Can We Patch It? Yes We Can! (Day 1 Morning to Afternoon)

Vas wanted to get the supply run done early, get all the heavy lifting done now meant more time to laze in the warm sun on the beach. “This beats the hell out on New Kasmir!” Vas said as they searched for the town for a food supplier that did charge an arm and a leg for the basics. Warm beats cold every time!

Then it all went to shit when, halfway to town, the mule suddenly made a horrible grinding noise and refused to move. He all but expected a white plume of smoke to signify its possible death. “...Well … could be worse?” He said over his shoulder to Serena.

Serena nodded, knowing it-could-be-worse might be viewed by the verse as a challenge of sorts. “At least I wasn’t the one driving!” she said chipperly.

“All I did was turn it on!” Vas said defending himself from being blamed for the mule’s apparent sudden and mysterious death. “Just … help me push it to the side and we’ll see if we can make head or tails of its guts ...” Vas wasn’t a mechanic, nor was he familiar with the innards of machines. The prognosis was grim.

The teen put her back into pushing, knowing full well that she wouldn’t be able to make heads or tails of the four-wheel vehicle, but they couldn’t do much worse. And at least it wasn’t heavy like a full-sized vehicle. “I hope we can,” she said less chipperly. “Otherwise the whole time spent on Pelorum is gonna be walkin’ back and forth to town to carry supplies back, an’ I was hoping to see saltwater.”

“Spoiler alert … it’s salty.” Vas said as they tugged the ATV to the side. “ … I … don’t’ even know where to start. The one time we could actually use a mechanic … friggin figures.” He huffed. “Nothing smoking or on fire so that good …” He said going around inspecting the ATV. “... nothing seems missing and the hoses look connected to … where they connect.”

“The squiggly things look squiggly,” Serena confirmed looking pensive. “And the metal things are metallic or rusty, so that all is in order. Maybe we can find someone in town who knows more about squiggly metal hoses and things?”

Vas sighed. “Alright … but we can’t leave the mule here. I suppose that means we’re going to have to push it the rest of the way.”

Serena took the left side, holding onto the handlebars to push, glad that the road was hard packed dirt rather than the sand she wished she was sinking her toes into and pushed. Luckily it wasn’t so strenuous that she couldn’t chat up the Crew Chief along the way with her plans of learning to swim and to make her skin turn darker colors or red. “And--” she concluded after a half mile or so, “I heard that salt water makes it easier to swim on account of you float better. The only thing I gotta worry about is waves. Oh and sharks, and jellyfish, and sharp rocks on the bottom and maybe shrimp, do you think shrimp bite? I don’t trust ‘em, they way they curl around with hundreds of little legs --”
“If it eats it bites.” Vas reasoned, long vaccinated to Serena’s ramblings. “We should make a sandcastle … and get slushies … and coconut shrimp … oh and coconut juice …” Nothing got Vas rambling like food. “As soon … as we get this fixed … and back to the ship with supplies!” He said pushing a bit harder, the thought of beaches and tropical food urging him on.

“That would be amazing! I bet we could make a great sandcastle! And that would sure show those shrimps!” It didn’t seem as though it would be much further, as the long stretch of the road started giving way to long, flat buildings that advertised tour buses, bicycles, and all sorts of fun things to do, like being tied behind a boat and pulled along. “Should we ask someone?” Serena asked, hoping to stop pushing momentarily.

“ … only good shrimp is dead shrimp, fried in batter and rolled in coconut … eaten in front of the ocean as a warning to any wandering shrimp who might happen by.” Vas rambled. “Oh … yea sure go ask ... I’ll get us something cold to drink.” He suggested.

The boy in the shop had the most beautiful tan and bright shirt Serena had seen - but he still couldn’t hold much of a candle to Drake, or to Gil - who was still making himself scarce. (Seeing as Haddie has posted FOUR times in Wolfy’s game, not that I’m counting). She subconsciously twirled a pigtail while remembering to ask about if they had any mechanics nearby. He gave her a map and drew out the directions which she could have easily remembered, up the road, turn left at the first chance and she’d see a repair shop.

“Pelorum people are super friendly,” she told the Crew Chief, as she admired the shark tooth necklace she acquired ‘on the house’ - though she wasn’t entirely sure which house it had been on. She thought Mistah Doctah Adluh would have liked it on account of he was a dentist and it was a tooth, but the Crew Chief might like it too on account of it was sharp. She’d give it to him later. “Here’s a map, he said he’d call ‘em and let us know we were coming after I told him we broke down and had no way to get all the stuff we’d need back to the ship.”

“Good work pigtails!” Vas said passing her an ice-cold soda as he inspected the map. “Ain’t too far away either. Fingers crossed the problem ain’t expensive. Drink up we got more pushing to do.”

Serena mentally tried to sound out the letters on the building - but reading was just as frustrating as pushing the mule, and she’d had enough of both for one day. As they finally rolled to a stop, she could hear loud voices from inside the shop, and instinctively took a step behind the Crew Chief.”

“I’m telling you, the Capissen 38 doesn’t deserve such a bad rep!” one voice from within said loudly. “It’s a perfectly serviceable engine!”

Another voice laughed a big laugh “Yeah, sure! Cuz you’re always servicin’ it!” The second man’s voice had a thick accent that was unlike the locals.
Serena still stuck close to the Crew Chief even though the laughter let her know the loud voices weren’t angry, but she was too distracted by all the shiny. Parts were everywhere, silver parts, black parts, hose parts, squiggly parts, they could probably have one of each part that made the mule go, to begin with. This wouldn’t take long at all - she could practically feel the sand beneath her toes!

“Trouble with your four-wheel?” The man in the grimy coveralls behind the counter asked, looking up when they entered. “Brandon called, let’s take a look and see what you got.” He followed them outside to where the mule sat, trying to kick start it.

“We tried that,” Serena offered, “but if it worked, we wouldn’t a had to push it here,” she nodded sagely. “He was drivin’.”

Vas got the name of the bus he was thrown under … it was called SERENA. “Thanks ... “ Vas said looking down at the pigtailed menace. “... the mule just seized up and stopped working, dunno what caused it. It just happened. Out of the blue.” He said shooting Serena a look. “You think you can get her running again?”

The mechanic gave the ATV a once over, making an occasional “Hmm” as he poked and prodded. “Well, here’s your problem.” he waved Vas over to squat down where he was pointing. “See how the wheels are locking like that when you rock it? CV’s shot. Gonna need a rebuild.”

A loud laugh came from the doorway of the shop. A burly middle-aged man near filled the door frame as he leaned a hand against it. He had on a bright tropical patterned shirt and dingy well worn work pants & equally lived in boots. He sorta looked like a tourist that just gave up on the outfit halfway down. “Did ya check the CV Boot?” he inquired, waving his free hand lazily at the machine.

Serena tugged on the Crew chief’s sleeve. “I didn’t bring my boots,” she whispered, pointing down to her canvas sneaker-clad feet.

“This is why I always wear boots.” Vas whispered back feeling very prepared.

The mechanic shot a glare back at the man in the door. “I got this. Why don’t you go back inside and bother the other customers?”

“We’re customers and we’re perfectly fine being bothered.” Vas coughed in a less than discreet manner.

The large man in the doorway turned and faced into the shop. He made an exaggerated sweep of his head left and right to confirm before he turned back to the mechanic. “Ain’t nobody here but us, Sunshine!” He grinned. “Now…” he strode over to the group surrounding the crippled vehicle “...let’s have a look, huh?”

Serena inwardly wished *her* name was Sunshine. What a great name the shop mechanic had!

The mechanic looked visibly annoyed as he made a hole for the larger man. “I told you, I don’t need your help!” he protested. “Why don’t you go find somewhere else to haunt. I can take care of these two.” he said, motioning his head to Vas and Serena.

“Oh, I’m certain you’ll ‘take care’ of ‘em. Like ya did with that MF-813 job?” he chuckled.

The mechanic bit his tongue and let the other man have a look.

The big man rested a hand on the seat and grunted as he lowered a knee to the ground. He smirked at the young girl. “This is what ya gotta look forward to when ya get old, kid.”

“I have a long, long, long, long, long time til that happens.” Serena answered. “What happened on the MF-813 job?” She asked the helpful man. She wasn’t all that sure what an MF-813 was, but if it blew up or was a discretion sort of job, she wanted to know what they were in store for up front.

“Well…” he grunted as he put himself on his back to get under the vehicle. “ Let’s just say…” he grunted some more as he shimmied himself under, “that a compressor coil...and a valve job...are in two different price ranges.” One last push and he reached his goal. He let out a satisfied sigh at the monumental achievement and laid there for a brief moment before he started his search.

Vas nodded reflexively but all he heard was static.

The burly older man continued as the mechanic fidgeted. “There we go!” he exclaimed from under the mule. “Why don’t you two come down here an’ have a look?”

Serena -- used to planking by now - dropped down to look under the car where the grumpy man was working. “Ohhhhhhhh -- “ she said knowingly. “What am I looking for?”

Vas dipped down to take a peek at what everyone was looking at. All he saw where hoses, metal parts, springy parts, some car fluid stuff. He blinked not sure what he was supposed to be looking at. This was why they hired a mechanic. For this very moment.

The old man pointed to a protruding bump. “You see that? This...is where all the gears are that makes it move. And you see this?” He prodded a finger into a crack that spread as he pushed on it. “THIS is where all your CV fluid leaked out. Someone takin’ jumps too hard?” he pretended to look disapprovingly between Vas and Serena, then chuckled. He then wiped two fingers on the dirt-caked fluid that clung to the outside of the CV boot. “And THIS...works a lot better when it ain’t on the outside.” He paused, looked at his fingers, then back at the pair. “ The fluid...not the dirt. You don’t want that in there.”

“So … do we need more fluid?” Vas asked not sure if the solution had been given or not it all sounded very complex and very staticy at the same time.

“Welp, first ya need to disengage the brakin’ mechanism inside.” the older man explained to the younger. “That’s what prevented you from makin’ it worse. Then, ya need to make sure ya ain’t got nothin’ up in there. Dirt, grit, what have ya, cause that’ll grind up everything. After that, ya get a new boot here,” he knocked confidently on the damaged part, “top off the fluid an’ ya good to go!”

“Dammit, Patch!” the mechanic complained. “I woulda found that...eventually!”

Patch shimmied out from under the vehicle and shot a grin at the mechanic. “Yeah yeah, sure...before or after the rebuild?” he shook his head as he got to his feet and dusted himself off, ignoring the fresh grease streaks he deposited on his pants.

“So … how much to fix it?” Vas asked Patch rather than the mechanic.

Patch shrugged and waved a hand towards the mechanic. “Ask him. I’m just a tourist.” as he started to saunter off. “But if it’s more than 300? He’s rippin’ ya off.” The older man made his way to a nearby outdoor bar, certain he had thoroughly worn out his welcome.

The mechanic looked aggravated before collecting himself. “Provided there isn’t anything else wrong” he threw a sideways glare at the old man’s back, “that sounds...about right.” he admitted, looking a bit defeated.

“Can’t you fix it?” Serena asked Mr. Atourist as she loped after the man to the outside bar. “On account of he didn’t even know what was wrong, and it makes sense to have someone who knows what’s wrong fix what’s wrong on account of we need that to pick up supplies an’ get back to our ship and do you know what the drinking age on Pelorum is?”

Patch dropped his large frame unceremoniously on a barstool and got the attention of the bartender, raising a finger. The bartender began pouring a drink without even asking the old man’s order. Dìyù zhī mǔ (Mother of Hell) he had been there too long, he thought to himself. “Kid, this is a tourist trap. Drinkin’ age…” he shrugged, “it’s more like a suggestion.” The bartender put down a tall glass of beer. He scooped up the glass and took a long pull from it, then used it to motion towards the crippled mule. “As for that, shouldn’t be too difficult. But I don’t got any tools an’ I don’t think our friend over there is gonna let me borrow his.” He motioned two fingers to the bartender.

“He should,” Serena added stubbornly. “On account of you just saved us a lotta money, and I know the Crew Chief - he was driving - is gonna appreciate that a whole lot. We got a lotta tools, only they’re back on our ship, she’s called the Lunar Veil and it’s the best ship ever, even if it does smell a little funny.”

“It doesn’t smell funny no more we cleaned the GORRAM vents already!” Vas called out from afar as he worked down the mechanic to a reasonable price.

“It still smells funny,” Serena said in a whispered voice with a knowing nod. “That’s the Crew Chief, an’ I’m Serena.”

Patch quirked an eyebrow. “Crew Chief? You don’t call him by his name?” he looked over at Vas and sized him up. “He serve?” The bartender placed two more beers down and the old man nodded towards the glasses, offering one to the young girl. “Other one’s for your Crew Chief.”

“Nuh-uh,” Serena replied, accepting the beer by taking a sip. “On account of then how will people know he’s the Crew Chief and not just a regular deck or something, like me? And he does serve - the best tea ever, you should try it sometime on account of it has just a little jasmine, not enough to taste like someone is shoving a flower patch down your throat. Are you from here? On account of you talk pretty, not especially fancy, but still pretty, and thank you for the beer for me and the Crew Chief.”

“Serena! On the clock!” Vas chastised reminding her about drinking on duty. “Work then play!” He said forking over a mix of credits and coin to the mechanic.

The old man chuckled and leaned to speak in a low voice to Serena. “Boy, he’s a fun one, ain’t he?” he laughed. “Hey Crew Chief!” he called out to Vas. “You ain’t goin’ anywhere for at least an hour or two an’ your beer’s gettin’ warm!” he motioned his head towards the undrunk glass on the bar. He then turned his attention back to the young girl and beamed a little. “That might be the first time anyone’s ever called a Bernadette accent ‘pretty’. Unless it was like ‘pretty awful’, ‘pretty ugly’, ‘pretty stupid’.” He trailed off as he laughed a little, amused by his own joke and took another pull from his beer.

“It is pretty on account of it’s got a rhythm an’ it’s not like everyone else’s,” she said honestly before turning to the Crew Chief. “I *am* working,” she protested pointedly.. “He’s a *mechanic.* He *fixes stuff*,” she turned back to the man with the pretty accent. “You ever fix a ship Mister Atourist?”

“Kowalski” Patch corrected her.

“I never seen a Kowalski, and I thought I knew every kinda ship there was. It can’t be a transport. Is that a fighter? Drake used to fly fighters!” She said, going to take another sip of beer but holding off because of on-the-clock rules. On the clock, on the house, there were so many things to be on.
“No, that’s my name.” the older man explained.

“Kowalski Atourist?”

Patch shook his head and chuckled. “Let’s start over.” He offered a hand that was akin to shaking a catcher’s mitt. “Eddie Kowalski. Friends call me ‘Patch’.”

Serena supposed shaking hands was safe enough because at least the crew chief was there to make sure she didn’t wake up on a ship with a three year contract. “My friends call me Serena, on account of that’s my name.” She replied. “You have mechanic hands. You can tell on account of under the nails and ‘cause they feel like sandpaper. Do you fix ships. Mister Kickowski?”

Patch paused for a moment. He was used to people getting his name wrong, just not THAT wrong. “Kowalski.” he repeated with a smile. “And I oughta have mechanic hands. Been doin’ it for 30 odd years.” He nodded approvingly to Serena. “You got a good eye.” he complimented. “Ships, transports, vehicles. If it ain’t broke, I don’t got a job!” he let out a big laugh.

Vas finally returned as the ATV was hauled into the garage. “Okay ATV is getting fixed and I get to keep my arm and leg. I sent Riley a wave to let her know we’ll be late.” He said plopping down on a barstool. “And … oh wow you're still here.” He said impressed the large man had lasted so long with Serena. Stern stuff he must be made of.

“What, you kiddin’? She’s delightful!” Patch said, motioning his near-empty glass towards the girl.

“This is Mister Kazooski,” Serena explained by way of introduction, beaming at being called delightful. “He’s been a mechanic for 30 odd years.” She silently wondered about the even years, or the normal years, odd was one of those words that had one spelling but different meanings, which made it different from words that just sounded the same and had different meanings. Letters were hard.

“Kazooski?That’s a strange name, no offense.” Vas shrugged.

“Kowalski” the older man smirked as he corrected again, putting up a finger for another round.

“Oooooooh … Shǎ biànzi (Silly pigtails).” Vas said playfully bopping Serena on the head like a loud alarm clock. “Go on and finish your beer … we gots a spell before the ATV is ready. So, Mr. Kowalski, you work on ships before?”

“Well, if I didn’t, I owe the Alliance a couple decades of backpay!” he joked, laughing loudly. Seeing he was the only one that found it funny, he awkwardly cleared his throat and confirmed. “Yeah, 30 years. ‘Retired’.” he said, punctuating with air quotes as he didn’t even attempt to mask his disdain for the word.

Vas looked Serena and shrugged. “Ever work on a Firefly?”

“You talkin’ Trace Compression Block or Gurstler?” the older man inquired as a fresh beer arrived.

“She’s a Kestral Series 4,” Serena replied, taking a bigger sip of beer now that the crew chief said it was okay, “only I don’t know if it’s compression block or Gurst...er...es,” She looked to the crew chief for confirmation of which.

“I ain’t got a clue kid I ain’t the mechanic,” Vas confessed. “Drake would be the one to talk to about that. He knows what all that means.” They didn’t know what the booth thingie that broke on the ATV much less the type of engine the LV had.

“I dunno, ya might have a future wrench jockey right here.” he motioned to Serena. He squared off to the pair and put down his beer so his hands were free when he spoke. “So Serena here mentioned you got a Kestral Series 4. That’s good. Gotta remember the details like that.” he complimented before falling right back into his old instructor habits. “So your Series 4 models were only fitted with a Trace Compression Block, which is good, because those Gurstlers were notorious for compression coil failures.” he said matter of factly as if it were common knowledge.

“We have a Trace Compression Block…” Serena parroted, “But what we don’t have is a mechanic. We have a Drake, but he’s a pilot or that’s what he likes to do. And we don’t much have anyone with a pretty accent on account of Mistah Doctah Adluh left, and Mr. Cortez is supposed to leave too, so we need both.”

Vas was unperturbed by this. The loss of the pain in the ass mechanic and the lying two face Doctor was a blessing in his eyes. Was he bitter? Like badly cooked brussel sprouts. The icing was Cortez finally exiting the ship. With the charming cobra gone Vas felt he could finally relax! “Point is we’re out a full-time mechanic.” He summarized.

Patch picked his beer back up and took a long sip. He wiped the foam off his lip with the back of his hand. “Listen, retired life don’t like me an’ I don’t like it. Does layin’ around on a beach doin’ nothin’ but drinkin’ fancy drinks and lookin’ at pretty girls sound like paradise to you?” He stopped himself, realizing how absolutely stupid that sounded. “What I mean is, it’s boring! You two, you’re young! This is the time you should be doin’ all that stuff. But when ya get to my age…” he mused for a moment. “Let’s just say havin’ something to do means you ain’t in the way.” For the first time in their conversation, his jovial nature cracked as he nursed his beer.

"Well … if you want to check out our ship we’re happy to take you and if you looking for some work we can introduce you to Riley. Whatcha think kid? You think he'll pass muster with Riley?" He said prodding Serena.

“He saved the ca...lieu...tain tenament money,” she said with a nod of her head. “I bet he will ten times over!”

Patch waved a dismissive hand and smiled. “Ah, you’re good kids. I just don’t like seein’ nice people get ripped off is all. So…” he looked to Vas, “you got a name or do you make everyone call ya ‘Crew Chief’?” he kidded.

“Vas Jat.” He said introducing himself properly. “So what brought you out here? Other than Coconut shrimps, awesome weather, and the beaches.”

“Was there anything else?” the older man joked. “Yeah, all a that, but...eh,” he shrugged “it wasn’t for me.” He leaned in towards the pair. “Some people are doers. Ya take that from ‘em, they just...I dunno...wither away. Does that make sense?” he inquired, wondering to himself if maybe he just wasn’t getting this whole retirement thing.

Vas shook his head ‘No’ the man looked far from withered in fact. “There is always work to be done. You just gotta find it.” It wasn’t sagely advice it was what Riley yelled chasing him through the ship.

Patch took in the young man’s words. There was wisdom in its simplicity. He pursed his lips and nodded his approval. “I gotta say, when you’re right, you’re right, kid.” He gave a small lift of his glass to Vas and then took another drink from it.

“You’re gonna love the Lunar Veil!” Serena exclaimed. “And there’s plenty to fix on account of people keep breakin’ stuff. You get your own room and it locks from the inside even, and we have a drog kyri, have you ever seen a spaceship with one of those?”

The older man quirked an eyebrow at Serena’s question. “Kid, I got no idea what that even is! But if you say you got one, then it’ll be a first for me.” He then looked to them both. “You kids eat yet? Kids are always hungry, ain’t they?” He smirked at Vas. “Or is eatin’ on the clock also not allowed, your worship?”

“You kidding? We been on protein paste for three days straight. Anything that doesn't taste like burned or … what that flavor Roose claimed he used?” He asked Serena. “I dunno what it was but it smelled like feet and sweaty crotch. Which is impressive in it’s own way but still requires you to hold your breath if you plan on eating.” Vas explained to the prospective engineer.

“Not everything he makes tastes like feet and sweaty crotch,” Serena offered up helpfully.

Vas made an iffy motion. “Name one protein paste meal that did not force you to hold your breath in order to eat?” He challenged.

Patch laughed. “So basically, it’s like eatin’ the chow back in Basic. Boy, you two sure know how to sweeten the deal!” he said, dripping with sarcasm. “Well, can’t say I’m much around a kitchen, but I do know my way around a plate.” he joked, giving a small jostle of his gut. “So, we got an hour or two to kill an’ I think one a ya said somethin’ about coconut shrimp and the beach?”

“Uh-huh!” Serena continued, “I’m going to see salt water and the Crew Chief can always find us the best food. We gotta buy some supplies for the ship, but you can come back with us and the Crew Chief can let you meet the Lieutenant while I pretend to be someplace else.”

“I wouldn’t worry Lieutenant is so purple she might as well be a grape. You two will get along fine, our pilot is just as purple but way more chill. Oh you know where we can get some pineapple? No Serena it's not an apple or a pine, it’s a berry … like a strawberry but way bigger.” He said before she could ask.

Patch looked at the young man impressed. “Well, look at you! You’re like a regular science professor over here! Yeah, we should be able to scare up somethin’ good. If you got the nose, lead the way, gourmand.” Patch punctuated that last word with an exaggerated deference.

“I read a lot …” Vas said, clearing his throat.

With that, the trio went off to enjoy the food and take in some of the local sights. A couple hours on and they returned to retrieve their mule, loaded up their supplies and made for the Lunar Veil.

The mule weaved through the port loaded with its supplies and their unexpected added cargo. Daisy announced their arrival with something between a bark and a howl, clearly the dog couldn’t decide. She ran up to Vas tail high like a fluffy flag inspecting his face and gave him much needed licks.

“I wasn’t gone that LONG!” He protested trying to fend the dog's eager welcome off.

“Holy geez!” Patch exclaimed, marveling at the size of Daisy. “Whaddya do with that thing, pet it or ride it?!”

Vas made an iffy motion.

Daisy however went to inspect the bigger man. Giving him a thorough sniff she deemed him acceptable for the moment before moving on to the next order of doggie business … Serena.

“Congrats Daisy didn’t eat ya.” Vas said, clapping lightly. “Lemme introduce you to Riley, we mostly call her Lieutenant.”

Riley feigned interest in meeting the new mechanic. The position seemed to be cursed -- she didn’t recall any dying vengeful deaths on the ship, but they’d had a string of bad luck that continued through Devron and then Marisol. They were all good workers, cared about the engine, but the ship was more than just the sum of its parts. Still, it wasn’t this -- What did Jat call him? It was another name - like the new deckhand’s - that would have made Keller’s head spin.

“Lieutenant Thorne,” she said crisply, extending her hand.

The older man stiffened and snapped a salute. Old habits die hard. “Staff Sergeant Edward Kowalski, sir!” he said crisply, his gut quivering as he tried to suck it in before finally giving up and it softly plopping back into its familiar shape. “Uh, sorry. “ he chuckled, a bit nervous, “once a Purple belly….er, Alliance, sir….ma’am…” Patch looked down at the outstretched hand and took it, pumping Riley’s arm excitedly. “Been a while since I been on a job interview. Eddie Kowalski. Friends call me Patch.” The older man grinned, hoping it would mask his nervousness. It didn’t.

“We found him in town, helped us out when the mule went up and died on us.” Vas explained as he unloaded the supplies.

Patch shrugged a bit sheepish, which looked odd on such a big man. “They seemed like nice kids. I didn’t wanna see ‘em get ripped off is all.” he confessed. “Then they was talkin’ about how ya need a wrench jockey and...well...retirement and I, we ain’t on good speakin’ terms, ya know what I mean?”

“You served in the war?” Riley asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“I served before, during and after the war.” he confirmed. “Thirty years. Never saw no combat, though. I was a base mechanic an’ then an instructor for a number a years. Worked on just about everything we threw out into the field.”

“Ever work on a Class 4 Firefly?” She pressed.

“During the war? Nah.” he shook his head. “They wasn’t around back then. Had a couple captured Class 3’s we’d fix up. I think they sent ‘em out on undercover missions and the like. Above my paygrade, honestly.” He realized he was going off on a tangent and brought the conversation back around. “After the war, we had a couple commissioned, mostly supply runners, stuff like that. I’ve worked on a couple.”

“We occasionally run odd jobs for the Alliance. Is this going to be any sort of moral dilemma for you I should know about?” She asked

Patch let out a small chuckle. “Alliance is payin’ for my golden years, Lieutenant. Why would I have a problem givin’ back a little?” he smiled earnestly, a glint of pride in his eyes.

“All right, well, we need a mechanic, I don’t know if Jat spoke with you about the pay scale?” She eyed the crew chief for confirmation

“How many times you gone tell me to do exactly not that?” Vas said eyeing Riley as if she sprung a pop quiz on him. “Tellin folk their pay and negotiating ain’t my place.” He recited and he hauled boxes of food stuff to the kitchen. “Don’t make me have Serena do her ‘on account of’ on you.” He jibbed deciding now was a great time to make himself scarce.

Riley narrowed her eyes, and decided she’d speak with him later about his flippant attitude.

“Listen, Lieutenant.” the older man took a confiding tone, “the kid told me about the protein paste. I figure ya got some…’budgetary issues’.” His attempt at being delicate landed with a thud. “Whatever you can scrape, I’m sure we can come to an agreement.” He attempted to sound kind and hoped he didn’t just offend the Lieutenant’s pride.

“You get a percentage of all paying jobs we run - across the board. Decks each get a share, mechanic, medic get two shares, and so on up. The bigger the job, the higher your shares. Room, board, of course included. Any side work you want to pick up is on you, but if you want to use my bay or tools, the Veil gets a cut. No advancements on pay. We used to give a finder’s fee for jobs you brought aboard, but right now I’m not accepting any crew-derived jobs. Terms are not up for negotiations.”

“That sounds fair, Lieutenant. One question, though. This is a civvy boat, right?” Patch asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“She’s my boat.” Riley told him, matter-of-fact. “But we do from time to time run Alliance jobs. They may or may not pay. Tax issues - it’s complicated.”

Patch waved a hand and shook his head. “Nah, nah. Nothin’ like that. I mean, I ain’t never seen a civvy boat that was...well...so formal with the titles. I mean, Captain, sure. But not on down.” He raised his hands in front of his chest in surrender. “I mean, it’s your boat, you wanna run her like that, it’s fine with me.”

“See modest and brains!” Vas called out from the hallway. “More so than the last two thats for sure.” He muttered.

“Don’t you have something you should be doing?” She called after him. “I can find you something if you’ve decided to take up eavesdropping. And,” she turned back to Patch. “I didn’t spend two years in the Gorram Academy not to be called Lieutenant.”

Patch let the idea roll around for a brief moment and nodded. “That’s fair, ma’am. So,” he clapped his hands together and rubbed them, “who’s gonna take me on the grand tour of the girl?” The older man’s eyes betrayed his excitement as he stole glances around the cargo bay.

“Just lieutenant is fine, Kowalski. Jat! You got new crew to onboard! Make yourself useful! You’ll report to Jat, he runs the crew, if you need anything. Welcome aboard the Lunar Veil, Kowalski.”

“I’ll tour him!” Serena called, having listened to the entire conversation from behind a crate. “You’re gonna love the ship, Mister Kangarooski, wait til you see the engine room, it’s full of stuff for you to mess with. And I’ll take you to meet everyone while we’re at it!”

Patch smirked at Lt. Thorne. “You gotta watch out for that one.” he said, poking a finger in Serena’s direction. “She ok to gimme the tour, Lieutenant?” he asked, waiting for permission.

Riley grunted with a nod. “Crew Chief will let you know if something’s not okay, and he’ll set you up with a schedule. We’ll be here another 4 days if you got any loose ends need tied.”

The older man shrugged. “Honestly, I was just here on vacation.” He chuckled. “Wasn’t expectin’ a job offer outta the deal. Not too many loose ends to tie up ‘cept my suitcase at the hotel.” He gave Riley a small but respectful nod of his head to take his leave and turned towards Serena with a big grin. “Alright, kiddo...lead on!”