Ireen Cole
Feb 26th, 2017, 04:56:45 PM
"Lianna Control, this is Meera's Light, requesting clearance to jump. Over."
Viszla sounded bored, and Ireen didn't blame her: it was the fourth time she'd signalled the orbital station, without so much as a word of response. It hung above the pale blue planet, a silver bauble that swarmed with hundreds of ships that shimmered like dust motes in the sun. Viszla clicked her tongue, and wedged the ear cup between her shoulder and head so she could reach out and snatch a candied grape from Dariq's bag. The thievery did not go unnoticed, and Dariq inched the crumpled paper bag closer to him, on the co-pilot's station. Viszla smiled wide enough to show the candied grape clamped between her teeth.
"Lianna Control, this is Meera's Light..." she continued.
"Hey, how long until we reach Makem Te?" Ireen gave his thick arm a gentle prod.
"Two hours," he rumbled, "Once we're underway."
In another life, Dariq Gul'drogo had been a Trianii cage-fighter. Ireen was convinced. Even when seated, he looked like an ancient craggy mountain, with his weathered face, his continental shoulders, and slopes of long grey hair that ran in knots down his face and neck. Like Viszla, he tied his hair back with thin leather braid, and unlike Viszla, he didn't care to smile very much. He wasn't an unfriendly man, it was just that he, like the ancient mountains themselves, had lived too long to care for the exploits of youth. She expected he saw himself as a means to an end now, and, in all likelihood, a wasted one, as far as this mission was concerned.
"I'll tell the others."
Ireen rose to leave, when she heard the old mountain say, "Grape?"
The crumpled bag was slid back into its original position, within reach. Ireen smiled, "No, thanks."
"Yes, Lianna Control, this is Meera's Light, we are requesting clearance to jump." Suddenly, there was a lift in Viszla's voice. She sat upright, and spoke at intervals into the comm, "Yes... Gozati-class... Makem Te... eight... yes, transmitting now... yes... thank you... you too."
Finally, the cans were cast aside with a clatter. One glance from her dark brown eyes told Dariq all he needed to know; his fingers worked at the switches on his computer, until it gave a sort of burble of approval. Ireen took her seat again, just in time: Viszla tilted the flight yoke, and Lianna fell away from view as the whole ship started to hum and tremor under Ireen's feet. She braced herself. The pinpricks of light blossomed, and stretched, and with a flash of electric blue, Meera's Light was awash in hyperspace once more.
Ireen excused herself from the cockpit, and descended the stairs to the long narrow corridor that ran the length of the ship. She wondered what conversation was like between those two, when she wasn't there: perhaps it was just business as usual, amicable silence, with Dariq conceding the occasional grape every time Viszla flashed her cheeky smile. There had to be more to it than that, Ireen decided. Marriage was never that simple.
Halfway, the corridor expanded into a wide spherical space that made up the communal living area, and the heart of Meera's Light. The metal grating underfoot split in two directions: a semi-circle to the left allowed her to continue to resume her journey down the narrow corridor to the rear end - aft, it was called, Ireen: aft - of the ship, where she'd find not only the engine room, but also Tonn, sulking over a stack of unused tools. He liked to pretend he was busy whenever she was around, so he didn't have to grace her with the gift of his prodigious conversational skills. Tonn was young, and fit, and freshly-trained, so, naturally, he should be earning glory for himself in battle, not baby-sitting the weakling nurse. That was all she had been good for, really, back on the Aranar, where she treated superficial wounds with Draylsh'a all day long. But, this? This was an opportunity for real science, and real discovery. And if Tonn didn't like it, well, then... he could very well lump it!
But Ireen didn't go left, to the engine room, and sulking Tonn; she went right, instead, and descended the spiral stairs to the living area, every step ringing along the way. There was only Vosho to disturb, however, and he hadn't moved since she'd last seen him: buried inside a Vosho-shaped groove in the sofa. His limbs were still arranged in the same lethargic sprawl while he studied the datapad in his hand; under the glaring lights, his skin shone like varnished mahogany.
"You have two hours until we arrive at Makem Te."
"This, I know, Cole." Even from behind his datapad, she could hear the smile in his voice, "It was part of Gul'drogo's brief. Do you remember?"
"You know I don't," Ireen said, making sure the sweetness in her voice implied just enough danger. Vosho knew she had been late for the brief, and couldn't resist every opportunity to turn the knife, "Have you seen Zereth?"
"He has not been here once," he said, surfacing from his reading, "That man... he is unlike most, I think."
"Oh, please. Save the ghost stories for the kids," Ireen waved off his teasing, and made a beeline for the kitchen, where there was a stimcaf with her name on it, "Zereth Lancer is just as normal as you or me. Stars help us!"
Viszla sounded bored, and Ireen didn't blame her: it was the fourth time she'd signalled the orbital station, without so much as a word of response. It hung above the pale blue planet, a silver bauble that swarmed with hundreds of ships that shimmered like dust motes in the sun. Viszla clicked her tongue, and wedged the ear cup between her shoulder and head so she could reach out and snatch a candied grape from Dariq's bag. The thievery did not go unnoticed, and Dariq inched the crumpled paper bag closer to him, on the co-pilot's station. Viszla smiled wide enough to show the candied grape clamped between her teeth.
"Lianna Control, this is Meera's Light..." she continued.
"Hey, how long until we reach Makem Te?" Ireen gave his thick arm a gentle prod.
"Two hours," he rumbled, "Once we're underway."
In another life, Dariq Gul'drogo had been a Trianii cage-fighter. Ireen was convinced. Even when seated, he looked like an ancient craggy mountain, with his weathered face, his continental shoulders, and slopes of long grey hair that ran in knots down his face and neck. Like Viszla, he tied his hair back with thin leather braid, and unlike Viszla, he didn't care to smile very much. He wasn't an unfriendly man, it was just that he, like the ancient mountains themselves, had lived too long to care for the exploits of youth. She expected he saw himself as a means to an end now, and, in all likelihood, a wasted one, as far as this mission was concerned.
"I'll tell the others."
Ireen rose to leave, when she heard the old mountain say, "Grape?"
The crumpled bag was slid back into its original position, within reach. Ireen smiled, "No, thanks."
"Yes, Lianna Control, this is Meera's Light, we are requesting clearance to jump." Suddenly, there was a lift in Viszla's voice. She sat upright, and spoke at intervals into the comm, "Yes... Gozati-class... Makem Te... eight... yes, transmitting now... yes... thank you... you too."
Finally, the cans were cast aside with a clatter. One glance from her dark brown eyes told Dariq all he needed to know; his fingers worked at the switches on his computer, until it gave a sort of burble of approval. Ireen took her seat again, just in time: Viszla tilted the flight yoke, and Lianna fell away from view as the whole ship started to hum and tremor under Ireen's feet. She braced herself. The pinpricks of light blossomed, and stretched, and with a flash of electric blue, Meera's Light was awash in hyperspace once more.
Ireen excused herself from the cockpit, and descended the stairs to the long narrow corridor that ran the length of the ship. She wondered what conversation was like between those two, when she wasn't there: perhaps it was just business as usual, amicable silence, with Dariq conceding the occasional grape every time Viszla flashed her cheeky smile. There had to be more to it than that, Ireen decided. Marriage was never that simple.
Halfway, the corridor expanded into a wide spherical space that made up the communal living area, and the heart of Meera's Light. The metal grating underfoot split in two directions: a semi-circle to the left allowed her to continue to resume her journey down the narrow corridor to the rear end - aft, it was called, Ireen: aft - of the ship, where she'd find not only the engine room, but also Tonn, sulking over a stack of unused tools. He liked to pretend he was busy whenever she was around, so he didn't have to grace her with the gift of his prodigious conversational skills. Tonn was young, and fit, and freshly-trained, so, naturally, he should be earning glory for himself in battle, not baby-sitting the weakling nurse. That was all she had been good for, really, back on the Aranar, where she treated superficial wounds with Draylsh'a all day long. But, this? This was an opportunity for real science, and real discovery. And if Tonn didn't like it, well, then... he could very well lump it!
But Ireen didn't go left, to the engine room, and sulking Tonn; she went right, instead, and descended the spiral stairs to the living area, every step ringing along the way. There was only Vosho to disturb, however, and he hadn't moved since she'd last seen him: buried inside a Vosho-shaped groove in the sofa. His limbs were still arranged in the same lethargic sprawl while he studied the datapad in his hand; under the glaring lights, his skin shone like varnished mahogany.
"You have two hours until we arrive at Makem Te."
"This, I know, Cole." Even from behind his datapad, she could hear the smile in his voice, "It was part of Gul'drogo's brief. Do you remember?"
"You know I don't," Ireen said, making sure the sweetness in her voice implied just enough danger. Vosho knew she had been late for the brief, and couldn't resist every opportunity to turn the knife, "Have you seen Zereth?"
"He has not been here once," he said, surfacing from his reading, "That man... he is unlike most, I think."
"Oh, please. Save the ghost stories for the kids," Ireen waved off his teasing, and made a beeline for the kitchen, where there was a stimcaf with her name on it, "Zereth Lancer is just as normal as you or me. Stars help us!"