PART I:
1.1
1.2 Section 1: Elise
A loud squawking sound echoed through the ship depot before the sound of a monotone voice said, "Will the following please step forward onto the platform 4 to your right. Norman Lemmingham, Gregory Schiestler, Liam Norway, Elise Molson, and Melinda Singer. All passengers should be aboard Ship four in 10 minutes. Notice to all, ticket offices one, seven, and eight are closing for the evening. Thank you."
"Jesus, they can transport 30 people across the fucking galaxy in a ship the size of a trailer, but they can't create a sound system that doesn't squeal any less than pigs in a hog race."
"Uh-yuh, well, at least we can leave now. I'm tired of sitting on this fucking bench. My ass feels like it was whacked a good one instead of just sitting here." A middle aged women, with naturally red hair and died blond streaks in her bangs, stood up, stretching as she did. A small glimpse of her slim figure could be seen as her shirt pulled taut against her ribs.
"You go ahead, I've gotta go to the bathroom."
"Just hurry up." Melinda stalked off, dragging the pulley with her bags on it behind her uncomfortably.
Instead of going to the bathroom, I, Elise, went over to the snack stand to buy some aspirin. Melinda was nice, but she could talk your ear off. At the time, I couldn't help but wonder why I was even going through with this. Spending four months on a ship with five other people, including the pilot, was not what I had in mind when my school decided to send me on "the opportunity of a lifetime". At least I met Melinda. Maybe it won't be as bad as I thought. But still, four months and with no cryo-sleep can seem like four years. And what's the point anyways, I already know how to pilot and maintain a ship. I don't see why they just can't put us under until we reach Bisham. I knew though. I had 2 reasons for going and I couldn't live with myself if I passed them up. I swallowed 3 pills and stepped away from the counter. Passing from one end of the platform to the other was difficult what with luggage from the hundreds of others waiting to leave scattered across the warped planks.
Looking at the city worn faces of all those people, I wasn't sorry I was leaving that particular city. The people were tired zombies who worked as much as possible to keep up with the heavy taxes demanded by the Company. Working age was brought down to 12 about 25 years ago, and half the children could get their education at home on their computers, so going and getting a job at the close-enough age of 10 wasn't uncommon. Not to mention all of the kids thrown into underground slavery. At one time the city had been beautiful, or so I heard. But that was before the Company came and took over. Even then it wasn't too bad, but then the Company had to go and get a big ol' stick up its ass.
Hardly anyone cared about electives, not even the school board. They felt they had enough work on their hands dealing with the some 2 million kids going to school in their district alone. I was lucky, my school consisted of the bare minimum amount of children, which gave me the off chance that I could get somewhere. Our school had more to offer than anywhere else in the city. Not that my foster parents cared, they just liked it cause it meant I would be leaving sooner. Luckily, or unfortunately depending on which way you look at it, I refrained from going away to college for one more year so I could make some more money. If I had left, my parents would have taken the call from the school board, and I wouldn't be on my way to Bisham on the other side of the galaxy.
Bisham is considered a "new planet". Only discovered nearly a century ago, not many live on it yet. It's like the suburbs, a little out of the way, but nice and comfortable. One thing separates it from the rest, it's got the most incredible space and science center in the 3 surrounding galaxies. That's where I'm going to be trained on the most innovative and new techniques for today's scientific discoveries. Training aboard this small ship is just for the purpose of me being able to control my own personal craft in the future.
The people at Bisham Tech. wanted a student untouched by training from other sources, but he or she would have had to be the best in every class he/she took. They also would have to have perfect scores in the Math and Science, especially physics, courses. Bisham Tech. is a great part of going along with this, but I plan on using this as my way to tap into ADA. That is the Academy for Developing Arts. School has never been very interesting for me, but writing has. If I have a chance at going further in my writing career, I'll drop Bisham Tech. in a flash.
My short blond hair swung aimlessly across my face as I bent to place my bags through the x-ray machine in front of the door to the ship. A creaky, rundown thing, I wondered if it even worked, or was it just there to intimidate people into giving up any ideas of hijacking. I stepped up onto the ship and made my way to the bunk chambers. The ship was much larger than I had expected. Cleaner too. The metal looked waxed and the floor scrubbed. Everything was neat and orderly. No wires hung from the ceiling and there were no missing panels in the walls. At first I figured it looked bigger only because it was kept clean, but as I walked down the hall to my right I realized it would have to be of moderate size to have so many rooms. Hell, I might even get my own room. I had promised to bunk with Melinda if there was need to, but that wasn't too exciting of an idea to me. Melinda was at least 40, and I 19, but sometimes Melinda seemed more like the adolescent.
As I walked down the hall I heard voices in a room to my left. The narrow door was open some, so I peaked in. Two men I didn't recognize were in the dim room. One, a giant by the size of him, was sitting with his elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands. The one standing, a midget compared to the other, looked exhausted by the argument they were having. Something about fuel and the cost of the trip.
"God damn it Richardson! Just use the fuel from Jeff's pumps! It's cheaper."
"You don't understand, his fuel burns twice as fast as what I have in there now. With a trip this long, if the fuel isn't reliable, anything could go wrong." Richardson now stood up and came over to the smaller man, "I won't risk it. You can forget about Jeff's fucking fuel." I wasn't sure if my mind was playing tricks on me, but suddenly the phrase, "menacing look" was very literal. His eyes seemed to have a bright gleam of their own. I realized suddenly that he must have gotten a "shine-job" done on them. It's a job most often done in prisons where the prisoners aren't supposed to see daylight again. The shine allows the prisoners to see in the dark so no one can sneak up on them. How interesting.
"Don't you dare try and intimidate me you piece of shit. I gave you this job as a favor to Linda. If you do so much as look at me wrong with those fucked up eyes of yours, then you're off this ship and the trip is cancelled." At this Richardson backed off. "Ahhh…yeah, that's right. This is the trip you've been waiting for, for a long time isn't it. Fine, we won't use Jeff's, but you better be right about the quality of this fuel or someone is going to be burned for it." The smaller man exited through a doorway to his left, slamming the door as he went.
Richardson gave a soft, meditated exhale through his noise and turned to the counter behind him. I could certainly sympathize with him, the other man seemed like a real dick. "Why don't you come in and introduce yourself?" I stood frozen in surprise. Duh, he was turned so far toward me he might as well have been staring right at me. I'm such a nitwit. How could I be so stupid to actually look in on them anyways?
"I'm, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I just wanted to ask you if you knew where I should put my things." Stuttering! What am I, some child with a crush? He's not that big. Although, his arms can't even hang properly at his sides because of his muscles.
"Don't worry about it." His voice was low and soothing. Was everything about him soft and meditated? Even his movements carried poise and deliberation. "Prisoner" didn't fit him well. He gave a slight indication with his head, "Why don't you come in where I can see all of you."
This must be the pilot. I didn't prepare to meet him under such tense circumstances, but he seems nice enough. Better that I meet him now than never. I pushed open the door, grateful that it didn't squeal, and stepped in. "Hi, I'm Elise Molson. And you must be the captain?"
He smiled wanly, "that I am. The name's Brock Richardson." He reached out his large hand to meet my smaller one. "You're my trainee right?"
Something about that name seemed familiar to me. But how? I knew I had never met him before. I'd have to think about it later. "Nice to meet you, yeah, that's right. I know a lot about ships already though. I used to live on one with some other people. But you can't tell anyone that. I'm not supposed to have any training already." Yeah, that's right Elise, be cool. How natural it seemed to lie about that. Well, it wasn't lying, just not telling the whole truth.
"What model?" I noticed for the first time that we were in a kitchen of some sort. Everything was outlined in plastic made to look like wood. I was surprised, since usually those type of jobs cost major bucks. Then he went into a "wood" framed cabinet over a counter and by pushing in a latch at the bottom, he opened it. Inside were cans upon cans of coffee.
"Umm…BJ460 from the Alknyne series. It was a tremendously heavy thing though. It was old too, so it was much harder to handle because of delayed action time. I'm looking forward to using…" He opened the two cabinets on either side of the first one to reveal two more kinds of coffee. "Is all that coffee necessary?"
He gave a stifled laugh. "Staying awake is awfully hard when you're out there for 4 months. Especially when your body is expecting to go into cryo-sleep at any moment."
"Oh, I see. Does this ship even have a cryo-generator?"
"No, it's made for short trips within a certain area. It can handle long trips just as well, it's the people that can't handle it."
"Yes, well," Was it just me, or did he seem to have something against other people? "There is only so much a person can do in a limited area. I'm not sure if I'll be comfortable spending 4 months onboard with only 5 other people including yourself." More lies, more lies.
"Actually there will be a sixth person. My copilot Manny. He's a hothead, but he can fly if I get in trouble and he knows the way to Bisham better than anyone. Besides, a long trip like this will require more maintenance than normal."
"That's fine by me. So, do you know where I can put my things?" I realized Melinda might be having a heart attack now if she thought I still wasn't on board. I wanted to go find her. And maybe not by accident slip about how interesting the pilot was.
"There are ten rooms on this ship, you can have any one of them, although my recommendation is the one across from this room. You may not drink coffee now, but soon you will, and then you'll find out that 7 people and 1 coffee maker don't mix well."
Making a joke, somehow I didn't see that coming from him. "Thanks, I'll take it under consideration. Uh, it was nice to meet you." I gave a quick wave with my hand and stepped out.
Deciding to take his advice, I opened the door to the room right across from the kitchen. I gave the command, "Lights on". The inside was incredibly nice. There were drawers built into the wall and a counter with raised sides so nothing would fall off. I walked further in and through my bags onto the bed. I noticed it was a real bed too, not just a glorified cot. The head was against the far side of the room and the side on the right wall. There was a nightstand, which looked attached to the floor and wall behind it. Two doors were next to the nightstand. I opened the first and saw that it was my own personal bathroom. I never expected that. It was small but fully loaded with a tub/shower, toilet, sink and mirror. Towels had even been placed on the shelf above the toilet. I pulled the shower curtain back and saw that there were 4 hotel-sized bars of soap and 4 bottles of shampoo/conditioner.
I walked out and opened the other door. It was a small closet with a shelf and rod. I couldn't wait to talk to Melinda about my room. Just then someone knocked on the door. It was open and when I turned around I saw that it Gregory Schiestler. I remembered him from the depot. He was a tall, lanky man with a stubble beard. He always slumped his shoulders and hung his head some. He seemed like a nervous man, his hands were working constantly at scrunching the material of his day robe. The material looked quite expensive and it was all wrinkled from his frisky hands. "Can I help you Mr. Schiestler?"
"Uh, Ms. Molson, well I was wondering if you, might switch rooms with me. Mine's all the way at the end of the hall and so it's awfully far from the bathroom."
"You mean the kitchen."
"No, the bathroom. I need to be near a bathroom because of my bladder problem."
Oh jeez, to much information Mr.…So I had taken a really good room. Now that was interesting. "I'm really sorry Mr. Schiestler, but I've already begun to unpack my things. Also, I feel more comfortable being near the emergency doors. Maybe another person will be more considerate for you." All my bags lay unpacked on the bed, but he didn't need to know that.
"That's all right. I understand. And you can call me Greg or Gregory, which ever you prefer."
I smiled. "Thank you, I'll do that. And the names Elise." He closed the door as he left. I realized suddenly that Mr. Richardson was the one who had recommended this room. I began thinking that maybe this trip wouldn't be so bad after all.
Elise left the room, closed the door and walked down the hall, looking for Melinda as she went. She saw an empty room and went in to see if it was any different from hers. It was. The room was much smaller with only 4 drawers instead of 6 like hers, and there was no counter. There was one door, which led to a 2x2 closet with no shelf. Suddenly she felt a great sense of relief for not switching rooms. These ones were crap compared to her little suite. "Not much to these rooms, is there?" Melinda came into the room with her finely tanned arms crossed against her chest.
"Yeah, but it's weird cause mine isn't anything like this. I even have a bathroom in mine. The lighting's way better too. Is this how yours is?"
"Uh-huh. It's all right though, I'm used to it. I've been on crafts like this before. And besides, this is actually much better than some of the shit holes I've seen." She walked slowly over to the bed and sat down. The bed creaked uneasily, new or not.
"Remember Gregory Schiestler from the depot?" She took a second then nodded her head. "Well, he came into my room asking to switch with me. He said something about having a bladder problem. Anyways, I lied and told him I was afraid to be far away from the emergency doors. Do you think that was wrong?"
"Hell no, I wouldn't give it up for shit."
"I thought maybe I wasn't alone there. Sorry I didn't try and find you when I first got on board, I met the pilot and-"
At that the intercom came on and a voice rang throughout the ship. "Would the passengers please report to the hull of the ship to prepare for launch."
The two left the room and walked out into the hall to join the other passengers on their way to the hull. When they reached the body of the ship they were met by a man with spiked blond hair and soft build. He had a handsome face, but it was tainted with faint scars from battles and bar fights of the past. "Hello folks, I'm your copilot. You can just call me Manny."
"So this is Manny", Elise thought. "Not bad looking, could lose the gun at his side though."
"I'm assuming you've all done this before. Just strap yourselves into the seats here. Brock wants you to go to the front." Manny pointed to Elise and made a motion with his head to indicate she should step around him into the cabin.
"Ok." How does he know that I met the pilot already? I opened the door softly and came in. Only the top of his shaved head was visible over the seat.
"Come over here and strap yourself into the copilots seat. Your lessons start now."
He told me some of the basics I already knew and then a couple of more complex things I didn't. This ship was highly more advanced than the one I was on before. I was surprised at how jacked up everything was. It made me wonder how anyone could, or would want to, spend that much on a small ship like this. There was a smooth takeoff and in less than ten minutes he took the radio off the dashboard to report that everyone could un-strap and get comfortable.
I took the opportunity to thank him for the room. "That was really nice of you to tell me about that room. I noticed it's a lot better than the others." I wasn't quite sure if he knew how nice it was…or if he had one of the rooms like the other ones.
"Actually, you shouldn't thank me. That was your assigned room. I guess you didn't look too carefully at your ticket. You're given certain privileges because you'll be doing work on the craft. A better bedchamber is one of them. I just didn't want to embarrass you." His voice was a soft rumble. He looked over at me and gave me a small smile to show that he wasn't trying to be an asshole.
"Yeah, after all, I'm doing such a good job of it myself." His laugh was low and cheerful. A person could become intoxicated by that laugh. "Mr. Richardson, should I call you Captain, or Mr. Richardson?"
"Brock, call me Brock."
"Sure, ok."
1.1
1.2 Section 1: Elise
A loud squawking sound echoed through the ship depot before the sound of a monotone voice said, "Will the following please step forward onto the platform 4 to your right. Norman Lemmingham, Gregory Schiestler, Liam Norway, Elise Molson, and Melinda Singer. All passengers should be aboard Ship four in 10 minutes. Notice to all, ticket offices one, seven, and eight are closing for the evening. Thank you."
"Jesus, they can transport 30 people across the fucking galaxy in a ship the size of a trailer, but they can't create a sound system that doesn't squeal any less than pigs in a hog race."
"Uh-yuh, well, at least we can leave now. I'm tired of sitting on this fucking bench. My ass feels like it was whacked a good one instead of just sitting here." A middle aged women, with naturally red hair and died blond streaks in her bangs, stood up, stretching as she did. A small glimpse of her slim figure could be seen as her shirt pulled taut against her ribs.
"You go ahead, I've gotta go to the bathroom."
"Just hurry up." Melinda stalked off, dragging the pulley with her bags on it behind her uncomfortably.
Instead of going to the bathroom, I, Elise, went over to the snack stand to buy some aspirin. Melinda was nice, but she could talk your ear off. At the time, I couldn't help but wonder why I was even going through with this. Spending four months on a ship with five other people, including the pilot, was not what I had in mind when my school decided to send me on "the opportunity of a lifetime". At least I met Melinda. Maybe it won't be as bad as I thought. But still, four months and with no cryo-sleep can seem like four years. And what's the point anyways, I already know how to pilot and maintain a ship. I don't see why they just can't put us under until we reach Bisham. I knew though. I had 2 reasons for going and I couldn't live with myself if I passed them up. I swallowed 3 pills and stepped away from the counter. Passing from one end of the platform to the other was difficult what with luggage from the hundreds of others waiting to leave scattered across the warped planks.
Looking at the city worn faces of all those people, I wasn't sorry I was leaving that particular city. The people were tired zombies who worked as much as possible to keep up with the heavy taxes demanded by the Company. Working age was brought down to 12 about 25 years ago, and half the children could get their education at home on their computers, so going and getting a job at the close-enough age of 10 wasn't uncommon. Not to mention all of the kids thrown into underground slavery. At one time the city had been beautiful, or so I heard. But that was before the Company came and took over. Even then it wasn't too bad, but then the Company had to go and get a big ol' stick up its ass.
Hardly anyone cared about electives, not even the school board. They felt they had enough work on their hands dealing with the some 2 million kids going to school in their district alone. I was lucky, my school consisted of the bare minimum amount of children, which gave me the off chance that I could get somewhere. Our school had more to offer than anywhere else in the city. Not that my foster parents cared, they just liked it cause it meant I would be leaving sooner. Luckily, or unfortunately depending on which way you look at it, I refrained from going away to college for one more year so I could make some more money. If I had left, my parents would have taken the call from the school board, and I wouldn't be on my way to Bisham on the other side of the galaxy.
Bisham is considered a "new planet". Only discovered nearly a century ago, not many live on it yet. It's like the suburbs, a little out of the way, but nice and comfortable. One thing separates it from the rest, it's got the most incredible space and science center in the 3 surrounding galaxies. That's where I'm going to be trained on the most innovative and new techniques for today's scientific discoveries. Training aboard this small ship is just for the purpose of me being able to control my own personal craft in the future.
The people at Bisham Tech. wanted a student untouched by training from other sources, but he or she would have had to be the best in every class he/she took. They also would have to have perfect scores in the Math and Science, especially physics, courses. Bisham Tech. is a great part of going along with this, but I plan on using this as my way to tap into ADA. That is the Academy for Developing Arts. School has never been very interesting for me, but writing has. If I have a chance at going further in my writing career, I'll drop Bisham Tech. in a flash.
My short blond hair swung aimlessly across my face as I bent to place my bags through the x-ray machine in front of the door to the ship. A creaky, rundown thing, I wondered if it even worked, or was it just there to intimidate people into giving up any ideas of hijacking. I stepped up onto the ship and made my way to the bunk chambers. The ship was much larger than I had expected. Cleaner too. The metal looked waxed and the floor scrubbed. Everything was neat and orderly. No wires hung from the ceiling and there were no missing panels in the walls. At first I figured it looked bigger only because it was kept clean, but as I walked down the hall to my right I realized it would have to be of moderate size to have so many rooms. Hell, I might even get my own room. I had promised to bunk with Melinda if there was need to, but that wasn't too exciting of an idea to me. Melinda was at least 40, and I 19, but sometimes Melinda seemed more like the adolescent.
As I walked down the hall I heard voices in a room to my left. The narrow door was open some, so I peaked in. Two men I didn't recognize were in the dim room. One, a giant by the size of him, was sitting with his elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands. The one standing, a midget compared to the other, looked exhausted by the argument they were having. Something about fuel and the cost of the trip.
"God damn it Richardson! Just use the fuel from Jeff's pumps! It's cheaper."
"You don't understand, his fuel burns twice as fast as what I have in there now. With a trip this long, if the fuel isn't reliable, anything could go wrong." Richardson now stood up and came over to the smaller man, "I won't risk it. You can forget about Jeff's fucking fuel." I wasn't sure if my mind was playing tricks on me, but suddenly the phrase, "menacing look" was very literal. His eyes seemed to have a bright gleam of their own. I realized suddenly that he must have gotten a "shine-job" done on them. It's a job most often done in prisons where the prisoners aren't supposed to see daylight again. The shine allows the prisoners to see in the dark so no one can sneak up on them. How interesting.
"Don't you dare try and intimidate me you piece of shit. I gave you this job as a favor to Linda. If you do so much as look at me wrong with those fucked up eyes of yours, then you're off this ship and the trip is cancelled." At this Richardson backed off. "Ahhh…yeah, that's right. This is the trip you've been waiting for, for a long time isn't it. Fine, we won't use Jeff's, but you better be right about the quality of this fuel or someone is going to be burned for it." The smaller man exited through a doorway to his left, slamming the door as he went.
Richardson gave a soft, meditated exhale through his noise and turned to the counter behind him. I could certainly sympathize with him, the other man seemed like a real dick. "Why don't you come in and introduce yourself?" I stood frozen in surprise. Duh, he was turned so far toward me he might as well have been staring right at me. I'm such a nitwit. How could I be so stupid to actually look in on them anyways?
"I'm, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I just wanted to ask you if you knew where I should put my things." Stuttering! What am I, some child with a crush? He's not that big. Although, his arms can't even hang properly at his sides because of his muscles.
"Don't worry about it." His voice was low and soothing. Was everything about him soft and meditated? Even his movements carried poise and deliberation. "Prisoner" didn't fit him well. He gave a slight indication with his head, "Why don't you come in where I can see all of you."
This must be the pilot. I didn't prepare to meet him under such tense circumstances, but he seems nice enough. Better that I meet him now than never. I pushed open the door, grateful that it didn't squeal, and stepped in. "Hi, I'm Elise Molson. And you must be the captain?"
He smiled wanly, "that I am. The name's Brock Richardson." He reached out his large hand to meet my smaller one. "You're my trainee right?"
Something about that name seemed familiar to me. But how? I knew I had never met him before. I'd have to think about it later. "Nice to meet you, yeah, that's right. I know a lot about ships already though. I used to live on one with some other people. But you can't tell anyone that. I'm not supposed to have any training already." Yeah, that's right Elise, be cool. How natural it seemed to lie about that. Well, it wasn't lying, just not telling the whole truth.
"What model?" I noticed for the first time that we were in a kitchen of some sort. Everything was outlined in plastic made to look like wood. I was surprised, since usually those type of jobs cost major bucks. Then he went into a "wood" framed cabinet over a counter and by pushing in a latch at the bottom, he opened it. Inside were cans upon cans of coffee.
"Umm…BJ460 from the Alknyne series. It was a tremendously heavy thing though. It was old too, so it was much harder to handle because of delayed action time. I'm looking forward to using…" He opened the two cabinets on either side of the first one to reveal two more kinds of coffee. "Is all that coffee necessary?"
He gave a stifled laugh. "Staying awake is awfully hard when you're out there for 4 months. Especially when your body is expecting to go into cryo-sleep at any moment."
"Oh, I see. Does this ship even have a cryo-generator?"
"No, it's made for short trips within a certain area. It can handle long trips just as well, it's the people that can't handle it."
"Yes, well," Was it just me, or did he seem to have something against other people? "There is only so much a person can do in a limited area. I'm not sure if I'll be comfortable spending 4 months onboard with only 5 other people including yourself." More lies, more lies.
"Actually there will be a sixth person. My copilot Manny. He's a hothead, but he can fly if I get in trouble and he knows the way to Bisham better than anyone. Besides, a long trip like this will require more maintenance than normal."
"That's fine by me. So, do you know where I can put my things?" I realized Melinda might be having a heart attack now if she thought I still wasn't on board. I wanted to go find her. And maybe not by accident slip about how interesting the pilot was.
"There are ten rooms on this ship, you can have any one of them, although my recommendation is the one across from this room. You may not drink coffee now, but soon you will, and then you'll find out that 7 people and 1 coffee maker don't mix well."
Making a joke, somehow I didn't see that coming from him. "Thanks, I'll take it under consideration. Uh, it was nice to meet you." I gave a quick wave with my hand and stepped out.
Deciding to take his advice, I opened the door to the room right across from the kitchen. I gave the command, "Lights on". The inside was incredibly nice. There were drawers built into the wall and a counter with raised sides so nothing would fall off. I walked further in and through my bags onto the bed. I noticed it was a real bed too, not just a glorified cot. The head was against the far side of the room and the side on the right wall. There was a nightstand, which looked attached to the floor and wall behind it. Two doors were next to the nightstand. I opened the first and saw that it was my own personal bathroom. I never expected that. It was small but fully loaded with a tub/shower, toilet, sink and mirror. Towels had even been placed on the shelf above the toilet. I pulled the shower curtain back and saw that there were 4 hotel-sized bars of soap and 4 bottles of shampoo/conditioner.
I walked out and opened the other door. It was a small closet with a shelf and rod. I couldn't wait to talk to Melinda about my room. Just then someone knocked on the door. It was open and when I turned around I saw that it Gregory Schiestler. I remembered him from the depot. He was a tall, lanky man with a stubble beard. He always slumped his shoulders and hung his head some. He seemed like a nervous man, his hands were working constantly at scrunching the material of his day robe. The material looked quite expensive and it was all wrinkled from his frisky hands. "Can I help you Mr. Schiestler?"
"Uh, Ms. Molson, well I was wondering if you, might switch rooms with me. Mine's all the way at the end of the hall and so it's awfully far from the bathroom."
"You mean the kitchen."
"No, the bathroom. I need to be near a bathroom because of my bladder problem."
Oh jeez, to much information Mr.…So I had taken a really good room. Now that was interesting. "I'm really sorry Mr. Schiestler, but I've already begun to unpack my things. Also, I feel more comfortable being near the emergency doors. Maybe another person will be more considerate for you." All my bags lay unpacked on the bed, but he didn't need to know that.
"That's all right. I understand. And you can call me Greg or Gregory, which ever you prefer."
I smiled. "Thank you, I'll do that. And the names Elise." He closed the door as he left. I realized suddenly that Mr. Richardson was the one who had recommended this room. I began thinking that maybe this trip wouldn't be so bad after all.
Elise left the room, closed the door and walked down the hall, looking for Melinda as she went. She saw an empty room and went in to see if it was any different from hers. It was. The room was much smaller with only 4 drawers instead of 6 like hers, and there was no counter. There was one door, which led to a 2x2 closet with no shelf. Suddenly she felt a great sense of relief for not switching rooms. These ones were crap compared to her little suite. "Not much to these rooms, is there?" Melinda came into the room with her finely tanned arms crossed against her chest.
"Yeah, but it's weird cause mine isn't anything like this. I even have a bathroom in mine. The lighting's way better too. Is this how yours is?"
"Uh-huh. It's all right though, I'm used to it. I've been on crafts like this before. And besides, this is actually much better than some of the shit holes I've seen." She walked slowly over to the bed and sat down. The bed creaked uneasily, new or not.
"Remember Gregory Schiestler from the depot?" She took a second then nodded her head. "Well, he came into my room asking to switch with me. He said something about having a bladder problem. Anyways, I lied and told him I was afraid to be far away from the emergency doors. Do you think that was wrong?"
"Hell no, I wouldn't give it up for shit."
"I thought maybe I wasn't alone there. Sorry I didn't try and find you when I first got on board, I met the pilot and-"
At that the intercom came on and a voice rang throughout the ship. "Would the passengers please report to the hull of the ship to prepare for launch."
The two left the room and walked out into the hall to join the other passengers on their way to the hull. When they reached the body of the ship they were met by a man with spiked blond hair and soft build. He had a handsome face, but it was tainted with faint scars from battles and bar fights of the past. "Hello folks, I'm your copilot. You can just call me Manny."
"So this is Manny", Elise thought. "Not bad looking, could lose the gun at his side though."
"I'm assuming you've all done this before. Just strap yourselves into the seats here. Brock wants you to go to the front." Manny pointed to Elise and made a motion with his head to indicate she should step around him into the cabin.
"Ok." How does he know that I met the pilot already? I opened the door softly and came in. Only the top of his shaved head was visible over the seat.
"Come over here and strap yourself into the copilots seat. Your lessons start now."
He told me some of the basics I already knew and then a couple of more complex things I didn't. This ship was highly more advanced than the one I was on before. I was surprised at how jacked up everything was. It made me wonder how anyone could, or would want to, spend that much on a small ship like this. There was a smooth takeoff and in less than ten minutes he took the radio off the dashboard to report that everyone could un-strap and get comfortable.
I took the opportunity to thank him for the room. "That was really nice of you to tell me about that room. I noticed it's a lot better than the others." I wasn't quite sure if he knew how nice it was…or if he had one of the rooms like the other ones.
"Actually, you shouldn't thank me. That was your assigned room. I guess you didn't look too carefully at your ticket. You're given certain privileges because you'll be doing work on the craft. A better bedchamber is one of them. I just didn't want to embarrass you." His voice was a soft rumble. He looked over at me and gave me a small smile to show that he wasn't trying to be an asshole.
"Yeah, after all, I'm doing such a good job of it myself." His laugh was low and cheerful. A person could become intoxicated by that laugh. "Mr. Richardson, should I call you Captain, or Mr. Richardson?"
"Brock, call me Brock."
"Sure, ok."
