SSV Cambrai, Silean Nebula
Day 2, 0120.
The task force's shuttles had done their work quickly and dutifully, emptying the Cambrai's cargo bay of supplies in less than the promised hour before returning to the cruisers, and the task force itself had scattered after that. The Cambrai was burning her way towards the edge of the system now, preparing for another FTL jump… and every mite of energy the engines took in seemed to be raising the temperature another degree.
Andersen rolled over uncomfortably, his hammock practically stickingto his back as he did, sodden with sweat. He jammed his eyes together tightly, attempting to ignore the fact that his breath felt hot in his lungs, and his temples were throbbing. Like most of the crew, he had done away with his shirt, but the heat remained stifling, and eventually, he could take it no more - leadenly, he swung his legs out of the canvas, then dropped down to the deck, managing only so much grace as was required to avoid stepping on Vimes. The detective was on a bedroll below, slumbering fitfully - but still sleeping, the bastard.
With a low rumble, the engineer wandered over to the nearest source of relief his eyes revealed - a gallon jug of water, half empty already. Dr O'Leiph had been quite adamant about dehydration, and there were several more jugs scattered through the sleeping area, filled to varying degrees. Andersen went for this one as if it had just appeared to him in the desert, and tipped it back, taking a deep glug, then another, then…
Then, somewhere around the third gulp, he realised the water was as warm as he was. He choked slightly, pulling the bottle away hastily and spitting some of the lukewarm water onto the deck, before forcing himself to gulp down the rest uncomfortably. With a defeated grumble, he set the jug back on the floor, and slumped down next to it. The hangar around him was still, and dark, and silent… hang on.
He tipped his head back, listening for a moment. The Cambrai's engines were rumbling through the walls, and there was a familiar hum in the air around him, a combination of the eezo core and the electrical generators. Closer at hand, however, there was a quiet murmur, coming from one direction in particular, not the ship in general…
The engineer tilted his head, listening for sounds he knew few besides himself would even notice, let alone recognise. The beleaguered panting of the ventilators, the slight creak from the substructure as they manoeuvred... and the quiet signature of a generator, coming from one of the shuttles.
He dragged himself back to his feet, with some effort, and wandered over absent-mindedly, cursing whoever had left the thing running. Power was expensive, and idling for a full night - he hit the door release, sliding the rear compartment open - was going to mean it needed maintenance checks, run by guess who-
"Gah!"
Andersen stopped dead as he entered the shuttle's compartment, and on instinct his head swivelled left to follow the yelp which had just emerged from the cockpit. Through the open door, he saw a slim figure shrink in on herself, instinctively pulling her knees up to her chest and yanking a thin blanket over her torso at the sight of the intruder. Shit, sorry Wen-
Shit. Not Wendy.
"So… you couldn't sleep either?" he smiled half-heartedly, scratching the back of his head and trying to lighten the mood.
"…nope," Cat muttered, shaking her head over the top of the blanket. Slowly, she began to uncurl again, feet sliding back to the floor and arms emerging from under the blanket. Still gripping the edges of it, though, as she camped out in the pilot's chair.
"I'm fuckin' sorry," Andersen blurted out quite suddenly, rubbing the bridge of his nose and scowling at himself. "I saw the-"
"No, honestly, it's fine-"
"-I just saw the light and-"
"-yeah, it's my fault-"
"-no, I shouldn't have… wait."
"Huh?"
The engineer frowned to himself, realising something for the first time. He glanced up at the ceiling of the compartment, then to the corner, then back down to Cat, with an accusatory expression.
"Have you got the air-con running in here?"
"It's… kinda just circulating hot air at this point," she muttered, looking at the floor sheepishly.
"Yeah, bull-shit," he scoffed, quietly. "Still better than outside."
"That bad?"
"It's like an oven."
"Everyone else asleep?"
"In and out. Vimes was sleeping like a baby… bastard."
"…did you put a pillow over his face?"
"Sorely tempted."
She chuckled darkly and rose from her chair, pulling the blanket around her shoulders for modesty now. With a weary sigh and an expression of supreme effort, she wandered into the compartment with him, slumping down on one of the seats usually occupied by deploying soldiers and wrapping the blanket even more tightly around her shoulders.
"Guess I can't persuade you to leave the air-con?" she laughed, weakly.
"I might mutiny."
"Damn."
"But it's awkward as shit if I say I want to stay…"
They looked at each other, as if suddenly remembering this was awkward.
"…so what do we… do?" he murmured, his train of thought finally limping into the station.
There was a moment's silence, as the two of them looked at each other wearily. The shuttle's power plant just hummed along in the background, the air-con whipping a steady if somewhat lukewarm breeze through the compartment.
"Shut the damn door," Cat sighed, finally.
Andersen's brow furrowed.
"Not like that," she scowled. "You're letting the air out…"
He nodded, with a weary grin and a chuckle, and turned to slide the door shut - rather quietly, to avoid waking anyone else for a 'mutiny'. Once the compartment was sealed, and the air began to circulate around the walls, he wandered over to the far bench and slumped down next to Cat, rubbing his brow with the palm of his hand. She just shuffled a little further away, head bowed with the blanket still around her shoulders.
"I'll… take the cockpit chair, if you prefer," he muttered awkwardly.
"Nah, that's… fine," she replied, shaking her head. "Not sure these are any better."
She slapped her hands against the seat between them, and it gave a horribly rigid rattle.
"…alright then. Cockpit's yours."
Cat grunted, but didn't respond. Didn't… actually move, either.
"I'll shift in a minute," she sighed wearily, answering the unspoken question.
Andersen just nodded, swiping another line of sweat off his brow and hanging his head. More awkward silence, as they listened to the quiet hum of the shuttle's ventilator. Cat shuffled a little closer, onto the adjacent seat, and then quite suddenly she blurted something out:
"How was it down there?"
"Huh?" he frowned, turning to his side.
"I, err… Nevos," she stammered, wearily. "I heard it was pretty rough."
"It was," the lieutenant nodded. "Crazy. Not the… worst fight. Still not as bad as Terra Nova. But there was something else about it. I mean Christ, Cat, that planet got hit. We were there when it…"
He sighed and huffed out, not able to find the words and too tired to just wave his arms around like he usually did when he was short of vocabulary. The pilot just smiled weakly, in vague understanding…
"Everyone got out alright."
"No, they didn't…"
"You know what I mean. Everyone of ours," she murmured, pressing her forehead into his shoulder and flashing that reassuring smile again. "And you got out alright, too."
"Yeah."
"That's good," Cat shrugged, head still buried tiredly in his shoulder.
"It is?" he muttered, smirking a little as he glanced down at her.
"Well… yeah."
Another awkward pause, and the pilot's eyes flickered up for just a moment, before returning to the floor.
"Hm. Guess that's something, then."