Drift Stories/Hands Off the Merchandise: Difference between revisions

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Kyrie sat back down with her glass and raised it, a broad smile across her face. “To a job well done.” Ilyar, Bentley, Solivane and Quartz clinked their glasses against hers. “And to new friends,” Bentley added, sipping their glass and breaking into a coughing fit from its sheer potency. “Quite right,” Kyrie laughed.

Solivane walked through the main corridor of the ''Stationary Traveller'', thinking it was unusually quiet for a departure morning. A deck below, the hold buzzed with the chatter and rattle of dockers loading crates of provisions and Quartz complaining about the scrapes they left on the floor. Up here, however, the air was too still.

“Good morning, I trust we are making good time—“ Solivane stopped just inside the bridge door, surveying the scene with surprise. Ilyar was seated on the captain’s chair, tilted back as far as the mechanism would allow, with a towel draped over his face. Off to the side Bentley lay sprawled across the drive console, their hat pulled down over their eyes, groaning softly. Solivane stepped up behind Ilyar and lifted the towel; he whimpered feebly and moved his hand to cover his eyes from the light streaming in through the bridge windows.

“Ow… Turn off the light… Please…” Ilyar whined, rolling onto his side in the chair.

Solivane sighed and sat down in front of the navigation console. “Captain, it is morning. We are due to depart shortly. Quartz is below decks finalising the cargo manifest. I am about to plot our course to Passenger-382-C. You and Bentley are… hungover. Do you think this is acceptable captain-like behaviour?”

Bentley stirred, their hat still covering their face. “Shut up Sol, this is what happens when you can handle a drink,” they muttered, rolling off the console and onto the floor with a thump. “Don’t go thinking we’ve forgotten the cider incident.” They clambered up to their feet, dusting off their coat and adjusting their hat.

Solivane shot a glance at Ilyar, who was now looking at them and grinning through the pain. “Regrettable. I was informed it was just apple juice. I like apple juice.” They looked down at the navigation console and began plotting. “Let us move on. Quickly.”

Quartz appeared in the doorway, offensively cheerful to the suffering raccoon and hare. “Headaches all round, is it? At least one of us knows to stay hydrated.” She looked at Ilyar, suppressing a giggle. “Cargo loading complete, captain. Kyrie’s armourer has just signed off on our new cloaking system. Drive signature projection tech, state-of-the-art. Very expensive.”

Ilyar nodded, sitting upright, though he still cradled his aching head in his hand. “Great… good work, Quartz. Get us a departure vector.” He turned to Bentley, who had shaken off enough of their hangover to sit upright at the drive console looking almost respectable. “Get her warmed up, Engine.”

Bentley grinned and cracked their knuckles. “Let’s see if the old lady remembers me.” They laid their hands on two softly glowing amber pads on the console. The ship shuddered suddenly, a deep hum emanating from the floor as she came to life. “Oh yeah, there she is. Easy, girl, easy…” Bentley leaned back in their chair comfortably, eyes now glowing faintly amber; connecting with the ship seemed to have sapped the hangover out of them instantly. “Ready for departure, captain.”

Quartz took her position at the radio console and sat the headset over her ears. The radio crackled to life as she hit the transmit key. “''Cloud Archipelago'' Control, this is vessel ''Stationary Traveller'' requesting clearance for departure, vector for—“ She checked her notes for the direction of Passenger-382-C, “—Two-six-zero, exiting sector.”

A pause, then another crackle. “Vessel ''Stationary Traveller'', Control. You are cleared for departure, disengage clamps at your leisure. Vector two-six-zero reserved for you to sector edge. Report when clear of station space. Fair winds to you.”

Quartz turned to Ilyar and gave a thumbs up. “Ready to go, captain.”

“Solivane, navigation ready?”

“Course set and ready, captain.”

Ilyar moved over beside Bentley and laid a hand gently on their shoulder. “Ship status?”

Bentley nuzzled at the hand with a smile. “Doors secured, thrusters ready, Narrative Drive idle. We are go for departure, captain.”

Ilyar nodded, returning to the captain’s chair and settling down comfortably. “Go for launch.” His finger came down on a small button on his armrest. ''Click''.

An almighty rumble shook the ship as the docking clamps disengaged and dropped away; simultaneously the ship’s thrusters roared to life, holding her steady in the docking bay. Bentley gave a minute twitch of their hands, and the ship slowly began to move backwards away from the dock. She gradually turned to face towards the open Drift, shimmering in the view from the forward windows.

“Vector alignment is confirmed, captain,” Solivane called. Ilyar gave a thumbs up, and turned again to Bentley. “Engine, take her to sea.”

“With pleasure, captain,” Bentley acknowledged, leaning forward into the pads. The ship pushed away from the Cloud Archipelago on her thrusters. Once she reached a safe distance, with a subtle twist of Bentley’s wrists the thruster rumble was replaced with a tremendous, pulsating roar. “Narrative Drive engaged!” Bentley yelled over the noise, pushing their weight into the console. The ship lurched forward sharply, pressing the crew back into their seats for a moment, before the Narrative Drive’s bubble stabilised and the interior of the ship became quiet and placid once again.

Ilyar stood up and stretched dramatically, a grin crossing his face. “Well that was exciting! Now the dust’s shaken off, I think it’s time for tea. Sol?”

Solivane was already halfway to the door. “To the galley at once, captain.”

Bentley and Quartz followed behind them. “Why did he say ‘take her to sea’, anyway?” Quartz asked.

“Eh, some old tradition,” replied Bentley with a shrug.