Down South

[jammi]

Luke Darget watched the prefab for a moment, considering the fact that he was going to be spending quite a while in it - probably most of the foreseeable future. The Endymion was scheduled to depart in an hour, so he was busying himself by unloading everyone else's luggage. The other four and the pilots were arguing over how to best lock the prefab in place. Luke had other things on his mind.

Dropping the last satchel on the small pile, he withdrew a flashlight from his own bag, and shone it around the nearby area. They were located in a medium sized clearing, that was surrounded by a sparse forest. It was mostly comprised of moderately sized trees with thin trunks. He took a deep breath of the alien air and thought about it. Every planet had its own smell. Sydney was no different. He picked his target, a slight, insignificant looking tree with a ruler-straight trunk. Opening his bag again, he shuffled things around until he found the hatchet.

Pulling it out and tucking it under his arm, he made his way towards the tree, the beam of light bouncing as he walked. Standing at the base of the trunk, he realised could actually fully close his hand around it. Perfect width. Quickly shining the torch up into the yellowish foliage to make sure nothing was living in it, he gripped the hatchet's shaft with one hand. With a great thwacking noise, he sunk the blade into the wood, then cut a slightly smaller notch out just below that. Ponderously, the tree swayed then fell over. Someone shone a beam of light at him.

"Luke, what the hell are you doing?" they called.
"Don't worry, I'll be back in a moment," he replied.

Cutting off the branches that grew off the trunk, he was happy that he had a decent looking pole. He cut off the rough and jagged looking base, then tucking the hatchet back under his arm. Grabbing the trunk, he tried to lift it off the floor. It really was a very light and flexible wood. Slowly he dragged it over to the prefab, dropping it by the luggage. Happy that he didnt need the flashlight now he was back in the Endymion's spotlights, he dropped the torch and axe into his bags and pulled out a slightly creased square of material as a replacement. Two strings dangled from it. Almost reverently he unfolded the Bretonian flag. Having never been particularly good with knots, he took his time anchoring it to his improv flagpole. When he was satisfied he was done, he pulled it upright, the wood swaying alarmingly. But it held. The flag flapped limply in a breeze.

"Hey, what d'you all think then?" He said, grinning. The others looked around, with the Captain throwing a mock salute, which provoked a few chuckles. The first Bretonian flag had been hoisted.

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