I actually got off my ass and wrote something. ![[Image: tongue.gif]](http://www.ezboard.com/intl/aenglish/images/emoticons/tongue.gif)
This part is set just before SOS-con.
*********************
"Oh, come on. You're supposed to be bringing us in to land, not reading."
I looked up from my current novel and turned to look back at the cockpit door at George. "We're in a holding pattern at the moment, waiting for Phobos control to get back to us and I have the proximity sensors on. Plus, the nav system will warn me if we start to drift from where we're supposed to be."
"Warn you how? I've seen how engrossed you can get in a good book, it takes a foghorn to wake you up."
"Har har, I'm not that bad. besides - "
The radio crackled to life, 'Starhawk, this is Phobos Control, you are cleared for approach. Transmitting vector and landing bay information now.'
"Roger, Control, receiving." I replied, hurriedly marking my place and putting the book aside.
We'd managed to arrange a pretty good deal on the docking fees, mainly because we are bringing in extra supplies for the Convention center. Whoever these SOS-dan people are, they didn't give Phobos much more warning about the con than they gave anyone else. This had resulted in the Center's management finding themselves short of various Con necessities like pop, microwave pizzas, coffee and so on. They weren't out of anything, but they usually had more lead time to stock up supplies before the crowds decended like a cloud of locusts.
Anyways, we'd been in Melbourne offloading cargo, when the convention center called Babylon.5 trying to find a cargoship that could get the suppies they were ordering and bring them to Mars fast. We fit the bill and promptly bounced over to grab the cargo before heading off to the red planet with a load of food and cleaning supplies (the cleaning supplies were more for _after_ the Con).
We had a few passengers too, people who had been on B.5 and sufficiently tied into the grapevine to appear at the airlock with an overnight and/or costume bag when the 'Hawk made a brief stop home. Actually, Rob, my copilot and navigator, was currently in his cabin with his wife getting into their costumes.
George was the ship's cook (and a damn good one), medic, and one of the 'gunners'. The latter job will be more impressive when we figure out how to run the power feeds without something melting or burning out. Currently the ships two quadturrets (partially a Millenium Falcon hommage) are little more than impressive looking laser pointers.
The other theoretical gunner is Susan, our cargomaster. She also pilots the APE unit we use for moving heavy cargo and EVA repairs.
The final member of the crew is JT, our engineer. He's usually in the engine room. I sometimes think he identifies a little too much with Kaylie from Firefly, I expect him to start sleeping there any day now.__________________
666-HELL The phone number of the Beast
___________________________
"I've always wanted to be somebody, but I should have been more specific." - George Carlin
This part is set just before SOS-con.
*********************
"Oh, come on. You're supposed to be bringing us in to land, not reading."
I looked up from my current novel and turned to look back at the cockpit door at George. "We're in a holding pattern at the moment, waiting for Phobos control to get back to us and I have the proximity sensors on. Plus, the nav system will warn me if we start to drift from where we're supposed to be."
"Warn you how? I've seen how engrossed you can get in a good book, it takes a foghorn to wake you up."
"Har har, I'm not that bad. besides - "
The radio crackled to life, 'Starhawk, this is Phobos Control, you are cleared for approach. Transmitting vector and landing bay information now.'
"Roger, Control, receiving." I replied, hurriedly marking my place and putting the book aside.
We'd managed to arrange a pretty good deal on the docking fees, mainly because we are bringing in extra supplies for the Convention center. Whoever these SOS-dan people are, they didn't give Phobos much more warning about the con than they gave anyone else. This had resulted in the Center's management finding themselves short of various Con necessities like pop, microwave pizzas, coffee and so on. They weren't out of anything, but they usually had more lead time to stock up supplies before the crowds decended like a cloud of locusts.
Anyways, we'd been in Melbourne offloading cargo, when the convention center called Babylon.5 trying to find a cargoship that could get the suppies they were ordering and bring them to Mars fast. We fit the bill and promptly bounced over to grab the cargo before heading off to the red planet with a load of food and cleaning supplies (the cleaning supplies were more for _after_ the Con).
We had a few passengers too, people who had been on B.5 and sufficiently tied into the grapevine to appear at the airlock with an overnight and/or costume bag when the 'Hawk made a brief stop home. Actually, Rob, my copilot and navigator, was currently in his cabin with his wife getting into their costumes.
George was the ship's cook (and a damn good one), medic, and one of the 'gunners'. The latter job will be more impressive when we figure out how to run the power feeds without something melting or burning out. Currently the ships two quadturrets (partially a Millenium Falcon hommage) are little more than impressive looking laser pointers.
The other theoretical gunner is Susan, our cargomaster. She also pilots the APE unit we use for moving heavy cargo and EVA repairs.
The final member of the crew is JT, our engineer. He's usually in the engine room. I sometimes think he identifies a little too much with Kaylie from Firefly, I expect him to start sleeping there any day now.__________________
666-HELL The phone number of the Beast
___________________________
"I've always wanted to be somebody, but I should have been more specific." - George Carlin