Just One More Week…

…

Link found that, after three months of working at the office, he could not take the day off as the staff had allowed him. With the Grand Sails still a week away from their next scheduled return to Skyrider Port, he felt that he should still be doing something to pass the time or else have Captain Alfonzo accuse him of being lazy. And watching after Line was something he preferred to avoid, especially since the past week had been an escalation of his usual antics. Link could not be sure if that was a result of boredom, his way of coping with them being in trouble, or he was doing crazy things just to avoid whatever job the office staff gave him. It was a rare opportunity to be anywhere else without Line doing something to make him mad, so Link found himself appreciating working at a desk somewhere in the office where Line was least likely to be.

The billeting office was quiet enough for him. A usual day here was spent finding temporary quarters for airmen transferring between ships that arrived at Skyrider Port at different times. Most permanent quarters, like the shared quarters Link and Line had, were for airmen who did not have a home to go to. Temporary quarters were for airmen whose permanent home was on another island, and this accounted for over half of the airmen employed with the Skyriders. It was a job Link found to be easy, especially since the majority of the process was to just take down some basic information and assign them a room. The office manager handled giving out the rules, so Link usually did not see much beyond their experience in the office.

He was in the middle of double-checking some paperwork when another airman stepped up to his desk. He glanced up to find a tall, lanky man wearing a leather duster over his blue tunic and work trousers looking down at him.

Blinking in confusion, he asked, "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, uh…" the man droned, scratching his short, blond hair with a hand. He looked around the office. "I'm looking for Airman Link. I was told he'd be in this office."

Link nodded. "Yeah, that's me."

The man looked back down at him with eyebrows raised. "You… You're Airman Link?" he asked.

Link nodded again. "Yep."

"But… But you can't be. You're only… what, eight?"

"Ten," Link replied in an offended tone. He eyed the paperwork the man was cradling in his arm. "Are you transferring vessels?"

"Huh?" The man looked down at the paperwork. "Oh, uh… yeah. Lieutenant Greg. I was just transferred to the Grand Sails as Lieutenant Luke's replacement."

"Lieutenant Luke's being replaced?" Link asked.

Lieutenant Greg shrugged. "I guess. I was a Chief of the Deck on-board the Cloud Fortune. I just got promoted."

Link nodded his understanding. "Congratulations, sir."

"Thanks. Uh… I was told to go to you to find out when the Grand Sails would be returning."

Link slid his paperwork aside and crossed his arms on the table. "She's still out for another week," he said. "So… do you need temporary quarters?"

Greg gave his paperwork an uncertain look. "Yeah, I guess I do." Greg leafed through his paperwork before finding the relevant form and handed the request to Link. "Here it is."

Link pulled a clean billeting form from a nearby pile and started filling it out. "Just a moment."

"Okay." Greg gave a pause before deciding to ask Link, "Mind if I ask a question?"

"Sure."

"Are there… well, no offense intended, but are there other kids on the Grand Sails?"

Link looked up at him. "You mean airmen my age?"

"Yeah."

Link returned to the paperwork. "Just one other. But you won't have to worry about us; we don't get into that much trouble."

Greg nodded to himself. "Sounds all right."

Then the both of them, along with the other office staff, raised their heads to look for the source of a pounding sound. With the office being so small, it could only mean that it was coming from the hallway. All eyes turned to the door as the sound became louder and louder until the person causing it flew by in almost a blur. Link had still seen the cause: a certain ten-year-old airman sitting astride a large mess of piping with two wheels made out of buckets.

The sight, however, left Lieutenant Greg completely perplexed, and he turned to Link to ask, "What was that?"

Link sighed. "Just the knucklehead that causes most of our trouble…"