Go ahead and make a first post. Please describe how you came to be on the ship. If you want to tell the other PC's your backstory, feel free.
|
They say to make your own luck. They are right. They've never been wrong. They've also never been quiet.
Escape wasn't hard. Someone wanted to know what someone else was thinking. One of the guards. One of the white coats. Money was involved. She told them. Collected on a favor. Went out with the garbage.
Living is hard. No one tries to strip your glial cells but no one brings you cruel protein either.
But things break. Always do. Entropy. A girl can fix things. Barter. Capitalism. And they always pay as much as they can. Because she knows what they can pay. They tell her. Not with words.
Some people are getting a ship. Word on the street. Flight. Freedom. All it takes is some of the worthless money she's saved. Get out. Keep flying. Keep moving.
Don'tgobackDon'tgobackDon'tgobackDon'tgobackDon'tgobackDon'tgoback.
"Hi! I'm Emma. If your engine breaks you'll all suffer catastrophic depressurization, asphyxiate and die. Your corpse will be frozen for three thousand years until grabbed by a star's gravitational well where it will be burned to a crisp in under a second. I can keep your engine from breaking. Deal?"
"Tell me what you see, Perry." Taro Afar stood looking out through a massive transparsteel viewport at the endless red expanse of Silverhold.
Perry fidgeted. He was always fidgeting. He desperately wanted a drink to calm his nerves but made the decision to show up for this meeting sober, a decision he was regretting now. "Uhh, rocks, lots of rocks. And some boulders. And some hills--"
"Possibility," Taro interjected. "Terraforming a world does not rob it of its resources. Indeed, it makes extraction of those resources less complicated, and that means competition."
The venture capitalist turns to look at the obese captain tapping his foot in the center of the office. "Competition separates winners from losers, Perry. The Alliance won the war, but you were smart enough to profit from both sides. That's why I accepted this meeting. What happened to your ship was unfortunate, but I admire that you were willing to forego sentiment and seize opportunity. Greed is a dependable quality."
"Yeah, ahh, thanks Taro. About my loan, I have a way to pay you off faster, but I need more credits. I got another ship lined up. An experienced crew. We're ready to fly and they're bringing cash to the table. It won't just be my ass on the line this time."
Taro levels his icy blue eyes on the captain. Then after a pause he says, "Have you met my associate Mister Wallace here?" He gestures with an open palm to the large figure in full military armor looming near the door to the office. The man goes twenty hands and twenty stones, and looks truly unhappy. "Mister Wallace is my collector. Mister Wallace is very good at his job. I'm inclined to take a chance on you again, Perry, but if it doesn't work out for you this time I'll send Mister Wallace to pay you a visit. You know what that means, correct?"
Perry swallows hard and nods, avoiding eye contact with Mister Wallace.
Taro claps his hands and smiles broadly. "Then I think we can continue to work together! You'll be responsible for your existing debt, of course, but I will agree to offer you a loan toward this new ship. And because we understand each other so well, I'm only adding 5% to the previous terms. Good fortune, Perry."
One month later, Captain Perenian Ethgarnon was sitting behind the flight console of the Firefly he and his new partners had acquired. It was an old ship and it had a story to tell. But first he had to formally meet the rest of the crew. He tipped his flask back, savoring the harsh liquid and the familiar burn, then headed downstairs.
Emma was the first to arrive to the hold. "Do you have experience working these old Fireflys?" he asks. "I always had problems with overheated capacitors on my last ship. Had to jump from pirates once and the whole generator core melted. I still don't know how I talked my way out of that one." In truth, he got so drunk before they boarded that he blacked out, but Emma doesn't need to know that.
Mark wrung his hands. He hated doing it. It showed his nerves to everyone, and Mark preferred to play things close to the chest. He supposed he should be thankful that the only nervousness he was showing was that. He was on one of the worst stations in the Border, and his previous billet had suddenly found itself captainless. The only saving grace of the whole situation was that the debt collector had been a professional and done it quietly.
"Mark, are you with me," Crenshaw said, half-raising his voice.
"Mhmm, Yeah. I'm here," Mark lied.
"Doesn't seem like it buddy. Sure you don't want anything?"
"If ya got a coke, I'll take it." Mark smiled and rubbed his hands together in a vain attempt to hide his nerves.
"Geeze, I'll never get why you call sodas that," Crenshaw muttered before calling in the order and getting a brandy for himself. A minute later, a fit and slender woman no more than half Mark's age delivered the drinks.
"Now," Creshaw said as the door slide closed again, "why were you so desperate to see me? I thought you got along great with everybody. Don't tell me that Mr. Baum is losing his golden tongue."
"Har, har," Mark said sarcastically after taking a sip of his drink, though he appreciated the levity that Crenshaw was bringing into the conversation. "No, I didn't get myself kicked off. The captain didn't pay his bills, and near as I can tell some guy named Mister Taro sent a Mister Wallace to collect. The ship's in impound and I don't trust anyone else in this tin-can enough to Hailey and Holly's life in their hands."
Crenshaw shook his head.
"Damn, Mark. He didn't--"
"No. The guy was more professional than that."
"Thank God for small favors." Crenshaw pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're looking to get out of here on something reputable and in need of a crewman, right?"
"If they're someone reputable and I have to pay first class, I'll do it."
"Right, well if that's the way you feel about it," Crenshaw said with a shrug. "I'll see what I can do for you and about getting you a job."
"Thank you."
"In the meantime, where are my two favorite ladies? I haven't seen them in too long!"
Mark, with two identical girls in tow, approaches the concourse the ship that had hired him on was docked at. He glances to either side to make sure that his daughters are still with him and gives an inward chuckle. The girls, Hailey and Holly, are too fascinated by the strange sights and sounds of the station to notice his fatherly amusement and delight at their wonder. Polite and well-behaved they may be, but the two of them were still young girls, and the thrill of seeing the stars and a vast array of ships was more than enough to hold their attention until they arrived as bay forty-two.
He presses the buzzer and waits to start his first day on the job.
Sitting window side in an upscale cafe Daisy looks across the almost too small table . “Sheila, this has to be the most delightful and flaky pastry I have ever tasted! I see why you like to hang out in all the fancier parts of the ‘verse!”
The tall and regal looking blonde replied with a smile, “It is nice every now and then but too many here tend to be, well, a little snooty!” They both had a quiet and very lady like laugh and spent the next 15 minutes making fun of all the ‘fancy’ people walking by.
That inevitable short silence occurs and Daisy looks into her friends eyes. “This feels right, are you sure this is a good move for me.” Sheila smiles again, “Honey, you are young. You have plenty of time to find an area full of rich men in a few years. Get out there. You know I ventured around for several years and though some of it was scary as hell, I’m glad I did every bit of it!"
Daisy nods, smiles and takes another sip of her tea…
Fast forward three months and she is looking at a, well, not dirty, not dilapidated, she decided ‘used’ was a good term for it, Firefly transport. Daisy is in some day to day clothes, denim pants, a neutral shirt and her hair au natural, short and dark. She carries a heavy backpack, a side bag and is towing a medium sized chest on wheels. She watches as a bold woman engages enthusiastically with the captain and a more or less respectable looking gentleman hangs slightly back keeping an eye on young twins.
“Odd crew” she thinks to herself.
She waits patiently to allow the family to go ahead and then walks up to the captain with her hand out for a shake.
“Daisy. Pleased to meet ya.”
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Perry bows his head to Daisy. "It is an honor to have a registered Companion aboard. This is the most respectable I've felt in a long time!"
Then to Mark he smiles and kneels down to say hello to the twin girls. "Are you young ladies ready for an adventure? Quick, before any of the rest get a chance, go pick out your room!" He extends a hand to Mark. "Welcome aboard."
"Aye, aye, Cap'n!" The girls give a surprisingly well done salute before racing off into the ship.
"Walk! Don't run!" Mark calls after them, but he might as well have told water to stop being wet.
"Thank you for having me, Captain Ethgarnon. Hopefully those two little goblins aren't going to get on your nerves too much," he replies as takes Perry's hand in a firm grip.
"Do you already have work or do I need to start earning my pay and scare us up something?" He grins, but there's something strained behind that smile.
"Please, only the Alliance calls me Captain Ethgarnon, and only when they want to take me in for questioning about something. Call me Perry."
The large man steps back. "Work? I don't even have a name for this ship yet! She's been called many things by many people, none of which I would repeat in the presence of children. Any suggestions based on first impressions?"
Mark looks up at the ship in the bay and ponders it for a moment.
"Pyrite Vagabond," he says.
"Or simply, Vagabond?"
"Only to her friends." Mark grins again, this time with some good humor.
A genuine smile creeps up on Daisy's face. "Well, Perry. I shall do my best to keep everything respectable!"
A few seconds later, "No name? Well, shouldn't she have a name before we set off? Not that i'm a stickler for that whole good luck thing but.."
|
|
Emma was the first to arrive to the hold. "Do you have experience working these old Fireflys?" he asks. "I always had problems with overheated capacitors on my last ship. Had to jump from pirates once and the whole generator core melted. I still don't know how I talked my way out of that one."
Emma taps her chin cutely. "The most effective way to ensure capacitor integrity during stressful maneuvers is shutting down life support. O2 generation is a massive stressor on the system and cutting it off frees up a large amount of resources elsewhere. If used effectively the system can be returned to order before permanent brain damage has...."
They were telling her this wasn't what he wanted to here. They were saying this wasn't what her fellow normal humans said in approaching a problem. They were telling her that a simple yes would suffice.
"Yes, I am familiar with the workings of the Midbulk transport, standard radion-accelerator core, classcode 03-K64, Firefly ship," she finishes, sheepishly.
As the other crew members filter in, Emma takes them in with wide, gazing eyes. Her tussled blond head swiveling on top of a too-big armored duster.
"I'm Emma. And running will get them there faster," Emma chirps as Mark directs his kids. "And if they fall then they will have learned a valuable lesson, reinforcing the need for caution later when it might have greater consequences," she observes, applying basic psychology that was drilled in during lesson AA-23.
|
|
Perry bows his head to Daisy. "It is an honor to have a registered Companion aboard. This is the most respectable I've felt in a long time!"
As it becomes clear that crewmate designation "Daisy" is a Companion, Emma stops and gazes at Daisy intently. Very, very intently. Like a veteren scientist discovering a rock made from an element he had written papers on disproving its existence.
"You are a...Companion?" she asks, a bit redundantly since that has already been established.
She leans closer. A hand begins to come up...
...and suddenly it returns to her side, quickly followed by her gaze dropping to the floor. Her head twitches a few times, as if glitching in this version of reality.
"Pleased to meet---make---your acquaintance," she murmurs, neck still flexing, as if a wire was handling a strong current that was suddenly terminated.
"We could call it the Stargazer. Because it wants to be free. Just like us," she says, also to the floor.
Perry strums his fingers against his ample belly while Emma speaks. "Perhaps a different system could be take offline should the issue arise. Anyway, good to have you aboard. Stargazer is another fine suggestion."
"Well met, Emma, I'm Mark. My daughters are also old enough to know better than go running like hellions through a ship." His hackles rise a bit at having someone who looked young enough to be his daughter giving him parenting advice, and not particularly good advice at that.
"As for Stargazer, eh, seems too hoity-toity for this old gal. You'd think she'd belong to some Alliance core-worlders with a name like that."
"Perhaps," replies Perry to Mark. "Although I've heard the latest Alliance ship-of-the-line is a cruiser named Insuperable. More like Insufferable," Perry snorts.
"Personally I prefer Inane."
Daisy does her best to keep a neutral face.
She finally settles on a little friendly smile.
"It is very nice to make your acquaintance as well, Emma. And personally, I also like Stargazer!"
A tall man with dark hair walks into the common room. A strong antiseptic odour wafts with him; clean, but very sterile smelling.
He is tall and a little on the thin side, dressed in a country gentleman's black trousers and an embroidered waistcoat (vest). His shirtsleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and he is rubbing them with a damp cloth, apparently the source of the smell.
"The space should be adequate for a surgical bay, though I think it will be some time before I would consider it sterile enough for use. It appears the last tenant was possessed of some curious thought surrounding the subject of cleanliness."
The man's voice has a slow melodic quality, with elongated vowels that make his words sound a little stretched and slow. Taking stock of the newcomers, he gives each a focused appraisal, staring long enough at each to make things uncomfortable. By the time he's done you get the impression he either knows your entire medical history, or intends to stitch you a suit from scratch.
"I am Doctor Able St. Germaine Montclair. You may call me Dr. St.Germaine Monclair, Doctor, or if you desperately feel a need for brevity, Dr. Montclair. I am contracted to be your ship's physician. I expect each of you to report within a reasonable timeframe and present yourself for a baseline medical examination. If I need to reassemble you at a later date, I'd would like to be acquainted with where all the relevant appendages were prior to our introduction."
With that, and without really asking for any names, he turns back towards the medical bay. It is only after he turns to leave that a large revolver can be spotted in a drop-thigh holster on his right leg. The reason it missed notice initially was that the man seems so used to the weight that he moves as though it wasn't there.
"Good to have you aboard," Perry says to the retreating Doctor's back. When the Doctor is out of earshot he adds, " Before we found it, this Firefly was being used as a garbage trow. That's why the price was so good. It's gonna smell like this for a while, and I doubt it will ever be 'clean.' You'll all get used to it, though."
"Have you tried fire," Mark asks. He makes a note to bring the girls by at the earliest opportunity. He was sure that he and the doctor would be getting well acquainted.
|
|
Emma takes a few testing sniffs of the air. Then she drops to her knees and sniffs the flor for a bit. Then, just to get a baseline, she sniffs up Percy's leg.
"It smells fine to me," she declares.
Finally her curiosity gets the better of her. She opens it up to the floor in the senate of her head, and at last a subcommittee decides that, yes, a few NON-intrusive questions might be allowed. They will keep control of all firing codes, however, under conscious-decision ONLY. At least in this regard. Do not poop where you eat and all that.
"Have you been a companion long, Daisy?" she asks, turning to the companion with wide, curious eyes. "How many have you--" She stops speaking abruptly, as if her words almost broke an expensive vase.
Harold, I just cannot keep you employed. The alliance doesn't want any old warhorses kicking around
The 180 cm (6') man looks at the speaker with piercing brown eyes from under a shock of red hair.
Look gerry, they don't need to know. All I know is that I tried my best to keep the alliance out. But we lost our support after serenity valley.
Harold, that is what I am talking about. they are not going to want you around, in case you harbor any more anti alliance thoughts
Really, then where do you think I should go.
Look Harold, I like you, and you worked out good here, so I will give you a bonus along with the last couple months of your pay. I will also give you an introduction to a new ship captain that might be willing to take someone on that has your background.
Who might that be
His name is Perry, and he might be willing to take you on as a favor to me. Just don't frak this up.
A tallish red haired man walks up to the airlock of the ship looking at the kids running rampant.
Looking for a man by the name of Perry. Anyone know him. I was referred by a friend of mine by the name of Gerry
He lowers his duffle bag and offers his right hand for a handshake.
I am sure that he told you about my situation, and figured that you might be able to help me.
Perry greets Harold in the hold. "Gerry's an old contact from the war, I remember. Wow, you've got more guns there than the squad of Browncoats I flew in to Athens. Welcome aboard.
"Well, I think that's everyone. Get settled in where you like. I need to update the ship's registry with the name Stargazer."
Emma takes a few testing sniffs of the air. Then she drops to her knees and sniffs the flor for a bit. Then, just to get a baseline, she sniffs up Percy's leg.
"It smells fine to me," she declares.
Finally her curiosity gets the better of her. She opens it up to the floor in the senate of her head, and at last a subcommittee decides that, yes, a few NON-intrusive questions might be allowed. They will keep control of all firing codes, however, under conscious-decision ONLY. At least in this regard. Do not poop where you eat and all that.
"Have you been a companion long, Daisy?" she asks, turning to the companion with wide, curious eyes. "How many have you--" She stops speaking abruptly, as if her words almost broke an expensive vase.
Daisy smiles again, "I've been a registered companion for about a year. And if you are asking about the, shall we say, physical side of the job... Well, most paying a companion's fee are just paying for eye candy and possibly someone to make them look smart in conversation."
"Well, I think that's everyone. Get settled in where you like. I need to update the ship's registry with the name Stargazer."[/b]
"Way too hoity-toity for this ol' tub,"mark mutters before noticing the attractive young companion.
"Apologies, Miss. Mark Baum, at your service," He says with a slight bow.
"Well, I think that's everyone. Get settled in where you like. I need to update the ship's registry with the name Stargazer."[/b]"Way to hoity-toity for this ol' tub,"mark mutters before noticing the attractive young companion.
Perry shrugs. "You're the smooth talker. Win the vote next time."
Perry greets Harold in the hold. "Gerry's an old contact from the war, I remember. Wow, you've got more guns there than the squad of Browncoats I flew in to Athens. Welcome aboard.
"Well, I think that's everyone. Get settled in where you like. I need to update the ship's registry with the name Stargazer."
He sheepishly grins and adjusts the duster over the open duffel.
Yea, i got one or two extras, but i only have ammo for a couple
He then shakes Perry's hand again lifts the duffle and goes to find himself a room.
Thanks again for taking me on
"Well, I think that's everyone. Get settled in where you like. I need to update the ship's registry with the name Stargazer."[/b]"Way too hoity-toity for this ol' tub,"mark mutters before noticing the attractive young companion.
"Apologies, Miss. Mark Baum, at your service," He says with a slight bow.
Daisy also gives a short bow. "It's Daisy, please. Nice to meet you as well. Your daughter are lovely!"
"Oh, no. They haven't started messing with you already, have they, Miss Daisy," Mark asks, looking the part of a harried single father. "They nearly drove the engineer on my last ship to drink with their shenanigans."
Daisy gives a genuine smile, "Oh no. No bother at all! I'm sure we'll get along just fine!"
"I certainly hope so." Mark chuckles "As much grief as they give me sometimes, they really are sweet girls. I'll make sure they introduce themselves properly to you, soon."
|
|
"I call the engine bay!" Emma chirps playfully. She picks up her heavy bag and carries it determinedly to the engine area.
'Yep. Dusty, dirty, needs some work. Within expected parameters.'
Emma digs into her toolkit for a trusty rag and some de-greaser.
Then it was time to 'jazz the chips' as they say. Of course they said that before they attached the electrodes and beat her with a pair of jumper cables, so maybe they were taking about that.
= 10
Closing her eyes and concentrating on the part of her brain dedicated to making things bolstered against the passage of time and the Entropy that comes for the death of all things, she is brought to new heights, the time-path laid out for her, the righting of the area no longer a question of IF, but a thing already done and just waiting for the movie to play out.
In a trice the area sparkles with newfound vigor; rust is decimated, dirt is destroyed, and an old hammock now hangs with purpose in secluded cove.
Only one task to look to left.
It has occurred to her that they might be on legitimate business, and be given a cursory search by THEM. In which case she'll need to look scarce. So she'll need smuggling panels to hide things. And they also can be used for contraband. So it's multi-use.
This Firefly either has them or can easily be made to have them.
Looking around the small room he mutters to himself.
About what I expected, welp, I got to make a go at this or else I will starve. But glad that he didn't seem to hold this against me.
He hangs a faded brown duster up beside the door.
After that, he starts placing things in various locations around the now his room.
Once settled, he settles his gunbelt on then climbs up to walk to the cargo bay.
I guess the boss is going to need me to move the cargo onto the ship.
Daisy picks a room and gives it a good clean. Then she begins organizing clothes, makeup, perfumes and more..
Introductions made, Mark tracks down Hailey and Holly to find that they picked one of the larger berths. Four bunks for four people, but he figures that no one else would be too eager to bunk with him and two girls.
"This is pretty nice. We should have plenty of room," Mark says as he looks around. "You two did good. Now, lets make this place home."
Three sets of hands make quick work of getting things cleaned and settled in. Things are going smoothly so far, and Mark is feeling hopeful that this flight will be a smooth one.
---
Mark goes through the galley's stocks to see what he could make from the ship's stores. Seeing as it was getting close to lunch, he decides to ingratiate himself and his daughters with the rest of the crew.
Better to have them be friends when they learn I'm alliance than not.
"Alright, who wants to help me make some fried chicken?"
Once the crew disperses to their separate quarters, Perry heads to the storage locker with a checklist in hand. The requisition manifest had been signed off by the local trading company, but these things always needed a thorough twice-over, as things tended to be shorted or misplaced too often unless you were working with a reputable dealer, which he wasn't.
Also, thorough wasn't Perry's thing. He took a long swig from his flask and rolled his head, cracking his neck loudly. Then he did the same with his back, and then finally he kicked off his boots and stretched the tendons in his feet. Then, holding the manifest at arm's length where he could best read the small print, he checked each container and made notes of anything amiss. The process took about an hour, which was about the time it took the rest of the crew to get themselves acquainted with the ship and their living spaces for the foreseeable future.
When Mark and his girls entered the galley Perry was just finishing up. He pointed them to the freezer and the cabinet where the small drum of lard was stored, and then showed them where all the cookware and utensils had been stashed.
"And we have a separate cooler over there and dry goods are here. The cooktop is electric, I'm afraid, and buggy, but you'll get used to it. Maybe Emma can take a look at it."
Perry liked to eat and knew enough about the galley to be dangerous, but he was no fool; if someone else wanted to cook, and they were good at it, let them!
"Thanks, Captain. It can't be much worse than the Inglorious's cooktop," Mark says as he begins gathering what is needed. His daughters begin pulling out pots and pans for the other dishes.
"It was also stinky!"
"Yeah, so stinky it would make us want to throw up."
They giggle as Mark shakes his head.
"None of that girls," he warns them. "We don't need to be letting them know what kind of tricksters y'all can be at least until we leave port."
The smile on his face does take any potential sting from the words.
Mark - technically, there's two bunks per room (as stated in the ship's spec's in the setting). How would you feel about not sleeping in the same room as your kids?
And, add Cooking to your Skill list. ;) Just kidding.
ALL - please check Discussion.
|
|
Emma was very, very, very very very, very tempted to just start ripping up flooring until she found the compartments (you'd think they would list those in the standard manufacturer's blueprints!). But eventually it was decided (by a tight vote) to just ask about them. We could always start ripping up stuff later.
She starts on her way to go barge into the captain's quarters, but passes by the galley and finds him there. Convenient. Saves her the trouble of kicking in his door. Or taking it off it's hinges. Then putting it on backwards because that's the only way to prevent other people from kicking it in. It would also be hard to open, but one must choose their priorities.
"Where are the smuggling compartments for putting illegal goods? I have something illegal that I'd like to put there," her little body says with wide, innocent eyes.
Mark looks up as Emma asks about smuggling compartments and tries his best not to sigh.
"I hope you're joking," he tells Emma. "Captain, she is joking, isn't she?"
Perry shrugs. "Emma, as long as you're here would you mind looking at the stove? It's on the fritz."
|
|
'The word before this full senate hearing is 'fritz'. It is recognized in no known data source that we have access to and must needs be investigated. For our part it seems to have Germanic origin and must, like all things from that ancestry of Old Earth, of course be war-like. It must mean that the stove has gained sentience and is now attacking. We should start shooting indiscriminately. For safety.'
'As much as my colleague's party enjoys randomly shooting at things--'
'It's true. We do, but ever since lesson Z-Beta-twelve, can you really blame us?'
'--now that we are out of The Place That Must Not Be Named, we must needs first take the course of peace. Indeed, here we have seen that inaction is ofttimes better than rash action. Let us henceforth approve the first part of the sentence and then, and only THEN, can we determine if guns-shooting is needed.'
The senate in her head debated all this in an eyeblink, so Emma did not stare over-long into the Captain's eyes.
"Oh! Ha! Yes. I am joking. You know me, all joking jokes. All the time. I'm just a tiny, harmless girl and I don't know about anything that's illegal, immoral or fattening. Ha. ... Ha.
Um, yes, I would love to look at the stove."
'And I will see if I need to start shooting because of all the looking I will do.'
"And I will cure this state of fritzing-ness-ness. Back when I was a small child I would encounter fritz-ladened stoves all the time and I can tell you they were quite un-fritzed once I got through with them!"
'Nailed it.'
"And after that perhaps I can be told where the secret smuggling spots are? Just out of curiosity and for science. Of course."
Emma walks over to the stove and gives it a good de-fritzing.
"That should do it. Now that the stove is fixed it slices, it dices, it makes Julian fries. Also it dances and tells jokes.
Just kidding! Ha! Me with all the joking jokes again.
Now Captain about those compartments...."
As Emma looks at the stove, Mark gives Perry a look normally only directed at his daughters. It is the look of a father who is not convinced by the yarn being spun.
While Emma busies herself under the hood of the cooktop, Perry draws a crude sketch of the ship on the back of the manifest, then marks the location of the hidden compartments with X's.
"Fine, fine. Here you go. Adjacent to the hold, you'll find them."
Once she departs, Perry retreats to the cooler and emerges with two bottles of beer. "Rather a decent lager. Care to join me?" He extends one to Mark and then sits down to watch the girls play while their father cooks.
Once the the lard is in the fryer he asks, "Any luck finding us some work?"
Dr. St.Germaine Montclair follows his nose into the galley, and sees his two new crewmates therein.
"Real tallow? Is this an occasion, or is that going to be the norm?"
Since branching out, Able had come to expect mostly synthetic foods and ration packs. Technically nutritious, though very boring to eat. Real food, even something long lasting like a root vegetable seemed an unusual luxury.
The thought made him reflect again on the rapid and dramatic shifts in his fortunes, and so he dismissed the thought.
Seeing the two gentlemen enjoying a drink, he grabs a tumbler from the panty and pours himself a few fingers from a flask.
"Mr. Baum, your daughters look healthy and lively; any issues I should be aware of?"