Jones family scraps

## The Riker

A squeal and a /*thud*--like a body hitting the floor--and a /*bang* from Jack's room.

Logan doubles back, pokes his head through the doorway.

Jack, under his toppled chair and curled in a very tight ball in front of his desk.

Logan rolls his eyes. "Ye tried the Trekkie thing again, ay?"

"Shu' up," squeaks Jack.

"Hope you don't want kids."

"Shut. /**Up**."

Logan shrugs, moseys toward the kitchen and his second after-school snack.

## Buyout

 Setting
 Initiating author
 Notes

Derek flops onto the couch next to Jackson, thumbs on his tablet with a sigh.

"Homework?"

"Mmhmm." Pokes the icon for his textbook. "Urban planning. For uni credit."

Jackson sets aside his stylus, twists to face Derek. "What d'ye make of the government buying out everyone in Vaucluse and Watsons Bay for that new Jaeger base?"

"Well—"

""The rich folks—""

Derek squeaks, jumps.

Jackson wrenches himself the rest of the way around.

"—are getting paid to move somewhere safer, that's what," declares Logan, waltzing into the room.

"I locked the—" Jackson blinks. "When did /**you** get here?"

Derek does his best to keep Jackson between himself and Logan.

"'bout half a sandwich ago." Logan waves the foodstuff in question.

Jackson rolls his eyes. "What was the weak point?"

"Like I'd tell you and make my life marginally harder." Smirks, sprawls into the easy chair on Jackson's side of the room.

Derek exhales.

"Mouse—"

Derek cringes.

"—was about to tell you why it's the best place, Jack."

Jackson turns to Derek, eyebrow raised.

"I-it protects the entrance to th-the harbour. Shallow w-water for easier launches. Best chance of keeping the K-kaiju out at sea."

"And it's not radioactive like the north shore," adds Logan.

Jackson looks to Logan. "Why do you know so much about this?"

He shrugs. "You meet people of all sorts in my lines of work. You pick up things."

Jackson blinks.

"What?"

"I always forget you're kinda smart."

Logan sniffs. "Which one of us can reprogram electronic locks in twenty seconds again?"

Jackson crosses his arms. "And which of us makes a living designing complex machinery?"

Logan snorts. "Like that—" Swirly gesture. "—thing?"

"That was a /**perfectly** good—"

"Decapitation hazard?"

"I'd like to see you do better," pouts Jackson.

"Gimme two wires and some locks and I'll keep anklebiters busy /**and** entertained for hours."

"That's not—" Jackson throws up his hands. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Logan preens. "You're just jealous."

"/**You're** just crazy."

## Peachy

 Initiating author
 Inspired by

Jackson flings open the suite door, looms at the smallish knot of techs in /*Striker* grey sniffing about.

The front rank takes a teensy step back.

"Move along," he growls, gesturing in the direction of /*Striker'*s barracks.

Grumbling, they shuffle off, except for—

"Move. along."

The tech shlumps away.

Jackson grunts, slams the door. A deep breath later, he heads for the washroom, raps on the door. "How're ye doing?" he calls.

""/**Peachy.**""

Jackson cringes, rubs the back of his neck. "Good thing they've got it down to once a year, ay?"

That /**might** have been an affirmative.

"Anything I can do?"

""More batteries?""

"Gotcha."

Logan grunts thanks.