The bay at a spaceport in Stars End was bustling. Dock crew shifted between spurts of activity and chatter-filled boredom as they handled ships coming and going. There were a few droids employed for the more arduous tasks of loading cargo and transporting replacement parts from storage to ship. The rhythmic droning of their servos added a hum to underscore the higher pitched harmonies of ship engines. It all sang together in a happy chorus of business and adventure.
Motley Moxie was silent. She sat at the edge of the spaceport docking bay as a wounded warrior in dismay at his luck. Dents pock marked her starboard side. Ashen streaks bloomed out from black dots along her bow.
That was where the debris from the explosion Lirssa's last run had managed to batter so hard as to damage important wires and connections. It set off sparks at the helm and burned the back of Lirssa's hands. On her hands were the fading reminders of her own blistering marks. She felt a sympathy for her ship, but Lirssa was far easier to mend. The scars on Motley Moxie did not look so terribly bad from the outside. That did not mean it was not terribly expensive to fix. The ship was eating up some of her funds — and the good humor of the dock proprietor — just sitting there.
"Hey, Lulu!" An overly cheerful voice called from behind her.
Lirssa closed her eyes briefly to get past the cringe of being called that nickname. Once she managed a smile again, she turned to face the young man crossing the ever moving traffic of the bay. "Evening, Ansel." She could act the part of pleasant even if she did not feel it. At least for a short time. "Just get back?"
Ansel was five or six years older, at best guess, than herself. He had chosen to let his face go unshaven, which was an embarrassment to beards by Lirssa's way of thinking. His dark eyes were bright at the moment, though she noticed he tended to brooding when he thought he was not being watched. His smile left him then as well. The jaw was square beneath the whiskers and his nose almost aquiline. He had the build of a long distance runner, and she had no idea how he kept that flying as much as he did. Perhaps the same way she did.
"Earlier." Ansel replied. "Actually about to ship out again." He turned to look back at his ship, Boatswain, as if expecting a smile and wave from the hulking cargo ship. It just pushed the acceptable limit of still being able to land and not have to orbit with the Gateway station above. It could hold two of Lirssa's ship in its hold with room to spare. It sat there, intact, a graceless box of a thing while her ship waited for Lirssa to be able to afford to repair it.
Before she spoke, Lirssa could taste the acidity of a sarcastic comment. She took a moment, remembered that Steve said he would help her repair the ship, that it would not be long before she was flying again, and remained polite. "Oh. That's good."
Ansel looked back to her. "Yeah, busy day." his glance past her lasted only a moment. "Say, I was wondering if you might want to come along."
There was no arguing that it was the most unexpected thing Ansel could have said. "Sorry?" Lirssa prompted him to repeat himself as she rapidly posed possibly reasons in her mind why he said that.
"Would you come with me" It's a long haul, more than your usual two days, but the faster I can get the cargo delivered the better the pay."
Charity. A handout. Lirssa felt her skin prickle. "Autopilot?" She suggested, crossing her arms and scowling. There were plenty of people she expected a helping hand from. Ansel was not one of them.
He had the bigger ship. She was the better pilot. They were competitors for contracts. Him asking her to go along had to have an angle to it.
"Hey, don't get me wrong. Boatswain's got a mighty fine autopilot. But it doesn't think. I need someone. A real pilot."
"You need that when you're at the helm, too. That's never stopped you before."
Ansel's smile quickly contorted into a scowl of his own. His dark eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. "Damn it, Lulu."
"Lirssa," she corrected him as they matched dueling scowls.
"Fine. Look, this is really simple, so pack up your pride and your snarky, pretentious attitude and stow it. I have a profitable cargo to ship on a long haul. You need a job. I'll split the profit fifty-fifty. That's after seeing to my ship."
"No, we'll go sixty-five and my thirty-five of the fee paid you. You fuel and refit out of your share."
"Done." Ansel held out his hand to shake.
Lirssa accepted his hand and gave a brusque shake. "That," she said, eying him, "was too easy."
Turning to the ship, Ansel chuckled, "I've been called worse things. Can you be ready to go in an hour?"
"Sure." Lirssa sighed. At least she would make some money. Surely she could suffer through a few days in his company. Or was it longer" "Where are we headed?" It would also tell her how long she would be gone.
"Atros sector. Palleil."
Lirssa stopped walking. A chill slipped down her back. She would be back in time for the next lesson with Canaan at least. If she lived. "You ba—-barnacle!" She shouted at Ansel.
"See you in an hour, Lulu."
Motley Moxie was silent. She sat at the edge of the spaceport docking bay as a wounded warrior in dismay at his luck. Dents pock marked her starboard side. Ashen streaks bloomed out from black dots along her bow.
That was where the debris from the explosion Lirssa's last run had managed to batter so hard as to damage important wires and connections. It set off sparks at the helm and burned the back of Lirssa's hands. On her hands were the fading reminders of her own blistering marks. She felt a sympathy for her ship, but Lirssa was far easier to mend. The scars on Motley Moxie did not look so terribly bad from the outside. That did not mean it was not terribly expensive to fix. The ship was eating up some of her funds — and the good humor of the dock proprietor — just sitting there.
"Hey, Lulu!" An overly cheerful voice called from behind her.
Lirssa closed her eyes briefly to get past the cringe of being called that nickname. Once she managed a smile again, she turned to face the young man crossing the ever moving traffic of the bay. "Evening, Ansel." She could act the part of pleasant even if she did not feel it. At least for a short time. "Just get back?"
Ansel was five or six years older, at best guess, than herself. He had chosen to let his face go unshaven, which was an embarrassment to beards by Lirssa's way of thinking. His dark eyes were bright at the moment, though she noticed he tended to brooding when he thought he was not being watched. His smile left him then as well. The jaw was square beneath the whiskers and his nose almost aquiline. He had the build of a long distance runner, and she had no idea how he kept that flying as much as he did. Perhaps the same way she did.
"Earlier." Ansel replied. "Actually about to ship out again." He turned to look back at his ship, Boatswain, as if expecting a smile and wave from the hulking cargo ship. It just pushed the acceptable limit of still being able to land and not have to orbit with the Gateway station above. It could hold two of Lirssa's ship in its hold with room to spare. It sat there, intact, a graceless box of a thing while her ship waited for Lirssa to be able to afford to repair it.
Before she spoke, Lirssa could taste the acidity of a sarcastic comment. She took a moment, remembered that Steve said he would help her repair the ship, that it would not be long before she was flying again, and remained polite. "Oh. That's good."
Ansel looked back to her. "Yeah, busy day." his glance past her lasted only a moment. "Say, I was wondering if you might want to come along."
There was no arguing that it was the most unexpected thing Ansel could have said. "Sorry?" Lirssa prompted him to repeat himself as she rapidly posed possibly reasons in her mind why he said that.
"Would you come with me" It's a long haul, more than your usual two days, but the faster I can get the cargo delivered the better the pay."
Charity. A handout. Lirssa felt her skin prickle. "Autopilot?" She suggested, crossing her arms and scowling. There were plenty of people she expected a helping hand from. Ansel was not one of them.
He had the bigger ship. She was the better pilot. They were competitors for contracts. Him asking her to go along had to have an angle to it.
"Hey, don't get me wrong. Boatswain's got a mighty fine autopilot. But it doesn't think. I need someone. A real pilot."
"You need that when you're at the helm, too. That's never stopped you before."
Ansel's smile quickly contorted into a scowl of his own. His dark eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. "Damn it, Lulu."
"Lirssa," she corrected him as they matched dueling scowls.
"Fine. Look, this is really simple, so pack up your pride and your snarky, pretentious attitude and stow it. I have a profitable cargo to ship on a long haul. You need a job. I'll split the profit fifty-fifty. That's after seeing to my ship."
"No, we'll go sixty-five and my thirty-five of the fee paid you. You fuel and refit out of your share."
"Done." Ansel held out his hand to shake.
Lirssa accepted his hand and gave a brusque shake. "That," she said, eying him, "was too easy."
Turning to the ship, Ansel chuckled, "I've been called worse things. Can you be ready to go in an hour?"
"Sure." Lirssa sighed. At least she would make some money. Surely she could suffer through a few days in his company. Or was it longer" "Where are we headed?" It would also tell her how long she would be gone.
"Atros sector. Palleil."
Lirssa stopped walking. A chill slipped down her back. She would be back in time for the next lesson with Canaan at least. If she lived. "You ba—-barnacle!" She shouted at Ansel.
"See you in an hour, Lulu."