Burn the Land and Boil the Sea [Private, duh]

[malikyiaue]

This is a private thread for Mali and Threadless Nickel so unless you are one of these two lovely little ladies, we're gonna have t'air lock ya', and it gets awful cold out there in the black.

[malikyiaue]

Boredom. It was, to say the least, a highly motivating factor in most people’s lives. It was why during the late twentieth century, so much of the technology that had been invented had almost purely entertainment value: from televisions to telephones and those rudimentary things they called computers, very little of it actually furthered life, or was used for major medical breakthroughs, and most of it just had one purpose: staving off boredom. Right now, Ethan felt like he could write an entire paper on boredom and the many ways it effected the psyche and the development of human culture as a whole, but he wouldn’t, because the very idea of writing such a paper was, in fact, boring. And Ethan was tired of being bored.

It didn’t matter that he was one of the most promising young doctors on the central planets, or that he had a job as a surgeon on Ariel that was more than a little lucrative. It didn’t matter that he spent a good number of his evenings hitting the town with some of the most successful socialites and political figures – or at least the successful ones who liked going out and hitting the town with young doctors. It didn’t matter that he’d been offered a government position that would more than double his salary and ensure that he could move from the small studio apartment he’d been renting ever since he started med-school and only stayed in because he was, in a sense lazy and didn’t feel like moving his stuff. All of this was just table-talk, things to go over with coworkers during lunch breaks or to keep his mind occupied when he was between surgeries or during the countless other times Ethan found himself struggling with the demons of boredom. It didn’t matter though; none of it worked.

None of these things successfully kept his mind busy, and he’d inevitably found it wandering higher and higher into the terra-formed atmosphere of the planet, and up into the sky. What was it they called it? The people who took to it much like old-fashioned sailors took to the sea? The black. There we go. That was it. His life should have been interesting, but it wasn’t, and for the past six months, Ethan had been envisioning himself taking off into the sky far too often for him to ignore; his dreams had him wandering about the darkened corridors of ships he didn’t even know, and wrestling with alien life-forms that he did know didn’t exist.

He’d become a doctor to have an interesting life.

He didn’t.

All too conveniently, when he’d been reading the paper this morning, he’d read an ad, taken out in the very back in what was probably a less than refutable section of the news paper full of classifieds that were probably adds for whores – not companions, but bonafied whores – while sipping on his morning coffee down in the cafeteria of his high-to-do hospital. It was a tiny add, taking up probably less than two inches square of space, and it wasn’t exactly eloquent, but it touched on his palate and had him deciding then and there that he was going to leave his job and try something new.


Wanted: Doctor, Pilot, Mechanic, various crew,
for firefly class vessel. Pay negotiable.
Departs Baijin Shipyard 22.04 at 14:00.
Arrive Early.


And so he had.

Not that he was sure what to do; he didn’t have the slightest clue, and he probably looked as green as he was standing in front of the ship’s open hatch all but kicking the dirt in front of him as he tried to decided if he should approach the two women who seemed to be arguing over something right at the top of the ramp.


Maybe she should have been waiting down by the base of her ship to see if anyone walked in, as opposed to sitting up on the catwalk tossing pennies off and watching as they hit the ground in an effort to – actually, she wasn’t even sure why she was doing it, but it’d seemed like a good idea when she started, and as she had her lunch – a rather large fried sandwich of some sort – sitting on the walkway beside her, she didn’t see any reason to stop. So far, this whole ‘trying to find a crew’ thing had been rather uneventful, and if Tyler was the type to get discouraged (she wasn’t; she felt like it was a waste of time, getting discouraged. Much more useful to just try and solve the problem: If people didn’t show up, they’d just take out an ad for the following week, no big deal), she probably would have been reaching the end of her rope right about now, and might have even been pacing in front of her ship. But that wasn’t Tyler. No, Tyler was content to amuse herself by – right, she was testing her ship’s durability, that’s what she was doing – tossing pennies at the hull and take the occasional bite from her sandwich that was definitely way too big for her mouth and wait.

Waiting was something she was really good at, even if she didn’t much like it. Compliments of her time in the military, she assumed. (Not that she’d been involved in any of the big battles; she’d been a worker in the alliance, mostly because her dad before her had been and she wanted to live up to the family legacy, but she’d spent her time on Alliance cruisers, working her way through the security ranks.) It was all hurry-up-and-wait with them, and if you wanted to not get discharged, you just had to get used to it. Yeah, ******** that. There wasn’t going to be any of that on her ship.

They were gonna go places. Get things done.

Or at least have fun tryin’.

Alright, so maybe it was her first time as the Captain of an entire ship, but she figured she knew what she was doing well enough; she may have worked for the alliance, but she had a record that was tarnished with her tendency to punch people as opposed to reporting problems, and she’d been before judiciary boards more than once. She had enough friends in low places to get them work, and enough experience at being in charge to keep her crew in line, and she kinda figured that was about what she needed to get by. Well, that, and maybe a pilot. And a mechanic. And a doctor.

The first two were necessary for the whole ‘moving’ thing, and she’d really like to get this bird off the ground at some point.

The last one? Well knowing her …

Yeah, they definitely needed a doctor. Of course, when one’d walked up, she’d barely even noticed, because right before he’d walked up, her sister had walked back on board the ship, and Tyler had very intentionally dropped one of those pennies right down the front of the other woman’s far-too-showy sort of dress with a broad grin. Maybe she should be nicer. Kirsten had, after all, brought her lunch and agreed to live on this, what was it her sister called it? Floating tin-can? With her to help her get where she needed to go. Maybe …

Nah. She’d quickly decided against it, because really, what was the fun of having a sister if you couldn’t mess with her.

“Find anything interesting while you were out?”

“Probably more than you did sitting up there doing…What are you doing, exactly? Being as immature as possible?”

Kirsten’d started up the catwalk, reaching down to pull her skirt up with one hand, unable to resist the urge to roll her eyes at the “Captain” of the ship. Show deference? To Tyler? That would be the day.

“Did you ever think that maybe you’d help your cause more by going down there and, I don’t know, recruiting people?”

It was hard to be poised and controlled when she was having things thrown at her, she would have to admit. Somehow, when you went through your companion training at the Academy, they didn’t seem to anticipate that, maybe because people often had a bit more respect for them than that. Of course, most people weren’t their sisters. Kirsten just gave a shake of her head when she reached her sister, her hair swaying about her shoulders, and folded her arms in front of her chest. Tyler might have been the older of the two by a good five years, but she often felt like she was having to mother the other girl.

“Go down there. Find yourself a crew. I’ve got appointments to set up.”

Which was going to be rather difficult if they didn’t get off the ground soon; they had a job lined up, from what she’d heard, and she needed to go ahead and make her schedule for while they were on the planet, that way when they landed it didn’t look so suspicious, and they looked like they had a legitimate reason to be there. That, and she needed to work. Not that work was hard to come-by on Ariel; that’s where she’d been before returning, in fact. It’d been a pretty simple job, actually; she’d just had to accompany a young man to an afternoon meeting; it was important that he had someone presentable by his side, but apparently the young man wasn’t quite interested in the other services companions had to offer – or at least, not what female companions had to offer, anyway. His family wasn’t quite comfortable with that, though, and so she’d been his ‘date.’

Jobs like that were rare, though, and she almost felt like she was cheating the man; he didn’t get everything he’d paid for, though she had admittedly lowered the price for him once she’d heard his terms. She was, after all, a respectable business woman. After a moment longer of watching her sister, and seeing as the other woman had gotten up to head down to the cargo bay, Kirsten let out another sigh, this one soft and a little less exasperated sounding. As much as she acted like she was doing her sister a favor by being here, she wouldn’t have it any other way. Travelling the verse? Visiting all those planets that never really got to see a real taste of culture like they were practically swimming in on the central planets? Not to mention the fact that it soothed her ego a bit to know that she’d be considered something of a jewel on the outer planets, whereas here she was just one on a string of pearls? It all sounded absolutely wonderful.

She’d had a choice in whether she came on the ship or not, and she’d chosen, for a multitude of reasons, to come. And while she couldn’t really complain too much, because it had been her choice, she wasn’t just going to sit by and let things get messed up either.

Feeling more serene about her choice, though, she just watched her sister from the catwalk with a soft smile, leaning forward on her elbows.

[ThreadlessNickle]

Gulping the last dregs of black, bitter coffee from the bottom of her mug, Jordan glared at the brilliant, shining ship in front of her eyes.

It was too fancy, too bright. Like a beacon. It was a new model. And she had to admit, it was a beauty. It was also late.

Nerves had put her in a foul mood. She had gotten no sleep last night in the hard, unforgiving mattress the space port’s guest rooms provided. Jordan missed her hammock, and the comforting hum of an engine.

Though she supposed, with a ship that lovely, she would be forced to abandon the engine room and claim an actual room. The downside though, was a small crew. She had no doubts that she was the only female. At most there would be one other. She doubted it, however.

And being female, being locked in a big metal waste bin with hormone charged smugglers caused unique problems. At least the bigger ships brought their own prostitutes with them. That didn’t deter wandering eyes and lewd smiles, however. Jordan scowled, tapping her foot.

She was not looking forward to this. Yet, she had been out of work for too long. At least Captain Lerner had had the courtesy to find her this one job after he had chased her from his own ship with his drunken advances.

And by all accounts, this Martin fellow was one of the best.

A few days after Lerner had informed her that Martin was searching for a mechanic, Jordan had searched out the proper destination for her application.
And it had been accepted, oddly enough. Most captains had something against female crew members. Some old mumbo jumbo that had held over from day when ships only floated in water.

She ran a hand through her short, reddish hair, making it stand up on end if her shadow was anything to judge by. Jordan, however, didn’t much care for appearances.
She lacked a truly feminine form. The slight curve of her scrawny frame seemed a mockery. Boney and mostly limbs, deep blue eyes stood out starkly against her unusually pale skin.

Most people had a pleasant mocha color, from many generations of skin tones mixing. Few had truly dark or pale skin. Jordan was one of the later, and her odd appearance made her stand out. And that, Jordan greatly disliked. She disliked being an object of scrutiny. It made her feel like she would imagine a show horse would, unwelcome eyes probing into her all to like fingers pulling back lips to get a look at the horse’s teeth.

Jordan shouldered her belongings, marching defiantly towards the lovely ship.

The sound of a backfiring engine startled the tiny mechanic from her memories. Martin had turned out to be more flash than substance. The shiney new ship was in Alliance impound, and Martin, in jail. The alliance had swarmed just as she had reached the loading dock, arresting her would-be captain in front of her eyes.

That was four standard months ago. Since then, work had been sparse. She took small jobs where she could, but had had no luck getting a slightly more permanent position.

Wanted: Doctor, Pilot, Mechanic, various crew,
for firefly class vessel. Pay negotiable.
Departs Baijin Shipyard 22.04 at 14:00.
Arrive Early.

Firefly class? Those things were legendary. Get a good pilot that could keep her in the sky, and a mechanic that could keep her from falling out of the sky and the thing would last forever. They were monsters. They were also chock full of useful little nooks and crannies just begging to be put to good, if not moral, use.

Jordan K. Paesono flipped through the rest of the pages, scanning the rest of the classifieds for something more useful than adds for whores, spotty businessmen or mercenaries. There were a couple ships calling for crewmen, the most common positions that needed fillling consisting of pilots and mechanics. Which was fine with Jordan. There were a handful of ships she could pick from.

Hell, if she sat tight long enough one of them might be downright reputable.

Per usual there were several Paragon classes looking for mechanics. Damn Gurtsler engine. The thing fell apart like a cookie with too much flour. And then there were the settlers. Most flew shuttles designed for near-earth flight that had been modified for a one-way no-holds-barred dash for the Outer Rim.

If there was anything worse than working for the Alliance, it was working for settlers. At least the Alliance paid well. And Jordan wasn’t feeling particularly generous at that point in time; the settlers were out. It narrowed down the number of possible adds considerably. It didn’t leave a lot of choice.

The Morning Star, a Paragon class, was the closest to the hostel she’d set up camp in. Slinging her toolbelt over her shoulder, Jordan wove her way through the crowd towards the closest shipyard. As she wound her way through the crowded, bustling shipyard, a Paragon class took off, blasting up towards the black. All of thirty seconds later, it was struggling to land. Port engine had blown in liftoff, jusgeing by the billowing black smoke pooring from it. Abruptly changing her mind about working a Paragon, she sought out one of the other options. Firefly models didn’t fly Gurtsler engines. Which meant the ship would stay up for longer than thirty seconds.

“Dock… 7… Baijin.” Short as she was, coming up only to the shoulder of most men, weaving in and out of crowds was an art. It was also an imprecise one.


Sunday L. Bower couldn’t claim anything very impressive, she didn’t have any grandiose achievements, she wasn’t able to name constellations or stars, but she could fly a ship. She let the computers do most of the navigating, let the Captain, whoever it was, tell her where to go, but when it came down to fancy maneuvers to bungle someone on her tail, Sunday Bower was top of her class. Well, she would have been had there been a class for it. She had attended Academy Flight School in order to prepare for a career in the military because that was what her father had wanted for her. But that life wasn’t one that young Sunday wanted. So when she was fifteen she had dropped out, changed her legal age and name through questionable underground channels and had searched for work as a pilot.

Half eaten apple that represented the last bit of her severance pay in hand, Sunday was once again looking for a ship in need of a pilot. The doldrums of flying near-earth transport had gotten unbearable. One could only shuttle passengers to all corners of a single planet for so long before being driven to insanity. Ariel wasn’t a bad planet. Regardless, Sunday was bored to tears with it. She wasn’t cut out for regular hours and the same terribly boring route day after day. Her heart was aching to be back in the black. Back to the excitement of her first few jobs.

Her first job had been on a dilapidated ship that dated from over fifty years ago but was somehow still flying. The Captain was rather old and dilapidated too, with wrinkles all over his face and gray hairs sticking out of his nose and ears. The ship’s engine had failed after she’d been flying her for less than fourteen standard months.

Her second job was a newer ship, a smuggling ship. The operation was uncovered by an Alliance mole after Sunday had been her pilot for just over half a standard year. She had spent about that same amount of time in a federal lock-up trying to explain that he was just the pilot and didn’t know anything about the smuggling. That didn’t go over too well. Once she was out, she changed her name. Again. She’d gone through quite a few of those.

With yet another name she had gone to ground on Ariel, carving out a respectable niche in a respectable job, working nights as a near-earth shuttle pilot.

It was time to change.

Taking a too big bite of apple, Sunday adjusted her glasses. Most people simply went under the laser to get eyes corrected these days. Health insurance usually covered it. If one had such a thing. Without insurance, you’d be lucky to get out with a penny left to your name.

The Firefly suddenly popped into view as Sunday rounded a corner. Bigger, more impressive ships loomed on either side, leaving the Firefly looking small and meek. It was a fun little ship though. She’d only ever flown one before. And it had handled like a dream. Finishing off the savory treat, Sunday chucked the apple core into a trash receptacle. With some time to spare, she wandered in a large circle around her possible future home. It wasn’t much too look at. But then, most ships weren’t.



Wesley N. Destephano was in need of work. It was nothing new. Work was hard to come by, discharged as he was from the Alliance. It wasn’t dishonorable or anything. It might as well have been, though. Ex soldiers were many. And unless you actually had useful skills, say, piloting starships or ensuring that they still flew, well, there were only so many jobs. And weapons and ammunition specialists weren’t exactly in demand.

There was one upside to being ex military, however. Army buddies were army buddies. Enlisted or not, they had a habit of sticking together. And that little fact might just have saved his arse. There was a rumor that an ex-ship mate of his had bought her own ship. And luck would have it, she was recruiting on Ariel. If he played his cards right, He might just avoid another hungry month.

Newspaper with recruiting add in hand, Wesley checked his somewhat scruffy appearance in polished metal of a merchant class vessel as he passed. Captains and crew heckled passerby, marketing passage to distant planets for those who could pay. The add had said Firefly class…

Firefly. Not one he’d ever seen with his own too eyes. Not up close, anyhow. The third generation was supposed to look something like a duck with the butt of the lightning bug that gave it its name. In short, it was an ungainly looking thing any way Wesley’s mind put it together. They also had quite the reputation; the design and durability making it a favorite with men and women of ill repute.

Peeking out from behind a tall upright model that looked absolutely ancient, the awkward looking little ship was downright adorable. It was a welcome sight. Not overtly bright and shiny. But she was a beauty. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only admirer.

“She’s a beaut, ain’t she?” Wesley paused, hopeful butterflies filling his stomach. There were indeed two women. One, the one with short almost military hair looked familiar enough to make him confident that she was the Captain he was looking for. Now if only he could remember her name…

“Ya looking for passage?” Now that he was beside the man, he certainly didn’t seem the type to be a space-farer. More of a sit-at-home 9-to-5 type. But whether looking for work or looking for passage, he seemed have the right idea. Whatever was going on, it was most certainly a private conversation.

[malikyiaue]

Ethan was, though he didn’t realize it, probably going to be considered pretentious by most of the gathering crew. Unlike them, he’d had a job. He wasn’t here to keep from being hungry, or to put some money in his pocket because chances were whatever the ship paid, it was less than what he’d made at the hospital. Adventure was what he wanted, and lots of it. And not the two-dollar sort of adventure you got when you took those rickety old shuttles up and the pilots pretended they were crashing to help the middle class plebeians of the Inner Rim feel like they were actually experiencing some sort of danger. No, he wanted real adventure, with different planets and space battles and -

He was probably hoping for too much. Didn’t stop him from hoping, though.

Of course his hopes stopped short just a touch when he saw the ragged man who’d begun speaking to him. This was – well, it should have been expected. There was a very good chance this was a smuggling vessel, and he shouldn’t expect for the crew to be all clean-cut like himself; he shouldn’t be intimidated by the fact that he was obviously not going to fit in. They needed him, he told himself. Not many respectable doctors who didn’t use questionable practices would take up with a group of what was probably miscreants; if they passed him up, they probably wouldn’t get a second chance.

“I don’t really know; I’ve never spent much time around ships before.” Unless you counted the little ambulance ships they used, but those were more transport vessels; they’d never make it out there in the black. To be completely honest, he wasn’t entirely sure the small little ship with its dings and not-so-pretty paint-job would make it either. Maybe if they got a good mechanic. Of course, how good could a mechanic who was willing to – no, he wasn’t going to think that way. If anything went wrong, it would just be a part of the adventure. Right?

Right. Well, that’s what he was going to tell himself at least. “No, looking for work. I’m a doctor. Doctor Ethan Hawke.” Ethan turned his attention away from the ship and focused on the man in front of him, missing the fact that the one woman was standing up and heading their way. “You?”

It was more than obvious that the man wasn’t a doctor; you could tell just by looking at him. (Though Ethan might have been putting too much stock in appearances, honestly.) The question was, what was he doing here? And why was he asking Ethan these questions? Was he the one Ethan needed to impress? It wouldn’t surprise him; he’d often heard that there were rumors about the bad luck it caused to have a woman aboard, and for a woman to be the Captain…

He didn’t pretend to know much about the lifestyle smugglers held, or what social rules they complied to, but it seemed like a female captain might have a hard time finding a crew.


“Alright, alright.”

God, that girl. It was almost like she was travelling with her mother (which was something Tyler would never, ever consider even for a minute, not even if her life depended on it), but that didn’t mean Kirsten wasn’t right, and so Tyler’d pulled herself up off the floor, using the bars of the catwalk for leverage and looking more like she’d bounced up than just stood, and grabbed her sandwich, because if she was going down there she wasn’t going to miss lunch because of it. She’d gotten down about three steps when she glanced towards the open cargo bay door and saw that there were, in fact, two men standing there.

Ka-ching!

“Don’t disappear just yet, Kir. Looks like we’ve got company.” Or at least, she hoped they had company and these two men weren’t just hopefuls that’d followed Kirsten back like little lost puppies. The one looked like he was too respectable for that, though; he could probably afford to go through the proper channels to get the hookup with a companion, to be honest, and the other? Well, it took her a good forty-five seconds after looking at them before it hit her that she recognized him. He was – well, she didn’t remember exactly who he was or what he’d done, but she knew they’d served together, and really that made all the difference. Or most of it anyway.

She’d served too long to think of Army dudes as completely safe to be around, but at least they were typically the kind of dangerous she’d have no problem handling. After all, handling it had been her job, and she’d been damn good at it (which was probably why they hadn’t kicked her out, but instead just suggested that maybe she should retire because Lieutenant was about as high as her rank was getting – which meant she wasn’t getting any more promotions. It’d worked, she wasn’t about to waste her time with staying, and had left.). So he was a welcome site. Hell, maybe if she played her cards right, he could help her keep the rest of whatever miscreants showed up in line. (Miscreants was a damn fine word, and she was awful proud of herself for thinking it, in fact.)

It was just a hop skip and a jump to the bottom of the stairs and to the end of the cargo bay, mostly because while maybe she should have looked somewhat composed, she was more interested in hurrying to fill her ship, and didn’t mind looking like she was rushing over to the two men who were engaged in some sort of vague conversation.

“Hey, man, what’s up!” Her first greeting was for Wesley, though she didn’t remember his name, and he held out her hand to give him a handshake followed by one of those friendly hugs where the hands stay between them to keep things from getting awkward – if he’d accept it anyway; she wasn’t gonna push her luck.

“Long time no see. What can I do for ya?”

Of course, she hadn’t given him much time to respond before she was looking the doctor over, not entirely sure what to make of someone so clean-cut standing at the base of her not-so-clean ship.


They what? The universe had to be kidding her. It hadn’t just handed Tyler crew members; it just didn’t work that way. You worked for what you wanted; you didn’t sit around throwing pennies at the hull and get exactly what you wanted. That was … It didn’t happen. It couldn’t happen. But apparently, it did happen, at least for her sister. That was – well, that had to be the worst thing she’d ever heard, not because she didn’t want them to have a crew, because she desperately did, but because as long as Tyler got what she wanted without having to work for it, there was no reason for her to work for it.

And that just meant Kirsten was going to have to play mother more. And she hadn’t agreed to do this to mother the crew; she’d agreed to do it to work, and to explore. Either way, though, it’d happened, and she had to resist the urge to roll her eyes before turning around. Resisting that urge, though, was a part of what her training had been all about. Even if she thought this was ridiculous, she would act like everything was splendid, because that was the way to get what she wanted – be it happy customers or crew members so they could fly off into the verse.

So, with a carefully calculated just-warm-enough smile that brought out the apples of her cheeks, she turned to face the two men who’d walked up, and followed the other woman down the stairs, her steps careful and measured just as they should be, and one hand still holding up the length of skirt that otherwise might have dragged the ground behind her. There was a soft sway to her hips as she moved; it was the practiced walk; the walk they taught all companions.

“Please forgive her rudeness.” She said behind Tyler’s back, speaking with the young doctor at first, though she did give the man who had the Captain’s attention a brief nod; it would be rude, however, to ignore this man just because – she wasn’t entirely sure what the reason was, actually. “It’s not my ship, but if there’s anything I can do to help you, I’d be more than happy…”

Her smile grew just a touch as she talked, and the corners of her eyes wrinkled in what was almost a touch of innocence, though there wasn’t much a chance she had that left, all things considered. She wasn’t going to let that on, though, if she could help it.

Should she be down here? No. This was Tyler’s job. However, Kirsten was more than a little curious about the people she might be living with for the next several months or even years, all things depending, and she figured it was justified that she spend some time down here getting to know just who they were, exactly. Especially given her position; the last thing she wanted was to accidentally get stuck with someone that thought they had any sort of rights with her just because of what her own more-than-obvious profession was (the companion part, not the ‘whore’ part, because she wasn’t a whore. The distinction was as clear as night and day in her own mind; the issue would be making sure it was clear as night and day in everyone else’s minds as well.).

[ThreadlessNickle]

“Same as you. I’m ex- military. Something of a specialist. Work ain’t coming easy though. Was hoping an old shipmate could set me up with somethin.” Wesley shrugged it off as though it was nothing. And in truth, that was about what it amounted to. Life would do what it wanted. He was just there for the ride and the perks. Doctor? It was one heck of a fancy-pants doctor that had shown up for the gig. Wesley began to wonder if he’d underdressed. His beard and hair were scruffy; it had been some time since he’d had cause to trim it up. He probably looked hung over. He felt it, but it was just exhaustion. Alcohol was pricey. The two ladies were finishing up their…. conversation, Wesley decided to call it. The military looking one sauntered up with the confidence of a captain on her own ship.

“Hey, man, what’s up!”

“Lieutenant! Good to see you in one piece.” Wesley was surprised at himself. He’d gotten halfway through a salute before realizing what he was doing. Awkwardly taking the proffered hand, he embraced her briefly in that friendly but not so friendly as to be creepy way.

“Long time no see. What can I do for ya?”

“I was looking for a job. Work’s been on the slim side recently, and I heard talk you needed a crew.” Talk. Scuttlebutt, more like. The doctor was making him self-conscious. Instead of his normal inner-rim slang, he was attempting to use proper grammar. The second woman to arrive was a bit more of a shocker. There was no mistaking the perfection, the subtle movements so practiced that they looked natural. It took all of Wesley’s will to focus back on the captain standing directly in front of him.

“Please forgive her rudeness.”

And then she started speaking. He completely lost his concentration on the similarly pretty face of the captain. It felt like his insides melted like butter.
Ex soldiers of his caliber didn’t exactly associate with fully trained companions on a regular basis. Unless it was protection detail for her or her client. But even then, it was only fleeting glances. And a whole hell of a lot of fantasy.

“It’s not my ship, but if there’s anything I can do to help you, I’d be more than happy…”

It didn’t even matter that her words were not directed to him. His knees went weak all the same. And then a small movement the captain made jerked him back to reality. Clearing his throat, he tore his eyes from the companion reluctantly, focusing on the smiling features of his possible future Captain.

“I guess just whatever position is available. Aside from pilot or mechanic. You probably wouldn’t want your bird wrecked.” He flashed a smile, hoping it wasn’t as awkward as it felt. Even though he was deliberately not looking at her, the presence of the companion was pushing on him, distracting him. He hoped that if he did indeed get the job, her presence was temporary.

Distractions were generally not a good thing, even one as lovely as the one standing next to the Lieutenant.

There was a sizable group congregated on the loading dock of the firefly Sunday was making a beeline for. Four. The add hadn’t said how many positions needed filling…

Not that it mattered. Sunday sauntered up, winning smile plastered on her feature. Removing a hand from her beat-up aviators jacket, she proffered the hand to the center of attention. The blonde with short hair was definitely in charge. No question.

“Sunday Bower. Pilot.” Still beaming, she cast her eye over the competition. The man to her left was way way over-dressed to be a pilot. Pilots just didn’t wear suits. Sunday wasn’t sure, but she thought it was an unspoken law. It just never happened. The other one, standing to her right was unfortunately occupying the exact bit of ground that Sunday wanted. He was staring the captain in the face, mad blush tingeing his cheeks. And he probably had a boner, too, but she couldn’t exactly check without being obvious about it. Companions had that effect on people. And he fit the general profile for scruffy, shady pilot. Deciding to test the theory, she pulled out the biggest boast she felt safe using in front of her potential employer.

“Still in need in of someone to fly your ship? Best pilot in this sector of the verse.” Even as she was speaking, another miscreant had found her way to the loading dock. This one was tiny. She almost looked like a child in comparison to the gathered would-be crew. Judging by the tool belt, she was a mechanic. That is, if she wasn’t a joke. Regardless of the boast, the man didn’t rise to the bait. Maybe he wasn’t a pilot. All the better for Sunday.

“Lemme guess, fancy-pants pilot. You hold the record for most destroyed engines in a single month?” Sunday’s attention jumped to the tiny mechanic, mouth hanging open in shock. This one had balls.

“Nothing you can’t keep up with, I’m sure. Shouldn’t you be in school, kid? Or perhaps there’s an arrest warrant out for truancy. ” The newcomer hardly came up to her shoulder. Finding it hard not to laugh, Sunday swept her smiling brown eyes back up to the man next to her, the one she thought could be a pilot. The shrimp wouldn’t let it go, however.

“Like I haven’t heard that one before. You try putting back together a stripped engine.” It was an odd looking group that had congregated outside of the firefly. The upside:

Women.

Not quite so many wandering, disgusting eyes checking out her backside. Not that there was much to check out…. But the fact remained. That, and they happened to be eyecandy. Two decent looking women and one that made her heart skip a beat. She could definitely do worse in shipmates, assuming none were asses.
It was approaching the specified departure time. In crew speak, show up early meant a half hour, at most. And that time was fast flying out the window. No doubt some of the lazier leeches would saunter by soon, hoping to snag a last minute position, or oust the one that had gotten their first. Frankly, with all the people talking at the captain at once, Jordan wouldn’t have been surprised if she ran away screaming. She seemed to be handling it okay. But it was hard to say with someone you’d known all of half a heartbeat.

“The name’s Jordan.” She gave a respectful nod. A nod. No handshake. That struck her as unnecessary. And frankly, with some of the planets she’d been on, a handshake could easily mean losing a digit or two. And Jordan kind of needed both hands.

“Mechanic, if you couldn’t tell. Trained on Persephone to be am engine mechanic. Went freelance four years ago.” And that should be enough of a summery. All else would be meaningless babble. Besides, if the captain took a liking to her, she’d probably test her with something a little more practical. Say, fixing some busted component or other. Hey, free labor for the captain.


It had gotten real crowded, real quickly. Two more women had popped up out of nowhere, bantering back and forth like old friends. One hardly looked out of school, although if she’d been freelance for four years…. She had to be late twenties, even though she looked more like an awkward teenager. It was quite possible the four years was a fib. And she probably knew that, and so she had credentials. Possibly faked, most likely not if she was worth her salt.

The other fit the classic stereotype of roguish, charming pilot except for one thing. She was a female. Female pilots weren’t unheard of. In fact they were downright common. But this one walked, talked and acted like a testosterone pumped up stunt junkie. Not the classic female pilot. They tended to be more demure, more calculating and rigid.

And, as luck would have it, each of the positions needed had been filled once, assuming none of them turned out to be worthless or trouble on two legs. Someone in the verse was smiling on the Lieutenant. Arms crossed, Wesley began to calculate just how long it would take him to draw his pistol if one of the crew candidates tried something against the captain. Ten, maybe eleven seconds….
Wesley could have smacked himself. Ten seconds around a familiar face and he had instantly reverted to his military instincts. They weren’t bad things to have… but this was not his crew. He had no investment in them.
Yet.

[malikyiaue]

“S’Long as you don’t mind work that might be a hair shy of shiny, and a touch more grey than black or white, I think I can find a spot for you.” Tyler’d replied to Wesley, all but beaming. Sure, she should probably check credentials, but really, why’d she need ‘em? She’d worked with the man before; she knew, at least vaguely what he could do, and working for the Alliance had at least one upside: it meant that you got the best gorram training available. And it meant that he was good at what he did.

Having someone who was good at what they did was a plus, but he was very, very quickly losing points, because it didn’t really matter to the Captain that Kirsten was a trained companion, and that most men had a difficult time resisting her. It mattered that Kirsten was, above all else in Tyler’s mind, her little sister. And she didn’t like the fact that this man was essentially going gaga over her, not in the least. The fact that people were arriving, and that most were women kept her from getting really ticked about it, but she couldn’t help but roll her eyes a little at it as she looked over the rest of them.

“Sunday. Jordan. Uh- dude. Forgot your name, sorry. What was your name, and what’re you here for? We’re not taking passengers. ” She asked, turning her attention very briefly to the doctor, who quickly piped up with his own answer, though his voice was somewhat shaky because he wasn’t used to things, which didn’t give her the utmost confidence.

“Doctor Ethan Hawke. I’m not looking for passage, but for a job. The hospital got too boring.”

“Alright, well. Before I even bother considerin’ any of ya, let me go ahead and make one thing clear. This chick here – “She jerked a thumb at Kirsten, who turned to look at her with her eyes more than a little wide, and her painted lips hanging open.

“Tyler, whatever you’re about to say, don’t.” She urged, but her pleas fell on deaf ears, even though she’d reached out and touched her sister on the shoulder and was giving her the most pleading, hurt sort of look she could manage, and otherwise pulling out all of her companion training to try to bend her sister to her will.

“Is a registered companion. She’s also my sister. She ain’t here to be a ship’s whore, so anyone who’s got even a fraction of a mind to think of her like that might as well just turn around right now.” Might as well just be straight up. Tyler hated beating around the bush.

She should have started crying. She really should have. Sure, it might not have been the best show for the rest of the people gathered, and that was why Kirsten hadn’t begun crying, but that was the only surefire way she knew to get her older sister to give into her, and she didn’t want any of that being said, at least not that way. The looks she was getting from Tyler’s army friend? The way the Doctor, even though he obviously had more experience with companions than the other man was being very careful about himself? She was to all of that. It would be a bad day indeed when the men around her didn’t react like that, because it would mean she was losing her touch.

“What my sister means to say,” She said turning to smile first at the two other women, wanting to make sure that Tyler hadn’t offended anyone one of the possible crew members they’d found, and also wanting to make sure that no one thought she needed her sister to take care of her, offering her warmest expression, “Is that though I will be living aboard this ship, I will not be working on this ship.” As she spoke, she slowly moved her eye-contact from Jordan to Sunday to Wesley to Ethan, taking her time with each one in an effort to put them at ease, something she considered something of a specialty.

“I am more than happy to help out with anything you need, but please do not expect to be treated as a client. I would rather think of the crew of the ship – whoever they might be – as a family.” With that, she bowed her head and took a step backwards and looked over the rag-tag bunch that had assembled. There was a very good chance, with how close it was to when they were supposed to leave – when they had to leave if she was going to make her appointments on other planets – these were going to be the crew she had to live with for the next few months. To be honest, it could be a lot worse. While the two girls who’d just showed up seemed slightly quarrelsome, they would probably be spending most of their time at opposite ends of the ship, so she couldn’t really complain on that. At least there weren’t any crew members here she felt she really had to worry about.

For the most part, they seemed pretty harmless. Of course, that might not bode well for the smuggling trade, but maybe they’d not do that, and would settle for something safer. She knew better, but it was a dim hope at the back of her mind.

The brash statement had caught Ethan off-guard. He was too used to everyone being sure to be politically correct, and no one saying anything that might be in the least offensive, so he found himself watching the Captain with his eyebrows raised as she spoke. Was that what it was like on this side of the fence? Of course, he was kind of pompous in his assumption that Tyler’s lack of refinement had anything to do with her class (she’d grown up rather middle-class, to be honest, much like himself, though he didn’t know it). He couldn’t help it; he was so used to the finer side of society now that all of this was somewhat foreign to him, almost like learning a different language. Either way, he felt like he’d handled it well, and he’d just nodded as she’d spoke, and returned Kirsten’s smile in the most innocent way one could react when a Companion was smiling at you.

“Understood.” He’d said, looking away from Kirsten as quickly as he could manage, and redirecting his attention to the rest of the group that’d assembled. The best pilot? If she was that good, shouldn’t she have work somewhere else? On a nicer ship than this one? And the mechanic was a woman? Not that there was anything wrong with that, mind you, but really? Would she be willing and able to perform her job whenever needed? No. Ethan, he mentally scolded himself, that was not the way to think. But what sort of mechanic wanted to work on a ship like this, anyway? It looked like it’d fall out of the sky after thirty seconds –which really just showed how little he knew about ships because he would have felt much safer on one of those paragon class ships that looked nice and pretty on the outside.

“Here are my documents, Captain. Medical degree, medical license.” He offered, holding out he paperwork as his eyes continued over the crew. It would at least be an interesting experience. He’d be working with more women here than he had at the hospital, at least by ratios. That alone would be on the interesting side. Already his mind was wandering to the tentative conversations later about how terrible it was when the women synched up (as women did) with the man beside him, and how they had to watch themselves. And chocolate. Oh man, he’d have to make sure to keep his infirmary stocked with chocolate.

There he went again with the prejudices. He realized them, but not in time to keep himself from stopping thinking them, and it took all he had in him not to apologize, even if they hadn’t known what he was thinking.

Reaching out, Tyler took the papers from Ethan and looked over them briefly, before handing them back with a nod and a bright smile, her warning from earlier seeming almost forgotten; the woman did not know how to hold a grudge for more than a half a second, to be quite honest. “Looks good. You’re in. So are you.” The second was to Wesley, whose credentials she knew.

“Got anything for me? Can’t just be lettin’ you work for me with nothin’.” That’d just be asking for trouble, to be quite honest, and Tyler didn’t really want trouble. It was just that trouble seemed to find her.

[ThreadlessNickle]

“Alright, well. Before I even bother considerin’ any of ya, let me go ahead and make one thing clear. This chick here – “

“Tyler, whatever you’re about to say, don’t.”

“Is a registered companion. She’s also my sister. She ain’t here to be a ship’s whore, so anyone who’s got even a fraction of a mind to think of her like that might as well just turn around right now.”

A bright, brilliant red blush raced up Wesley’s neck, tingeing his ears tomato red. The Captain had every right to be defensive of her sister. He also couldn’t help that she was stunning in the way only a Companion could be. He had never understood it. There was just something about Companions that made them irresistible. Sure, other women could be lovely. They could even be more beautiful than a Companion, if genetics favored them enough. But they lacked that indescribable quality that made Wesley’s knees go weak.

Against his better judgment, his glance darted over to the Companion. She looked utterly distressed. It had been a bad idea to look indeed. He didn’t think the Captain noticed… but it broke his heart to see that expression on her lovely face.

“What my sister means to say Is that though I will be living aboard this ship, I will not be working on this ship.”

That did not come as a surprise. And in all honesty, he couldn’t afford her anyhow. Not unless they made serious bank on a job, legitimate or otherwise. Even though he had been expecting something of the like, he found it a disappointment. It didn’t show on his face. Now that the blush was fading, it was replaced by the standard military expression. Blank mind, blank heart, try not to look bored.

“I am more than happy to help out with anything you need, but please do not expect to be treated as a client. I would rather think of the crew of the ship – whoever they might be – as a family.”

And with that she slipped back into the shadows. It was a relief. The captain was talking again, this time about credentials and the like. The Doctor was the first to offer his for scrutiny. Digging through his belongings, he found the data pad he was looking for.

“Looks good. You’re in. So are you.”

With a small military smile, the one reserved for officers you actually like working under, Wesley presented the data pad. And was quickly blown off.

“Got anything for me? Can’t just be lettin’ you work for me with nothin’.”

It was a bit startling, perhaps, to get a job with no questions asked. Not that there were complaints. Oh no. If everything was shiny with the Captain, then he wasn’t about to speak up. Probably better she didn’t know why he’d left the alliance this early.

It was refreshing. There was nothing quite like the standard you-better-turn-around-now-if-you-don’t-agree-with-me speech. And work of any shade was a welcome prospect. Just as long as it was more interesting than the same rout every day. In truth the shuttles could be run by autopilots. They had actually tried it at one point on some planet. The populous had freaked. Something about not having a human in case the engine blew up. Not that a pilot could do much about that…. They had reinstated the pilots in order to stop the boycott that had ensued.

And she still had no idea just what position the raggedy man was after. But hell, it was still worth a shot. Sunday passed the rather beaten up documents to the captain. One was from her short time at the academy, another, a proficiency test she had taken prior to her work on Ariel. There was a pretty standard list of references, although she hoped that the Captain wouldn’t call them. They might say decent things about her. Hell, she could fly a ship, and that was what mattered. What was worrisome was that they could potentially be dead or incarcerated for all she knew. Except for the most recent one. Her last boss, a tiny man, almost more mouse than human. Except when it came to romance. He was probably at home with his husband, playing some naughty game or other.
Sunday had nearly gouged out her eyes with the windshield wiper on the shuttle after walking in on them once. And by all accounts, what she had witnessed was a mild one. Even so, she wouldn’t wish that sight on anyone. Except maybe a reaver. Even then it was an inhuman punishment.

Forcing her mind to go blank lest she puke, Sunday shrugged off her jacket. It was turning out to be a warm day. If it got much worse, the Baijin Shipyard would feel more like a sauna than a port.

“Standard documents. Got my certification at the school on Whitefall.”

Jordan dug through her bag, finally finding the grease stained folder she was looking for. The papers had similarly been abused. But they were still legible, at least. She hoped so. She hadn’t checked. Under the guise of looking for one specific document, she glanced them over.

Diploma… complete with streak of some form of engine lubricant… her mechanic’s license… thank the verse that thing was heavy duty plastic. Even then it had a corner broken off… And the rest were riddled with stains and rips. At least one paper had had a cup of coffee spilled all over it. Now that one had been a tragedy.

“Er… sorry they’re a tad beaten up. But credentials, anyhow.” The scruffy dude that the pilot kept checking out had the right idea. Data pad. They couldn’t rip. Or burn. Or well, at least not at any normal temperature levels.

It was an odd conglomeration of people. The awkward fellow looked like he was either going to faint or puke. The pilot looks downright ecstatic. And Jordan wasn’t sure what she felt. Other than a tad nauseous. That probably wasn’t a good thing. Then again, decent quality food had been in short supply recently.
Jordan blinked. She was pretty sure the Firefly shouldn’t be moving. She couldn’t hear an engine. Suddenly the Firefly disappeared, replaced by the shocked faces of the crew. They didn’t stay for long though.

Everything went black.

Sunday jumped a foot in the air at the sudden thunk. Out of habit she pulled her knife, holding it lightly as her head swiveled for the source of the threat. She should have her gun. Port authorities frowned on that without a weapons license. Scruffy apparently had the same idea. He had a pistol in his hand, though it was pointed at the ground.

"What the...?"

“Medic!” Wesley holstered the pistol he had drawn on reflex, dropping to his knees next to the downed mechanic. She wasn’t thrashing or anything…. She looked like she was sleeping, actually. Almost like a little kid. The pilot was right. Just how old was she? Even though she didn’t look to be having a seizure, he stabilized her brilliant red head. The pilot had certainly jumped out of the way quick enough. It made him wonder just what she’d been up to before they had all ended up here…

That was a minor concern, however.

“You going to do something or what?”

[malikyiaue]

Unlike seemingly everyone else (if everyone else included Wesley and Sunday, and apparently in Ethan’s mind it did, because that was how he thought), he hadn’t felt the need to pull a weapon or prepare for a fight at all the instant he’d heard the thump. In fact, he hadn’t felt like the loud noise was even a threat; he was used to most thumps being like this one: completely innocent except for the damage that might be caused by something falling. Well, with the exception of the fact that this one might not be entirely innocent, because people took damage when they fell, and that damage needed to be healed up, and he was pretty sure this hunk of space junk they were about to be flying on needed a mechanic pretty much right away.

That, and he would be a pretty poor doctor if he didn’t worry every time an otherwise healthy looking young woman started fainting for no apparent reason.

Somehow, he doubted she was the type that fainted for no reason (no reason, including in his mind many of the things he imagined would make Kirsten faint, like the sight of blood or bugs or vomit).

Which made it all the more curious, and he all but jumped in his effort to make his way over to her, actually managing to keep from running because of pure will-power alone. Right, this was exactly why he left the hospital: he knew he’d have more interesting cases if he got out from under all those more experienced doctors who gave him the routine stuff and kept the interesting things for themselves. Though he had figured he’d have to wait at least a week before something like that fell into his lap – or onto the cold metal floor of the ship, as the case may be.

Bending down, he pressed two fingers to the inside of her wrist at first, wanting to make sure she was still alive before he started checking for anything else – not that he thought she was dead. Oh lord, he really needed to stop correcting himself in his thoughts or he couldn’t possibly appear confident to the rest of the crew. Once he was sure she did have a pulse – which she did – and that she was still breathing and really looked alright as far as he could tell, he reached up and patted her a couple of times on the cheek, and then grabbed the bag he’d brought with him.

Smelling salts. They might be as old as The-Earth-That-Was, but they still happened to be pretty damn effective (there he went, breaking out of his shell; cussing). Uncorking the bottle after what felt like an eternity of searching for it in his bag but was really only about five seconds, he waved it under the girl’s nose, hoping shed pop back up to life much like he’d always imagined Jesus doing after a three day nap in those Christianity stories.

"She’s just passed out.” He offered as a vague explanation. It was the best he could give at the moment though; he didn’t know why.

Looking over everyone’s credentials was more of a formality than most people would be comfortable with. There was a chance if she didn’t look over them, her ship could be wrecked, and they all could die out there in space, and she didn’t much like the thought of dying in general, even at eighty years old warm in her bed, let alone the thought of simultaneously freezing to death and suffocating, like they’d do if the ship failed or if they crashed into something. Or well, if they crashed into something it might be more a matter of exploding, which would at least be quicker and less painful than freezing and suffocating, but that still wasn’t a very comforting thought. Still, if they weren’t as good as they said, they’d get a crash course, she figured. Or kicked off as soon as they reached Bernadette, even if that might put a bit of a delay on the job she was supposed to be running out of there.

The Settlers could do without whatever it was the needed smuggled to the border planets for them for a little while, if it meant not having her crew die.

Though their paperwork looked all in order, and Tyler was inclined to trust people, so she didn’t think that’d really be a necessity. Really, her inclination towards honesty might not be the best thing in the line of work she was getting in; she expected that people’d be honest, for the most part, because lying was really just a waste of time. And she certainly didn’t do it herself. That was out of the question; she had better things to do with herself than try to keep her story straight because it wasn’t true. She considered it one of her better features.

For now, that honesty just meant she was ready to turn and board the ship, even going so far as to take a step backwards and turn on the ball of her foot before realizing what was happening with the mechanic she’d yet to tell she’d hired. “Looks good to me. If you’re ready to get to wor—“

The sound of the thump cut her off, and she’d spun back around just as quickly, the foot she wasn’t turning on hitting the ground in a solid thump of its own – though not one that compared to the sound of the young woman’s body hitting the ground, and her lips tightened when she saw what had happened.

********.

The last thing they needed was trouble already.


Kirsten was skeptical. Out of all the people that’d shown up, only the man that wanted to – well, she didn’t even know what he wanted to do – seemed to have his information organized in any sort of way that made sense, and how were they going to keep track of any of the important documents you needed to run any business if none of them organized their things? That, and the way those girls had handed her their papers, and the fact that the doctor didn’t have a datapad of his own? Well. It didn’t look like it was shaping up to be the most successful of adventures.

She wasn’t going to say anything, though; that wasn’t her place. Sure, she could have offered to organize their information herself, but she had her own business to run; her sister could succeed or fail as she wanted, and Kirsten was mostly here for the ride.

At least Tyler had bothered to check their credentials.

Her mind was pretty far from what they were doing for the most part; she was giving the crew slight once overs as they introduced themselves, and making what were really far-too-hasty judgements based on the way they carried their paperwork that she’d never admit to, but she didn’t have much of an interest in what it took to keep a ship running. Her interest in the people before her was personal, not professional, so she almost felt a bit out of place with all of the professionalism (not that it was really a lot, mind you, but it was there none the less) going around. That didn’t take away from her training, however, which meant she noticed.

It was her job to notice the slightest changes in the people around her. She noticed when Jordan’s eyes stopped focusing on Tyler and her paper work. She’d noticed when they started to cross, and then when they closed.

And it was her job to act on those changes, which meant that even before Jordan’d hit the ground she was already moving, seemingly unaffected by the awkwardness her skirt lead to any quick motions, she’d moved as fast as she could to be beside the woman’s head, and let herself drop to her knees just above it. And without even hesitating, she reached down and pulled Jordan’s head into her lap, resting it on her thighs and pushing some hair back out of the unconscious girl’s face as she waited for the doctor’s diagnosis. No reason to leave the girl to suffer here alone, or to leave her uncomfortable.

The diagnosis, she had to admit, though, was rather disappointing. “There’s nothing else you can tell, Doctor?” She asked, turning her eyes to him and furrowing her brows in a look of concern that at least seemed completely genuine.

[ThreadlessNickle]

Wesley breathed a sigh of relief as the tiny mechanic woke, completely with violent sneeze. Due to her size it was downright adorable. Not that he would ever say it. He’d probably be smacked upside the head with a wrench for mentioning it.

It did leave them in a thorny situation, however. What happened if she fainted in the middle of a major repair? Out in the black? Or even on a job, should she take part in them? She hadn’t officially been hired yet. It wouldn’t be hard for Tyler to turn down the application. Good mechanics were hard to find. It was hard to say without looking at her credentials if this one was good or not, but if she was… Well, it would be a risk either way. This one could be trouble. But if they waited, they might not find another one anytime soon.

A violent sneeze shook Jordan awake. Rubbing her nose, she pushed whatever the doctor was waving in her nose as far away from her face as she could. The sharp, stinging smell was almost painful in her nose. Maybe it was time to consider olfactory blockers. It was an implant that was becoming wildly popular with mechanics of all walks. The blocker not only stopped harsh or nasty smells, it also filtered dangerous chemicals out of the air you breathed in. Altogether smart. But it would mean a poor sense of smell. And a scar on the side of her nose.

With a sharp sigh, Jordan pushed herself to a sitting position. Slowly, so as to avoid the inevitable vertigo that would follow. It didn’t work, per usual. With a spinning head, she took stock of what had changed. The doctor was, of course at her side. And strangely so was the Companion.

“You alright, shrimp?” Oddly enough the Pilot was the first one to speak. She still had a knife clutched in her hand like she was expecting some impending attack, but she actually looked concerned. All trace of macho pilot had faded. She just looked… well, like a woman.

“Shiney.” Jordan forced a grin. “Happens sometimes. A doc on Persephone called it epilsy or something.”

“Epilepsy? Makes sense I suppose. Seizures, right? You on meds for it?”

“If I could afford ‘em. I’m shiney cap’n I promise. Won’t be a problem.” They happened, true. Captains generally didn’t like mechanics that fell over randomly, however. Fear that the Captain would send her away based on a freak fainting spell began to set in. Again. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been fired before she’d been hired because of whatever the condition was.

“They ain’t common. And they don’t last long, even without that awful smelling stuff.” That was not how she wanted the crew to find out about it. Of course she’d have to have Captain Tyler before she officially got the job. But if the crew began to fear that the mechanic would randomly fall over in a pinch… It wouldn’t matter if Tyler liked her or not. She would be hungry and jobless. Again.

Sunday tucked her knife away. No immediate threat. Her adrenaline was still pumping, however. The sensation was all too familiar. Anyone who spent any amount of time on the Outer Rim knew it, and those who were still alive knew it well.

Bending over, she offered a hand to the mechanic. She looked recovered. The mechanic, Sunday thought her name was Jordan, took her hand. Pulling her up, Sunday steadied her as she got her balance. No harm done, thanks to the Companion. Sunday still wasn’t entirely sure how she got there that quickly. Then again, she was a companion. They seemed superhuman some of the time. Except, it usually had to do with how much they knew about you just by looking you in the eye for a minute, not superhuman speed. Sunday had never seen one move quickly. They were always poised and graceful.

Which begged the question why she was here. Why take up with brigands and scoundrels? Even if one was your sister?

“Captain? Twenty minutes till your scheduled departure time.” Wesley wasn’t really sure where the time had gone. Frankly, it looked like they were going to be a bit late. Somehow he didn’t think that would faze the Captain much. Certainly the pilot took it in stride, as did the Mechanic.

“I’ll need a few minutes to get used to the controls before we liftoff. If I’m hired, leastaways.”

Good question if she was or not. Likely so, with how close they were to liftoff. Wesley had no trouble with them. Yet. So long as they behaved themselves, and they had, so far, then they were okay in his book.

[malikyiaue]

Epilepsy? That certainly explained it, but that wasn’t exactly a good thing for working in an engine room that lit up like a Christmas light. Maybe she wasn’t effected by strobing lights? God, he hoped so. He didn’t have any idea about the dangers that were out there; he still thought reavers were just a story told to children to keep them in line, and he couldn’t have even begun to imagine the lawlessness on some of the outer-rim planets, but even he thought it would suck if some part broke and their mechanic went down for the count while they were out in space.

Not the best idea.

Kind of exciting though, and that was what he was looking for.

As Jordan stood up, he followed her, grabbing her wrist once more, just to make sure that her pulse was still normal and everything, because he knew that occasionally patients could be unreliable in diagnosing their own conditions. That was kind of why he had a job. If people knew what was wrong with them, he’d probably be out of a job. You know, except for bandaging up gunshot wounds.

“Are you dizzy? Disoriented?” His voice was soft, with something akin to concern in it, but not entirely because there was also something business-like: it was the typical ‘bedside manner’ voice doctors practiced everywhere. Except it felt a little more genuine coming from his lips; he actually did care. At least most of the time; he wasn’t going to lie; there were times when he’d been so bored by the case he didn’t really care what was going on. Right now wasn’t one of those times.

Well.

This left her in a bit of a bind.

The way Tyler saw it, she had two choices: Not get up in the air for what could be another week, and have to tell the other people who’d decided to work for her that they’d have to wait even longer for money and food, or she could go ahead and hire the mechanic and take the risk that she’d pass out in the middle of space, possibly when reavers were after them, and then they’d be ******** that way too. Neither was a very good choice. Rock. Hard Place. Somehow, she found herself in the middle. She didn’t much like it.

“Doc. Think you can get your hands on some of that medicine?”

No matter how stuck she was, Tyler was pretty good at the whole decision making thing.

“I’m sure. But it’d take more than twenty minutes; I’d have to go to the nearest pharmacy and back.” If she’d been diagnosed with epilepsy, then he knew what to give her, and how to treat it. Of course, she probably could just have that portion of her brain removed, but removing portions of the brain – well, that was a messy procedure. The people who got it done were very rarely left completely intact – no pun intended.

“Go get it.” She instructed, reaching in her pocket to pull out a few crumpled up bills to hand him. Chances were, this mechanic girl would insist, though, so she instantly tossed her gaze over to the other woman and gave her a bit of a smile. “Consider it an investment in my ship. Gotta get her off the ground so you all can start making money, can’t have you passin’ out if we need you out there in the black. Tryin’ to find another mechanic would take too long.” That, and unlike the others, Tyler wasn’t hurting for money. Sure, she’d bought the Firefly, and that’d eaten a pretty large chunk of her savings, but that was the thing: Tyler didn’t really need anything. She spent money on two things, mostly: food, and haircuts. And when she’d worked for the alliance as a commissioned officer? She couldn’t have spent all her money on those things, even if she’d tried.

The doctor nodded, and took the money in hand to go get the medication, rushing as much as he could, since they had times to stick to, at least somewhat.

Once Jordan stood up, Kirsten ran her hands over her thighs, smoothing out her skirt, and then pulled herself to her feet as well, the movement somehow managing not to look awkward as it would for most people; there were very few things they hadn’t practiced in Companion training, and while she was pretty sure she’d probably cover whatever they were out in the black, she did intend to use all of her training all the time, to keep herself sharp and on top of it. Which meant that she shifted her weight carefully, keeping everything aligned, and making the most of her curves, exaggerating them only for a moment as she stepped from foot to foot, walking forward to stand beside her sister.

“Tyler.” She asked quietly, her voice essentially a whisper in the other girl’s ear, a scene that might have been suggestive about the nature of their relationship and why a companion was working on a ship like this had they not already informed the crew that they were sisters, “Are you sure this is a good idea?” She wasn’t. The idea of dying was not something she was fond of.

“I am.”

The reply was curt, and Kirsten just let out a small sigh and nodded. “Whatever you say, then.” She said, turning her attention back to the crew that had, it seemed, been hired already. Well, they seemed like decent enough people. She just hoped they could all perform when the time came for it.

“Alright, Sunday, was it?” Tyler asked, looking over at the pilot. “Let’s get you set up at those controls. You can be practicing with them while the doctor runs around.” She lifted her arm and made a sweeping gesture, indicating for the other woman to follow her, leaving Kirsten with Wesley and Jordan.

Oh. Right, so apparently her job included showing the other two around? She was going to have words with Tyler for that later, but for now, Kirsten just smiled at the two new-comers, and nodded her head. “While they do that, why don’t I give you the tour – show you where your rooms are, and everything?” There was a gentleness to everything she did, at least when she interacted with crew-members other than her sister, a sort of refined withdrawal that somehow managed to combine something like aloofness with genuine warmth. Stepping forward, about halfway in between each of them, she reached out and brushed a hand gently over their shoulders, just to make sure she had their attention (she already knew she did, but reinforcing that concentration wasn’t exactly a bad idea, now was it?).

“Since we’re already here, let’s start with the infirmary? Though I really hope we never have to use it.”

[ThreadlessNickle]

“Are you dizzy? Disoriented?”

“Little bit of vertigo going on, and ache in the brainpan.” Jordan flashed as much of a smile as she could manage. ]“All shiney though”. Somehow the prospect of being out of work for another who knew how long dampened her spirits. The Verse just didn’t like her right now. Gorram flippen fainting spells.

The captain looked thoughtful. Her response surprised her, however.

“Doc. Think you can get your hands on some of that medicine?”

“You mean I’m hired?” Jordan asked. Or she intended to say it. Her voice failed her, leaving the unspoken words floating around inside her head.

“I’m sure. But it’d take more than twenty minutes; I’d have to go to the nearest pharmacy and back.”

“Go get it. Consider it an investment in my ship. Gotta get her off the ground so you all can start making money, can’t have you passin’ out if we need you out there in the black. Tryin’ to find another mechanic would take too long.”

"Thank you. Captain.” She added the last bit as an afterthought. She’d probably have to start getting back into the habit of calling people by title again. At least a few of them. The doctor, for one. Maybe he would have chocolate in the infirmary. She knew a good few doctors, especially of the male persuasion, who kept a tidy little stash of the stuff. With as fancy pants as this one was, he might even have orange flavored chocolate. The stuff was to die for. Jordan had no idea what an orange actually looked like. They were… orange. That’s all she knew. And they tasted fantastic with chocolate.

“Alright, Sunday, was it? Let’s get you set up at those controls. You can be practicing with them while the doctor runs around.”

Sunday let out a whoop, hoisting her belongings and practically skipping onto the ship. It was a gorram Firefly. The halls were basically the same as recalled from the last one she’d been aboard. Same layout, same almost shabby looking interior. Harsh, corrugated metal and wire bundles.

And there it was. The cockpit. Sunday slipped around the captain, beaming from ear to ear. Plopping
into the pilots chair a little too hard, she ignored her stinging rump as she ran her hands over the console. Her fingers brushed gently over the screens, buttons, patch panels, speakers, lights and switches, and the danced over the familiar steering bars.

“Damn good to be back.” It was almost a whisper. Disengaging the steering apparatus so that the ship would remain right where it was while she practiced with the controls, Sunday’s smiled faded from something giddy and childish, to something more content.

“While they do that, why don’t I give you the tour – show you where your rooms are, and everything?”

Wesley half flinched half smiled at her touch. The companion was a slippery one. But then, that was in their job description. None the less, his attention was riveted on her. As was the mechanic’s, he noticed. Odd, that one. She’d hardly taken notice of the doctor, other than in a professional capacity. And he was a relatively good looking man. (Wesley, thanks to growing up with three sisters, knew what made a man good looking.) Handsome, yet with a softness many women took for caring and kindness. But with the way she was looking at the Companion… it was almost the same stunned yet instinctual attraction he’d seen on the face of countless men.

Maybe she was a boy? Some genetic defect or other that had prevented maturation? Didn’t seem likely. She did have breasts. More likely she just swung the other way.

“Since we’re already here, let’s start with the infirmary? Though I really hope we never have to use it.”

He and Jordan fell in behind her, following her swaying footsteps into their future homes.