With @Hank @The Ghost Note @Nightbringer
Callum MacLearie sat rather comfortably in his chair in the cockpit, one foot was resting up on the extra chair, the other was on the floor and in his lap was yet another steaming coffee, and a half eaten sandwich. A clear pain rang between his ears on and off and he pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh.
His stomach had at least calmed down.
The pilot had needed the reprieve. God he’d needed it. He didn’t expect anyone but Naryxa to understand that, but he’d needed it. Soaking himself through with alcohol to the point where he was a danger to an open flame hurt him now, but had been pure relief at the time. He wasn’t angry at it, just sore inside.
He’d taken glimpses at the new crew. Two engineers? Different. Only ever had one before, and a “mechanic”. The grumpy Scotsman scoffed at it and sighed. Vorcha too, what was the Captain thinking? Mind you, not that he doubted she’d put the thing in its place if it ever tried anything out of the ordinary on the ship. Cast it out into open space and forget the surprise of a Vorcha trying to kill them all in their sleep. He laughed bitterly. “Fuck me,” he groaned to himself. “Equality ship now, my fuckin’ arse,” he muttered, throwing back the crust of the sandwich into his mouth and chasing it down with the black coffee. “That fuckin’ thing tries
anything... She fucking better be ready for me to be off when she gets back. Fucking Vorcha. No fucking clue sometimes.”
He was already planning to confront her about it, and he was happy that she was away with it. Maybe it wouldn’t survive the skirmish.
That thought stung.
A stabbing pain in his temple that made him regret it. He was softer than that underneath it. Far underneath it, but it was there. Had to be. He knew it. She knew it. Still, the thought of its teeth around--
The pain again. All he could do was curse quietly under his breath again. He’d yell if the echo didn’t just fire back at him.
“Looking a little more alive, I see,” came a woman’s voice from behind the pilot. Delilah crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe to the cockpit, a small smile at Callum’s expense on her lips. “Coffee’s pretty decent, isn’t it? I’m not used to that on alien starships. Do I have you to thank for installing the machine?”
Without waiting for an answer, she pointed at the extra chair and the way it was currently occupied by one of his feet. “May I?”
“Some young’un a couple of rotations back brought it and left it behind,” MacLearie answered, moving his foot lazily off the seat. “If ah say no, you’ll only hover behind me,” he shrugged, clearing his throat with a cough.
“Saw you earlier,” the Pilot said out loud as the cogs turned over. “You’re to be some kind of… Assistant or what hav’ye. Aye, you were first one in.”
“That’s right,” Delilah said as she sat down on the extra chair. “I’m surprised you remember me. You didn’t look like your eyeballs were even working.”
“Why, hello there?” Another woman appeared in the doorway with a hot cup of coffee in hand. “I hope I’m not intruding, I just settled in and I....” That was when Maya realized that she was talking too much, and was doing a bad job of hiding that she was bored.
“Nevermind, mind if I have a seat as well?”
“If ye can find one,” MacLearie answered dryly, somewhat taken aback by the brightness of Maya’s hair, it was practically neon under the light of the cockpit. “There’s other places to host yer little coffee club as well, just in case.”
Maya casually leaned up against the wall. “I’m, uh, fine standing.” She awkwardly covered a cough.
“And leave you here so you can sulk in silence in your cockpit?” Delilah asked and rolled her eyes at him. “You’re not getting your way that easily. We’re bored, you see,” she continued, having picked up on the vibe that Maya was giving off, “so now it’s your job to entertain us.” The comms specialist shot an amused glance at the medic, hoping that the bright-haired woman would play along.
The Pilot sighed, closing his eyes slowly. “Wasn’t sulking, just sitting.” He took another sip of his coffee, feeling more prickled by the second to be surrounded by the women. “Plenty to do on the ship if yer bored.” Not long after he’d said it, MacLearie quirked a brow in the direction of the door and cast a quick glance at Maya. “Long as you stay out of trouble, and the Captain’s quarters.”
“Like what?” Maya shot him an amused smirk as she had some quips of her own to give him. “Drink cheap liquor that’ll shave ten years off your life?” She shrugged as she crossed her arms, with that same cheeky smug look on her face as she said.
“I don’t think that stuff would be legal in alliance space.”
“I’m not drinking for a while,” MacLearie retorted with a raised brow, his last word coming out with reflux and a small, but significant belch. He sneered at himself and sunk lower into his chair. “Fuck that, one night every whenever-the-fuck is fine by me.”
In the silence between his words, and whoever wished to speak next, there was a clatter above them - a noise in the vents. MacLearie’s eyes shot open again, “ahhh fuck.”
“... What the hell was that?” Maya asked, “Please don’t tell me there’s Varren in the ship.”
MacLearie shot a dangerous sidelong glance at the woman; “not Varren,” he said. “No taking shots up high, alright?” the Pilot added with a raised brow, forcing himself out of his chair with a stumble. Somewhat uncharacteristically, he smiled before picking up a rod from the floor, and he began to tap away at the underside of the vents.
After a long silence, something tapped back. And giggled.
Maya jolted at the tapping as she just… chuckled. She started laughing, “Okay, okay, nice job,” She said, “But, I thought you all would be
above such childish hazing.”
“I’m not hazing anyone,” MacLearie said with a shrug as he stepped backwards towards the rear of the cockpit.
“So what is it?” Delilah asked. She’d seen too many old school Earth movies to trust anything that moved around in the vents, and communicated as much to MacLearie with a glance. Giggling, too, was generally an ominous sign.
Elsewhere on the ship, Vaan stared blankly into the monitor of a terminal. He tried his best to recall what he could from his past research, but nothing was coming to him.
“People are in danger and we can help. Lauren here will show us the way. Who’s coming?”He felt as if he hadn’t even needed to answer. Captain Kesir had read his dossier, she knew he had no combat experience to speak of. Instead, as he was inclined to do, he let the others do the talking, and while the more combat-focused members of the burgeoning crew prepared for a vicious firefight against the denizens of Omega, he retreated to the first place he could find that had a desk and a terminal —he suspected the medical bay— and tried to get to work. It was true that he would feel more at home in the engine bay, but with the ship docked, there was no real work down there to speak of.
Without the buzz of engines or the incessant hum of the life support modules, every noise echoed around the ship, a great, flying whispering gallery. It comforted him —he abhorred silence, every place he had ever lived had been abuzz at all hours.
He had thought about joining the conversation happening on the bridge, but had decided against it. Humans were tribal, especially outside of Alliance Space, and he didn’t want to interrupt their bonding ritual.
He was roused, not by the quiet tapping that he heard reverberate through the ship's hull —that was par for the course in a ship like this— but by the following silence. Whatever the noise had been, it had startled them enough to end their conversation.
As he made his way to the cockpit, the tapping continued. When he rounded the corner to see the pilot holding a rod aloft, looking as if he had been living outside his enviro-suit for the last week, he asked dryly:
“What are you doing?”
The Quarian was quiet enough on his feet to give MacLearie a fright, and the man jerked at the sound of his voice from behind. He shot a look over his shoulder, blinking lazily as he took in the sight before shrugging. “Getting the co-pilot,” he said dryly, before using the hooked end of the rod to the hatch above.
With a click, followed by a satisfying hiss the door released slowly.
“Bang bang!” Came the voice from above.
“Not today laddy, not today,” MacLearie answered with a grunt and a sigh, holding his hands outstretched and bracing himself by placing a foot steady behind him. Then, as if completely practiced, the voice from above plopped down into his arms.
A human child.
He was wearing a helmet that was comically too large, and had a tiny toy pistol in his hand as he scrambled to give MacLearie a cuddle. His eyes were then quietly transfixed on the strangers that he did not recognise, and it was immediately apparent that his playful confidence had made way for instant shyness. He was clinging to MacLearie, whose demeanour had shifted in turn, to hold him protectively too.
“This is Rory,” he said calmly. “Rory’s my son and he travels with us,” he explained. “You cause him no bother and you’ll have no trouble.”
That the creature in the vents turned out to be nothing more ominous than a child was a relief, but it was also surprising. Kids grew up aboard space ships all the time, of course, but a small private vessel like this? That was unusual.
“Hi Rory,” Delilah said and waved. Kids were sometimes afraid of her because of her scars. It was a painful reminder that she wasn’t herself anymore. She resisted the urge to look away, to hide her face, and conjured her most innocent and harmless smile instead. “Nice helmet you got there. I bet that can stop all sorts of bullets and lasers.”
A sigh had escaped Maya’s lips as she chastised herself for jumping the gun in this manner… over something that ended up being as innocuous as a mere
child. Maya couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle as she calmed herself down. She would go over to give the kid a little pat on the head but he was
clearly apprehensive of her. Maya knew better than to enter that kid’s personal space… but at least she could appreciate that Maclearie had a human child and not one with one of those Asari whores. Maya put her hands together at her waist level as she smiled, kindly saying, “He’s adorable.”
Rory’s nerves had clearly gotten the better of him, as he glanced around at the new people around him who he didn’t recognise. He brought a thumb to his mouth and began to chew on it.
“Ach, we aren’t up tae that again?” MacLearie asked, giving the boy’s back a gentle rub of comfort. “Come on, ye’ve been in there all morning, we’ll get some breakfast in ye and maybe later we can say a proper hello.”
The child nodded slowly and retreated further into hiding in his father’s chest.
“Right then,” the pilot sighed, casting a warning stare back at the new crew. “Don’t go breaking anything in here,” he grumbled, before making his way from the cockpit in the direction of the kitchen.
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