OOC:

From the PC Oquan's POV.

15:00 Hours

"Bllibbbbb...  Bliibbbb...  Blibbb."

The walls of the first mate's quarters flashed light blue, and then black, and back again as the Versafunction88's screen began to blink.  The soft rattle it made against the durasteel nightstand slowly captured the attention of the sleeping line captain next to it; his accompanying groan made the noise somewhat less annoying.  Rising slightly and resting on his knees for a moment, he stared into the silence.

"Bllibbbbb..!"  The pilot rolled his eyes and said-

"Alright! Alright-" he slapped the datapad so that it would stop whirring.  "Lights!" He stood from his bed as the room suddenly illuminated, crystal white walls adorned with pictures of family and artifacts from his academy days reminded him that he was, indeed, Oquan Deeri, first mate of the Nighthound.

Splashing water on his face at the sonic sink, Deeri said to no-one in particular: "Update."

A cool, electronically tempered male voice filled the cabin.  "All systems are nominal, Line Captain.  The Nighthound is currently docked in port 411B , Naval Central Station, Abrae- Vectra Sys-"

"Thank you," he said, cutting the computer off.  Washing the sleep from his eyes and running the cool water through his short hair, he tried to shake off the drowsiness.  As he straightened and stretched toward the ceiling, he couldn't help but think that he was getting old; stiff and hearing the crack of several bones, he thought it might be wise to get out of the ship for a while.  How long had it been..?

There was a knock and a "swish" as the hatch-way door suddenly whirred open; a man in his late forties with graying hair popped his head into the cabin.  "Oh, good-" he said, his forehead showing signs of perspiration; clearly he'd been "improving" the ship again.  "Just making sure you're up; we have to leave in the next hour or two..." 

The captain was gone just as quickly as he'd arrived, but Oquan shouted after him- "Better wait for me to say something next time..."  He added-"I could have been naked!"

The captain's voice returned- "Some sweet day, Deeri!"  The hatch swished shut before Oquan could counter again. Grumbling, the line captain observed himself in the mirror; the stubble that had grown was minimal at best.  Then again, if he didn't shave and the Wing Commander stopped in...  He picked up the electronic shaver from its station and began to work.

"Swish"

"Oh, good- you're up."  Recognizing the voice, Oquan rplied to the brunette girl-

"Rizeera...  For the force's sake...  I could have been naked." 

"Did...  you want me to knock?"  The line captain pulled the shaver down the side of his face before replying.

"I'd like you to put some caf on; this recycling air is starting to make this place feel like a tomb.  Need somethin to let me know I'm still alive."  The girl was a good ten years younger than him, and cute, but Deeri spoke to her more like one of his daughters.  "If you would?"  He turned to her, looking expectantly.

She took note of his tone and replied- "I'll get right on it, Sir."  She disappeared from the hatch for just a moment before returning and saying- "And...  I just wanted to stop by and thank you again."  Oquan was shaving underneath his jaw and had to peer down at her.  "I guess i would have been in a pretty rough situation if you hadn't bailed me out."  She was looking at the ground, holding her hands rather sheepishly.  As she peered up, waiting for him to say something comforting, he replied-

"Caf, Ms. Teqill...  Caf."  She let out a half-laugh as the pilot turned back to his reflection and began to hum the Naval Academy's Alma mater to himself...

***

"Mmph!"  Oquan whipped his head to one side, saying- "Now...  That's some good caf, Ms. Teqill."  The line captain was the only person in the galley, but it wasn't irregular for him to talk to empty rooms.  In fact, he half-expected the computer to fill in for the girl.

All around him the ship's system's hummed and the pilot began to wonder if he'd ever have full quiet again.  The soft thrum of the ship's core and the beeps of accessory systems all around him made it impossible for one to feel truly quieted...

"There he is."  The pilot glanced to his right to see the Nighthound's presiding medic, Zerus Coo, enter the galley with a young crewman at his sides.  "Good morning, Line Captain."

Oquan lifted his themoglass in a gesture of welcome.

"Before we took off, I thought I'd let you know that your gunner was re-assigned.  Apparently, Mr. Filter has been provided to us instead?"  He gestured toward the senior crewman, who was standing in the doorway, saluting.  The line captain resisted the urge to chuckle and said-

"At ease, Mr. Filter."  The young man's hand shot to his side, as if receiving orders of the strictest nature.  "Tell me, Senior Crewman...  What experience do you have?"  Oquan sipped his caf and glanced momentarily at Coo, who hid a slight grin.

"Over one-hundred hours of simulator time, sir."  Oquan about spit up his drink.

"Your a senior crewman and you have over a hundred hours?"  The senior crewman nodded modestly.  Oquan chuckled to himself and said- "Well...  I guess you'll do."

OOC:

WC: 893

OOC:

From Jasper's perspective.

Shivering slightly, Courtison thought about running to grab his engineering corp jacket.  Trying not to lose count of the cargo drums, he'd begun to draw hatch marks on his datapad.  Fourteen, he etched another line...

"Geskichi Tekanawon!" A rodian was yelling toward him from a platform across the way.

"Is it flammable?" Courtison yelled back.  He saw the rodian turn to the others he was working with and ask the question for him.  A few moments passed...

"Shennua!"  Courtison sighed and drew a diagonal hatch-mark through the last grouping of lines. 

"Okay! Bring it down...  But be careful!"  The rodian ran off, and Courtison made a mental note to make sure that the canister was secured before lift-off.  All he knew, the engineer thought to himself, was that everything was going to have to be unloaded, and then re-loaded again; there was no way they'd be fitting twelve hyperdrives and their food-stuffs.  Not, of course, unless they stuffed them back onto the cargo entry decks...  He chuckled, thinking of who he would put in charge of that.

A crackle emitted from the exterior com-unit above him.

"Courtison?"  It was the first mate.

"Yes, Sir?"  He started a new line of hatches on the datapad as another drum arrived.

"We're sealing this ship up in about fifteen minutes.  Can you be ready?"

"I think so, sir.  But if you see Corellian ale and a chest full of illegal spices- you'll know you left too soon."  The pilot did not reply.  "I mean...  Yes, sir!  Ready in a snap!"  Courtison felt his gut twist a little bit.

"Very good, engineer." 

Courtison whistled to himself and made an expression as if to say "that was a close one..."  He looked at one of the deck hands who was exiting the ship.

"I..  guess you guys should probably pick it up..."  The crewman nodded curtly and seemed to be waiting for more information.  "Uhh..  Redouble your efforts.  Or something..."  He shooed the deck-hand away.

The evening that had come before that morning had been something of an interesting one as well, he recalled, taking his mind off of the loading for a moment.  He guessed that the first mate's attitude toward him was probably carry-over from the previous night's events.  Then again, he was partly responsible for the whole thing.

"Okay!" He tried to explain to the pilot.  "We might have gone a little too far."  The pilot looked at him quietly, and then looked at the young girl behind electric bars.

"It's her 2nd year in the military so you decided to start a bar fight?  Courtison..."  He could tell that the pilot was having a difficult time deciding whether to become angry or to just shrug it off.  Calling your superior officer in the middle of the night to bail one of his officers out of MP jail was not a good move...

"I would bail her out myself, Sir, but...  I may have had a bad night with the cards."  Oquan glanced back at him, slightly amazed.

"It's thirty-five credits, Courtison.  How much could you have lost?"

"..."

"Are you serious?  Didn't you just get paid?"

Courtison tried to smile, but it came off badly and he just decided that he should stare at the ground for a while. 

"I guess it's good you called me...  If the captain new about this she'd probably lose her assignment."  He was speaking half-way to the girl and half to Courtison.  Oquan glanced to the bailiff and said- "Alright, cut her loose."

"Hmph."  Courtison nodded to himself, definitely starting to feel the chill of the winds.  The whole thing, he thought, would definitely blow over.....

OOC:

WC: 638

The captain strode into the cabin; his jacket was still unbuttoned as he dropped into the hot seat.  The sweat that had gathered on his forehead from working in the ship's lower quarters glimmered in the light of the central console.

"Lieutenant?" He asked as he found the straps aside his chair.  "Do we have everyone?"  To his right, the co-pilot double-checked his datapad for the boarding log before replying-

"Yes sir."  The captain nodded at this and said-

"Alright, then- let's get it started."  The co-pilot rotated slightly so that he could catch the eye of the communications officer; he spun his finger quickly in a medium circle, signaling to the com-officer that they were ready for departure.  The com-officer, in turn, put his attention on his console, clicking the glowing screen twice.

"Attention all personnel," he said. "The captain is preparing for departure; find a secure location and strap yourself in.  Remain seated until given the express command of the captain.  Thank you."

Pulling up a separate channel, the operator quickly dialed in the code for Abrae's Central Communications directory.  Locating the traffic controller, he said- "Comptroller- section j, bay 69 requesting clearance and route for departure."

"Request confirmed..." The comptroller paused, searching for the name of the ship. "-Nighthound.  Sending your request and receiving permission."

Inside the cabin, the captain said "Engine prep..."  The lieutenant to his right quickly ran his fingers across one, and then two rows of switches, their indicator lights flickering on as he did so.  Deep in the heart of the ship, the core suddenly turned from cool blue to a vibrant, hot red.  From there, a series of pops indicated the start of the main breakers in the fuel and engine systems.  The fuel, which wasn't a liquid but rather a foam, was turned to a vapor as the igniter flashed and excited the substance.  The highly efficient gas spread around the ship in a matter of seconds.  The slight hum of the energized gas could be heard from every corner of the craft, and made a soft, but noticeable companion to the ever-present hum of the electrical systems.

"Your request and exit have been acquired, Nighthound.  Transferring to you now...  Transfer complete.  You are released from this station.  Safe travels, Nighthound."

"Copy," the com officer came back.

"Engines start," said the captain as he pulled back the longer, light blue levers to his right.  As they clicked into place, the core, deep within the ship, once again changed color.  It seemed to swirl for a moment before it finally glowed a bright yellow.  A deep groan rumbled throughout the ship as the engines on either side of the craft began to receive energy; the ship shook as they gathered strength.

Outside the ship, the skies were mostly clear, save a few freightors and other passenger carriers.  Evening was setting in and the glow over the capital city of Abrae was fading quickly.  On the viewport of the Nighthound, the cool winter winds had chilled water vapor and frost had begun to form.  All along the bow of the ship the frost had crawled and crystallized surfaces, glinting, as it would, in the Nighthound's exterior lights.

With the route programmed in, the captain activated the repulsor lifts.  From inside the craft, it felt as if much of the pressure and tension of the ship, and even the hum and reverberations, gave-way as the craft gently separated from the surface of the platform.

Working carefully to avoid the other platforms, the captain steared the yoke toward an exit vector, throttling the sublight engines upward.

OOC:

I'll be back to finish this later