|Summary:||Not able to meet up with the OATO representative from the Castori, Jeff heads to their home planet. However the official government delays in contacting our heroes. So. They wait.|
|Cast:||Jeff Ryan, Urfkgar|
- IND Saviour's Haste - The cramped cockit barely has enough room for the pilot's bench and second officer's station behind, every square of space inch filled with monitors, switches and system telltales. The glassteel canopy provides minimal headroom, the long slender bubble providing an excellent view of the surrounding space. A holographic heads up display provides navigational information while the console signals add faint rainbow reflections. Fri Mar 31 18:26:37 3006 A worksuit is here. Contents: Exits: Personal Security Urfkgar <IC> <O> Out Weapons Console Communications Console Engineering Console Navigation Console
Urfkgar is carving a block of wood with a multi-purpose tool as he sits against the bulkhead.
Jeff Ryan walks into the bridge and glances at the commstation, "No word?"
"Urf no hear stuff," says the Zangali.
Jeff Ryan nods and sighs flopping down into his seat, "This is the worst part... just waiting."
Urfkgar briefly looks over at Ryan, shrugs, and returns to mutilating the wood.
Sighing again the lunite hits up the basic ship-readouts. "Enough fuel for another jump." That's probably about the twelfth time he's said that in six hours.
The Zangali doesn't bother to look up this time, hacking a corner off his piece of wood.
In Zantra: Ryan hits the readout off again, it simply goes back to power read-outs. Ryan turns round and glances at the wood "What you making?"
"sssSSs Siiiiissssss hishHssh sssrrip ssssiiiss" says the Zangali.
Jeff Ryan looks perplexed, that looks that says whatever was said just went over his head.
In Zantra: "Nothing," says Urfkgar. "I am simply entertaining myself while we wait."
Jeff Ryan nods and stands, he heads out of the cockpit.
Jeff Ryan walks back into the cockpit bearing. A guitar. It's obviously a fairly new purchase.
The Zangali looks up as Ryan comes back in with the instrument. He is unable to raise an eyebrow since he doesn't have any, but he manages to give Jeff a dubious look anyway.
"I used to play, and sing." He points to his throat where the strange sound that passes for his voice comes from. "I can't sing anymore though. Used to keep us amused during the long nights in our hide-outs." He fiddles with the strings and the keys.
Urfkgar jams the blade of the multipurpose tool into the block of wood and sets it aside to give Jeff his undivided attention.
He starts strumming, it's a simple folk tune and probably from Luna. He can't help himself from 'mouthing' the words, more than mouthing, just a simple whisper, barely audible. From the concentration on his face, and that 'look' in his eye, it's a song that means a fair bit to him. And yes, it's probably similiar to a 31st century version of 'Redemption Song' in tone.
The Zangali grunts and picks up his piece of wood again. He pulls the multipurpose tool back out and sets back to carving, keeping his eye bouncing back and forth from the knife to the musical Lunite. He's smart enough to keep the knife still when he's not looking directly at it, though.
The lunite continues into the second verse, it's clear he's played it before. It's pleasant enough, but Jeff is never going to be on 'Orion Arm's Top 40'.
The Zangali's woodwork just looks like a badly mauled piece of wood. Taking an unusually large sliver off the side, he manages to slice a finger stub. He ignores the greenish blood as it seeps into the wood, looking back over at Ryan.
The second verse finishes and Jeff looks up at the zangali, as the blood seeps out. He raises an eyebrow, "You want that seen to?"
"Urf fixerer stuff. Urf stuff," says the Zangali, but he doesn't bother getting up and going to get his stuff. He continues to butcher the block of wood and himself. He starts to leak out of another stub.
Jeff Ryan shakes his head, and reaching under the pilot's seat hauls out a first aid kit. Opening it up he glances at the contents, pulling out a bottle of alcohol, he raises an eyebrow, "This work for you?"
Perhaps sensing Jeff isn't going to leave his booboos alone, the Zangali gets to his feet with his knees and back cracking as he rises. He lumbers off.
Jeff Ryan raises an eyebrow and watches the zangali trundle off.
Urfkgar wanders back in with his duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He tosses it onto the deck, sets it upright, undoes the clasp on the top, picks it up and turns it over dumping the following out: Two sets of Vanguard and GMC field uniforms, one set of Vanguard and GMC dress uniforms, one load bearing kit complete with leg rigs, one knife sharpener, two gallon canteens, two hundred feet of nylon cord, three rolls of tape, six GMC field rations, Zangali specific first aid kit, eight Vanguard field rations, four pounds of carrots, eight pounds of potatoes, complete set of Vanguard and GMC regulations and training publications on digits, case for the multitool, ten bungee cords, cheap data pad, sleeping bag system, multi-purpose tool, twelve pens, one hundred sheets of paper, fifty plastic bags, ten garbage bags, old school compass, weight lifting gloves, binoculars, and some other random things collected over the years by a warmongering lizard. He begins to sort through the assortment of junk until he pulls the first aid kit out by a strap.
Jeff Ryan clutches the guitar as the cramped floor space of the cockpit fills up, and over. "What...."
"Urf stuff," explains the Zangali as he sets the first aid kit down on a seat. He begins to repack the rest of his belongings in the bag.
As the floor space clears, piece by small piece, eventually a path from his chair to where Urf's quite literally set up camp is cleared. The lunite stands and walks over peering into the zangali's first aid kit.
The labels on the equipment in the kit bear a variety of languages and expiration dates. They seem to have been acquired during his tours with the Vanguard and the GMC like most of his other belongings. He has most everything in there, though, from disinfectant to chest tubes to medical tape and adhesive bandages. The Zangali takes a tube of something marked in faded Zantra script out of a side pocket.
Jeff Ryan quirks an eyebrow as he glances at the items he can make out. The expiration dates he can see on two tubes worry him slightly, "Out of date by a few centuries..."
"Urf no killeded. Stuff no bad," says Urfkgar as he carefully removes the top from the tub. He spreads some milky looking goop on one of his cuts, puts the cap back on the container, and sets it aside. Then, he applies pressure to the edges of the cut for a couple of minutes.
"If you say so," says Jeff dubiously. "If I ever need it, try and use the ship-issued kits I keep aboard though." The lunite waits.
Urfkgar grunts vaguely before he repeats the procedure on the other cut. He says, "Stuff no bash stupid softskin."
"Could happen," says Jeff supressing a small smile. "You yourself Mr Urfkgar bashed me quite thoroughly the other day."
"Stupid softskin boss no bash stuff no gooderer," says the Zangali as he flexes his bad hand. It doesn't start bleeding again until he grinds his stubs against his shoulder. He applies a second coat of the tubes contents to the bleeding cut, grumbling. He holds the cut together for a bit longer this time.
Jeff Ryan chuckles, "True, just bear it in mind." He winces as they start bleeding again, and waits patiently to see how the second coat holds.
Urfkgar wiggles his stubs a bit until he seems satisfied. He scapes the recently sealed stubs down his chest again, and the hardened goop gets dislodged again. The Zangali patiently starts through the steps again.
Jeff Ryan sighs, "Maybe you should wait longer next time." Back-seat medic.
Urfkgar takes the Lunite's advice with a grunt by way of reply, but he does the pressing and holding bit for a more extended period of time. After running through the highly scientific wiggling and scraping tests, he gets no new leakage, and he puts the tube back in the first aid kit before returning the kit to the duffle bag.
The mild look of concern fades into a smile and nods as he returns the kit to the duffle bag. Satisfied, Jeff walks over to his seat and flops into it. He hits the readout calling up the main information on the ship's systems. "Enough fuel for one jump."
Urfkgar looks at Ryan and finally decides to comment as he secures the top flaps of the duffle bag, "Urf know. Stupid softskin boss sayeded. Sayeded morerer times."
Jeff Ryan claps his hands together as though something occurs to him, "I should probably refuel her."
The Zangali shrugs. He says, "Stupid softskin boss do stupid softskin boss want. Urf no know."
Jeff Ryan temporarily boyed by purpose, the lunite heads out the cockpit, keen to carry out his new plan.
Jeff Ryan disembarks from the ship.
Shuttle Pad <Ursiniru: Castor>(#838RD^JLr) - Castor - This rather unremarkable gray metal platform offers one of the most spectacular views on the planet, granting an expansive glimpse of the vast forest of blue-leafed banyan trees that drip thick branches like candles oozing hot wax in streaks and cooling. The tallest trees - which fall short beside the great arboreal grandfather that houses Ursiniru - climb to about four thousand feet. Wisps of smoke rise from cookfires around Lower Ursiniru and the surrounding trees. Fri Mar 31 18:46:48 3006 The reddish-yellow orb of Castor's sun, Kuhirichin, glows through the leaves as it descends to the western horizon, shading the sky with pink and amber as night closes in. Contents: Exits: IND Saviour's Haste <OS> Offworld Shuttles Refueling Console - Castor <LA> Launch RACEWAY SIGN <K> Kifnebble Transit Sign - READ THIS! <LB> Private Landing Bay <EP> Embarkation Platform
Jeff Ryan disembarks from the IND Saviour's Haste.
Urfkgar has arrived. Urfkgar disembarks from the IND Saviour's Haste.
Jeff Ryan walks over to the refueling console and enters his money. He glances at the display eagerly.
fuel max: 30 difference: 20
The console beeps as it accepts your payment of 500 credit and begins refueling IND Saviour's Haste.
The Zangali follows after Ryan, keeping an eye on things.
The console beeps as it finishes refueling the IND Saviour's Haste.
As the console beeps, Jeff grins and glances up lovingly at his ship. Mission accomplished, he nods to Urf, "It's done." And heads up into the ship again.
The Zangali follows without comment. Jeff Ryan boards the IND Saviour's Haste.
Cockpit <IND Saviour's Haste> - IND Saviour's Haste - The cramped cockit barely has enough room for the pilot's bench and second officer's station behind, every square of space inch filled with monitors, switches and system telltales. The glassteel canopy provides minimal headroom, the long slender bubble providing an excellent view of the surrounding space. A holographic heads up display provides navigational information while the console signals add faint rainbow reflections. Fri Mar 31 19:50:37 3006 A worksuit is here. Contents: Exits: Weapons Console <O> Out Communications Console Engineering Console Navigation Console
>> Outside the Ship: Urfkgar boards the IND Saviour's Haste. >> Outside the Ship: Urfkgar has left. Urfkgar enters from the corridor. Urfkgar has arrived.
Jeff Ryan flops back into his seat, the readout is still up, "She's full."
"Urf know. Stupid softskin boss doeded," says the Zangali as he takes a seat on his duffle bag and picks up the block of wood and multi-purpose tool.
Jeff Ryan nods in agreement and picks up his guitar.
The Zangali makes certain to only use cuts that are aimed away from his hand as he sets to work again.