Chapter two: In which there is boredom and the tables are turned.
***
"You done yet?"
"No."
".... How about now?"
"No."
"Now?"
"No."
"Now?"
"Is there a reason you're acting four?"
"Yes. Now?"
"NO. And why?"
"Because the only game on the stupid nav computer is one Ch'od installed on
the nave computer is 'Lemmings' and there are only so many furballs you can
lead to their death before you get Ideas. I want the data pad."
"You're want to *read*?"
"I'm not illiterate!"
"There's no Tom Clancy on here. Or Nora Roberts."
*THUNK*
"Ow..."
"Asshole. This from the boy who had to be bodily pried away from Malthus."
"He has a POINT!"
"He's preserved and put on display at Oxford! No one who's set up as a museum
piece deserves that kind of attention."
"Isn't that logic backwards?"
"You're just sore because they shot down your idea for house of wax works."
"That was *not* my idea."
"No, it was Bobby's. You just liked it."
"Not after I saw his mock-up for the Inferno Demon display."
"Hrmm, I suppose not. Gimme the pad."
"No. I'm not done. Besides, you were the one who claimed the Nav computer."
"I just wanted to give you a break. Your head hit the floor pretty hard this
morning."
"You try being my height and cramming into that bunk."
"Nate, I had to cram into that bunk *with* you. I'm aware that the fit was
tight. Heh."
"Wench. And yes, my head's fine."
"You really need to stop hitting things with it, you know. One day you're
likely to wake up in a coma."
"... That made absolutely no sense."
"To someone who, despite his name, can't work a cable box, yes. It does make
no sense."
"Those lemmings really did something to your brain, didn't they?"
"Gimme the data pad."
"No."
"You realize you're being a jackass, right?"
"You realize you're still acting like a four year old, right?"
"You need new material."
"Which is why it's a good thing I have the data pad, then isn't it?"
"Grr. I hate you."
"Now, that's not entirely true and you know it. Did you have any luck finding
out where we are?"
"Not really. The nav computer's locked on the nearest sol system, but Chris
and company will probably pick us up before we get there. With these wimpy
engines, we're about three weeks away."
"Water and food will hold out that long?"
"Yeah. The water cycler's working fine, and after the last time this thing
crashed, Raza shoved two complete sets of replacement parts for both the
cycler and the air system inside the flame/cold/act-of-god-resistant flight
recorder casing. And we've got enough MRE's to last us six months, easy. If I
didn't know better, I'd think this happened on a regular basis, or
something."
"Knowing my family, it does."
"Point. But no, we're doing fine. We're basically in the middle of nowhere.
From what I've been able to tell from the databases, this is one of the
lowest-tech regions of this side of the galaxy. There isn't even a gate
around."
"Hmm. Handy, place to hide out."
"Not really. Literally, there's *nothing* here. This area is like Delaware. A
complete waste of time."
"So we're stuck?"
"Yep. Now, give me the data pad!"
"Try it."
*thunk*
*whump*
*crunch*
*thunk*
*beep*
"Oww..."
"Wuss. And hey! You lied! There is *too* a Nora Roberts novel on here!"
***
"You done yet?"
"No."
".... How about now?"
"No."
"Now?"
"No."
"Now?"
"Is there a reason you're acting four?"
"Yes. Now?"
"NO. And why?"
"Because the only game on the stupid nav computer is one Ch'od installed on
the nave computer is 'Lemmings' and there are only so many furballs you can
lead to their death before you get Ideas. I want the data pad."
"You're want to *read*?"
"I'm not illiterate!"
"There's no Tom Clancy on here. Or Nora Roberts."
*THUNK*
"Ow..."
"Asshole. This from the boy who had to be bodily pried away from Malthus."
"He has a POINT!"
"He's preserved and put on display at Oxford! No one who's set up as a museum
piece deserves that kind of attention."
"Isn't that logic backwards?"
"You're just sore because they shot down your idea for house of wax works."
"That was *not* my idea."
"No, it was Bobby's. You just liked it."
"Not after I saw his mock-up for the Inferno Demon display."
"Hrmm, I suppose not. Gimme the pad."
"No. I'm not done. Besides, you were the one who claimed the Nav computer."
"I just wanted to give you a break. Your head hit the floor pretty hard this
morning."
"You try being my height and cramming into that bunk."
"Nate, I had to cram into that bunk *with* you. I'm aware that the fit was
tight. Heh."
"Wench. And yes, my head's fine."
"You really need to stop hitting things with it, you know. One day you're
likely to wake up in a coma."
"... That made absolutely no sense."
"To someone who, despite his name, can't work a cable box, yes. It does make
no sense."
"Those lemmings really did something to your brain, didn't they?"
"Gimme the data pad."
"No."
"You realize you're being a jackass, right?"
"You realize you're still acting like a four year old, right?"
"You need new material."
"Which is why it's a good thing I have the data pad, then isn't it?"
"Grr. I hate you."
"Now, that's not entirely true and you know it. Did you have any luck finding
out where we are?"
"Not really. The nav computer's locked on the nearest sol system, but Chris
and company will probably pick us up before we get there. With these wimpy
engines, we're about three weeks away."
"Water and food will hold out that long?"
"Yeah. The water cycler's working fine, and after the last time this thing
crashed, Raza shoved two complete sets of replacement parts for both the
cycler and the air system inside the flame/cold/act-of-god-resistant flight
recorder casing. And we've got enough MRE's to last us six months, easy. If I
didn't know better, I'd think this happened on a regular basis, or
something."
"Knowing my family, it does."
"Point. But no, we're doing fine. We're basically in the middle of nowhere.
From what I've been able to tell from the databases, this is one of the
lowest-tech regions of this side of the galaxy. There isn't even a gate
around."
"Hmm. Handy, place to hide out."
"Not really. Literally, there's *nothing* here. This area is like Delaware. A
complete waste of time."
"So we're stuck?"
"Yep. Now, give me the data pad!"
"Try it."
*thunk*
*whump*
*crunch*
*thunk*
*beep*
"Oww..."
"Wuss. And hey! You lied! There is *too* a Nora Roberts novel on here!"