The Healer and the Honcho

Started by noseatbelts, December 27, 2018, 12:28:27 PM

Tabitha Haemish

"Oh, him? We call him Hey You on account of we don't know his real name. But he answers to it well enough. He's a handy fella to have around, that's the truth. So's Hardy and Trick and, well, all of us really. Any job y'got, Darling Francine's your ship. You mighta guessed we's here as a matter of employment, the details of which I'm afraid I can't chatter. You can trust we're on the up and up, though, Miss Haemish," he continued, his pride apparent in his voice and his posture, the look in his eyes sparkling a little brighter.

Tabitha beamed back at him and tilted her chin down a bit to look up at him through her lashes, a purely unintentionally flirtatious gesture. She was simply pleased to see the Captain so proud of his ship and his crew, they were his family after all. At least, that's how she figured ships were supposed to work.

"Uh, Miss Haemish. There somethin' we can help you out with? My crew needs to be getting back to work here soon. Job's coming up from town any time now," the Captain asked, and she could see his shoulders tighten ever so slightly. Her smile turned into a pucker of thought and she shook her head a little in answer, curls bouncing free of the pencil holding them up before it slipped out of the platinum locks and clattered to the floor. "Oh!" she whispered in surprise, completely forgetting (or not registering) his polite attempt to get her off his ship.

"Uhhhh.....Waaage slavery...." the Doctor said before reluctantly trudging off, which seemed to disappoint the girl just a little. She was enjoying his conversation and his love of plants. They were souls of the same tree, she thought to herself cheerily.

With a gentle shrugging of her shoulders and friendly look, Tabitha set the basket of apples in Barnaby's arms, somehow managing to get them in there without his offering or being ready for it. She turned and bent over, grabbing at the pencil and knocking it quite accidentally down into the grating of the floor. "Oh!" she whispered again, blinking helplessly at where her pencil had been.

"Heads up, Barn! Hand off'll be comin' along in...Eighteen minutes! Reckon I best get along. Right pleasure makin' your acquaintance, Miss Sammich. Hey You! Wanna tag along?" Trick informed them. Turning her head, Tabitha grinned at the man and waved her hand from her position on the floor, peeking out at him through wild light curls, "An absolute delight to meet you, Trick!" she called out, not seeming to mind her new name. "Don't forget your tea!" she added, brows aloft and sincere concern written plain as day across her face.

Dialogue Color: Pink

Lomari

Hey You had been watching the goings on from within the little group, his arms crossed over his chest and his presence almost imperceptible. He said nothing about the new girl, didn't take an apple although he hadn't directly been offered one, and only nodded his chin briefly at the mention of his 'name' just to be polite.

"Oh, him? We call him Hey You on account of we don't know his real name. But he answers to it well enough. He's a handy fella to have around, that's the truth," the Captain said, and any other man would have beamed with pride at the compliment, but this man seemed to simply fade further into the background, becoming one with the shadows of the ship as he turned and made his way away from the cargo bay door toward where Trick had gone to connect with the client.

"Hey You! Wanna tag along?" Trick asked, and the slight quirking of one of the man's dark brows was the only indication that he thought anything of it. Still, he nodded once and swept into Trick's wake easily enough, his lips set in a firm, potentially apathetic line. It was hard to gauge what he was thinking, so 'apathy' might've just been the safest bet.
CHARACTERS
Charity ~ Melody ~ Tabitha


NARRATION
Darling ~ Iscariot

Barnaby Goodweather

Barnaby grinned at the sound of inbound communications. "Alright, then. We'll get-" As he was about to start barking orders, the captain turned to see a large ground transport trucking out of the trees over yonder and towards their position. Deer-eyed, Barnaby quickly turned to his crew, waving his arms wildly. "They're here! They're here!" Everyone knew their jobs in a situation like this, they just usually had a bit more time than this to get themselves ready. Jogging back into the cargo bay, thinking he might help move some stuff around, order folks a bit, Barnaby stopped on his heel and turned quick, back down the ramp to meet their contact as they arrived, then turned sudden-like when he remembered Miss Haemish was on board. Where to start?

He stopped, took a deep breath, and thought for just a second. This was easy, he knew what to do, and he trusted himself. Just had to be reminded of all three. "Trick, get everybody over here to help with the transfer, wouldja?" Then he looked at the crew who hadn't disappeared and gave them a little clap of the hands, but in a nice way. Barnaby wasn't one to bark out commands, but desperate times and all that. "Chop chop, folks. They caught us our boots off." And then, the lovely witch doctor whose acquaintance they had made. "Miss Haemish, I'm awful sorry to ask this of ya, but our presence here on Athens ain't exactly 'sposed to be advertised and our benefactor would be awful sore if they knew we'd met a local while we waited. The favor is: Would you mind terribly being my employee for a bit, just for presentation?" If they had more time, Barnaby might have been compelled to drop a knee and beg Miss Haemish. As it happened, they didn't. Barnaby left her where she stood, hoping she'd do right by him.

Barnaby traversed down the ramp and smoothed out his shirt, reset the hat that sat atop his head, and otherwise beautified himself in preparation for his meeting.

The truck stopped about 50 feet out and their contact rolled out: A platoon of Alliance Marines, bedecked in war-ready armor and helmets, rifles, too. They marched out three-abreast, lock step, like they were parading. Barnaby wasn't sure who they were showing off for, it was just him standing there, unless a member of his crew had hurried to his flank. A starched Commander-at-arms appeared from behind the troops, the look on his face unimpressed and bored. "Goodweather, I presume?"

Barnaby nodded enthusiastically, but with some humility. He put his hat in hand and avoided eye-contact. He knew his place in this particular transaction. "Yessir, that's me. You can call me Barnaby."

The commander considered this and made a face. "No." He raised a gloved hand and snapped his fingers. A couple of heel clicks and marching boots and the troops parted, revealing the cargo resting on hover lifts, which began to be moved towards the Darling. Both Barnaby and the Commander watched as the cargo, six large crates, each about six-foot square. "You have the destination on the manifest?"

"Yessir. Surely do. And we'll get it there lickety-split, too. Not too fast, though. Not recklessly. You want it delivered sittin' pretty. Me too, matter-of-fact." Barnaby found himself nervously rambling. "And it will be, my solemn guarantee."

If a person could look like they were politely enduring a horrible smell in the house in which they were a guest, this is the face the commander wore as Barnaby spoke. "See that you do. Payment will arrive on delivery. Good day." The commander turned to go, allowing his men to do their job and considering his part in it finished.

Barnaby coughed. "Half up front, if it's all the same."

The commander stopped on a dime. His shoulder rose and fell with a sigh. "Very well. I'll transfer the credits from my quarters." And then he left, disallowing any more negotiations.

Barnaby grinned and, after returning his hat to his head, tipped it to the departing Purple Belly. He knew the man would fold. The bureaucracy of the Alliance only wanted the job to get done, didn't care how. Holding out on payment was a power play, a bluff. And even though Barnaby had a terrible sense for poker, he was pretty good at being a spacer.

Just as quick, Barnaby twisted his sights back to his ship hoping to see the load almost finished.
Dialogue Color - LightBlue

HumanHyperbole

February 11, 2019, 04:26:36 PM #23 Last Edit: February 11, 2019, 04:33:58 PM by HumanHyperbole
"Yooooo... What's up my purpies?"

Hardy swaggered back into the cargo bay like he'd arrived at a party. He knew none of Alliance personnel present, but greeted them like they were his old shipmates.
He held up a hand for a high five to several as they walked past. One. Then the other. And another. They all walked past, barely giving him a sideways glance at the overfly familiar attitude.

"Any you dudes see my red pen vape? It had this ill decal on it of a uh... What was it?"

Before he continued asking if any of them saw the vape pen he forgot on a ship that exploded a couple years ago, he realized Barnaby might want him to get to work or at least make that middling effort he could sometimes muster to actually act like a member of the crew and not its resident giggling smokestack. He grabbed a small pistol grip device from a clip on the wall, and started scanning small bar codes on the top of each crate. This registered each piece of cargo into the ships registry. His time in the Navy, he got used to being a cog in the wheel of bureaucracy. And also got good at nabbing the easiest job possible he could to whilst simultaneously baked out of his melon.

He tapped a button on a remote control he pulled off a clip on his belt. Music started playing throughout the cargo hold as the ship was loaded up.


"Workin' at the carwash..."

Hardy bounced along as he scanned the boxes, and lost himself in his task. Also the edible he'd had about 2 hours earlier was really starting to kick in. Either rolling with the illusion Tabitha was a member of the crew now, or just not realizing she wasn't himself. He handed another scanner to Tabitha.

"Yo, I've got like... a..."

He looked back at the boxes and almost attempted to try and add them up.

"I've got like... hella boxes to scan. You just point it at the bar code..."

He pointed his at a crate's bar-code to demonstrate and clicked the trigger.

"Pew pew pew!!

He laughed to himself like it was hilarious than pointed over to a row of crates.

"Ya dig?"

Tabitha Haemish

February 24, 2019, 01:27:54 PM #24 Last Edit: February 24, 2019, 04:19:43 PM by Lomari
As the commotion started in the cargo bay, Tabitha watched from her spot on the floor, a whimsically curious expression on her face, head tilted to the side as she wondered who was here. Seeing her basket of fruit on the ground, the girl began to reach out for it, pausing when Barnaby approached her.

"Miss Haemish, I'm awful sorry to ask this of ya, but our presence here on Athens ain't exactly 'sposed to be advertised and our benefactor would be awful sore if they knew we'd met a local while we waited. The favor is: Would you mind terribly being my employee for a bit, just for presentation?"

She listened with the gentle patience of some woodland fairy and nodded slowly as he spoke, beaming up at him when he got down to the nitty gritty of the issue. She stood, brushing off her dress and lifting her hand in a probably not very accurate salute, “Yes, sir, Captain sir,” she agreed, giggling a little and standing near her basket. When he turned to go, the girl looked around for something to do, not sure what was one supposed to be doing during this kind of thing.

At first, she turned a bit and picked up a bit of garbage off the floor, the smallest bit of wood that had probably been dragged in from her basket of apples. Not sure what to do with this, she held it in her hand and lifted one corner of her dress, using it to dust off a cargo container. She squeaked in surprise when Hardy made his bouncy way to where she was ‘cleaning’, handing her a scanner in the process.

"Yo, I've got like... a..." he began and the girl’s chin dropped a little, her eyes locked on his and brows raised as she waited for him to finish the thought, giving him all the time in the world, bare toes curling and straightening against the grating.

"I've got like... hella boxes to scan. You just point it at the bar code..." She looked down at the scanner in her hand and then watched him point his at the box nearest them, head tilting this way and that like a puppy trying to understand an order.

"Pew pew pew!! Ya dig?” he asked, and Tabitha couldn’t help but giggle along with him. She bit her lower lip and nodded quickly, “I dig!” she assured him, reaching down to pick up an apple and setting it in his hand before reaching out to tap the tip of his nose with an index finger. Without another word, the witch doctor skipped to the row of crates and began pointing the scanner at them one at a time, “Pew! Pew! Pew!” she said excitedly with every code she scanned, her cheeks pink with joy.
Dialogue Color: Pink

Tricky

"You heard the Captain, folks! It's time to punch the clock! Hardy, make yourself somewhat useful and show the new girl how the scanners work. Hey You, gimme a hand with this crate." Trick strode toward the ramp like the ship belonged to him, of course, but at the sound of the tell-tale STOMP-STOMP-STOMP of the Marine procession boarding Francine, the crew's commanding officer got uncharacteristically shy. O'Doyle pulled his brim way down over his face, near to the point where he couldn't even see the load being dropped in front of him, and turned as casually as possible away from the armored soldiers. Jar-headed, purple-bellied pricks. Last gorram thing I need is some Corporal Pigu-Pucker-Up asking why I look so familiar. Hell. Reckon I shoulda grown a mustache or somethin'.

"Yooooo... What's up my purpies?"

Luckily for Ol' Trick, Francine's resident fen-for-brains proved himself as the perfect distraction. I'll be gorramed... I ever get back in the game, I'll have to keep young Hardly in mind in case I ever need a Patsy. The rest of the crates made their way in to the cargo hold along with their Alliance escort and the crew set about their task.

"Workin' at the carwash..."

Trick's eyes rolled beneath his hat. "What on Earth-That-Was is that racket!?" He didn't bother to lift his head as he muttered to Hey You, knowing exactly what kind of reaction he could expect. "Ruttin' mutt's gonna be the early death of me, I don't put him down first."

"Pew pew pew!!" Sounds about right. "Ya dig?" Reckon six feet oughta do it.

Patrick continued to entertain himself with the scenario in his head, questioned why he'd be doing the digging, then positioned himself with both boots above ground. A twinkle winked in the imaginary O'Doyle's eye as he held a gun over Hardy and watched him digging his own grave - probably under the premise of finding his gorram vapor pins. Patrick shared the satisfied smirk of his imaginary self, and conjured a thick, bristling mustache to make the look complete. Before he knew it, he and Hey You ran themselves out of work.

Unfortunately, a cursory glance toward Hardy and the dirt eater revealed a might more work to be done. Trick grumbled and made his way over to help finish the job. Sooner Francine made her way off planet and put some stardust between themselves and the Alliance the better.
And in the city it's a pity 'cause we just can't hide
Tinted windows don't mean nothin', they know who's inside

- RUN-DMC "It's Tricky"

noseatbelts

The Lavender laborers made quick with the unloading, their steps regimented and movements precise. Six 6x6 crates, lined up against the back wall of the cargo hold, two wide and three deep, each still resting on their hover dollies, though they were no longer hovering. They were stamped with serial numbers and official sounding designations that didn't really tell you what was inside, but there were a few messages that were abundantly clear.

DO NOT OPEN
DO NOT STACK
▲THIS SIDE UP▲

Once the task was completed, the soldiers moved out, loaded up, and drove off.

And then the crew of the Darling was left alone with their cargo. It might have seemed strange that, if this shipment required an entire platoon of 35 soldiers to unload, that there was no guards left with the shipment in order to guard it. Or it may have come as a relief. Perhaps the Alliance was merely overly cautious with it's transport. Perhaps they were careless. Perhaps they were like most governmental agencies with a plethora of redundancies that would create even more bureaucracy to try and fix them. Who's to say?


Barnaby Goodweather

March 04, 2019, 12:05:03 PM #27 Last Edit: March 04, 2019, 12:05:54 PM by Barnaby Goodweather
It wasn't that the Alliance personnel had been particularly loud or obtrusive. In fact, the opposite was true. Efficient, polite, in like a shot and out even quicker. It was commendable to be sure. No, Barnaby found that he was able to breath easier again once the soldiers had departed for the pure fact that "full cargo, full pockets" was something his Pappy said, and Barnaby just had to agree. With the half up front, and a mental note to hop on the cortex later and make sure the Commander would keep his word on that, and what was coming to them upon delivery, Barnaby found himself excited about what they could use the money for. It wasn't a grand payday. Nothing to write home about. But wartime made employment difficult, and a job was a job was a job, regardless of your political affiliations.

His domain once again populated only by those he considered family - and Tricky- Barnaby surveyed what was his and liked what he saw. "Okidokey, folks." He clapped his hands to get the attention of those gathered. "Let's get them boxes secured so they don't tumble. Trick, you and Hardy make do with that." Next on the list, preflight check. "Hey You." The pilot was nowhere to be seen. "Anybody seen Hey You? He's just here... Ah well, I'm sure he knows what's what. Ronnie..." Barnaby looked to find the woman, who had positioned herself behind O'Doyle and was staring at the handsome XO. "Ronnie. Why don't you head up and help out with takeoff? All systems check, you know the drill." That was everyone, aside from himself, which he always felt funny about. But that was the Captain's job. Give orders. Crew's job was to take them. And, with everyone hard at work, that would leave him a little time to go check the cortex, make sure that deposit had gone through. Maybe check and see if there was any messages from Tamara. There hadn't been for several (dozen) months now. Not since she had left. But, you never know!

Just as he was about to let everyone get to work and head on up himself, Pappy Goodweather appeared at the top of the stairs to the Cargo Bay. The old man, with a pair of comfy pants on and a lightweight shirt mostly unbuttoned, didn't quite look to be in his right frame of mind. In fact, if Barnaby had to guess, he'd been at Hardy's wacko tobacco again. The Captain rushed over to the owner and tried to steer him out of the Cargo Hold. "Pappy..." He started to say, but the elder cut him off.

"Full cargo, full pockets." Pappy said, nodding with approval at the size of the load, which meant more to Barnaby than he was willing to admit.

"Yeah, Pappy. Where's Mama?"

Jeremiah gestured vaguely behind him and began descending the stairs. "Trick! You and Hardy get them crates tied off. Don't want them fallin' here t' there, now, do we?" Ronnie met them halfway up the stairs. "Veronica, darlin'. Why don't you go do the pre-flight check? Bring that weirdo pilot witcha." Ronnie gave a polite smile and went to do just that. "S'good girl. Reminds me of your mother, a bit, back in the day. Maybe a little healthier around the middle, you know what I mean, son?"

"Sure I do, Pappy. Say, whatcha doin' down here?" Barnaby almost hesitated to ask, but a working cargo hold was no place for his aging father in his current condition.

There was fire in his words. "S'my ship, ain't it? Go where I please, cain't I?"

"Yessir." Barnaby, this side of forty on his way to fifty years old, couldn't look his old man in the eye.

"Good. Was worried there's a mutiny afoot. G'on then, fuck off and leave me be." The old man wandered down onto the floor, leaving an exasperated Barnaby on the stairs, his hat in hand, fed up and worried all at once. The knot in his stomach, boy, you wouldn't believe.
Dialogue Color - LightBlue

HumanHyperbole

Hardy groaned as he was forced to work. Yet again. At his job. Fumbling with the straps, he nevertheless still had a little bounce in his step as he plodded along at his task, pausing only every 30 seconds or so to take another rip from his vaporizer. His eyes now redder than the devil's butt, he half mumbled a song to himself as he pulled tight straps on his first group of the boxes.

"Palo... Palomita mía palomita, palomita mía).
Palo... Palomita mía palomita, palomita mía.
Mi sol es tu sonrisa palomita, palomita mía..."


He tried to read the Chinese instructions on one of the boxes first as he worked his way through them. He couldn't make sense of them. It was so strange. His nanny taught him Chinese as a kid and they could speak to each other fine. He could read it. Write it. But when he tried to speak it to anyone else they kept claiming he was speaking or writing a different language. Hardy shrugged and figured it was just one of many, many misprints he saw on a daily basis and moved on to the English warning label.

Letting a large plume of smoke escape his lips, he mused aloud:

"The giant warning just makes me want to crack these bad-boys open and then stack 'em up and make a fort you know."

He suddenly cupped his head with his hands as if he'd just had the brain-wave of the century.

"Yooo!! Let's BUILD A FORT IN HERE FOR REAL GUYS!"

Hardy looked around the room trying to read everyone's reaction, his face beaming excitement for his idea.

"We can get snacks and camp in here tonight it'll be hella chill guys!"

He looked around more. He was surprised they weren't all lifting him up on their shoulders for his amazing plan to make some sort of child's pillow fort out of Alliance property. He was reprimanded many times during his time with the military for his unsanctioned fortifications. His improvised domicile came up so often in disciplinary records they relented to its unofficial name "Fort Chong" and just referred to it as such in the entries about him being forcibly removed from it so that he could repair vital systems.


Tabitha Haemish

September 21, 2021, 10:13:58 AM #29 Last Edit: September 28, 2021, 09:49:03 AM by noseatbelts
"Let's get them boxes secured so they don't tumble. Trick, you and Hardy make do with that," the Captain ordered. Tabitha smiled brightly and looked down at the scanner in her hand. Hopefully she'd done this right and the ship's crew wouldn't suffer due to her inexperience. She wasn't exactly sure why she was scanning the boxes, but it was fun all the same.

Another gentleman entered the cargo hold and the doctor turned her head to stare curiously up at the man. Her smile faltered and turned to concern as she took in his 'not all there' expression and surly attitude. She set the scanner down, picked up the basket of apples, and headed in his direction.

"Good. Was worried there's a mutiny afoot. G'on then, fuck off and leave me be," he said, just as she arrived. Putting the basket on onto the nearest crate, she smiled up at him winningly.

"Good afternoon, sir, lovely day, isn't it? My name's Tabitha, I'm your temporary neighbor! Would you like some fresh apples?" she asked, all the while tilting her head and looking up into his face. "And maybe some tea?" she asked in a soft, kind tone of voice, reaching to set her hands on his arm but pausing an inch or so from touching him, waiting to get the go ahead or be told to similarly 'fuck off'.

"Yooo!! Let's BUILD A FORT IN HERE FOR REAL GUYS! We can get snacks and camp in here tonight it'll be hella chill guys!" Despite her desire to turn on her heel and join in on the fort building, she stayed by the elderly man's side and beamed at him, offering him the warmth of her sunny disposition. He looked at her, but she wasn't sure he actually saw her standing there. With a concerned pout, Tabby took a breath and shook off the visible worry, replacing it with another smile. "Let's get you back to your room," she offered, somehow managing to swiftly turn him right back around without much fuss. She and the elderly gentleman disappeared back the way he'd come.
Dialogue Color: Pink

Barnaby Goodweather

A clatter of machinery called for the Captain's attention. "Hardy! Careful now. No tellin' what's in those boxes, could be fracturable." With a sigh, Barnaby hopped down the stairs to show the doper how to recalibrate the lift. It only took a minute to fix, but it was long enough for Tabby and Pappy to disappear back up the stairs and into the bowels of the ship.

Barnaby was pleased that everyone was following orders, even though they'd had to hear it from Pappy first in order to complete them. No. Pappy just reinforced what he said, that was it. Speaking of which, Barnaby turned to regard his father and saw the old man had gone back to bed, and resisted the urge to wipe sweat off his brow. Then he realized the witch/doctor was gone as well, and he lamented not being able to tell her a proper goodbye. Barnaby didn't have long for regrets, as another clatter arose, this time, both Tricky and Hardy let out an exclaim of caution. "Dang it all, Hardy! What'd I say? Gentle!"

By the time they got the cargo stowed, Barnaby could feel the vibrations of the ship's engines in his toes. They were about ready for takeoff. "Alright, Hardy. G'on to the boiler, I'll finish her from here. Trick..." Barnaby turned to his XO and found him already gone. A shake of the head and a sigh. "You go on, take some R&R, you been workin' so hard lately. Why thank ya kindly, Captain Barn. Sure there ain't nothin' I can do to help? No, no, Trick. You done enough." Barnaby said to himself as he walked over to the com, intoning a poor imitation of Tricky O'Doyle's patter, as he gave the cargo bay one last once over for preflight. He found nothing out of order. The Captain picked up the receiver and hailed the cockpit, hitting the cargo bay doors in the process. "All clear, Ronnie. Tell Hey You to take us up."

The cargo bay doors slammed close and hermetically sealed themselves and away they went.

Barnaby retired to his bunk, sore and sleepy, to find his comm light blinking. He picked it up. "Yeah?"

It was Ronnie. "Just broke atmo, Cap. Course set, we're good to go."

"Roger that. Need anything up there? I'm gonna get some winks."

"How should I know? This creepy bastard you got me stuck with doesn't say anything, I dunno what he wants. You ever see him eat or drink anything? Ever see him sleep?" Barnaby could just see Ronnie shaking her head, though the communication was voice only. "I'm watching You. Yeah, you. Hey You, don't you look at me, You." Barnaby turned off the com and crawled into his bunk and closed his eyes.
Dialogue Color - LightBlue

noseatbelts

It didn't take long.

Tabby got Jeremiah Goodweather to bed just in time to wonder what that strange feeling was when the grav-exchange kicked in.

Trick was off doing whatever it was a tricky sort such as him did when nobody was looking.

Hey You smiled bemusedly at Ronnie as she berated him.

Barnaby just about fell asleep, dreaming of the days he was out of the shared crew quarters.
 
And Hardy felt a strange wobble in the way Darling's engine reacted to the atmo. It was barely perceptible to anyone but those who knew what to look for. Or, if you were under the influence of a strain of Marijuana known to cause extreme paranoia and anxiety in some, in others it resulted in hyper focus. Hardy called it "Forgot to Study", and generally only smoked it when he had an important task that required his full attention. This time, however, he just grabbed the wrong canister.

The wobblue turned to a tremor and the grav-exchange kicked off, quite suddenly, and then back on, sending everything up one inch into the air, and then back down. To some, it might have felt like turbulence (which isn't a thing in space). But to an experienced spacer, it felt like trouble.

To the boxes in the cargo bay, it felt like someone just took a sledge hammer to the wooden confines of their crates on all sides simultaneously. One of them cracked and something hissed from the inside. Gas began to pour out of the crack in the box and was picked up by the air circulation vent sitting right above where they sat, the gas then swept through the air vents unabated.

Contaminate alarms immediately went off in the cockpit, but by then it was too late. The gas had already been distributed throughout the ship and into most of the compartments. Anyone who breathed it seemed to cough and then pass out.

Tabitha Haemish

January 12, 2022, 01:18:58 PM #32 Last Edit: January 12, 2022, 01:23:01 PM by Lomari
The ship bounced heavily and Tabitha jerked away, falling out of her dream of dewy grass and spring  mornings. She sat up slowly, looking down at the blanket someone had put over her when she'd fallen asleep in the Office of the Darling. It was scratchy and warm, and bordered with soft silk tape. The girl cleared her throat once, twice, and a third when the first two didn't work. The movement started a dull pounding in her head and her hands lifted to rest cool palms against a hot forehead. With a frown, she swallowed once, experimentally, a frown pulling the corners of her lips down when the result was a tingly rough pain all the way down. Her first thoughts were that she caught something from someone she'd met the day before on the ship she found near the apple orchards.

The ship? The ship!

Scrambling up from the couch, the blanket knocked onto the ground, Tabitha stood up and looked around with wide eyes. She was still on the ship. She remembered taking the elderly gentleman back to his quarters, getting him settled into bed with his missus, and preparing them both some tea with honey and lemon that she'd found in their galley. For an older man, he'd been impressively demanding in asking for things from this section of the ship or that and in the end, she'd served as his foot servant for most of the night so he wouldn't get out of bed. She must have fallen asleep in the office at some point and hadn't noticed that she'd left her home behind.

A small cough bubbled up in her chest and she pulled her arm over her face to cough into her elbow once. Maybe it was a space fever? The change in altitude, air pressure, temperature, and ambiance could have thrown her body off balance. That seemed plausible. In any case, while she was here she figured she should check on the Mister and Missus.



Her knuckles wrapped against the door to the Captain's quarters, "Captain Goodweather?" she called out softly, listening to any answer. An alarm was beeping in the nearby cockpit but she didn't know enough about ships to worry and figured the pilot would attend to it shortly."Misses Goodweather?" Tabby called again. Still, silence. Maybe they were still sleeping? Tapping the button for the door, Tabitha slipped inside and looked around. It smelled stuffy, so she left the door open to get them some different air. She could see the blankets rising and falling on the bed and scooted closer to check on them. "It's morning, I think. Would you like me to bring you some breakfast?" she asked them warmly, a hand reaching out to settle on the Captain's arm. Tabitha hissed in surprise and yanked her hand back. He was boiling!

She turned to switch on the light, then rounded the bed once more. "Captain? Ma'am?" she called out again, reaching across the bed to gently shake both of their shoulders. They were both hot as an oven and covered in sweat. Their breathing was quick and labored and they weren't responding. "Oh no," she muttered, backing away and heading for the comms unit by the door. Not sure how to operate the thing, she pressed almost all of the buttons at once.

"Medical emergency. Please have your doctor come to the Captain's quarters!" she announced, not sure if she'd noticed a Doctor or Medic when she came on board the day before.
Dialogue Color: Pink

Barnaby Goodweather

A drip echoed in the darkness. Like a tall, slow leak into a cavernous underground pool. Barnaby floated in the middle of this water, inky black. He couldn't see anything, there was no light. He couldn't feel anything, his body slow and numb. He was warm, as if wrapped in a hundred blankets.

A drip echoed in the darkness. Louder. Sharper.

Again. Louder. But it wasn't a drip, was it? A beep? No, an alarm. Something was trying to reach him. He couldn't see it. He could hear it. The alarm was louder now. Barnaby felt himself lift out of the water and rise into the darkness of the cavern, the alarm calling to him.

Barnaby awoke in his bunk. A small beeping alarm sounded from a cortex panel on the wall he'd had Hey You install when he'd been made Captain. These sorts of panels were common in a Captain's quarters, a sort of mini cockpit where he could keep track of the ship without having to leave the room. Couldn't pilot there, but he had limited control of other ship's functions. He sat up in his bunk and nearly bonked his head on the bunk above him. For some reason he was having difficulty remembering who normally slept in that one.

His head pounded. A headache like he'd had a quart of whiskey the night before and a dozen beers. He resolved to find a tonic in the galley after he saw to that damnable alarm. His body creaked to a standing position and Barnaby found his footing unsteady. He felt drunk, but didn't remember drinking. And drunk was the wrong word. Fuzzy? He wondered if Hardy had dosed them all with something but didn't figure on that. Not after the talkin-to Mama Francine had given him the last time.

Fighting his discombobulation, Barnaby shuffled over to the control panel to check it out. "The hell?" The readout told him there was a gaseous contaminate detected in the air circulator. The Darling had automatically vented the material, but the system warned him that exposure was still likely among the crew. "Why didn't nobody tell me?" He wandered out into the passageway outside the bunks and had a looksee.

He squinted against the light and wondered which way to go, a feeling Barnaby was wholly unfamiliar with on this ship. He decided to go left, which took him to the galley; inside of which he found Tricky slumped back in the booth, asleep. "Uh oh." Barnaby thought he better wake Tricky up, but he didn't. Instead, he turned out from the galley and shuffled towards the showers. Maybe a shower would help clear his head. Yeah, that sounded nice. He had always been proud of Darling's water heater. Not so common on a transport ship.

The water did feel good as it soaked him and his clothes. Barnaby felt his worries melting away.

"Medical emergency. Please have your doctor come to the Captain's quarters!"

Barnaby squinted against the water hitting his face. "Huhwhat?" The fog lifted and the reality of the situation began to set in. Leaving the water running, Barnaby slipped out of the shower and slid to the passageway and to the stairs leading up to the Captain's Quarters. "Miss Tabby! What are you doin' here? What's goin' on?" His eyes fell on his parents' sleeping forms, concerned but unsure what the emergency was. "We uh, ain't got a physician as such." The facts began to come together for him. His entire crew was under the effects of an unknown vapor that had knocked at least himself and Tricky out and he was beginning to suspect the same had happened across the board. He hit the ship wide com. "All crew: status report." Were he and Tabby the only ones who'd made it?
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