Evangeline Anastasia McDowell

[Bazza]

Entry#: 149
Date: 28 - 05 - 819 AS @ 21:13 SUT
Title: Untitled.

Mmmm.


Becoming the queen of the Junkers would take ever so slightly more effort than I'm prepared to lay out on it.

Been a fairly quiet week as far as weeks go for all of us. Staying at home on Colby, soaking up the idle time and the ample light of the stars in the system.

Tharog has been moping around the place crying about the dorsal fin of his radio station not being on quite straight. He has of course never tried welding Aluminium before and has no understanding of the concept 'She'll be right, mate". It still does what it was designed to do - that being get stuck on my landing pad - so I see no problem with the fact the shell is kinda warped on one side because of it being made of Aluminium and me being too lazy to tack it down first.

I kinda wonder if it was a good idea letting him in here. He seems kinda... like, woah. It's become apparent he likely keeps a stash on board that boat of his somewhere - not that I'm going to ask nor go looking for it. Really so long as he keeps it to himself it's none of my business in any case. He hasn't hurt me or any of my girls and in fact he does seem a bit intimidated by all of us, which, as long as it remains true, renders him rather harmless.

I'm also the owner of a decently portioned haul of copper tubing that one of my beloved associates sold me. Like a cat dragging home a dead animal he washed up on the landing pad in a rusted, broken, battered hulk of a Pilgrim liner screaming my name in unending joy, boasting broadly about his findings.

Seeing as my copper supply is quite extensive to begin with I find myself now looking for a way of selling what I've bought for a profit. This is where having so many associates comes in handy. I can buy stolen goods off an unlawful one, launder them, and sell them to a lawful or smuggler type for a personal profit. The cargo changes hands at least four times before reaching a consumer and that's just the way I like it. It makes all but the most high-tech of goods impossible to trace.

All that I have to do is pick out one lucky boy or girl to offload the cargo to. That can wait 'till tomorrow morning. For now I have much more pressing issues.

I do find myself wondering when my quarters became a communal sleeping place. Lying down on my bed, propped up on a pillow against the headrest, my laptop computer sits over my belly button. To my right, the blinds block out all but the smallest slivers of the blinding, unfiltered light of the stars of Kansas.

To my immediate left is the hazelnut-flavoured Kusarian teenager I share the bed with on most nights - except of course when I'm being punished for my wandering eyes and mind. This girl in and of herself is not a problem.

To my far left, against the wall, is a wooden cot which contains our achingly beautiful daughter, sleeping off her 23rd week within the universe with an adorable little smile on her face. This little demoness, of course, being the reason for the uncommon residents of the room and also why her mother isn't asleep right now. As with her second mother, this infant's presence here is not unusual.

Nor is the presence of the lustrous black cat curled up between my feet, ensuring I'm unable to locate a purely comfortable position to sleep in.

Moving down the scale of colloquial tenants of my room, a small girl with the persona and visage of an angel takes pride of place across two of the three seats of the couch I put in the end of the room. Someone at some point placed a quilt over this beacon of light we call a foster daughter to ensure she doesn't catch a cold or suffer an unpleasant night's sleep.

Right beside her, consuming between them the remaining one available seat of my couch are two slightly older Kusarian girls - one tall and gallant young woman bearing the demeanour of a warrior and the other of the sweet and honest yet hopelessly ditzy little girl capable of stealing the hearts of the kind and benevolent. The shorter of the two resting upon the taller woman's shoulder in a most beautiful, romantic setting.

As for how we ended up here together in the first place?

Someone fried the circuit breaker trying to weld aluminium with a MIG and setting things on fire. That put the entire heating system out of order and I for the life of me can't figure out why it doesn't work. We got the generators back online and everything else seems to work _except_ for the sodding heating. We've managed to dig out an old electric heater from the Alsatia but it's only kind of powerful enough to heat one room.

The rest of the base would be many degrees below 0 at the moment.

Not that I really mind it of course. Isn't the first time I've shared my quarters with these girls. When it was just the Alsatia flying around we'd often turn the bridge into a combined bedroom, kitchen, lounge and dining area for weeks on end because of the pure fact the smaller the space that needed to be heated the less fuel the ship consumed. Something which was quite important because the old girl wasn't exactly the most frugal.

It does kind of ruin any hopes of privacy, of course, but it doesn't bother me that much. Short of outright taking Misaka for a spin in the middle of the bridge, we're all pretty relaxed regarding our affections for one another. Having an all-female cast and crew renders cuddles and kisses completely innocuous and suitable for public expression. About all that requires privacy is when the underwear comes off and well - we know when not to knock. Of course what goes on when the night shifters are on their own up on the bridge is anyone's guess.

Although I do wonder what messages we're sending Sakura. She lives in a loving environment and is well looked after, sure, but I have this idea she's going to grow up thinking another woman is her ideal partner. Which itself isn't a problem but I'd still like her to make her own choices and not be swayed by how her parents get along.

Bah. I'm looking out the window and there is an Anki coming to rest on the landing pad.

That means Neil is here.

I don't wanna get out of bed...





Damn it all to hell.

He can run my copper out of here for me. Punishment for making me wake everyone up.

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