AN: I'm so sorry it took me so long to continue posting guys. I've written up to about chapter 16 at this point, so expect a big chunk coming up. Please review! LOVES!
Disclaimer: Red vs. Blue belongs to Rooster Teeth, not me. I make no profit from this, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter Six
Sister spent the next weeks learning everything she could about the albatross. Brennan would drop off cargo at one port, pick up some more, and they'd hop along like this, slowly making their way toward Sister's destination. Brennan had taught her how to start up the ship and shut it down, how to operate the cargo ramps, and how to haggle with forklift drivers for lower rates to move their cargo around. Most of the time Sister could be found reading the ship's user manual on the computer or else cleaning. And did that ship ever need it.
Brennan came back from arranging cargo one day to find a cleaning crew pressure washing the outside of he ship. Sister was sitting on a box nearby, tinkering with something.
"Sister!" Brennan stormed over. "What's the meaning of this? I don't have the money for –"
"Calm down, I won some money in a game of poker."
"How did you win that much in one game?" Brennan asked suspiciously.
"Turns out people bet waaaay higher if you're playing strip poker," Sister said happily. Brennan just stared.
"What's that you've got there?" he asked finally, indication the part she was tinkering with.
"I won it in the game. The guy said it's some kind of capacitor that would provide a speed boost on a ship like a turbo charger on a car. I'm trying to figure out if I can rig it up in the albatross. If not we can sell it."
"You are really something, Sister."
"I try," she said sweetly.
"I wish I was as good at cards as you." Brennan scratched his head thoughtfully, as was his habit. "I wonder if your pretty face distracts them."
"That and my other assets," Sister smirked.
"Well, we're about to load up here, but maybe next port you can come out with me and we'll make a little money. There's more than one part on this boat that could do with replacing, and we're hardly making any money on cargo at the moment."
"Sounds good to me. My brother never let me gamble at home, even though he raced cars for money." As they loaded up, Sister saw Brennan looking at a map on the computer. Curious, since he had the coordinates of most ports he visited memorized, Sister bounced over and leaned over his shoulder. "Watcha lookin' at?" she asked.
"There's a place near here I'd like to take you; its only a little out of the way. You'll like it, I promise."
"What's with the mystery?" Sister asked as Brennan backed out of the map.
"It's a surprise." He grinned, and Sister rolled her eyes and headed back to her bunk to clean up after getting sweaty while helping load cargo. After a while Brennan called her back up.
"Take a look," he said, gesturing out the window. Sister gasped as they came upon a giant nebula cloud, purple and blue dust clouds swirling like a thunderstorm.
"Wow. Just...wow."
"I used to bring my sister here when she was a kid. I thought you'd like it."
"It's beautiful," Sister whispered. "This is why I wanted to come out here with my brother. To have this feeling – looking at things like this, like the view of Earth from the Moon – I don't think anything is as good as this."
"I was like you once – not a bone in my body that didn't thirst for adventure and seeing the world. I always wanted to push further out."
"And now?"
Brennan didn't answer, just walked back into the dark of the ship. Sister just sat and watched for a while, admiring the beauty in front of her. When she made her way back to the bunks (the ship was on autopilot) Brennan was sprawled on his bed, a half empty bottle of some cheap liquor dangling form his fingers, muttering incoherently.
Sister took the bottle from him (he didn't notice) and put it away. Then she made her way to the engine room and snuggled up in the hammock she had taken to sleeping in there. It was much warmer in there, so Sister felt much more at home.
It was quite a while before they made landfall at the next port, and Brennan was grouchy the whole time. Sister just avoided him – cleaning and tinkering, as usual – and wondered what it was about his family that set Brennan off so badly. After they had landed and handed off cargo, Brennan retreated to the bunks for a while and returned cleaned up.
"Right, do you still want to come play cards?" he asked.
Sister shrugged, "Sure, why not?" She clambered out of her hammock and shoved her feet into a pair of knee high leather boots she had acquired two planets ago. Life on a space ship wasn't exactly suited to flip-flops.
"Are you wearing two different colors of socks?" Brennan asked. Sister put her hands on her hips and stared Brennan down.
"Life's too short to worry about matching socks, Brennan. There are better things to do." Brennan shrugged, and Sister followed him out of the ship. She hadn't gone very far into any of the cities they'd landed in yet, as Brennan had warned her it could be very dangerous for a young woman alone. Especially one who seemed to have "no sense of self-preservation" as he called it after seeing her dangling precariously from various places on the ship, doing repairs. Going into the city proper was actually quite a treat for her.
Sister's head rotated back and forth, trying to take everything in. This city had an open air market going on in the street, and it was huge. "Looks like we're here in time for Carnivale." Brennan said as they passed a stall full of sparkling beads. They wound through the crowds for a while until they came to a less populated side street and Brennan led them into a slightly seedy looking bar.
"Hey, it's Wiley." someone called Brennan by his surname as they approached the bar. "Ain't seen you in forever. Who's your friend?"
"Hey buddy! I've been all the way to Earth's moon and back, and picked up Sister here on the way," Brennan said. "Fancy a game of cards?"
"Depends. Are you good for it if you lose?"
"Aw, you wound me! Business is booming!"
The big man laughed. "All right Wiley, we can play."
"How about a beer?" Brennan called to the barkeep.
"And for the lady?" he called back. Brennan looked at her as he took a seat. Sister thought for a moment. She hadn't done much drinking, as Grif had been strict about them keeping their heads down and staying out of trouble back home, and few of her friends were yet talented enough to get anything by their parents either.
"How about a whiskey and cola?" she flashed the bartender a smile and he nodded. She didn't bother asking for an actual Coke this far out – she knew it would be an outer planet knock off. She joined Brennan at the table.
"Does the lady play as well?" Brennan's friend asked as a few more people came over to join the game.
"I'm not very experienced," Sister batted her eyelashes, "but I think its really fun." The man dealt her in with a grin, but soon enough Sister was the least favorite person at the table, with a pile of money sitting in front of her.
"Well, guys, I think I better take this little monster back to the ship. She's caused enough heartache for one day," Brennan said. He smiled widely as the others at the table gave a good natured grumble and began to disperse. Brennan and Sister gathered up their winnings.
"All right Little Bit, Take this money and go buy those parts we needed, and take a little spending money too. I'll take the rest and rustle us up some new cargo, maybe see if I can't find a friend or two and grab a drink. I'll meet you back at the ship." he ruffled her hair and Sister smoothed it out again, thinking maybe she'd re-dye it. Her roots were showing pretty badly beneath the blonde. "Make sure you're back to the ship before dark, all right?"
"Yessir!" Sister saluted him teasingly and headed out. She headed to the parts shop they'd passed on the way to the bar. Half an hour later she stepped out of the shop, pleased she'd been able to haggle to price of the parts down after the men inside had realized she actually knew what she was talking about. She'd gotten free delivery to the ship and a phone number when she'd leaned over the counter in her low cut top to pay. Feeling quite proud of herself and thinking that her birthday was coming up, Sister threw the phone number in the trash and wandered through the market, looking for something to treat herself to. She had almost decided on a pair of earrings supposedly made from a new crystalline element found at a Forerunner site (which she knew was probably a lie) when she saw a small neon sign down a nearby alley – TATTOOS.
"Yes!" Sister hissed in triumph. She practically sprinted down the alley to the doorway. Despite its dingy exterior, the shop that Sister stepped into was well-lit and pristine. She could hear a tattoo machine humming in a room to her left and soft voices.
"Hello there miss." A young man covered in tattoos and piercings greeted her from behind a neat countertop.
"Hi!" said Sister excitedly.
"What can I do for you today? Maybe an ear piercing?" he said.
"Hey, I'm sixteen," she said, citing the legal age for just about everything in the galaxy. The lie was second nature to her at this point. "I'm here for a tattoo!" She grinned at him.
"Okay, what are you looking for? Faeries, dolphins, maybe a row of stars across your foot?" Sister snorted, trying to hold in the outright laughter. Is that what 16 year old girls normally got tattooed on themselves? She pulled a data pad out of her pocket and pulled up a picture she had taken of the purple and blue nebula. She handed it to the man.
"I want this nebula, totally realistic looking, across my shoulder blades. And a an albatross flying across it. The ship, not the bird."
The tattooed boy stared at her until a soft chuckle came form Sister's left, where a door led into one of the private rooms. Standing in the doorway was a very tall, very handsome man with blonde hair and blue eyes.
"It's like South says every time we drop by Stan. Go big or go home." He grinned pleasantly at Sister, then stepped back into the room. Now that she could see past him she spotted a woman who from the looks of it was the man's sister, possibly even twin, in the hot-seat. She was wearing nothing but a strapless purple bra on top as the tattoo artist inked her chest with what Sister thought was the UNSC's eagle logo. She could also see what looked like the bloody head of an Elite on the inside of her right arm, and several other things, indistinguishable from this distance. Sister looked back at the man called Stan.
"So?" she waited expectantly.
"Right this way," he motioned to the next room down.
Sister chatted with her tattooist, a sixty-something silver haired woman with most of her body tattooed, as she worked, not overly concerned with pain. She had a fairly high pain tolerance. Now and then she would catch bits of conversation form the other room. There seemed to be another man and woman with the siblings. Now that the blonde woman's tattoo was done they were trying to get the other guy to get something too.
"No, Wash, you are not getting a cat," came the blonde's snarky voice.
"But I don't want a tattoo, South. Why shouldn't I get something I like if you're making me get one?"
"Ugh, Wash, that is so … emasculating," the woman let the disdain drip from her voice.
"Better than getting Tweety Bird tattooed on your ass, like Kansas," the other woman chuckled.
"C.T. that was just a rumor," Wash shot back.
"Actually," North said slowly, "I was there for that. Although I'm pretty sure West put something in his drink to get back at him that night. … He'd been flirting with Virginia non-stop."
"I think I remember Vi mentioning that now. Hey, how come North never gets any tattoos, even though he always goes with everyone else? You can't make me if North hasn't got one!" Wash protested. "Why are you blushing North? Wash asked. The girls giggled.
"I think we should shift this conversation back to the one that's actually in the the chair to get the tattoo," North said sternly.
Sister was momentarily distracted when her own tattooist asked her about a detail, and she didn't hear the rest of the conversation. When she returned her attention to the voices of the group they were talking about something else, and Sister was left wondering if that hot blonde had a tattoo in a naughty place, and whether he'd let her see it.
When her tattoo was just about finished she heard the other group preparing to leave.
"Nice," she heard the impressed note in the voice and looked over her shoulder – it was the blonde woman. She was grinning at her. Sister grinned back.
"You're not too shabby looking yourself," Sister flirted, and the woman called South laughed. Sister pondered the group's odd names – nicknames she guessed – while looking closer at South's tattoos. She'd heard that military people often earned interesting nicknames, and wondered if Grif had gotten one yet. The group was heading out the door, and Sister called out, wanting to ask a question before they left.
"Hey. What are the tally marks? The ones below the Elite head?" South's smiles turned frighteningly malicious.
"My kill count," she said.
Sister just stared after the group as they left, too shocked to respond. Of course she knew it was necessary to kill aliens – it was kill or be killed for survival's sake in the war with the Covenant. But to actually enjoy it seemed … disturbed. After all, they were sentient beings. In another reality they might have been allies. The thought troubled Sister as she payed Stan and wandered back to the ship (asking directions several times). The sun was just setting as she arrived. Her new parts and cargo were there, but Brennan had not yet arrived. Sister sat down to re-read her ship's manual (when had started thinking of it as her ship?), trying to learn it by heart and figure out how to install her new parts.
It was well dark when she heard Brennan stumble in. Was that yelling she heard? Sister got up to investigate. Brennan was standing in the hallway, and he was indeed yelling – at nothing. Sister edged closer.
"Brennan?"
"You stay out of it!" he snarled in her direction.
"Stay out of what Brennan?" She could smell the alcohol coming off him in waves. Brennan turned away from her again.
"You're a coward – that's what you are! We can't even pay for what we need – just cause you're afraid to fly anywhere. 'Fraid o' Covies!"
"Brennan –" Sister tried again.
"Don't defend him! Can't even afford new shoes 'casue he won't take a job!"
"There's no one there Brennan!" Sister shouted at him.
"Don't you call me reckless!" Brennan kept shouting at the wall. "Ain't any profit without some risk! I'd be better off without you!" Brennan stormed off to his bunk and Sister wondered just what exactly he'd been drinking. She'd been around drunks before, but this?
Grif was friendly and sleepy when he was drunk, and very affectionate. Some of his friends were less so and he'd tried to keep Sister away from then, but Sister couldn't remember ever seeing someone drunk to the point of hallucinating. Still, it was probably best to let him sleep it off. She peeked in to make sure he was laying on his side, and when she was satisfied she slipped back to her hammock in the engine room to get some sleep herself.
Sister was awoken later to the ship starting up; she checked the time. It had only been an hour and a half. There was no way Brennan was sober. Sister sprinted to the bridge.
"Brennan, stop! You can't fly right now! We'll crash you idiot!"
"Don't you ever give me orders on my own ship!" Brennan slammed the door to the bridge and Sister heard it lock. Moments later, the ship was in the air.
After several minutes of beating on the door furiously and screaming for Brennan to let her in, Sister began searching for some sort of tool she could use to pry the door open.
"Wait a second. Sister, you idiot – you can still get to the engine room!" She smacked her forehead with her palm, cursed her slow thinking, and sprinted for the engine room.
"Okay, okay, okay," she muttered to herself, scanning all around her. "What will stop us but not crash us?" It took her a moment. "Aha!" She reached for the wire, not wanting to wait another moment, and pulled. Sparks flew and an electric shock shot through Sister's arm and knocked her back. She slammed into the floor and rolled into a ball, moaning at the burning pain in her hand. She smiled grimly though – the engines had stopped.
Her victory didn't last long though. She could hear Brennan's rage filled shouts coming toward her. She tried to get up, to find a place to hide, but it was too late.
"This is my ship! My ship! I fly where I want!" He dragged Sister up roughly and pulled her back toward the bunks. "You won't interfere!" Brennan tried to shove her in, and Sister realized he was going to lock her in and try to keep flying. She wrapped her arms around him and fought not to let go.
"Get off!" he screamed. He stumbled into the bunk room trying to pry Sister's strong arms and legs away from him. Sister saw her chance then. She let go, tripped Brennan as she hit the floor, and rolled toward the empty liquor bottle she had taken from him days before. She grabbed it by the neck and in one fluid motion rolled back towards Brennan as he came to his knees and lunged for her. The bottle met his face with a dull clunk sound and Brennan hit the ground.
Sister scrambled back out the bunk door and locked it with shaking hands. She looked at the bottle laying on the ground next to her. It hadn't broken, and there was no blood on it, so surely she hadn't hit him that hard, but … he hadn't moved
"Brennan?" No answer. Sister ran for the nearest med kit. Once back at the door, she tapped it lightly, then felt silly.
"Brennan? she called again. Still no answer. She unlocked the door and slowly slid it open. Sister let out the breath she'd been holding when she saw the steady rise and fall of Brennan's chest. She knelt down beside him and opened the med kit. She dug through until she found the injection that would help Brennan's body metabolize all that alcohol in just minutes – whoever had invented that little gem should get a medal – and then reached for the hydration pack – a hangover cure – but stopped.
"Let him be hungover. Assface." Sister grumbled. Then she tore the wrapper off the patch and slapped it on Brennan's arm. She then pulled out the datapad that contained instructions for "dealing with medical emergencies in the field" and scrolled through.
"Here we go – how to identify and treat a concussion." Sister read. She sat Brennan up against the wall and applied and ice pack to his head. She applied another injection patch, this one of acetaminophen. Then she slapped Brennan across the cheek, hard.
"Whosa, wha, huh?" Brennan's eyes flew open. "Owwww ..." Sister noted his uneven pupils.
"Are you gonna puke? 'Cause you definitely have a concussion." Sister glared at him and stepped away, so he wouldn't hit her boots if he did vomit.
"What happened?" he asked weakly. Sister just glared.
"Sister, your hand –" sister looked down at her badly burned hand, suddenly noticing the pain again. "Sister, you're shaking. What – Oh god, what did I do?"
"You were incredibly drunk and you tried to fly the ship. I dealt with it." Sister sat down and pulled out a tube of ointment along with a roll of bandage and began dressing her burned fingers and palm.
"You – gave me a concussion – with that liquor bottle." Brennan was looking around, trying to piece together what happened. Sister nodded. "What happened to your hand?"
"I had to disable the ship before you crashed us."
"And?"
"And I got a bit of a shock," Sister shrugged and finished repacking the med kit.
"Why didn't you wear gloves, dip-shit?"
"Shut up, assface."
"All right, help me up. We need to fix the ship and go to a hospital."
"You are not flying anywhere with a concussion," Sister said coldly.
"I guess I'll just have to teach you to fly the ship then." Brennan smiled weakly. Sister stared at him for a moment, then turned toward the door.
"Stay here. I'm going to fix the ship. Call out if you feel drowsy or start puking."