive old fashioned radial engines.
Ending on a lighter note, he had import card, mostly mechanics and others seemed to have those so he might give a abit of banter back. Hopefully she was more comfortable talking about aircraft than pretending to be OK.
ou D JP8. Latest colone?
Adding a slight joke to try and make her seem less like the ice queen of Deadalus, grey eyes, and her accent made that act a tad too easy. It was meant to be a customer service job, and much as she felt, it was not this man's fault what happened to her.
Joel regarded the young woman carefully and immediately knew to whom the white Land Rover belonged. He’d been around cars long enough that it was easy to tell which body belonged with which vehicle even when the two weren’t together. Cars said more about the person than most were willing to admit. She seemed a fairly clean-cut type upon first impression, but uneasy for some reason and only doing a fair job at covering it up. He didn't want to pry and just briefly glanced at her ID.
What a mouthful. In his mind he started working on the correct pronunciation. It was very regal looking at least. Wings meant she was a flyer, which would explain how she paid for such a sheek ride, but the fact that she was here on the night shift shuffling boxes and booking schedule meant something else. He wasn’t an expert on aviation regs, but figured it had to be health related like the other guy he’d dealt with before.
Adrenaline was wearing off as he leaned back slightly on the counter and she checked his ID. He gave a cordial nod to those stepping out who seemed to regard him strangely. It was the first time anyone had run the
complete check in quite some time. She could see all of his past shipments, mostly from Japan and their declared value, some of substantial amounts that probably didn’t befit his appearance. He was slightly surprised by her aviation quip and cocked up one eyebrow. He was used to the flyers and their horsepower jokes. “Yeah? We can line them up for the quarter-mile sometime and see what happens.” He replied with a confident and growing smirk. He enjoyed talking trash immensely, particular with women. “More like 118, leaded, from this morning.” He said referring to the fuel smell she’d detected. It must’ve been more obvious than he’d thought.
“That reminds though,” He continued, “Think you could open the gate so I could fill up? We have a fuel bowser around back.”
Marinalia (Romus) Olympus
Old Sol Airport . Wednesday Evening
Marinalia knew it was obvious why she ended working out of this office, fliers never came here by choice mostly assigned while unfit to fly for various reasons, it was quiet, the work lighter and alot less busy than the main terminal at the International airport and 99% of clients where either business, private jets, importers and such. Thr man fell into that bracket. Everyone knew the drill, had ID. No real angry customers.
His account came up as exports and some not small amounts of cash listed, car parts, engines, custom components and race parts all from high end Japanese companies. Certainly not thr man's look. Giving a somewhat Suprised look at the imports, well.
Then came the jokes, he gave back as good as she gave. Ground racers and there engines had nothing on aero engines.
well, maybe when my wings not clipped. Il have to show you why wings beat wheels. Trying to stay customer focused, but she loved her job, flying. The freedom of being able to go almost anywhere. It was not his fault she had to wait on blood tests and her voice tone gave away her frustration at being grounded and thr jazz night incidents.
l sorry.... I just miss my job. And stuff. Should not take it out on you. Gates. Yeah there's a note on your account. Gimme a minute.
You need this, swipe the pad. Flight line pass. Always give way to the left to traffic and to aircraft. Speed limits 30mph... I should know... I got fined for breaking it!
Handing him over a pass, they had been arranged by someone before her for the race team test, it was still not safe on flight line and mostly was a staff only area. Adding the speed limit with a fake Stern tone, she tried to least be freindly to the man. Plus he was likely to try and race a DC7 and DC4 that was due to take off in 15 minutes.
Joel felt his suspicions realized as she shot back and then quickly backed off her retort. He liked that he could get a little rise out of her so quick. She was uneasy and it had to do with the fact she wasn’t flying. He could appreciate someone that was passionate about their work and it made him wonder a little how serious her condition might be but also didn’t want to be nosey. She didn’t seem to have any obvious symptoms of anything. However, being in a situation where he
needed to kill some time, wandering the cold warehouse pretending he was there for something important didn’t sound like much of a good time while he knew she was sitting up here shuffling papers. He figured he would just be playful and he liked her accent. There was no loss if she shot him down. He was stuck here for a while either way.
“Why don’t you take a break and get some fresh air?” He said accepting the gate pass. “I’m a little curious how you got your ‘wings clipped’.” He turned back towards the door figuring she understood his implication. “Don’t worry, I always drive the speed limit.” He smirked. If she didn’t meet him at the gate, it was no loss. He was here for a while anyway. It would be nice to have someone to talk to other than the rampies for a change.
Marinalia (Romus) Olympus
Old Sol Airport . Wednesday Evening
He had a point. She was shuffling papers, and despite a good part of her after the previous night screaming, a small part peaked in intrest. Damn it, what was up with her recently. She did have a taser and CS spray hidden on her person, and the airport was secured to hell and back these days. She still was torn, part of her realising the last risk was massive, this time it was more calculated, he had security checks, she had met most of night staff and they'd likely not make it off the premises of someone hurt her.
The flight schedule, minesweeper and flight roster had not changed in past 2 hours... If needed 3 million volts would have him drooling into the tarmac for about 15-20 minutes.
Grabbing a jacket, and a logo marked high visibility coat to keep warm on the exposed runway, it was a colder night and the flat tarmac offered little shelter, neat uniform contrasting with the bright yellow jacket streaked with some oil resadue from a leaking engine, prominent logo and flight crew emblazed on back.
Then throwing him over a high visibility vest marked "Civilian" in big letters. , rules where rules even for civilians.
OK, and you'll need that. Rules are rules.
Call me Marlin, Mali. either Don,t mind. Walking out into the cool night air. Things where quiet at the runway, the sound of the DC3 warming its engines up broke the quiet and calm at the old cargo airport.
Why she was here. Might as well be honest, if he ran away his fault for asking, cool grey eyes glinting slightly in the powerful flood lighting, accent struggling to hide somewhat the turmoil between her two minds.
why... Its... Not nice.
Some jerk at the r jazz night tried to drug me, some cuben expat, rich kid. Derailed daddy's presidential bid... Perfect poss pose...? Trying to being back some control to voice, she had not had chance to open up to anyone but her dad and sister, and spent the past day turning it over again and again. Leaning against the land rover she sighed somewhat. Apart from blood tests they insisted she take time off flight status, it made sense but only pissed her off more with a rather peaved English accent.
flight rules. Blood tests. Until I'm cleared safe, I'm not allowed to fly. With slightly more resolve, it was somthing to be able to least say it. A weight lifted even of just a fraction..
I have 3 million volts if you a jerk, so hands on the gears not my knee.
OK, she thought that came across abit crazy, bit it set a boundary, and a line, his car was a frankenstein creation even to a non petrol head, bucket seats. No single pound wasted or unnecessary. Blimey, it made her DC7 look like a limo.
ready? Or I scared you off?
I'd apologise, I'd be lieing. 
