sail3695

Firefly - Second 'Verse

”Travis. Abby Travis” - (Part 1)

Cal Strand’s cameo by @wanderingwolf

”When you’re a spy…”

Almost too late, she recalled them shows she seen on Uncle Bob’s cortex. They’s chock full ‘o’ cool spy doin’s, with the main man hisself tellin’ yah how things was s’posed tah work. Abby loved them shows, ‘specially tha gun totin’ girlfriend an’ tha slick wingman. Never thought in all her days she’d be tryin’ tah make use ‘o’ tha ‘how to’ parts...

”...people want to dismiss you. Make it simple for them to put you in a box and forget you...”

After supper, she changed back inta her cutoffs an’ a big tee shirt she kept fer sleepin’. Now she looked tha part ‘o’ someone’s stayin’ in fer tha night, she could put the rest of ‘er plan inta action.

”....remember that the best accomplice is an unwitting one.”

“Who is it?” Perfessor Marquina opened his door. “Oh, Miss Travis! How are you feeling tonight?””

She smiled. “Lots better, thank yew. Hate tah bother, but I thought I’d best git a space heater inta yer room afore they’s all snatched up.” She held out the little unit. “Perty simple, an’ fire safe, so yah got no worries. I’ll bring extra blankets in tha mornin’, too. Listen…’cuz yer gonna be holed up alot while we’s in tha black, thought I’d keep hot drinks close ‘ta hand. What’s yer pleasure?” she asked, “coffee, tea, or cocoa?”

The perfessor looked delighted. “Tea, please! Any brown is quite sufficient. How considerate!”

“Ain’t nothin’ a’tall,” she give him a smile. “I’ll keep a hot thermos in yer’ room fer all yer wakin’ hours.” She spied his cortex, layin’ atop a stack ‘o’ sketches...all of what looked tah be tha same flower. “Is that yer orchid?”

“Yes!” His eyes lit up somethin’ fierce. He showed her the pitchers, pointin’ out important bits like coloration in tha blossom an’ give ‘er a primer in spottin’ male an’ female plants. She had tah admit she didn’t ken tha stronger ‘twixt the orchid or his passion fer it. Either way, she promised she’d take time tah hear more once they’s in tha black.

“But fer now,” Abby said, “I need tah make a quick call. Ain’t got a cortex. Could I borrow your’n?”

“Of course.”

She whipped out tha bidness card, an’ tapped in that connect code. “Mmmmmmmmmickey Rickshaw!” came tha answer. Fella’s even annoyin’ in ‘is calls…

“Hey...this is Abby. You gimme yer card taday? Out front ‘o’ that Firefly?”

“Firefly…..oh yeah! Well hello, Beautiful!” he durn near shouted. “Decide you’ll let me take you for a ride?”

“Yep.”

”Jīngrén de! How soon should I be there?”

“Now.”

”...mask an escape attempt as the most common day-to-day errand...”

She made a break fer it, luggin’ a garbage bag across tha cargo bay. Well, limpin’ with a garbage bag, leastways. Jest ahead’s tha door. Twenty foot...fifteen foot...ten foot...she’s gon’ make it…

“Abigail.” Cap’n’s voice come down from on high, in a tone says “busted.”

She stopped cold. “Cap’n?”

“Where you bound?” He’s leanin’ on tha catwalk railin’, lookin’ down on the deckhand with her trash bag.

”...when you’re under interrogation, keep your answers simple…”

“Dumpster.”

“In the dark?”

She heard his cigarette case come open. ”Ohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseohplease...“ the girl silently chanted afore answerin’ Cal. “Yessir.”

“Gotta admit to bein’ all manner of curious,” he said afore sendin’ a cloud ‘o’ smoke toward tha ceilin’. “What sort ‘o’ trash is it makes my deckhand break the Doc’s order to lay low tonight?”

”...Avoid scrutiny by embarrassing the scrutinizer...”

“It’s…” she made tah struggle with her words. “Muh beddin’. Sheets, blanket, ‘n’ such.”

“Now I really don’t…”

“It’s muh time, Cap’n. Started up right after supper.,” she stammered, soundin’ all flustered. “Powerful heavy flow. Couldn’t make it fer a pad an’...”

“I got it,” Cal cut her off with a raised hand. “Just be careful, dohn mah?”

”Shì de, chuánzhǎng.” she thowed a nod of ‘er head afore swingin’ tha door wide an’ makin’ her best speed down the ramp, where Mickey an’ his rickshaw was waitin’.

“Hey Sweetness!” he’s all bright an’ cheerful as she pulled herself inta the canopied seat. “Where to? I know some pretty great places…”

”...a little style never hurts…”

“Pegleg Pete’s,” Abby commanded the rickshaw jockey. “ Punch it.”

*********************To Be Continued********************

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Supper With Shipmates - Part 3

JP/collab from @wanderingwolf, @Psych0Pomp, @Aalakrys, @Xandrya, @Gunther. @Winters. @MK Blitzen, @Yule, @sail3695, and @LuckytheParrot

“Engine room,” Abby piped up afore slicin’ salmon with her fork. “Should stay tolerable warm. Keep ‘im in his cage, cause they’s lots ‘o’ movin’.....MMMM!” Her eyes went wide as that first bite landed in her mouth. She give a gesture to Hook afore swallowin’. “This is gorram perfect,” she shook her head. “Wow, Hook! You done spectacklar!”

“I second that, and this coming from someone who doesn’t make seafood her first pick.” Alana took another bite and after a few moments she addressed Abby, though in a lower tone. “I hope you’re feeling better? At least the appetite is there.”

Abby downed a swallow of her drink. “Yes,” she give a nod an’ a smile to tha Doc. “Still a might sore an’ I’m movin’ slower’n molasses on New Kasmir, but I feel good enough tah head inta town.” Soon’s she said it, she thought better of blurtin’ that one out. “If’n yew say it’s shiny, that is.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to turn down that request, little lady. If you need something I can go ahead and fetch it for you as I’m heading out myself one last time, and I’d feel much better if you stayed put. Don’t want to risk it, ya know?” Alana smiled softly, serving up one last small batch of potatoes for herself. She was slightly obsessed with them, so she knew she would be making a request to Hook in the future.

The patient’s face seemed tah fall ‘bout tha same as her shoulders slumped. “Yes’m” she answered tah Doc’s orders in a flat tone.. ‘Course it made sense an’ all, but…aw hell, she finally conjured. Doc spent yesterday diggin’ ‘round my backside. I gotta follow her advice, but...tha mission. Made that promise, too. All glum in her spirits, Abby speared a carrot an’ said “I do got a couple things I could use, if yah don’t mind.”

Isaac trotted up the gangway and up the catwalks towards the galley. He could smell the cooking from the ramp and quickened his pace when he heard the deckhand's approval. That girl didn't seem to like anything, so it had to be good. He popped his head in the galley doorway, ape hanging from the side frame. "Someone mention food?" He grinned as he bobbed his head to get a look at what was left.

“Go on and help yourself Lo. Try to chew your food this time eh?” Mathias teased the youngest Skye.

"Pssh! And waste valuable eating time?" Isaac scoffed, then was immediately distracted. "Ooh! Roasted potatoes!" He said excitedly as he made his way towards the end of the table where the tasty spuds rested, foregoing taking a seat. He snagged what appeared to be an unused fork and stabbed two prize pieces of potato to munch on where he stood.

“I swear at some point he was taught manners … I think.” Mathias shook his head at his brother's antics.

"Oh, so terribly sorry." The younger Skye responded with a piss poor imitation of a rich person's accent as he gave a little bow. "How was everyone's day?" He queried those gathered around the table. Without waiting for a response, something else caught his eye. "I love carrots!" Stab stab went the fork again as he continued noshing, now resting part of his weight with his free hand on the back of one of the chairs.

Penelope giggled at the youngest sibling's enthusiasm. He was just so darn adorable. Between him and Abby, it made her feel quite homesick for her little brothers. Isaac reminded her of Pollux, so exuberant, while Abby was more like Castor in his more literal way of thinking. Hopefully, she'd get to see them soon, since Greenleaf was the next stop.

“He likes your cooking a lot,” Cyd tried to explain apologetically, pulling out the chair next to her while tugging Isaac’s shirt so he’d at least sit. The kid was a cyclone sometimes! She was chomping at the bit to find out about his date, but it was Isaac. His mouth would be full for the next fifteen, twenty minutes easy.

Abby seen firsthand that Little was settlin’ right inta life on a boat...boardin’ house reach an’ ever’thin’, but fer all her thinkin’ he coulda swiped food from her plate without her battin’ an eye. They’s the mission she promised. Any way she sliced it, hadta be her makin’ tha drop. Think like a spy in them books. I gotta make that meetin’, she thunk, Jest got scads harder, seein’s ever’ soul on this boat ‘cept that new passenger heard me gittin’ grounded. What was it Doc didn’t want ‘er to do? Carousin’, most like. No daincin’...but Abby weren’t a daincer, noways. Prob’ly no big walkin’ about’s tha big reason. But It’s fer true Doc didn’t mind her sittin’ down front all day, and she’d stuck to it...even when that rickshaw boy spent ten minutes starin’ at her legs an’ tryna ta sweet talk her inta a ride. Barely took no fer an answer… And that’s when tha idea come. She could keep both promises. Sorta.

Cyd had a need to fill silence, if not with music, then at least with words. Having finished her salmon and potatoes, she took a sip of water before answering Issac’s question. “Day was kiff er… good,” She said in case anyone was unsure of kiff. “Odds, ends. Getting the shuttle kitted out before launch. Captain Cal just let everyone know the next sixteen hours the ship will cut the heat, so it’s gonna get lank icy cold. Before we take off, if anyone hits up Pirate’s Cove, just a little advice, your head is larger than a cannonball, and it will get stuck,” she giggled and side-eyed Isaac. “The maintenance folk were lekker nice about it though, they say it happens all the time.”

Isaac pointed at his sister with a potato skewered fork. "TOLD you other people had done it!" He said, looking quite proud of his dubious accomplishment.

“Enough that they have a code for it,” Cyd agreed with another chuckle.

"We've got a squib in Number 1." Isaac said in his mock officious voice as the siblings simultaneously mimicked the crewman's exasperated sigh and laughed.

"Oh! And Castaways, right on the beach." Cyd added, stifling her giggles over Isaac’s antics. "For serious, you can have a rum and Pensa-Cola right on the sand by a bonfire. Luau every night, and a steel drum band that are madder good.”

“Even better with a daga and good going chwee chweereekeys.” Mathias snickered between bites. “Either way, we learned that Issac is fond of sticking his head in random holes and one day, Lolo, there ain't going to be a code to pop you out.”

“How’d the alley cat fare?” Cal asked from the head of the table, chopsticks hanging between his next bite. “These two mentioned you had some oats to sow,” with a smirk, Cal reached for a roll.

Isaac looked like he was about to die of embarrassment from the Captain's directness. He gave a quick pleading look to his big mouth siblings for putting him in such a situation before turning back to Cal with a dopey grin, cheeks flushed. "Went fine, sir." He replied, trying to hide behind his fork. "Sarah's real nice. Wasn't too thrilled that I was leaving tomorrow, though." His expression flickered sad for a moment, then hopeful. "Any idea when we might be back this way...uh...sir?"

“Always leave them wanting more; good job, kid.” Captain Strand interrogated his plate at Isaac’s question, “Maybe a month or two might see us back on planet, but not Pensacola. Next tuna season, maybe, long as things don’t go sideways tomorrow.” His expression didn’t mirror the boy’s hopeful eyes.

Penelope glanced along the table down to Isaac, tilting her as she was to do when giving a suggestion in the form of reminder. "But we have a shuttle, no matter where we land next time."

No sense in killing his dreams so quick, her glance back towards Cal said. Amused, of course - young love and attachment was cute, especially given the nature of what the Skyes signed on for. They were all vagabonds here, every one. She, having been more an observer than participant though, was done eating. Her mind was a bit more full of thoughts she was ready to get out, and looked like Cal was done enough as well. "Ready for that chat, Cap?"

Cal dabbed his mouth with a ratty, cloth napkin, “Better to have loved and lost, they say,” he chided, pushing out from the table. His eyes met Penelope’s before standing and quitting their company for the bridge.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Supper With Shipmates - Part 2

JP/collab from @wanderingwolf, @Psych0Pomp, @Aalakrys, @Xandrya, @Gunther. @Winters. @MK Blitzen, @Yule, @sail3695, and @LuckytheParrot

Rex was startled awake either by the smell of food or the hum of conversation; it was hard to tell which. He almost knocked the cup of cold coffee over as he immediately went into a stretch. Lucky let out a perturbed squawk before retreating to his place under Rex's coat. "What the hell?" He glanced around. "When did this happen?"

“Magic.” Mathias snickered with jazz hands before snagging a plate to load up with food.

Alana tried her best to stifle a laugh even with her mouth full. No doubt the drinks from earlier that day had loosen her up a bit, causing her to find humor in just about anything. She reached for a smaller piece of salmon to give it a try. Truth be told, her taste for seafood wasn’t all there, but she was the adventurous type when it came to food either way. “Glad you could join us; heard you mumbling a whole lotta nothing in your sleep,” she went on matter-of-factly as if such a thing had actually happened.

Penelope was all innocent as she snagged up some more potatoes with the chopsticks she’d traded her spoon out for, for precision. That blanket had been there a while now, but she wasn’t going to own up to it when others were taking it in a different direction.

Cyd giggled at her twin’s response. “Hook the cook,” She put a piece of salmon on her own plate, then one for her brother. “Everything looks kiff, off the track, shot for it.”

Rex rolled his eyes at their passengers. He then felt something tickle the back of his neck. Someone had put a blanket on him. Lucky hadn't said a damn thing, probably relishing the entire debacle. He just grumbled through the fog of sleep and reached for a plate, eyeing the vegetables like an alcoholic eyed a full bottle of gin.

“Help yourself,” Cal said with a full mouth, sliding an empty plate across the table to Rex.

With the table set and everyone digging into the food, Hook considered sitting next to Rex but preferred not to be near the bird. He chose a seat near Cal instead. Although he worked on a farm when he was young and got along well with horses and cows, he just didn’t know the bird. What the hell was it? It spoke and that just didn’t set well with Joe Hooker. He was just a bit uneasy around the bird.

Watching Joe take a seat, Cal set down his chopsticks and cleared his throat. “It’s good most everyone’s here because I promised certain people that I’d let you all in on our next job when I had it set. Tomorrow, we’re lifting off come afternoon to take on four-thousand pounds of tuna. It’ll be all hands-on deck to get it set and strapped, but that means we’re going to have ourselves a mighty fishy trip ahead of us to Greenleaf.” Cal lifted a glass to his lips before continuing. “In order to preserve our catch, we’re going to be flying without temp: we’re turning off atmo for the ship, so it’s gonna get cold.” Captain Strand surveyed the faces across the table from beneath the brim of his hat. “But I got a couple space heaters in storage, and we’ll break out the blankets. My sources say it’ll be about twenty-three degrees, but we’ll see when we get in the black.”

Lesson learnt. Never turn the Doc down when she’s pushin’ pain pills. Abby couldn’t be sure it was really her surgery doin’ tha main hurtin’, seein’s she let her legs git all burned an’ such. Needless tah say they’s none too happy bein’ jammed inta a pair ‘o’ chinos. As Cap’n filled ever’one all in on tha chilly run ahead, she limped in...like an old gramma...and lowered herself all careful like inta tha chair Pen waved her toward. With a quiet ‘thank yew’ fer the pilot, the deckhand set tah work fillin’ her plate as folk passed the dishes her way.

“How long is this trip to Greenleaf?” Hook asked. He was thinking if the trip was too long, the crew would freeze to death, and they wouldn’t need whatever money they earned for the trip. But with space heaters, that might be just enough to take the edge off and make the trip tolerable.

“Near sixteen hours, but maybe Penelope can get us there sooner,” Cal replied.

She glanced over at the pilot as she reached for some water. Alana would have to shop for something to keep her warm unless she wanted to end up an icy treat.

Penelope looked up from her cut of fish at being called on. She’d been figuring in her head, about somethin’ else, but gave a nod in his direction all the same.

“That’s quite a lot to ask folk to put up with sub-freezing temperatures for sixteen hours,” Hook interjected. He knew he could make it. He packed some winter clothing and was prepared to don them if needed. He figured he could always duck into the engine room to absorb some warmth from time to time.

“Well, they’re gonna have to put up with it. No better way to transport four-thousand pounds of tuna without losing a percent to degradation.” Strand shook his head decisively. “I suggest you pick up an extra coat ‘fore we leave shore.” Chopsticks back in hand, Cal took another bite from his plate.

“We need to pick up warmer sleepers,” Cyd said as she pierced her fork into the salmon, nudging her brother. “Especially if we’re gonna doss on the floor.” They had ordered Japanese style bedding to save space.

“If we keep the door closed, we can use the shuttle atmo to stay warm. We can still get some extra warm stuff. Just in case.” Never hurts to be careful after all.

Cyd looked to the captain. “Is that right?” she asked, “shuttle has heat?”

She contemplated for a moment. “If the shuttle will keep heat, we’d be glad to share it with anyone who wants to warm up or even doss...er… sleep,” Cyd offered. She may have looked towards the captain with the invite, but it was completely unintentional, or at the very least subconscious. She shifted her gaze to Pen, Hook and Abby. “Open invite to all,” she added to clarify. They’d make room, and it could be fun. Play some cards, play some music. Oooh! She mused, Karaoke! Rave on.

“Aye, your shuttle has heat; you lucked out on this run.” After that, Cal’s mouth was busy with dinner as the chill he’d forecast settled over the table in the nervous looks among the crew.

Hook decided to focus on eating the salmon. It wasn’t that bad. Another recipe he got from Mrs. McGinnis. Of course, that thought made him think of Penny. He often wondered what happened to her. They did everything together. With the deaths of Mr. and Mrs. McGinnis, Joe assumed Penny and her brother were dead. He thought about Penny often. They were close when he lived on that farm.

Rex poked at the asparagus and potatoes, tending to the food slowly as his stomach would let him. Salmon didn't agitate him like red meat did, but it all bothered him. He raised a brow at Cal's declaration of the temperature drop. "You trying to kill my bird?" He paused. "It isn't going to bump you up in my favorite people standing. I'll replace you with your little clipboard toting clone." He pointed the chopsticks towards the captain accusatory with a smile on his face.

“I was hoping you’d come down with hypothermia and I’d get to keep the bird, but beggars can’t be choosers.” Cal shot a wink Lucky’s way.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Supper With Shipmates - Part 1

JP/collab from @wanderingwolf, @Psych0Pomp, @Aalakrys, @Xandrya, @Gunther. @Winters. @MK Blitzen, @Yule, @sail3695, and @LuckytheParrot

Hook had been in the galley preparing the food at least an hour before the meal was ready. He gathered all the ingredients from the pantry after cleaning the table off. He had prepared everything with cutting boards to keep surfaces clean. He preheated the oven to 425 degrees Fahrenheit. Once the topping was ready for the Salmon filets, he laid them across a few foil lined cookie sheets. The asparagus were treated with the garlic and lemon and then again laid out on a cookie sheet. When they were ready, they were inserted into the oven. The potatoes took a little more time to cut up into manageable chunks and then treated with some garlic, olive oil and sea salt. He cut up the carrots, placed them in a pot to boil on top of the stove.

Once all the food was in the oven or on the stove, he cleared away all the utensils used for food preparation and then cleaned them all up in the sink. After drying the cutting boards and knives, he put them away and set the table for eight people. In a few minutes, the crew started filing in.

“Take a seat, dinner will be ready soon,” Joe told the crew. As the timers were going off, he pulled the food from the stove and oven and transferred them to serving bowls and plates. These were then transferred to the table for everyone to access along with serving utensils.

Reaching over the sleeping first mate, Captain Strand plucked a fried tomato from mid-table, gingerly setting it on his plate. “Rex,” Cal called in a booming voice, “you wanna say grace?” His grin stretching from ear to ear.

“Aw, Cap’n, don’t go botherin’ him,” Pen said with that same faint smile that always lingered, this time more to do with the pastel rainbow ‘shawl’ across those large, hunched shoulders that she’d put there. She sat cross-legged at the table, with a foot hanging down swinging, cheek pressed to a palm as she glanced over at the big guy. “He’s cozy.”

Mid-bite Cal continued, “Cozy? That man could sleep through an Alliance raid, and he has before.” He finished his mouthful, before nudging Rex with the butt of his chopsticks. “What’d I tell ya? Kids, this is what happens when you party too hard.” Amused at his own joke, Cal went in for another bite.

“Must be nice to get that level of shuteye… Some nights even a feather dropping will pull me from my beautiful slumber, though a couple of drinks does help,” Alana mused, serving herself some more potatoes.

“Nothing bad happens from partying too hard,” Cyd replied with a knowing smile. She flashed a quick glance to the captain and the passed out man beside him who looked as if he’d raved the night before. She and Mathias managed to make it to the galley fashionably late. “Ever.” Their first of many shopping trips was a success, but the shuttle still needed a scrub down, and that itself was an understatement.

Mathias made an iffy hand. “I can think of a few times you had to nut someone... “He snorted, ready to be jabbed at by his sister.

“On them, not on me,” Cyd defended, jabbing him in the ribs. ”We heard there’d be a lekker dinner, Abby said plates at six.”

“Ah, the prodigal Skyes return. Pull up a chair. What, no small-fry? That’s okay; way I hear there’s not enough food in the ‘verse to fill that pit.” Cal made a sweeping gesture to the empty chairs and bench at the galley table.

“Small-Fry is getting his alley cat on. He may drop by after.” Mathias said with a bit of pride.

Cyd pulled up one of the chairs leaving a few spaces, Mathias sitting at her side. “Is that Rex?” Cyd asked, tilting her head. “Huh. Maybe we should hold off on first week’s rent?” They’d never had trouble paying anyone before. Why couldn’t this ever happen when they’d been short?

Penelope was polishing off a spoonful of rice pilaf when that notion came up, her eyes twinkling but smile hidden by the spoon still popped in. The Skyes were all sorts of amusing.

“Good for him. More for us.” Captain turned from the Skye twins to Penelope, “How’d the shore treat you? Abigail chewed my ear off over some shell or other.”

“Went right nice,” Penelope summed up. “Got plenty of shells to make up. Heard-tell we’re going to Greenleaf, so want to make sure my affairs are in order.”

“‘Deed we are. In fact, I was hoping we could have a chat about some business later on. Got a pickup tomorrow after midday ‘fore we take off for Greenleaf.” Cal reached for another salmon steak.

“That’d be shiny, Cap’n, since I was hopin’ for the same.” The pilot said as she helped herself to some garlic roasted potatoes, not real keen on sharing the details with the group at the moment anyhow.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Happy Sunday from the cargo deck!

Lots of big doin's on the China Doll.

First up, today's the day! Hook's doin' some serious cookin' and yer all invited! We thought the chance to get y'all sittin' around tha galley table would be a fun Chat RP, so we're all hittin' Discord TODAY at 5PM EASTERN TIME. Bring yer appetite, and a story or two could be right nice.

Sounds like after dinner, lotsa folk have plans.
Think I heard that both shuttles are goin' fer joy rides (excuse me, 'operational test flights'.) Skyes takin' the one they jest rented, an' Pen's got t'other.
Cap'n and the Doc got somethin' goin' on in town.
Abby's on a super secret mission. Wishin' she had a hat an' a trench coat.
Way up East, Yuri's all busy fixin' stuff what broke.

What about you? You got somethin' in mind fer our last night in town? Sing out an' we'll leave tha lights on.

Got a slight change 'o' plans. Wolf had an idea. Wolf had a terrible, wonderful idea. Instead 'o' wrappin' the episode when we break atmo an' time skippin' to arrival at Greenleaf, we're gonna RP our time in the black. Ain't a long haul...nearabouts 16 hours. Might also give us another shot at some chat RP...if y'all are feelin' it.

And that's what we know! Remember, we are all about character subplots and development. If you've got a story to tell on New Melbourne and need some extra time, let us know and we'll put the brakes on. Likewise for the black, or Greenleaf.

As Yuri's boss just said, "Danny-boy's just a bunch of hot air." So, it's time for me to shut up. See y'all today at 5PM!

WWIF,

sail

Firefly - Second 'Verse

And The Sea Shall Yield Up….

Part 3

The galley of the NS Eileen McSorley was intended not only to serve fitting meals to her crew, but to send a message of family bonding and comfort to those who took refuge there. A series of comfortable tables were arranged about the room, their deck mounts concealed by the once plush, now wearing deep pile carpet.

The centerpiece of the room was its’ elaborate main dining table. In the ship’s early days, this table played host to teams of visiting executives and their families. It was the setting for sumptuous banquets served upon its’ inlaid wood top. Several years back, as the Mick relinquished her flagship status to newer vessels, a layer of polyplex had been slapped down to minimize damage by the crew. Though the march of time was slowly denuding the room of its’ earlier grandeur, the crew still found comfort and hearty food within the galley’s confines.

Yuri was seated at the main table, next to the Chief Engineer. Edwards was busily wolfing down a plate of porkchops. “Daniel, they’re callin’ it,” he dragged a slice through his mashed potatoes and gravy, then scooped the whole mess into his mouth. “Ain’t nothin,” the Chief’s voice was thick as he waved his fork toward the floor-to-ceiling viewpane. “Shoulda been here back in ought-nine....Kate? Now that was a storm.” To Yuri’s gratitude, his lunch partner finally swallowed the offending morsel. After following it with a healthy swig of Captain Bob’s Cola, Edwards resumed his tale. “Bad, bad storm. Took New Hampton right off the map. Mick was right in the middle of it,” the old man’s brows lifted. “I tell you, son, that’n had me holdin’ onto my cho chos. This?” He sent the fork in for another assault. “Danny-boy’s nothin’ but hot air. Gonna head north an’ die. Just a fish storm.”

Yuri nursed his coffee, eyes focused upon the hurricane’s chaos before them. A wicked sky of black, low hanging clouds swept above. The winds tore across the open deck, fueling waves that now broke among the cargo bay hatches. In the past hour, they’d gone straight from Gale One to Gale Three preparedness, closing watertight doors and instituting rolling damage checks within the hull. One such investigation revealed a larger stress fracture through which water poured every time the Mick rolled heavily to starboard. Even as they sat here, Martinez was welding a patch. “Eleven inches in the bilge, Chief,” Yuri offered.

“I ordered all pumps,” the engineer devoured more pork. “Conjure we’ll be dry again in a couple hours. Your reactor happy?”

“Efficieny’s rolling off in these seas. Three rods down and output is slowing. I think the roll stress is accelerating breakdown in the mod blocks.”

Edwards nodded. “We still running at ten knots?”

“Yes, but shipping seas over the port beam isn’t helping.” As if on cue, a mountain of water slammed into the port side. The great ship seemed to stagger beneath the blow, her deck hatches nearly obscured by the torrent of violent water, a sight to inspire gasps and whistles from other crew situated about the galley. “Whew,” the young man exclaimed. “That was a…”

The loud squawk that blared from both their walkies caused the engineer and his mate to reach for their radios. “Chief Edwards!” Chrissy’s voice echoed til both could cut their volumes. “Chief! Come in!”

“Edwards here.”

“Looks like we just lost a vent topside. Took heavy water down the duct. Port forward pump’s offline!”

The Chief’s eyes met Yuri’s. “Can you…”

“I got it.”

His coffee cup left behind, Yuri made for the stairwell, grabbing each handgrip to swing hastily downward. Deck by deck he moved, his descent accompanied by the radio chatter. “Antonov’s on his way,” the Chief responded. “What’s it looking like, Chrissy?”

“Regular wavebreak,” came the harried response. “Right down the duct. Shipping one - two hundred gallons each time. Waterfall...right onto the pump motor. It shorted out.”

”La shi,” the mate cursed under his breath. “Martinez,” he keyed his mic, “status?”

“Starboard midships...tryna finish this patch!”

Yuri entered the portside raceway, one of two interior corridors that would connect the fore and aft cabins and work areas. If this were a normal day, he’d have already completed his daily run, four laps of the eight hundred foot passage to get him just over the mile mark. But today, with the ship rocking under the hurricane force, his stride was more intense. “Port forward pump!” he barked into his walkie. “We gotta cap an air duct. Bring your rig, a four by four sheet of galvanized, and some eighth inch strip. Double quick.”

“Copy!”

Overhead, the roar of an angry sea echoed through the raceway. Yuri could feel the blow, sense the Mick as she labored under the added tonnage. They’d lost one of their four primary pumps. This struggle had just grown much tougher.



……………….to be continued………………..

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Hey folks,

In case you missed the group chat today, we're thinking that Hook's Day 2 supper is a great chance for us all to live chat RP everyone hanging out together at the Galley table. Right now, we're looking at SUNDAY, 9/19 @ 5PM EASTERN TIME.

Please let us know if the time works, or feel free to suggest one that does. We'll save a plate for you.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Good thing Abby's "appointment" isn't til 8-ish. She'll be there.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

I really got a kick out of the shuttle rental! Well done, guys.

Abby is about and can "sit" for a JP. Tomorrow evening work for y'all?

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Folk was still lookin’ out fer her. After Pen headed in, she spun back by with a tube ‘o’ sunscreen an’ a jug ‘o’ water. Cap’n showed up with a walkie. An’ then Hook come out with this amazin’ fish sandwich. “I should git shot more often,” the girl tried the joke. Judgin’ by the blank stares, it went over like a lead balloon. Lesson learnt.

She may come up short in the joke tellin’ department, but one thing Abby conjured straight up. Them’s who showed her so much kindness was due double in return. Mighta been a bullet goosed ‘em inta action, but she figgered it had tah be in ‘em tah start...and that made ‘em good folk. Folk she wanted tah be like. Emulate, she’d read in one ‘o’ her stories.

Abby mused on that as she rubbed the lotion ontah her legs. Aunt Lupe an’ Uncle Bob was good folk...leastways til Lupe died. But even in years tah follow, when she’d have tah steer him tah bed at night or pick him up from a puddle of his own sick come mornin’, she always knowed Uncle Bob cared for her.

He taught her tah draw a pistol..”tah keep yer virtue from them’s tryin’ tah take it.” All the while, he waved that book about. “Looka here, Chick Pea! Says it right here! Blackjack Bob O’Halleran...fastest gun in tha ‘verse!” Sure’n she believed it, too...leastways ‘til she beat him on the draw. She’s eleven at the time. Afore then, she’d always pondered why none of them other guns never come lookin’ fer him...jest farm boys with big ideas an’ dog eared copies ‘o’ that book. But after a time spent thinkin’ on it, Abby come tah realize that them gunslingers, Lefty DuFresne, Jean Ann Cuthbert, Doc Adler an’ tha rest...knowed all along what she jest learned. Uncle Bob weren’t fast. Weren’t even close. But even when she kenned his feet ‘o’ clay, the girl loved the man what raised her. ”I should open that book tahnight… she thought of her last remembrance.

“Excuse me? Miss?”

Man was standin’ right fronta her. “Sorry,” Abby startled from her lotion. “Mind’s a million mile away…”

He give a smile. “Those are my favorite times. Apologies for interrupting your journey.” Man looked about her height. Had a suit jacket, but everythin’ ‘bout ‘im was rumpled. Scuffs an’ dirt on his shoes tole her he weren’t no high toned gent, but them spectacles and the eyes behind got her tah thinkin’ he’s a right smart one. He’s breakin’ a sweat, draggin’ a big trunk behind ‘im. “I was told you’re bound for Greenleaf?”

Abby nodded. “True that. Skids up ‘bout fifteen hunnerd tomorrah. Got single an’ double berth rooms open.”

Man’s eyes brightened a skosh. “Perfect! I’d be delighted to book a single. May I store my trunk aboard now?”

“Sure’n you can.” Abby opened the clipboard. “Gotta warn yah. We’re haulin’ some fresh fish, so won’t be no heat ‘cept a space heater in yer room. We’ll set ya up with extra blankets an’ such. That work for yew?”

“Shiny,” the man give a broad smile. “I’m from New Kasmir. It’s always cold there,” he chuckled. “I was so afraid, with the fishing season starting, that I’d be stranded here and miss my orchid.”

“Orchid?”

“I’m a botanist...I study plants,” he said tah Abby’s lost stare. “I think there’s an unnamed species of orchid growing in the southern jungles on Greenleaf.” As he ‘splained his purpose, his eyes took a shine. She could tell he’s gettin’ excited jest talkin’ ‘bout it. “I’m meeting a guide, but she says we have to leave in three days’ time...so I’m glad to face a little cold for the chance to name a new species!” He’s durn near bouncin’ on tha balls of his feet.

“Then yah got tha right boat.” She lifted the clipboard. “Care tah putcher name on tha line?”

“Certainly!” He took her pen and set to writin’, his name laid out in neat letterin’.

Prof. S. Marquina

He went fer his pocket, then like a doctor measurin’ out medicine, he counted out his coin. “I believe that puts everything in order,” he said as Abby took the clipboard back.

Her brow furrowed. “Prof? Kinda name is...oh,” she caught wise. “Perfessor. Perfessor Marquina,” she said with a nod.

“You pronounced my name correctly,” his smile was good humored.. “You know some Spanic?”

“Had an Aunt Lupe...Guadalupe,” she counted out the coin, afore lookin’ up. “All square, Perfessor. I can have someone show yah aboard.”

Marquina straightened his tie. “Actually, I’m running late for an appointment in town. Might someone take my trunk aboard while I attend my business?”

”Ku. We’ll git it stowed fer yah. Welcome aboard tha China Doll, Perfessor.”

“Thank you, miss?”

“Oh yeah. Travis,” she give her hand tah shake. “Call me Abby.”

The Professor give a half bow as he took her hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Abby. I’ll be back.” Tossed a friendly wave her way, and in a second, he was hurryin’ off toward town.

“Seems nice,” sht watched him go. Good tah see there’s nice folk out there. Durin’ his last years, Uncle Bob was all paranoid an’ warnin’ her tha ‘verse was full ‘o’ killers, rapists, and con artists. ”He’s prob’ly right,” she conjured, ”but seein’s I ain’t been killed nor raped, one outta three ain’t too bad…”

This next fella she seen comin’. Younger, mayhaps her age or a year or so more, tall an’ long haired. “S’cuse me,” he asked, eyes fixin’ on her legs til’ he realized he’s makin’ a fool ‘o’ hisself. “Are you...Abby?” he near whispered.

She laid the open clipboard over her thighs. “Who the hell are yew?”

“Jerome,” he stammered. “I...got a message...if you’re Abby.”

Abby cocked an eyebrow. “The same. Go on.”

The boy chose an honest to Buddha whisper this time. “We got a mutual friend. She left her bag on your boat. Hopin’ you’ll give it back?”

Her hands gripped the armrests. “She’s alive?”

“I conjure.”

“So y’ain’t seen ‘er?”

“Nope...oh,” the boy fished in his pocket. “I’m s’posed to give you this.”

She took the envelope, an’ tore it open. Abby read it all quiet as Jerome shifted about, til his nervousness couldn’t be ignored no more. “Yah gonna keep doin’ that rain dance or yah gon’ let me finish?” she demanded. Once he settled down proper, she went back tah readin’.

”This,” Abby thought of them words in the note, ”is zactly what Cap’n warned me tah steer clear of.” She tucked the note back inside afore pushin’ it intah Jerome’s hand.

“What time I gotta be there?”