Snippet #1981737

His left eye swung nervously back and forth like a pendulum from his book, along the various bookcases lining nearly all the wall space in the cabin and out the starboard side window. Smoke rings emerged into the space gradually, clinging to the back of his book until they sputtered and broke free. B puffed on his cigar as he turned another page, then another. The real eye continued to bounce around the room and gaze precipitously out the window as his head remained straight, the gaze of his fake eye locked on the book through his eye patch. Another page, then another. A heat indicator went off on the right side of his internal display and he turned his head to look through the wall towards the kitchen with his infrared heat sensor. Heat billowed from around the stove and surrounding countertop inside the kitchen; swirling upwards in brilliant reds, oranges, greens and yellows. As he finished turning his head his mind reeled for an instant, struggling to incorporate the colorful display through the walls in the kitchen with the bulkheads of his own cabin coming into view.

As a reflex his right hand moved to scratch at a momentary itch around his fake eye, but at the last moment he gently rubbed the eye patch with three short, well rehearsed strokes for luck. The book lowered gently onto the table and he reached into the drawer. While swinging both legs out over the floor he grasped the revolver and pushed his feet slowly into his boots. Pulling the revolver clear of the drawer, he opened and spun the cylinders with his right hand while he pulled six bullets free from a vest pocket with the left and popped them into the cylinders as they rotated by, one by one. Straightening, the revolver cylinders clicked into place and he sighted down it as it leveled on the door, B spun the gun around his finger in a horizontal and vertical circle before securing it in the holster on his right hip. The shoelaces started sliding through the holes in his boots as he pulled them taut and tied them off.

Dinner looks about ready. Hopefully there is some fruit other than tomatoes this time.

B marched towards the door to his cabin, stabbing the cigar butt into an overflowing ashtray near the door, and flipped a wall switch disengaging the airflow fan above his bed. The fan released a deep *chunk-a-chunk* sound, followed by a sputtering *cough*, a final desperate chug to inhale what it could. Smoke billowed in large folds out the door as it opened and spilled into the hallway. B grabbed his black hat off the wall and rolled it down his arm before flipping it onto his head from the elbow as he emerged through the smoke.

The hallway was metal paneling, conduit, some piping, and more metal in the form of reinforcement struts spanning the ceiling and bulkheads. Uniform and sterile for the most part, but a few wires that never quite got back inside where they belonged poked out colorfully from behind panels and every few struts had some sort of unique scorch or welding mark. Customizations dotted the walls as well, extra displays, manual release valves, some fire extinguishers and a few false backed smuggling panels. His fake eye noticed all the details of the ship. At some point that list of details drifted into memory and he was lost to thought. Each imperfection, redesign, and repair job conjured a memory, told a story of some scrap the crew of the Emersed had lived through over the last few years. The story of who they were and what they stood for, what they did every day.

Keep working to keep flying.

For him the Emersed was more than a ship and crew. It was an idea worth defending, fighting for and dying for if necessary. Something the Alliance couldn’t take. But more than that, perhaps something worth living for.

Careful now. Those kinds of thoughts will end up dulling your edge...

The intercom squawked, jarring B into focus:
Dinner’s up. Come and get it!

B preferred to arrive at the table a little earlier than the rest of the crew if possible. He enjoyed sitting with the Captain in silent reflection for a few moments before the onslaught of the meal. Even a good crew that gets along well has its ups and downs. When everyone works more often than not until the work is done, unresolved issues spill over into the food. While B had no problems with the Captain deciding to leave the pilot behind, and he certainly deserved it given the circumstances, not everyone might see it that way.

We work well enough together to get the job done, but certainly don’t know one another’s minds. And then there’s the new passenger…a complete stranger.

With infrared he entered the kitchen already slightly disappointed there would be no silent time with the Captain. But he tipped his hat to the new passenger nonetheless and remarked, "Ms." *nodding* in passing, as he rounded the corner through the door frame without looking over. She had already gotten food and was seated at the table, barely visible behind her own personal food mountain. He moved towards the counter with the buffet. As he approached the plates he turned towards the Captain and said, “Captain.*nodding* Please and thank you”, and started loading a plate. As he moved through the buffet selecting some meat, vegetables and bread he paused at the fried tomatoes. The right side of his mouth curled ever so slightly but he removed three slices and put them on his plate.

Figures. Better stick closer to the Captain the next time she buys fruit…

Carrying his plate over towards the two already seated he placed it and some utensils down on the table as he took a seat to the Captain’s left. He stared down at the food for a moment, soaking in the smells with his nose and a varied array of colors with both eyes. As B looked up attempting to gauge any dangerous intent emanating from the newcomer he was startled to notice that she was wearing little more than a longish half-shirt and had already inhaled half of food mountain.

This one looks like a handful of trouble...