Chew and Spit (Early Morning before takeoff)

It was morning and in spite of everyone (except Haddie and Elle) nursing a universal shipwide hangover, Vas was calling the crew to the cargo bay. It was early enough no one had eaten breakfast yet and so everyone was slow to get dressed to muster. By now there had been enough room made that the Crew had their bunks back.

Vas himself was still grouchy with a headache and a deep hankering for some eggs and bacon. Elle, Gill, Haddie, Roose, Marisol and Serena all accounted for. Since Doc stood more as an independent contractor he was exempt, as was the new guy Drake on account he was new. Serena was about to say something but Vas waved for her to stay quiet. “Right, let’s make this quick so we can go about our day in misery. I know some of you have been working hard, some of you are new and others really don't give a shit. It’s come to my attention that I may have been too nice and lenient with you bunch. Given most of your recent behavior, I’m inclined to agree. So since everyone has so much free time and such confusion as to the chain of command, no one has any downtime from here to Peloram. Congrats.” Vas quickly shut down any complaints. “Step foot off this ship without permission don’t bother stepping back on.” He warned.

“Elle I know you’re new and I don’t know what kind of ship you were on before but on *this* ship we have something called a chain of command. No Serena, not a literal chain …” Vas said with a sharp exhale seeing her mouth open to ask. “ … next time there is a problem you come to *me* the Crew Chief. I’m not admonishing initiative. I am admonishing the fact it took two days and me learning second hand about mold in the vents and how there was plan to rent equipment, with what money I have no clue when we have a fungicide and cleaner here. On the ship. That we use all the time to clean and prevent this exact situation. Had you come to me this would have been done yesterday.” He said dressing down the girl.

“Marisol I get you have a hard-on to lead and take charge. I appreciate your initiative, but you need to stop. You’re the engineer not the Captain and that ain’t changing so for the love of Buddha stay in your lane and take care of the damn engine room. You have a question? There’s a problem? Found mold? Need oil? Need new tools? You talk to me. Unless you're paying something out of pocket you do not get to decide how to spend the ship’s money. As a result the rental you got, on your own, without consulting anyone, will be docked from your pay. This is the last time we have a conversation about your role on this ship.” Vas said sharply not in a forgiving mood.

“And you.” Vas said turning to the dynamic duo of thievery. Specifically though Gill. “You had ONE job.” Vas said pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know what you and I are going to have a serious talk. Right now.” Vas rumbled.

“The rest of you are dismissed. Serena, Elle cargo to load on ain’t too much and it’s on pallets so you can use the pallet jack to haul it in place. Marisol prep for taking off. Roose - you know your job. Gill, Haddie with me. Now.” He said motioning for them to follow.

"Elle." Marisol's voice cut through the silence as the chastened crew began to disperse. "I apologize...you didn't deserve that. You were doing your job...you found a problem, and you brought it to someone who would check it out and has the experience to know how best to deal with it. You did the right thing," she nodded at the deckhand, before leveling her gaze onto the hung over crew chief. "From there, it's all on me."

"So, crew chief," the mechanic said in the tense silence, "Seeing as how it's three hours til' scheduled preflight checks and I've already paid for that gear out of my own pocket, do I have your permission to finish the job?"

*Sweet Buddha, woman, get off your gorram cross we need the wood.* Vas though inwardly at Marisol’s supercilious attitude. Woman had her head up so far in her ass she didn’t even see the point! Everything was always a confrontation with her. And yet she continued, her voice grating on the already raw nerve exposed.

First, Elle? You brought a deckhand issue to the ship’s mechanic.” Vas shot back, “whose expertise lies in keeping the engine running and this boat in the air. Chain of command. Crew?” He pointed to all of them, then to himself. “Crew Chief. Neither of you thought to mention this to anyone else.” He turned back to Marisol. “I’ll explain to the lieutenant why it was needed, I’ll take the hit for that - again. And when she asks me why I didn’t go to her for authorization, I’ll get my ass chewed out, for you, again. So in the future, Elle,” Marisol was a lost cause. It was repeatedly obvious she respected no one’s authority except her own. “When there is a problem, you bring it to me. Understood? As for you Chavez, did I give the impression that you had a choice in the matter?” Vas said curtly. “I am *aware* that preflight *was* not scheduled for another three hours. Hell, I helped write the schedule! It doesn’t matter WHY I want it done early, I want it done. But since you did *not* care to even *ask* before mouthing off, we apparently have a huge Gorram shipment of bourbon headed our way which may need additional hands. So do preflight and if you do a good job MAYBE Riley will give you a gold star and a juicebox. Serena and Elle can handle the vents til the shipment comes. At least I know Serena can follow orders.”

Marisol was skating on thin ice. She could have pulled him aside, she could have asked why was he ordered her to do preflight so far ahead of schedule, she could have *communicated*. She chose not to. She chose to undermine him and erode confidence in the chain of command. She put herself above leadership and was now dragging crew members down with her and frankly Vas wasn’t going to tolerate it.

“This discussion is over.” He decided, curtailing any further comebacks. “We won’t have it again. If anyone doesn’t like it, if you have a problem with how I run things, there’s still time to get your ass off the boat.”

There were times in life when she wished she was a dog.

*Blah blah blah...hate* Marisol thought as Jat's diatribe raged. *Blah blah blah insecurity....blah blah blah threat.* She waited patiently as the crew chief got it all out of his system and marked territory. For a moment, she thought to explain just why preflight check at T minus five hours was a waste of time and fuel, but such words falling upon the ears of someone who thought he'd actually created an ages old procedure would prove about as helpful as attempting to reason out why the duct mold couldn't be eradicated with a spray bottle and a rag.

She hadn't the time, or the patience. She certainly didn't have the trust in him.

"Right," the mechanic responded to Jat's sullen edict. "Serena, Elle," she focused her attention upon the two deckhands. "Here's what you need to know." For the next moment, Marisol ran over a description of the duct cleaning gear and its' operation. Fortunately, she'd managed the heavy lifting overnight, effectively sanitizing the primary ductwork and the adjoining passenger and crew berths that had been unoccupied. This morning, they'd need to clean ducts from the forward crew berths, and passenger compartments housing Leo, Lyen, Yeva, and the monks. "You've got a couple twenty meter duct lengths to clean, and plenty of pipe attachment," the mechanic finished. "The cleaning head will actually crawl down the duct on its' brushes, and around corners. There's one tank of solution left...should be enough to finish the job." The details offered up, Marisol gave the young women a smile. "Call me if you need me," she concluded, before heading toward the aft stairway.

Sister Lyen stood there, a bemused expression on her face and Daisy tugging at the leash. "Hi, sweetie!" Marisol gave the big dog a nuzzle, scratching her behind the ears. The disquiet in Lyen's eyes offered the impression that she'd borne witness to the entire exchange. The mechanic gave her friend a secretive smile, before dismissively brushing a shoulder. "Got time for lunch?" she asked the Sister. "See you then. I've gotta run," the diminutive woman shrugged as she mounted the steps.

Vas watched as Marisol gave a long and lengthy explanation giving the girls an unasked for a rundown. She deliberately procrastinated, stopping to pet the dog and make lunch plans with Lyen.

Serena, who had been on ships for practically all of her sixteen -the age of legal drinking on Beaumonde! - years of life politely listened as Marisol explained how to use the machine, not pointing out that they had a similar model on the Skyhook which was always riddled with mold. There was an awful tension between the Crew Chief and the mechanic, and the last thing the pig-tailed spacer wanted was to make it worse. *Stop.* she internally whispered. *Please please please please stop.* They were like alcohol and fire. Every spacer knows you keep them apart.

“Chavez.” Vas snapped done with her antics and flagrant disrespect. “Congrats, you earned yourself a demotion. You’re my newest deckhand. Serena. Inform Drake to do preflight ASAP. DOUBLE TIME. The rest of you start squaring the cargo bay for cargo! Gill with me.” Vas said taking Gill to the side to talk.

Serena knew not to intervene. Memories of a conversation with the Captain, Crew Chief and Leo had taught her that. There was the Captain. The Lieutenant. The Crew Chief, the crew. If you respected that, everything was great, like bourbon. She was a connoisseur. Bucking the system for… well, she wasn’t sure why, Marisol seemed off all morning. Edgy even. Maybe the teen couldn’t read full sentences (yet - Thank you Lyen!) but she could read people, and she made a note to talk to Marisol later, if… there was a later. “I got this, Elle,” she whispered, taking the redhead by the elbow. “Just get the cargo deck squared like Crew Chief said.” The teen double timed it towards the crew quarters to find a man named Drake.