Sierra Starport; Coronado System; Independent Worlds
True to his word, he wrapped up what he was needed for an hour from their last chat in space and had made the trip back. Mary had told him she'd be waiting, and that if he died there was no chance of forgiveness. A strange thing to say under the circumstances, but it was clearly indicative of something. To put her word to the test, he sent her a message that he was on the way and close by. This gave her about an hour to do whatever she wanted with, and if the last time they met was any indicator, she might decide to use that time to get ready. Or so he assumed.
Once he'd pulled in to dock and gone through all the formalities with the tower, he really couldn't help but wonder if his introverted and reserved date would be here. She danced along all kinds of uncertainty, and strangely enough it seemed like only a small part of that doubt was connected to him. It made her hard to read, and he wasn't used to that. But then again, that was probably also the reason that made him come here.
With the ship locked down in the place reserved for it upon approach, he stepped out and took a moment to rid himself of the helmet and the impact it had on his hair.
She hated being away from her ship. The crew had been urging her to take some personal time for years now. Even Gellen had approached her privately on it. She took pride in her position. Being the ship's quartermaster had many duties. Most she didn't like but found satisfaction in completing. With the captain pushing for their misfit band to take a larger role in the movement she found herself with many more unwanted duties. It was the perfect excuse to take time away, to mentally prepare for the tasks ahead. It was stupid and most of the core crew knew what she was actually doing but they at least gave her the luxury of not mentioning it. It would have to do.
A mishap had happened, and the Lochrath was moored to the station again. Something about a unsealed pipe somewhere in the massive engine bay. That was Esser's mess to clean up, and she left him yelling at the dock crew. She had killed some time preparing for her outing before scrambling for the airlock when the chime informed her that she had a message. It was only when she found a suitable spot, away from the Lochrath's berth and out of the flow of traffic, did she realize her mistake. He was still an hour or so out, she didn't need to rush out like she had. It was just excitement to be able to relax and take time off, she told herself.
Other than a shower, most of her time was on deciding what to wear. She forbade herself from dressing up, not wanting to be out of an outfit that could at least function in zero gravity and space. She opted for a two part formal jump suit, that zipped around the hips hidden by a fabric flap. The bottom portion was designed to resemble charcoal grey dress slacks while the upper portion tried in vain to look like a thick, white long sleeve blouse. Instead it looked like a normal jumpsuit that lacked pockets, a front or back zipper, or any actual utility. To compliment it she wore the same dark-grey coat as last time in addition to her black boots. The curls in her hair wouldn't behave, so she tamed it all back into a messy ponytail that flaired beyond the elastic band.
To pass the time, she tapped on her pad and fussed with the duffle bag set at her feet. Attempting to remain at ease, she instead put out an anxious energy that caused most to give her a wide berth when passing by. The entire hour she stole glances upwards at any ship arriving to the oversized hangar. When she did finally see the Rebel pulling in she snatched up the bag, threw it over her shoulder, and ran a few paces. It took her a moment to remember to not be a gleeful nob and her pace slowed. Forcing herself to walk as casually as possible, she approached the pilot who was attempting to undo a powerful cowlick.
It occurred to her that she had forgotten to think of the next step. In a brilliant spark of inspiration, she paused a few paces from him and smiled.
"Yo."
Really? Yo? She hoped the cringe she felt didn't show in her expression.
His initial thoughts put aside for the moment, it was hard not to notice her jog for a few paces to reach his ship, made all the more obvious by the fact that she visibly had to catch herself and slow down. Her body language and facial expressions, to an extent, betrayed excitement of some sort. Her choice of greeting only served to make him feel certain of the fact that she was nervous with him around, but what wasn't clear about that was if she was nervous on account of wanting to impress him or out of a sense of discomfort.
Regardless of the answer to that, he had to be honest about the situation. "You're adorable." He closed the gap between them with an outstretched hand, the purpose of this might have been misconstrued, but when his fingers touched the strap of her bag and he spoke up, it became clear what it actually was. "Let me get that for you." Which just so happened to be politeness, with perhaps a touch of a double meaning since a strap was involved.
A compliment to start things off. She didn't have the chance to process it when the hand came. There was a twitch of her own hand carrying the duffle bag, an instinct. She was reaching for the gun on her belt, though it was hidden and covered by bag itself. Sloppy.
Before she could snake her hand between the bag and herself, his hand took hold of the strap. Too hasty did she shurg it off her shoulder, almost like a lizard abandoning it's tail to retreat from a predator. It was only after did she realize he was offering to take it.
She flashed a trained disarming smile, as if it was all an intentional move. As if she expected him to take her bag. "Thank you. Such ah gentleman t'day aren't you?" She allowed the bag to be taken. As it moved over, the man might notice it had a variety of items in it. Some softer, likely sets of clothes, others boxes of unknown contents. She was prepared to travel it seemed.
Motioning to the ship, she commented with a grin, "You make sure th' seat was bolted down like ah asked?" Not wanting to linger and risk her crew seeing this awful display, she started towards the Rebel.
Nodding his head from side to side was a silent representation of his uncertainty to the second question, the first one didn't really need one since it was quite obviously rhetorical. "Same way it was locked down the last time." Beyond welding the thing in place, there just wasn't much he could do, and the downside there was that it would make it a permanent addition that he might not always require when on fighter duty. "If we end up seeing each other often, maybe I'll consider it." It was a hint, a subtle one, simple enough to be processed and considered while they made the short walk back to the ship.
Carefully, he slipped the bag into the cargo compartment and gestured for her to climb in first, by now she probably knew the drill.
A genuine smile came to her lips. She took the direction and climbed up into the cockpit, worming her way through. She found her helmet on the seat and plopped it over her head as she sat. A few tugs of her unruly ponytail fan, then strapping in.
When he began to enter his seat, she spoke up. "So what's the plan when we get there?" Idle curiosity caught her otherwise. Eyes followed him as he got in, watching his practiced slip in, the switches flicked, the glowing runes pressed and depressed. She wonder how he got his hair like that.
Tilting his head at an angle, as if that helped stimulate thought, he considered the options they had and narrowed them down to what felt like a sensible conclusion. "Fontana, but I'd like for that to be a momentary rest stop on our way somewhere more interesting. Where that's going to be? I don't know yet." Soon after saying that, he was cleared to launch with a respectful goodbye from Starport Control. And it was exactly when they had pulled free of the hangar bay that he figured out where they should go. "Oh, I know." Clearly he didn't want to ruin the surprise, otherwise he'd have elaborated.
He had to wonder how long it had been since he'd seen those rough vistas for himself, access would be entirely contingent on what the current state of the colony's outliers were. But there was a good chance that old "friends" had managed to evade arrest.
It was still rough on her, sitting in a fightercraft. The trembling, the intense and thin line between her and the void of space. At least this time her pilot wasn't trying to kill her with g-forces.
She didn't press his decided spot. She actually forgot she could spark up conversation while they flew. It still felt best to be in silence at times, for her. "How's Liberty been? Ain't often get t'read up on what happens there."
Their surroundings were rapidly but smoothly blowing past them, the large rocks and deep blue of the nebula surrounding it all. "More tense than usual, lots of conspiracy theories going around after a liner full of guns with Rheinland serials was popped open in Pennsylvania. I hear the other Houses have run quite a few news pieces about it, saying Liberty isn't capable of patrolling its borders let alone curbing insurrection. Public image has tanked." Of course that was fun the viewpoints of people like him, relying on far more obscure sources for information.
Wanting to actually look at the person he was speaking to, he'd put the ship on autopilot and leaned to a side, so as to give him an angle to look back at her and make eye contact.
"Oh Gods." She thought as he began to adjust in his seat. "That's illegal."
She had taken some solace in the fact he had to face forward to fly the ship. It felt like a form of privilege to be able to watch him fly, to be solely an observer of this space trek. But now that was shattered and she had to quickly adapt.
At least the helmets helped. For some reason her face felt hot. Anxiety, it had to be that. Or maybe stress. The helmet was warm, that was it. She hoped he couldn't see.
Keeping the conversation going, she responded. "Ain't that system only barely controlled by th' liberty folk anyways? How'd those get there anyways, an' who let them find'em?" She had entirely overlooked her hands. They were doing an idle gesture, the left hand rubbing the ends of the index and middle finger.
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