recursal/Fanatic-Fandom huggingface dataset:
Eat your heart out, Bobby Flay

The Captain rummaged in the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets, making a general racket that he hoped didn't go unnoticed. He took out a large fry pan and drizzled it with a bit of oil, then set it on the burner. Scouring the cabinets, he found what he was looking for, dehydrated onions and garlic.

"Hah!" He heard. He tilted his head slightly and squinted his eyes, because that's what you do when straining to hear something. Was that... Did his porcelain like passenger have that laugh? He imagined it being like a string of pearls or tinkling glass, not like a prepubescent boy. *Well... She's still pretty.*

He set to work, frying up the onions and garlic, then set the pan aside. Taking a loaf of dry bread from the pantry, he spread soy paste on slices, and topped them with a second slice of bread. He cut them in half to be fancy. The onions and garlic, a cook he knew back when the browncoats were fighting told him that if he fried up garlic and onions, it didn't matter none what he cooked, the aroma would be enough that no one would care. If it were true, he was in luck. Despite what he told Jacy, he knew he had no business being in the galley. He'd have starved long ago if it wasn't for soy paste. It had next to no taste and a gritty texture.

He grabbed a dishtowel and wafted the scent around.

"I just hope that old coot knew what he was talking about."
Hard at Work

With a few pointers from Vas, Gill was throwing himself into his new work. Haddie was still fast asleep, but everyone seemed confident that she would be fine. He had popped in to check on her several times. He had also removed several items from her satchel and discretely returned them to their rightful owners.

He was already down in the cargo bay prepping some storage crates when the announcement came and decided to stay put as the others filed in for their briefing. He was going to make this work, he had to. Haddie was relying on him.
Did you just take my drink?

*Vas hit the intercom. “Um … uhhhh Captain? Could you come down to the cargo bay? Got someone here who wants to talk to you?*

"What ruttin' crisis is there now?" He muttered, putting down his whiskey. "Riley!" He called, wanting her to handle whatever new shit was taking precedence over the old shit. "Thorne?" Still no response. The captain's chair made a harsh scraping sound as he pushed it back across the floor. "I have to do every Gorram thing myself..." he grumbled, picking up his whiskey. Once he turned the corner, he near ran smack into Devron, who was stumbling his way to the galley. With his shirt torn, a fresh black eye and a bloodied lip, the Captain worried that something had gone sideways on the gin drop off, but Devron also smelled like he'd gone diving in rotgut whiskey. *Of course it went sideways. Shit always goes sideways.* "Sonuvabitch, what the hell..." Before he could finish the statement, Devron took the drink the captain was holding from his hand and tossed it back as if it were a shot. The Captain looked stunned for a moment, putting a finger up as if he were going to add something else, but Devron just patted him on the shoulder twice and stumbled further into the ship.

"Captain?" Vas said again into the com.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." The Captain muttered, heading down to the cargo bay. Once he arrived, there was another fresh face on the deck he didn't recognize.

"Well, now..." He said, tipping his hat back on his head. "What can I do you for?"
Keep Moving

Gill and Haddie listened in confusion as the voice of the Captain sounded over the ship's comm. Gill shrugged in response to a questioning look from Haddie. They had tapped one of the storage barrels earlier and filled a flaske Haddie kept hidden in her bag of tricks.

"We have to keep moving around." Gill said, it had been an hour since take off and the crew would be performing checks on the ship's systems. That could well include the water reclamation units.

Haddie placed her hand on her lips and then her stomachs to indicate she was hungry and Gill gave a nod.

"We get back into the ducts and snake our way up towards the mess room. The Captain says dinner at 19:00 so If we sneak into the store rooms at 21:00 it should be empty up there. Haddie gave a nod and the two of them climbed back up towards the ceiling vent.
Doctor - Patient Confidentiality

*"The name's Bolak my good doctor, I have arranged passage in this vessel with your Captain and alas, I have suffered a small wound in the galley that requires cleaning. Nothing too serious."*

Haddie stepped forward then, a guilty look on her face and handed Dorian the fork. She gave Bolak a grateful smile and a shrug.

*"It was an accident,"* Bolak assured, *"My fault entirely."*

Dorian examined the fork. "Indeed," he lifted an eyebrow toward Haddie. "Well, then, let's make yah comfortable, Mistah Bolak." The treatment table emitted a soft whirring as it lowered to accommodate the newest passenger. Once it had shifted into the "chair" setting, Dorian invited the little man to take a seat. The chair lifted again, bringing Bolak to a proper working height. "This is Sistah Lyen Giu, mah assistant. Ah'm Doctah Dorian Adler, tha medic."

He lifted his eyes toward the nun. "Sistah, would yah care tah take tha lead on this one?"
Knee Deep in Clover

*“You a p-pirate?” Vas said his tone accusing the man.* The captain visibly contemplated this for a moment. *Define pirate.* He inwardly thought.

"If I was a pirate, I'd have shot you already, because the way you're shaking, you couldn't hit the broadside of a cruiser. So I'll say again, if you want off this ship, you'll come with me, and .... " the captain held up a finger in a "one moment' gesture, as La-loyd was saying something in a sing song voice over the com.

*“La-La here. I’ve been attacked in the medbay, but it might be okay. I’ll try to convince her to wheely me up to the bow of the ship. That’s the front end, lady. Tell my Captain that I may be under the influence of whatever drug, this woman stabbed me with. She patched up my suit alright, but it looks funny; like a big cancerous outy on the side of my stomach. Tell my Captain that’s not how my stomach normally looks, he’d probably want to know that. If you’d still like to be rescued lady let’s get a move on. I’m starting to feel moderately spaced out*."

"Who else is on this ship? The captain demanded, now done molly-coddling the survivor. "If any of your crew brings harm to mine, I'll end you, here and now." With Devron now as backup with his weapon drawn, it was two on one. When the boy had another coughing spasm, the captain took his chance. He lunged forward and grabbed the gun, keeping his body to the side. It didn't take much to wrestle it from the cold hand of the lad, but he also wasn't chancing him having any hidden weapons to attack them with. Devron entered the room with his weapon drawn.

"Don't worry La-Loyd, we'll get you back to the ship and patched up. You set tight, we'll find you."
Galley - Part 2

Back at the table, the captain, showing a 7-8-9-10 on the table, peered at his two cards and flipped them over to reveal a pair of Queens.

“Eyun!” Ly hadn’t seen a tell in Keller’s face, but, honestly, it’d been so long since she’d played a hand of poker she might have missed it. With a hint of regret, she remarked, “Pair of Queens takes it.” She flipped her cards to reveal the pair of two’s, and pushed the pot of paper cash to Captain Keller. Straightening in her chair, she sensed she could feel the sharp tension in the room with only Riley and the Captain at the table. From stolen glances she could see the two sizing up the soldiers in the room, no doubt creating plan B, and C, just in case things went south aboard the Lunar Veil. Without Vas and the other woman to make witty remarks, it seemed as though the galley was more or less quiet except for the boots of soldiers throughout the ship. Lyen wished for the quiet background music she had attempted to play; her nerves were starting to get to her, with only the sound of shuffling cards to break the silence.

“Another?” she said, while sliding a hand to the cash at Jacy’s chair. She won’t mind, Ly thought, cracking her knuckles.

“Drink or hand?” The captain asked, tipping his hat back. “Because the answer to either is the same. Seconds?” He asked Lyen, tipping the bottle to her. His eyes watched every move the alliance in sight were making. Riley, who sat across from him kept an eye on the Cargo Bay and cockpit.

“Clear, Sergeant.” One of the soldiers stated as he took the steps down from the cockpit. “I think we were fed bad intel.” The captain took a second drink after hearing that, but Riley put a hand over her glass. She and the captain exchanged another glance as the soldiers started collecting in the galley.

“All the crates in the cargo bay were searched?” the Sergeant asked “Search them again.”

“Sergeant, we’ve opened every crate, twice. If he was on this piece of shit, he ain’t now.”

“Crate?” Riley asked. “We did have that one crate, we were paid to deliver it, but one of our contacts paid us a higher amount for it. Don’t know what was in it though. Follow the money, you know? The deckhand here brought it over to the Jade Monkey, not ten minutes before you arrived.” Riley jerked her thumb towards Lyen. One more bluff to the game.
Distillery

Thomas walked into engineering ready to do some preventive maintenance when he noticed their large passenger squatting next to another jar. *So this was their phantom pisser*

Listen, I don't know what kind of weird stuff your into but, this isn't an outhouse or a lab. Take your urine sample some place else I have work to do.
Enigma- Weird Friend Requirements

Dillon tilted his head, watching her leave. She truly was an enigma to him. He hadn't really had the time to focus his thoughts on her before now.

She was beautiful, obviously, and she was kind, but boy did she have a... A way. Dillon had never met such a brazen woman (or man for that matter), but that was likely due to the protective and limiting circumstances of his upbringing.

From his limited time and knowledge he deemed her "friend material", a position that always held the possibility for promotion, but didn't necessarily hold expectations for that promotion. It was the odd innocent way he operated. Most crew members were eligible for the title of "friend", the only requirement being some form of accepting the position.

Those who so far showed solid potential for qualification were Jacy, Gill, Haddie, and probably Vas. He had a vague feeling that Vas might not like him, but that was likely due to one of the many wonderful features of anxiety. Dorian might have been on the list as well. It was a difficult thing for Dillon to gauge.

His extremely short friends list wasn't the matter at hand, however. He put a bit of pep into putting the last of the supplies away. "Dr. Adler will probably want an assistant again," he said. He finished up quickly before setting off after Jacy.

He couldn't help wondering about her more. She was a ballerina, right? Was? Did she say how that got her here, though? He couldn't remember. He really needed to start paying more attention to those important little details as they dropped.

He arrived in the Med Bay a short time after Jacy. "Hey, Doc, did you need an assistant again?" Being back in the room and seeing Dorian again reminded him of what had gone down there. Suddenly remembering didn't feel great, but he batted it away as usual.
Helping Hand?

"Thanks Doc." Gill beamed with pleasure at seeing Haddie awake and alert. He sat next to her for a time until she dropped off to sleep and decided to head down to engineering to see I'd Devron needed a hand.

Arriving he stood waiting the the doorway for a moment as he watched Thomas at work. Looked like the Alliance had done a number of the place.

"Anything I can do to help?" He asked.
Interrogating Elle - Very Late Night Day 1 on New Melbourne

Serena was probably already uncuffed and sitting on a desk somewhere and the cops - soldiers? - were giving her candy and laughing as she talked and talked and talked. It would be just like the cute girl to wind up like that while Elle was sitting here chained to a table.

*Maybe they’ll shave Vas’ head* she thought and tried to take a little comfort from the humor it should have brought but failed. She was scared and completely unsure of what was going to happen much less why.

Elle hadn’t moved fast enough for them, a boot stomping on her left calf and buckling her to the deck. Catching herself with her hands spared her nose further injury but had been mistaken as resisting, earning the deckhand a knee in her back and rough hands pulling her own into a pair of some sort of plastic cuffs like you used to secure loose gear or make temporary repairs with. The same hands searched her taking her knife, Roose’s claw necklace, and even her bootlaces. Took her wages too but being broke wasn’t anything new.

What was new was being in this room that she already would do anything to get out of.

With no experience to draw on, police and soldiers weren’t common on Newhall, Elle was terrified. And she really, really needed to pee and kept squirming in the chair. In front of her a big wall that seemed to be all mirror gazed with unrelenting intensity, making Elle more and more nervous every passing second.
Hey Alright! More Drugs!

Jacy reached a hand up to feel at her mouth, but Dorian casually swatted it away. She tried it again with the other hand and he swatted that one away as well. It wasn’t quite the painless procedure she’d been hoping for and being conscious while he was drilling away at her face wasn’t a pleasant experience at all, but she endured it, suitably numbed as she was and appreciated Dorian’s gentler approach to medicine. Jacy accepted the pill bottle and flexed her jaw in preparation. “Lots of pills, lots of gargle, lots of fluids. Business as usual.” She pocketed the pills and watched Dorian’s eyebrows raise as he was removing the IV drip. “I’m kidding Doc. Two of these every six hours. Gargle 3xdaily and stick to a liquid diet. Not a problem, Dorian, I am accustomed to taking my nourishment in a liquid state.” The captain was too, but his was typically fermented.

“What kind of timeframe should I anticipate for full functionality? I sometimes need my mouth for things other than speaking and eating.” She nodded her head at Dillon whose back was turned, “I may take up smoking; Vas makes it look so cool.” She shook her head vigorously at Dorian in the negatory. “Should I be worried about this daily irrigation?”

She still wished to talk with Dorian about compensating him for his services, but the opportunity had not come up.
Here's....Jacy!

Jacy's trip went from pleasant to bad to worse before they'd achieved a positive seal on the Lunar Veil’s airlock. The situation which had started with a spaced out, laughable Jacy aboard the Clover had deteriorated into a full on mother of god double dome acid trip. Unsummoned memories of a worn out youth filled with excruciating days of leaps and ballet triggered adverse feelings during the best of times and these were far from it. The physical and existential emptiness of space was more than she could fathom or ignore and her mind went to dark places while she was reeled in via the tether.

From there she was a basket case, alternating between periods of silence when she'd shrink into herself and periods of flailing arms and legs struggling against the restraints to ward off the imagined attacks of hallucinatory assailants who were not deterred by her screams for mercy. The bulky EMU she wore further hindered her movements, but added to her ominous fantasies. Had she not been restrained at all her gesticulations could have injured others or herself, but she was slowly doing a job of that regardless. She was past the point of coherent thought, but had she been capable of it she'd have asked for a sedative. As it was she screeched and sobbed for permanent solutions of a grim and severe finality.

At some point her restraints had to be removed so she could be helped out of her suit, which is to say she pushed and peeled at it like it was a diseased layer of skin she could not tolerate. It was amazing how much noise one tiny woman could make onboard an airtight ship and she seemed to muster up reserves of strength that would have served her well as a deckhand, had she ever tried to apply herself properly. It did not register in her awareness who exactly it was that was helping her just then; she didn’t even perceive it as help. It could have been the Captain or their dubious medic, hell it could have been the golden dragon she kept seeing. Whoever it was had a good hold of Jacy’s hands and was doing a nice job avoiding her kicks, but she began lashing out with her only available extremity, her head. She soon made contact with something unforgiving and in her thrashing about she managed a second whip of her neck. Her mouth slammed against the metal rail of a bed with a disturbing crunch and splat, spraying blood and teeth across the floor. She was trying for another face smack when her captor caught her forehead and forcibly held her down. It was hard to tell through the blood, but Jacy was missing bits of teeth, entire teeth and who knew what else. She let out a lunatic’s howl of triumph that faded into silence as a fast acting sedative was finally injected into her arm.
Herding Cats and Dogs

Ship alarm blaring. Fuel leaking. Shit depressurizing. Pink pants. It almost felt like Buddha himself was punishing Vas for daring to have sex. Vas headed to crew quarters for room checks rousing Gill and Haddie. “Up and at it … hustle to Shuttle two both of you asap!” Vas ordered and when they took too long. “NOW!” He urged nudging them into a fast walk towards the cargo bay.

Sweet kind Buddha threw Vas a bone when he spotted some coveralls in a box. They looked about the right size, but at least he wasn’t wandering around in pink pants anymore! He double-checked the dorms and passenger rooms and came to the conclusion they were already on the move. He was on his way back to the cargo bay when he saw the gathering in the Medbay. Vas sighed popping his head in. “Everyone to Shuttle 2 med bay doesn’t have separate life support,” he said, ushering them out and pointed to their next destination.

Vas tried not to vomit seeing Hen-Leo in his banana hammock.

Seeing the familiar slip of red cloth that was Jacy. “Jacy, you mind if we house the dogs in your shuttle for a spell? We’re having some … technical difficulties,” he explained, calling up to her from the cargo bay floor.
Hot and Sweaty (Day 1, Afternoon, Cargo Bay)

The flight was a short hop but it was a busy one, there was a list a mile long that needed to be done to do to bring the ship back to rights. Guest rooms were a priority of course. Vas kept the crew hopping and Riley seems to always be around as well.

They touched down on Khao Yai, Greenleaf in the early afternoon. Offloading took place first before the passengers could stream out and explore the local area. It was hot, humid but giving it was spring on this part of the planet the jungle was a riot of color and bird songs.

Sweaty and tired Deckhands found a cool spot in the cargo bay drinking cold water to chase the heat away.

“Whew … Welcome to Greenleaf … it’s a jungle.” Vas said with a snort and laugh. “Any of you planning on checking out the local spots?” He said prodding his deckhands with small talk while they took a short break.
Fuming on fumes

The PA buzzed
*"Bridge, this is Engineering. Engine Number 1 is down 10% due to an internal power surge from Medical. I would like to check the relays for damage however, someone has stolen some tools and I am unable to open the panels. In addition to that someone has used my engine room as a latrine and I had to dump their urine filled jar. I will try to restore full power as best as I can."*

"Well at least I'm not only one, captain... Wait URINE?! my KVASS OPPA BLIN IM FACKING OOHhhhooohhh..." He gritted his teeth and marched away, turning before leaving

"No ill will to voice man, but I must know what we may expect from next stop in... Where exactaly?
Death by Proxy

Twenty-two days.

An eternity. Granted, it was easy duty. The boat crew pretty much kept to themselves. Sister Lyen and Marisol were regular visitors with food, drink, or just coverage to permit her losing her sanity under the guise of “stretching her legs.” Beyond his narcissism and a well seated avarice, Leo was fairly dim witted company. Little matter, as she had other uses for him.

For now, the uppermost subject in Kate’s thoughts was the Reaver attack. The band who struck the Skyplex were anomalous. Being as far out of their territory as they were, she could deduce only two reasons for their presence. These Reavers were either mad with unsatisfied hunger and bloodlust, or they’d been compelled to pursue somebody to the Skyplex. *A clever plan,* she considered, *if plan it was.*

Of course, they hadn’t done themselves any favors in the matter. If Lunar Veil wasn’t the first ship off the dock in the aftermath, she was close. An obvious target, hightailing it off the Skyplex as if they had something to hide. Which, of course, they did. Mind you, as bad decisions went, bolting in the confusion after a Reaver attack was probably the best bad decision to make. There were two certainties afforded here. The first would be the fact that when the local law decided to take a gander at all those camera captures, they’d get a pretty clear picture of who rabbited from the Skyhook. Chances were that if that happed, “LV” would be several days out on her course. The second certainty was that no matter how slow or distracted, the local law *would* eventually take that gander.

*Death by Reavers,* she thought. Not a bad plan.

But in three weeks’ time, ‘Death by Deputies’ on New Kasmir could prove equally adept. Either way, Lunar Veil was a lone blip on a long, empty radar for twenty-two days, an easy mark for their pursuers. They may as well have a big neon sign on their hull.

The only bright spot to this scenario was Adler. His newfound connection to the Valentine Medical Complex had yielded a fresh channel for their communications, a multiple encryption medical cortex network that could keep them connected to their New Kasmir contacts. VMC’s insistence upon the privacy of patient medical records might just be their salvation. But from where Kate sat, gambling all their lives on the strength of the word “might” seemed a pretty poor option.

They had to have an alternate plan. She’d have to pull Adler and Marisol in on this. There was much to consider.

Suddenly, twenty-two days didn’t seem very long at all.
Don't mind the noise.

*“Hello. I represent Garrison and Hayes Mortuary,” she said, offering her card. “Word has reached us that this vessel might be headed for New Kasmir? Are you still taking passengers?”*

"Apparently we take anything." Riley said with disdain, grunting towards the dogs. "Sorry for all of the noise. JAT! Stop riling them all up! Let's step outside." She extended an arm towards the ramp in case the tall, impeccably dressed woman couldn't hear over the racket the dogs were making. Apparently they weren't too happy being fondled. Or maybe they were. Hard to tell with dogs.

"We're headed to New Kasmir." Riley confirmed. "And we're happy to take passengers, as long as they don't mind a little noise from the cargo bay, and so long as they have no allergies to dog." She waved a hand in front of her face as some fur tumbleweeds made their way down the ramp. "Just you, or how many can we expect? We charge per person, not per cabin, unless you're bringing your own rations, in which case you're welcome to up to 4 people per berth. Payment up front, and no refunds after lift off."
Dick in a Box

A uniformed Fed…in a box. Well, this changes things.

Vas was doing enough swearing for the both of them. Dorian sipped his drink reflectively. The punk was correct on one thing; pitching a purple belly into the black with another boat chasing behind was a surefire invitation for the nearest Alliance cruiser with its’ swarm of gunships. There wasn’t a good outcome to that scenario.

Killing him outright was an equally bad call. If whoever their pursuers might be trading waves with was preparing a reception up ahead, they’d be hard pressed to explain a dead Fed with fresh holes in him.

For that matter, keeping a Fed as a hostage had its’ down sides. He cast an eye about the galley, to see those who hadn’t spoken up yet all working out the pros and cons. Judging by the furrowed brows, his new shipmates were all arriving at the same conclusions. This would be a mighty tough call. Dorian's glance shifted toward Keller.
The Extra Quick Lunch

**The Extra Quick Lunch** is a 1918 silent Mutt and Jeff cartoon by Fox Film Corporation. In this story, Mutt and Jeff run a successful eatery. When served pancakes, a beautiful woman customer observes, "They don't look very good." Mutt responds, "No good? Watch this, Miss!" and proceeds to place one of the pancakes on a record player. The pancake plays such good music that the woman and Mutt begin to dance while Jeff is in the kitchen doing the famous "camel walk". In the end, both Mutt and Jeff are clobbered by a cop who proceeds to dance with the girl himself! A customer arrives at a restaurant in which Mutt is the waiter, and Jeff is the cook. The customer orders oxtail soup, and then argues with Mutt when it turns out to contain no actual tail. After Mutt then attends, with some difficulty, to two other customers, he takes an order for pancakes from an attractive woman. When the pancakes arrive, she is dissatisfied with them, and so Mutt tries to make amends.
Knot today, sailor

Jacy looked like she knew how to get what she wanted most of the time, from men or women. And she had the personality to match. She was a curious case of undeniable beauty, but were those high walls behind her voice?

So the Alliance wanted the engineers, but Ly wasn't going to pretend to know why. It sounded like forced conscription of some sort. Dimitri and Jacy were posing as engineers in order to save the actual engineer, who was in a box somewhere.

As she went on, stopping and starting, it was almost cringe-worthy, but Lyen smirked as the woman seemingly tried her best not to offend her. She even gave herself a little jiggle, this Jacy. Lyen blushed a bit.

*“You were in the orange robes of a godly order when you came onboard, yeah? You got a great figure, Lyen, shame to hide it under all that fabric. Say, I could help you with your blouse if you wanted to free up the girls? Might help if the Alliance doesn’t nip at my bits...er...bait.”*

Lyen politely folded her arms across her chest. It felt strange to be examined as such, and Ly felt the need to cover her own bits from Jacy. "I think I'll be fine, but thank you. I'm sure your bait will do the trick." She cracked a crinkled smile.

Looking at her handiwork, Lyen began to think. Why had she snapped to work at Keller's command to avoid contact with the Alliance? She had nothing against them, except for those younger years on the run when she felt invincible and they were the boogymen. Ten years of prayer and meditation hadn't washed off the deepest layers of her life. She'd even drunk alcohol and eaten meat (she discovered later) while aboard the Lunar Veil. It seemed her resolve was failing, and Lyen hated to fail. Even now as she stood in the galley of the ship with a woman who seemed to employ the antithesis of inward peace, Ly felt a pang of guilt. Lost in thought, it took the pot of ginger tea boiling over on the stove to bring her to.

Ladling out two small cups, Ly offered one to Jacy with an out stretched hand. Beneath her baggy blouse she could feel the string of prayer beads lightly tap against he skin. "Would you like a cup?"
Doing the Math

“Ah’ll bring yah coffee,” Dorian said. Marisol scarcely heard him, occupied as she was with an increasingly ugly set of numbers.

*Bridge,* the engineer thought. *One occupant…eight hours. Infirmary….four occupants,* she mused, counting the doc and Lunar Veil’s three passengers, *three hours. Dead shuttle…eleven occupants…maybe two hours. Topside airlock…* The galley could be sealed, but then again, eleven people drawing the non-replenished oxygen supply would find the stronger among them hoping to be taken first by the cold.

Consumed as she was in these calculations, the engineer barely noticed the children who’d joined the gathering.

*…the children…*

*Engine room…unsealable.* She’d given the lifeless starboard shuttle a cursory investigation at best. The little craft was a mishmash of gutted panels and pilfered components. Some idiot had loaded in weapons and ordnance with an intent of arming it. To her recollection, those were the only parts laying in wait for service. It was clear that Lunar Veil’s lengthy stream of mechanics had opted merely to pick her bones for the parts to keep the portside shittle in operational condition. *Gorram Capissen,* she thought of the manufacturer. *I wouldn’t put Coin One down for their junk, either…*

*…the children…*

Lunar Veil had just lost her only workable lifeboat. All it would take would be one more crisis to render them helpless and running out of something to breathe…sixteen days from the nearest planet.

*…the children…*

The boat had a current complement of eight crew and three passengers. All of whom would be scattered and buttoned up in their E-stations if a catastrophic loss of pressure occurred. Not only did Marisol have to get that shuttle functioning…if the moment arose, people had to move through a potentially hostile environment to get there. Lunar Veil was required by law to have an EV suit for every person aboard…but…that was just a law…

*…the children…*

“Tiān nǎ!” the mechanic exclaimed, stopping dead in her tracks. Marisol turned. Sure enough, Gill and Haddie were still in the galley, as if awaiting instruction. She stepped back into the compartment, eyes now focused upon the children. “Haddie,” the mechanic said. “Gill.” After both children had turned to face her, Marisol said “I need you to come with me. Now.”

She didn’t wait to see if the young charges would cooperate. As Marisol began her trip to the topside airlock, her mind was already fixating on the next priority.
Aroma Of The South Seas

**Aroma Of the South Seas** is a 1926 silent Mutt and Jeff cartoon by Short Films Syndicate. Mutt and Jeff, looking for land, end up on an island filled with cannibals who try to eat them. Meanwhile, a black woman is in love with Jeff and wants the king to spare him so he can be the judge at the beauty show.
Let's get spaced!

“I thought there would be tools over there already. What kind of ship doesn’t have their own tools?” Jacy held her arms out to her side while Devron strapped on the knife. When he leaned in close his words were harsh and accusatory. She popped the visor up a few inches and whispered harshly in return, “I can walk in eight inch heels down a twelve inch catwalk, how much harder can a space walk be? I’m sorry if none of my prior stations had me traipsing out in the Black. There’s a first for everything. Besides, I might just surprise you.”

She snapped her visor back down and moved over to the big button that would open up the airlock which was really just the sealed rampway. Of course they’d have to depressurize the cargo bay first, but as long as all steps were checked off did it really matter which order they were performed? Her hand hovered dangerously over the release, “Just give the word, Captain!”
Dog Memories

*“Did Captain hire a new deckhand?” Vas asked Gill.*

"New engineer." Gill replied, "Devron's gone."

The dogs began to shift about once more, several of them giving off a low growl. Gill motioned towards them and snapped,

"Ruhig!" they settled a little, "They need feeding and we need to walk them or they will get constipated and then..." Gill curled up his nose at the memory.

"My Pa used to run them from Valentine from time to time to help pay the fuel bill. Haddie and I used to..." Gills face grew flushed with excitement, "Oh Haddie will love to see them, she used to love looking after the Drog-Kryi."
A2B

2. In OTL, the academies lasted considerably longer -- both of them closed during the middle eleventh century -- and by then Muslim Spain had already taken the place of Babylonia as a center of Jewish scholarship. In the Submission Timeline, however, Iberia is still ruled by the Visigoths, who weren't noted for tolerance of Jews. There will be no Maimonides or Solomon ibn Gabirol in this timeline; there *may* be cabalists, depending on how rabbinic Judaism is influenced by the tenets of Submission.

Return to Ananites Abroad.
I guess this is my life now

It took a moment for Dillon to realize what exactly was happening. It was convenient really, or at least it would be if the crew's safety wasn't on the line. It wasn't his fault though, if anything, he was probably bettering the result of whatever was going to happen.

He stood by awkwardly. Now wasn't exactly the time to inquire for a job, but... "Anything I can do to help, captain?"
Day 2 Morning - Repairs, COFFEE, and repairs.

Thomas had left the galley and headed straight to the engine room. His plan was set and simple. Within 5 hours, he had both Exchangers mounted and connected, the oil transfer and filtering was on schedule and all interior sensors had been replaced. He took a ladder outside and mounted the number #2 wing engine and by first light had all the exterior sensors and relays replaced or repaired.

He climbed down the ladder and took a 15 minute break. He walked back to the Galley and made 2 very skimpy sandwiches and another pot of extra strong coffee. He took the coffee grounds, added two spoonfuls of Cayenne pepper powder, 1/4 cup powdered hot mustard, Asafoetida powder and an ounce of gunpowder. After brewing the coffee he tried a bit to make sure it worked. *WOW! This will keep a fleet of reavers awake for a week.* Satisfied with the outcome, he filled his thermos and grabbed the sandwiches then walked out, forgetting the 3 cups worth of coffee he forgot to dump out of the pot.

Thomas walked back to the engine room, ate his sandwiches and had a cup of coffee. Now again fully awake, he went to work on removing the 2 heat exchangers he had installed from the shuttle and placed them off to the side. Then he started the hydraulic system overhaul. *I should be done by 10:30 at this rate. Plenty of time for a full systems analysis and test runs.*
Hen-Leo

The weather on Valentine was irritatingly perfect as Riley stood beside the familiar sign of “Passengers Wanted, Crew Needed, Few Questions Asked." They’d managed to pick up one potential crew mate and one passenger- the latter of which didn’t sit well with the pilot at all. She made one final attempt to talk the Captain out of it right before he was set to head back to town. Being he was only semi-pickled by that point, she could still have a coherent conversation with him, maybe persuade him in another direction.

“Sir, Are you sure we want to let that piece of shit back onto the ship?”

“We both know you’re going to have to be more specific than that,” he replied, tipping his hat back, "if you want me to know who you're referring to."

“The passenger, the Hen-Leo guy. We literally just had a conversation about him not an hour ago.”

“Him. Right. Well, the way I see it -- we take passengers all the time we ain’t too fond of, you think I really wanted to spend time with …” He snapped his fingers a few times

“Adryiel?” Riley offered, getting a blank stare in return. “Rymond? Lasson? Sir we could be here all day, you’re not great with names.”

“Recently. Mother-in-law, newlywed…”

“Mrs. Higgins?” Riley asked, well aware that she could make up any name at that point and the Captain would think it correct.

“Yes! We don’t have to like any of ‘em, they’re all da-shiang bao--”

“Elephant shit,” Riley interrupted, finishing the sentence for him.

“But they pay well, and you can't deny that the crew does like to get compensated. Hen-Leo paid up front - in cash near double our ask rate, that’s something.”

“That’s shady is what that is.”

The Captain gave his best incredulous look. “Rooster boy? The verse’s most wanted mechanic? Docs and local cops? That shifty guy with the accent? Who on this ship isn’t shady? We have a seven year old who stabbed a Fed for rut's sake! But look, if you really don’t want him on this ship, say the word and I’ll --”

“I really don’t want him on this ship.”

“Well, tough. He paid up front.” Keller responded. “And I used the money for Fuel Cells plus a down payment for our next job. Consider this an override.”

“What do you mean-- a down payment for our next job? Sir, you understand how jobs work, right? We do them, we get paid? Please tell me you didn’t pay for something with a ‘sure thing buyer’ lined up when we get there?

“I think you fail to understand the words ‘sure thing.’ “ The Captain responded, heading back on his way.

“What did you buy? “ Her question went unanswered. “Sir? What did you buy?”
Diagnosing Wounds (Day 5 Morning)

Never to be long separated from her brother, Haddie had returned to the room. “Good mornin’ Miss Haddie,” Dorian greeted the child as he returned. “Let’s have a look at yah leg. C’mon…hop on up.”

As the silent Sister Lyen drew close, Adler undid the child’s dressing. He studied the wound just below her left knee, then glanced toward his assistant. “Generally good healin’” the medic said. “Tha graze is healin’ quickly, but Ah want tah give tha shot puncture anothah day before we bond tha tissue. Let’s replece her dressin’.”

Lyen was asserting herself, outpacing his hand to the various tasks involved in the dressing’s creation. At his core, Dorian didn’t mind. An uptick in her initiative and experience would only make them a stronger team…if serving in medical was still her desire. On the other hand, the aura she seemed to project contained every bit of the temperament he’d just weathered from Yeva, a situation he couldn’t tolerate in the infirmary.

“A fine dressin’, Sistah,” he offered approval of her technique. “Miss Haddie, come see us tomorrah before upthrust an’ we’ll make that wound disappear. Mistah Gill, Ah’ll be back around in awhile, aftah yah’ve had yah breakfast. We’ll getcha cleaned up. Sistah Lyen?" He gestured toward the door, “let’s have a look at our next patient.”

He led the way to the infirmary, past the medbay lounge and the offending couch still heaped in his sheets and blankets. “Kindly have a seat,” Dorian pointed toward the medical workstation. “We got some imagery in that foldah…tha one called ‘Roose’….let’s open ‘em up.”

The nun was perched on his high backed stool. Dorian leaned against the treatment table, eyeing the screen over her right shoulder. Onscreen, the image which bloomed into a ghostly fluoroscopic grey-white was unmistakable. “Tha patient is Roose, tha old trackah who assisted us with findin’ Gill an’ Haddie,” Adler offered. “Yeva caught these captchas on tha night you’n Ah searched fah tha kids on foot. We’re lookin’ at his knee.””

He pointed below the patella to a muddy grey patch with a jagged looking edge. “Ah think that’s a torn cartilage,” he said, “but Ah want a bettah look before we start pokin’ around. Would love tah see him tahday, if he’s still aboard.” He called the image up to the large wall screen. “Yeah,” Adler muttered to himself, “Ah want some bettah imagery.”

As his eyes studied the injury, he finally worked himself around to the silence between them. “Sistah,” Dorian said carefully, “Ah’d be very much obliged if yah’d tell me what has gone amiss between us?”
Day 1 evening - trip

Seeing as he was just about to make Oatmeal, Dillon turned the stove off with a quiet sigh. "Uh... What did you have in mind?" he inquired as Vas got the hell out of there.

Jacy looked very nice in her dress, but that wasn't the point. He was from a higher class, but even he thought Jacy was over dressed.

"I'll be out in a minute, I guess," he called after Vas. "Just gotta grab my bag..."
Jacy's Overdue for Oral ... care

Jacy hopped up smoothly and laid back in the table/chair/bed. She really wasn’t sure what to call it these days; it had seen more action than anyone on the ship, that was for sure. And that made her think about her as yet unannounced plans with Vas that evening. *For* Vas, she reminded herself. Tonight was to be about Sugar Bear. And that made her cross her ankles to stem the flush that she could feel rising.

She allowed her head to be tipped back and positioned by Dorian as he lowered her jaw and peered into her mouth. At this proximity she could smell the clean scent of soap and the coffee from his breath. She crossed her ankles tighter. Then she winced just a touch as he prodded the inside of her mouth. His prognosis was good, she’d healed and that was a relief. Jacy needed her mouth restored and cosmetically whole for more than one aspect of her work; the biggest being her sense of confidence. She’d come to rely on a certain aesthetic advantage and even though the inside of her mouth was rarely scrutinized, a talker and a screamer like herself who expressed amusement and delight as frequently as she did needed to know everything was imparting symmetry, if not grace.

“If you don’t mind, Doctor Adler, I think I will opt for the anesthetic this time. With the memory of the injury still so raw, I’m a bit timid.” Jacy reached up to lay a hand on Dorian’s wrist. “But before you begin, I wanted to ask you a medical question. What treatment would you prescribe for recurring nosebleeds? It’s not for me, it’s for your Crew Chief.”
Day 2, early morning: A doctor a Day

As no conversation was started between them, Samson continued to sit quietly, waiting for his charge to enter the Galley. He had to eventually, and if he didn't, it was cause for further concern.

Finally, the boy arrived, hair damp from a shower. Samson ignored the glare. Daniel, or 'Dillon' as seemed to be the new name he'd claimed, didn't seem to want to enter.

*Clearing his throat, he past Dillon on the way out. "Don't let the Lieutenant see you standing around. If I were you, I'd find something to clean, something to do, last man ended up scraping gunk from the garbage chutes with a toothbrush. And I'm fairly certain she liked him."*

Dillon's expression didn't change much, but he seemed to be considering his options.

'Don't leave... You need to eat,' pleaded Samson silently, trying not to watch Dillon too intently.

Thankfully, Dillon entered. Samson held in his sigh of relief. "Good morning," he said pleasantly.

Dillon just kept scowling, ignoring him and making a B-line to the coffee pot.

"I wouldn't," said Samson, pushing aside his own mug. "The engineer added some questionable ingredients."

Dillon stopped with a frustrated sigh and went for a glass of water instead.

"Sleep well?"

Dillon still didn't answer. He made himself a bowl of leftover stew and started to heat it up.

Samson sighed. "He's worried sick about you, you know."

"If he really cared, he'd be here himself," said Dillon. His voice wasn't angry. Just tired. He wasn't facing Samson. He kept his eyes on the microwave (?).

"You know he has responsibilities."

"Priorities, apparently..." Dillon muttered audibly.

"Daniel..." sighed Samson.

"Why can't he just leave me in peace?"

"You know perfectly well why we don't trust you to be on your own."

Dillon would prefer they were alone, but the material wasn't too sensitive. "Really? Why? Because I'm miserable?"

Samson sighed again. "Daniel, what day is it?"

Dillon turned to face Samson. "What?"

"What day is it? Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday?"

"It's..." The answer that wasn't coming took far too long.

"When's the last time you ate? Even half a meal?"

"I ate yesterday."

"What? When?"

He made oatmeal, didn't he? No, he'd been interrupted... But he had... Haddie gave him some candy.... One piece... And a few roasted nuts. He'd had a single sip of whiskey last night.... But the day before! He made soup. He... Didn't eat any of it. He'd tasted it, though...

He didn't answer.

"Have you been taking your medication everyday? Do you have any?"

"Of course I have!"

"Really? Today, too?"

"Yes." No... No he'd forgotten today.

Thankfully, there was a beep. The stew was ready.
First Day On The Job

Aello had a calm composure on her face as she looked back at the Captain and Riley. She had already made up her mind to hit him up for work and it did help to hear he was not interested in her past. So she decided to sell her skills despite down playing herself. "I'm a certified Field Medic. I graduated top of my class meaning I can do the same surgeries as a licensed Doctor and you would be hard pressed to find anyone better qualified out here for the wages you are offering. I am doing the Missionary thing for personal reasons and my past is my business. If you need someone to patch up your crew I am up for it.

*“That’s fantastic, I was hoping you’d say that. Now, the kid and I...”*

*Keller slammed his fist down on the button to drop the ramp and struck a heroic pose as it lowered to the ground below. There was something about visiting a whore house that always made him feel like a gorram hero.*

Aello was not too fond of brothels nor men who frequent them but she was not up to going to the market square since the odds of being found by Alliance was a bit higher. So she decided to follow the Captain to the The Lucky Cat Saloon. Since she was a doctor she would be more useful in finding out if the dentist they find is a quack or not. Also she could provide aid to Jacy if needed.
Give that Deckhand a raise or a break

“Ms. Higgins!” Jacy clapped her hands together and saddled up next to Keller with a little hop. “I thought we agreed to have dinner together in your quarters tonight so we could discuss that little problem you mentioned. A son-in-law problem named Owen Talley?” She looked around Keller’s shoulder to the multipurpose dining table in the mess; a table unladen by food.

“Besides, the Captain may want to personally prepare tonight’s meal for his crew; it’s something of a sailor tradition on the first night of a voyage.” She caught the Captain’s eye and gave him a wink.

“The Captain is in charge of tonight’s meals?” Ms. Higgins’ voice made her doubt in the Captain’s culinary skills abundantly clear.

“Hey, I know how to cook, thank you very much, Ms. Higgins. A *single* man’s gotta know how to feed himself.” Keller made sure to catch Jacy’s eye this time. Maybe she’d take the hint that he was available, at least for the duration of her time onboard as a passenger.

“Well there you have it, Ms Higgins. The Captain will feed his crew tonight and all passengers will take dinner in your quarters where you can play hostess. Everyone lends their ear to the hostess.”

“Oh I do like the sound of that. Then my daughter’s good for nothing husband will have to listen to me.” Ms. Higgins tugged on the smaller woman’s elbow until Jacy shrugged her shoulders and mouthed to the captain, \*Sorry\*

As Rosetta and Jacy retreated from the galley Jacy shouted down the length of the ship to no one in particular, “Please let that poor deckhand know she’s off the hook for tonight’s meal. You’re positively working her to death, if you ask me.”
I don’t tell you how to do your job... oh, wait, I do

Riley heard the pitter patter of small steps as she had left the galley after drinking her 8 oz of water, ticking this off on her watch to keep track. The girl child hurled something at her and it tumbled to the ground. It may have hurt, but it wouldn’t be felt til long after, one of the benefits of Mach. Riley swung a pair of apathetic eyes towards the child, who obviously wanted attention for something, most likely the commotion going on in the other room.

She swore under her breath, because now she’d have to intervene in whatever it was instead of returning to her bridge and letting whatever it was work itself out, “ship parenting” at its finest.

*Right foot, still heavier than the left.*

Riley set her eyes on each of them. Gil and Vas were lollygagging, Henry, still a passenger til Ezra and Lyen who could appreciate being calm and serene were there as well. Riley assessed the situation as a non threat.

“Is this something I need to know about?”