Lift Off

The supplies - mostly food and a few engine bits and pieces for Patch, had been stowed, all cargo secured, except the final few crates of a last minute job. Serena was outside the ship with the Quik-Lift when three men and two women approached.

“Hey, you!” One of them called. Serena looked left and right before pointing to herself. She hopped down from the vehicle, keeping her distance.

“Yeah?” She asked, folding her arms across her chest.

“We’re looking for someone,” he continued. “Have you seen this man?” He held up a cortex for her to see.

“No.” Vas called out from behind Serena. “We have work to do.”

“You haven’t even seen him?” the man replied, holding up the image for the mohawked deckhand.

Serena shrugged moving back inside the Quik Lift. “Nuh-uh, but good luck in findin’ him! You heard ‘em. We got work to do.”

“What she said.” Vas said getting back to work before Jago could give them the stick eye.

Serena returned the Lift to the ship, while her Onii-San covered a few last minute details with the Captain. It still helped to stay invisible.

Tim, on the other hand, would fly in a glass cockpit if it were possible. The door was always open, mostly because he liked to be in-the-know.

Thanks to Patch, the Veil hummed a perfectly tuned melody, his being at the controls was more a formality except for take-offs and landings.

“Say the word, Jago,” he said into the mic, tapping his foot to a song only he could hear in his head. If asked? He called it the take-off song, and - he quipped to himself - it would be used by the finest strippers in the verse who would love the double meaning. That was the worst part about being the pilot. All your wit went to waste.

“Word.” Jago said into the mic back up to Tim, after getting the all clear from the cargo bay. If anyone was expecting a quippy announcement they would find they were on the wrong ship.

Serena snickered as she sat on top one of the crates in the cargo bay, just in case anything shifted or broke loose as they broke atmo. She and Nii-san had made sure everything was secured, checked and double checked, but there’s no shame in *triple* checking, she told herself. She inhaled, enjoying the spicy scent of the punk’s clove cigarettes as she flipped pages on the clipboard. “So the super pretty lady, An-i-kah is in Cabin 1, we got the new doc in Cabin 4 he told Jago his name was Jack, and didja tell the Captain ‘bout the people askin’ on the passenger in Cabin 3?” She checked the clipboard again. “Law -ren-ce Cha… that guy?”

“So the Captain can ask us to list why he should care? No thanks. If it ain't the law … it ain’t his problem.” Vas recited passing one of the cups of sweet tea Patch left for them to Serena.

Serena scoffed.. “They weren’t no law I ever seen. And I know, “Dǎ jiàng yóu, I'll mind our own business, Nii-San,” She lightly tugged the ear of her bunny backpack for emphasis, the one the punk had resewn for her, making sure it was good and secure. “Mostly.” She took a sip of the iced tea he handed her and scrunched up her shoulders. Extra sugar!

The teen tipped her imaginary hat and leaned back on the crate. “Having their fill of the Old Timer’s Iced Tea, The Kid realized that she’d outgrown the one horse town, it wasn’t big enough for the three of ‘em. So, The Kid, The Old Timer and the Stranger an' a buncha other people rode off into the sunset,” She giggled, swinging her feet as the ship left the ground.

- Cabin 4, the *Lunar Veil* -

Jackson inspected the cabin once he'd finished stowing his various luggage items. It was slightly more roomy than his previous quarters aboard the *Jillian*, though he'd not had much to complain about then either. The young doctor began unpacking some personal effects, notably lingering on a small framed photograph of a middle-aged man. He had the same nose as Jackson, the same peppery hair, and the same twinkling, humorous eyes. A twin portrait was of a woman of similar age, who shared Jackson's ever-so-crooked gleeful grin.

The doctor set his parents' portraits on the small table beside his bed and exited the cabin to go check on the med bay's equipment.

The engine room of the Lunar Veil whirred to life shortly before she lifted off of the tarmac. As her main drive spun up, Patch pulled up a wheeled stool to monitor the various gauges and screens to make sure Tim's job flying the old bird was as uneventful as possible. Was it necessary? Probably not, given the reliability record of the Firefly Series 3's, but old habits die hard. If there was one thing you could count on during takeoffs and landings, it was the old man at his station. He popped the foil cover off of his Blue Sun yogurt as stared intently at the various dials, digits and status messages dancing before him.

"Hmmm... Secondary Ionic Compressor's runnin' suboptimal." He muttered to himself aloud as he mindlessly tucked a spoonful of yogurt in his mouth. Mmm, Strawberry. At least, what the company *tells* you strawberry is supposed to taste like. Quite honestly it's been so long since he'd tasted a real strawberry, he probably would think *it* was the one that tasted fake between the two.

"I can take you offline once we're in FTL, see what's goin' on with ya." He said to the information on one particular monitor as he tapped it with his spoon. He leaned back and continued enjoying his artificially flavored snack and allowed himself to get lost in the blissful chirps and hum as the Veil gracefully slipped up and out from the port.

The take off was a little rough, she thought, her slender hand extended to steady against the bulkhead. She was finally leaving Persephone behind. The well had dried up; there was nothing left to glean from the well-connected there concerning her quarry.

Her destination in Phoenix was the first match in a while whom would be wholly disentangled from her pursuit of Mammon. The client had answered Anikah's wave some days hence, even before she'd closed in on the Lunar Veil. She wondered to herself if taking this client might feel different than the others in recent memory.

In truth, she'd felt driven to Mammon for so long, and now as she had no direction? The companion twisted her neck releasing a cascade of tingling protestations from her spine. Idle hands, they say, are the Devil's workshop.

She could think of no better distraction than the motley crew aboard the Veil, and the handsome Tim Casey, pilot. It was with this new distraction in mind that the companion slipped from her room and into the winding hallways of the Firefly class ship. In itself, it wasn't a big vessel, but there were enough hatchways and catwalks to her liking.

It didn't take long to find her way from the winding corridor and into the hallway above--that's when she caught sight of the mechanic perched on a stool, which looked like it might give out at any moment. The man himself was maybe more husky than portly, her first assessment being from a catwalk looking down on him. From the doorway, she noted that he looked to have about ten stone on her. Still, there was a dainty nature to the way he flourished his spoon between each morsel from the comically small package in his large hands.

"How'd she do?" Anikah entered the engine room and casually leaned against the wall opposite to the mechanic. "Seemed a little rough, right?" She said with a raise of her eyebrow. "Tim Casey is certainly lucky to have you looking after things." The companion was inspecting the rest of the engine room while she waited for Patch to reply.

"Ah, the old girl did fine-" Patch began to answer before the realization that he didn't recognize the voice startled him back to reality. He turned his attention to the doorway of the engine room to find the companion that recently booked passage leaning against it. The old mechanic didn't know the first thing about them. Some kind of expensive prostitute that does things like serve tea afterwards. His old Alliance grease monkeys would say that you pay a prostitute to *leave*, not serve refreshments. He smirked at the recollection. And yet, here one was, standing in his doorway for what in the Verse reason, he couldn't fathom. With the small spoon clenched in his teeth like a stogie, he put down his half eaten yogurt on the counter and deftly pushed away from the consoles. It was a move that he'd clearly done countless times as he rolled on the small workshop stool to the door. He grabbed the door frame with a large hand, bringing himself to an abrupt stop in front of the woman. He looked up at her with a quirked eyebrow.

"Uh, ma'am... passengers ain't allowed back here. You understand." Patch advised as he gave a consoling half smile to the woman.

-Cabin 1, Lunar Veil-

With his meager supplies onboard and himself safely stowed away in his room, Lawrence let out a sigh of relief. It would be some time before those brainless peons realized he had left them and not long after they would see the remains of their wealth gone.

*Better to be on this cancer-ridden bucket than on Persephone.*

The room came with very little. Sleep and storage were definitely the focus, with cubbies set into the wall and the only other place to sit besides the bed being a simple chair. At least there was a desk to go with it.

*If they can't afford more than the essentials for passengers, that makes me nervous about the ship itself.*

Speaking of, the take off felt more like being under attack. Being knocked onto his back, Lawrence had to fight the urge to ream the pilot once the flight settled. He needed to make it off planet alive and getting a date with the stars wouldn't serve him well.

He settled for a more calming activity, moving to the desk in order to have more support in case of further "turbulence". Bringing the bag he had brought aboard, Lawrence began counting what was left of his earnings. He hadn't been able to bleed his "children's" funds dry like he usually would, but it had been enough to pay for the room and be left with a nice financial cushion. Still, looking at it felt like a hollow victory.

Carefully placing his miniscule wealth back into the bag, Lawrence leaned back both to test the integrity of his chair and that of his current plan.

He could stay on this ship, being able to pay for two more trips (maybe), and hope that they land on a planet that had good opportunities. Something tugged at his mind as he mulled this over.

How well had that been going for him? How long could he keep that going?

He needed a new strategy and he was grateful he had least had this time to begin brainstorming.

A chuckle escaped him as he found some humor in his situation. While he would have preferred a light bulb for such ideas, it looked like a Firefly would be his saving grace this time.

Jago poured a mug full of coffee stirring in some milk and sugar. The passengers were still getting settled so the galley and communal sitting areas were still blissfully empty. “Tim? Coffee?” Jago called out.

“Nectar of the Gods,” Tim called back. “Light and sweet, if you please -just like me.”

“Was that a casual attempt on how my coffee should be ... a day old, over boiled and bitter?” Jago joked as he climbed the metal steps with two cups of coffee.

“You said it, not me, which is how I manage to stay employed,” Tim replied, taking the steaming mug. “We should be at the Skyplex right on time.”

“That's what I like to hear, particularly when we got passengers.”Jago nodded, slurping his *not* day old, overboiled or bitter coffee.

“They’re not so bad…” Tim defended. “Credits up front, no Alliance shit, no Browncoat shit, I thought you’d be happy as a pig in shit.”

“The only thing worse than dealing with kids is passengers and the only thing worse than that is passengers who *are* kids. I just look at it as a necessary evil.” Jago taking another sip of his coffee.

“Sixteen is legal age on a lotta planets!” Serena called from the catwalk of the cargo bay. Staying invisible wasn’t always so easy.

“Buddha's unwashed grundle, that girl’s got ears like a jackrabbit.” The Captain muttered. “My ship ain’t a planet!” Jago called back.

“Told ya.” Vas chirped from under the catwalk Serena was standing on.

“I’m gonna start sayin’ seventeen. I think seventeen commands more respect, don’t you?” the teen replied reverting back to her inside voice.

“No.” Vas answered honestly.

Upon hearing the shouting, Patch turned his attention away from his unwanted guest for a moment and shouted past her through the doorway. “Can we stop talkin' about her age?? It's unsettlin'!!” He gave a small apologetic smile back to Anikah. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

Jago picked up the intercom. “This is your Captain speaking ... Y'all shut the fuck up and quit yelling across the ship. Thank you.”

“Sorry Captain!” Serena yelled back.

“Yeah! Sorry, Cap! Won't happen again!!” Patch bellowed past the companion again before pausing. “Ya want us usin’ the intercoms instead??” He added before giving another halfhearted smile and nod to the girl in his doorway.

“Tim disabled all the intercoms outside of the cockpit.” Jago said rubbing a hand through his short grey, getting an even greyer beard.

Tim leaned back in his chair in the cockpit,, calling out into the cargo area. “I find the intercom distracting!” he yelled.

“But won’t that encourage more yellin’??” Patch shouted, smirking as he gave yet another insincere apologetic smile and nod to the young woman.

“Not helpful.” Jago sighed

Tim chuckled and impishly offered his loudest shush. “SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” He hissed.

Serena didn’t much care for being shushed, and looking indignant, shushed the pilot. “SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” She hissed back.

“SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The old mechanic shushed loudly out the door as he leaned back chuckling. “See?” He noted to Anikah, “fun ship.”

Jago picked up the intercom again. “Ladies and gentlemen of the crew I am armed and willing to shoot all of you. So the next one to yell, gets the dubious honor of being shot first.”

Serena dramatically clamped both hands over her mouth.

Vas chuckled quietly from under the catwalk, lighting a cigarette.

Patch coughed loudly.

“I feel like that counts …” Jago muttered, mulling over just how much he *actually* needed a mechanic.

Tim refrained from giving any wiseass remarks. Jago was - after all - within range. “So in short - you’re saying take the word ‘Friendly’ off the brochure.”

“Do we look like a cruise liner? Short hop, easy money. Long hop … hell no! I am not dealing with whiny adult children chasing me around to tell me their morning tea was cold.” Jago was a burned once, shoot it till it was dead kinda of guy. The Tea Pot Cat Lady incident was only going to happen once.

“Any word on what we’re picking up?” Tim asked, steering the conversation away from the things-that-make-Jago-cranky list.

“Yup, that we are being paid extra to not ask.” Jago said, making a toast motion with his mug.

“Ah,” Tim said sagely, toasting back. “Your all time favorite. The no facts tax.”

"Well I..." she stopped as the ship erupted into a shouting match that spanned the entire length of the vessel. From Captain at the helm, to engineer in the bay, voices from just about every crew member echoed in the expanse. The companion sat back and listened, watching Patch from the corner of her eye as he sat, leaning in his stool, just inches from her as his booming voice filled the engine room and spilled out into the kitchen.

She seized the moment to study the man. From the steel wearing through the toe of his boot, to the brightly colored shirt--was that a spotted macaw? Anikah chuckled inwardly. He wasn't afraid of making an impression. Even in his manner of speaking and his tone, she could tell he was seemingly fast-to-friendship, but there lie a wall there between the boisterous man and the skeptic. His blue eyes lolled as he gave her insincere smile after insincere smile.

Each time he nodded and smiled, Anikah returned a smile and nod of her own. She was invested now, leaning forward to peek down the hall. Straightening, she noticed the man's mirth and flashed a sincere smile of her own.

*“See?” He noted to Anikah, “fun ship.”*

"So much fun," she replied before the intercom chirped.

Jago showed a few of his cards as he brought down the hammer on the crew; it elicited a reaction from Patch which warned that perhaps the Captain was revealing his true colors in this passing threat of violence.

Once the storm had settled, the companion, who had made herself comfortable on the frame, whispered, "Is he always this articulate?"

"Who, Cap? Naaah." The old mechanic gave an exaggerated dismissing hand wave for emphasis. "Ya just caught 'im in a particularly good mood." He added, chucking. He leaned forward a little still bracing against the door frame. "Incident'ly, any complaints about lift off, accommodations, yadda yadda yadda," Patch said as he rolled his free hand in rhythm with each 'yadda', " *that's* the man ta bring 'em to!" he offered cheerfully, punctuating with a finger gun, wink and matching clicking sound from the corner of his mouth. "I think he's thinkin' about puttin' in a Suggestion box or somethin'." He wondered aloud before turning his attention back to the young woman. "Anywho, can't have no one back here that ain't crew, ma'am. Safety hazard an' all that." He shrugged. "Could always hang out in the galley. That's what everyone else normally does anyways." The old mechanic advised.

"You're fun," the companion echoed, a coy wink following her own finger guns back at Patch. "Somehow, I don't think the Captain is as fun as you are." Anikah paused, "Don't tell him I said that, mmm?"

To Patch's subtle redirection she raised an open palm, "Totally understand, all very serious, passengers should stay away from the blinking lights and whirring machines. Leave it to the experts." The companion smirked.

"To the galley then," she said taking a step out of the bay before rubber-banding back to sidebar: "A hammock would look great right there, you know?"

With a toothy grin Anikah bade the mechanic farewell with a faux salute before slipping out the doorway.