ignored.
Melissa nodded her head slowly in acceptance, and he didn’t believe a single
second of it. So why was he allowing this to go on?
“Good,” he turned and slapped his palm against the hatch release. He moved away
from the opening and made a grand sweeping gesture with his arm. “Welcome
aboard Sylvia’s Delight , and please watch your step.”
Melissa stepped into a roomy, lounge-like compartment and approached a seat
near the compartments only view port, which was situated on the starboard side
of the vessel. She lightly wiped the blue material off with her hand, seeing a
small cloud of dust erupt from the unused cushion. After a small sneezing fit,
Shawn stepped up and leaned over her shoulder.
“We haven’t seen many passengers lately,” he smiled, then walked toward the
cockpit.
Melissa resigned herself to a dirty bottom and reluctantly sat down.
Withdrawing a handkerchief from her purse, she dabbed at a spot of something
brown and sticky on the armrest. Having terminated the spot, she attached her
seatbelt and leaned back in the chair, the cushions squeaking under her
diminutive weight. After getting as comfortable as the furniture would allow,
she craned her head around the inside of the cramped vessel.
The compartment seemed to be invisibly bisected, with one half dedicated to
seating and the other side left uncluttered—save for a computer terminal and
storage locker on the bulkhead. The arrangement afforded a wide walkway between
the door to the control deck at one end and a closed hatch to Melissa’s left
that led aft. Directly in front of her was the back of an L-shaped couch that
wrapped around a small circular table and one additional chair. On the far side
of the cabin, to the right of the control room hatch, was a small wash basin and a set of lockers. Looking toward the open control deck
hatch, she watched as the captain flipped at switches, turned knobs, and
manipulated controls on various touch sensitive screens. There was also a
female voice emanating from the room, but it was too far away for an accurate
translation. The captain wore the unmistakable visage of concern.
“Mister Kestrel,” she asked, but received no reply. “Excuse me, Mister
Kestrel?” this time she elevated her voice. Still, there was no
acknowledgement.
The engines came online and the entire vessel began to shudder. Melissa
involuntarily gripped at the armrests, only then realizing that she hadn’t
completely eradicated the gooey brown substance for its surface. “Mister
Kestrel!” She was now yelling across the fifteen or so feet that separated the
two.
Shawn glowered at her over his shoulder. “What?”
“Are you sure we can takeoff? We’ve got a lot of cargo back there.”
Shawn turned and shifted his eyes to the hatch on Melissa right, peering with
implied x-ray vision into the cargo hold beyond. He could mentally see the
crates of weapons stacked evenly throughout the back of the ship, weighing in
at an average of two-hundred pounds each. He quickly did the math in his head
once more, then shouted back to Melissa. “We’ll be
fine. I do this all the time.”
She never felt like she’d made more of a mistake than she did at that moment.
“Why do I not believe you?”
He turned back to the control panel, slowly nodded and repeating silently to himself that things would indeed be fine.
Although he couldn’t see her, she’d crossed her arms and was looking at the
back of his head incredulously.
Shawn clicked on the transmitter, linking himself once again to Trent’s
receiver. Deciding that closing the cabin door would only alarm his passenger,
he attempted to speak low enough that she wouldn’t hear. “You checked the
weight of everything first, right?
“Of course. Just like always. But, I’d still be a
little cautious on
Melissa nodded her head slowly in acceptance, and he didn’t believe a single
second of it. So why was he allowing this to go on?
“Good,” he turned and slapped his palm against the hatch release. He moved away
from the opening and made a grand sweeping gesture with his arm. “Welcome
aboard Sylvia’s Delight , and please watch your step.”
Melissa stepped into a roomy, lounge-like compartment and approached a seat
near the compartments only view port, which was situated on the starboard side
of the vessel. She lightly wiped the blue material off with her hand, seeing a
small cloud of dust erupt from the unused cushion. After a small sneezing fit,
Shawn stepped up and leaned over her shoulder.
“We haven’t seen many passengers lately,” he smiled, then walked toward the
cockpit.
Melissa resigned herself to a dirty bottom and reluctantly sat down.
Withdrawing a handkerchief from her purse, she dabbed at a spot of something
brown and sticky on the armrest. Having terminated the spot, she attached her
seatbelt and leaned back in the chair, the cushions squeaking under her
diminutive weight. After getting as comfortable as the furniture would allow,
she craned her head around the inside of the cramped vessel.
The compartment seemed to be invisibly bisected, with one half dedicated to
seating and the other side left uncluttered—save for a computer terminal and
storage locker on the bulkhead. The arrangement afforded a wide walkway between
the door to the control deck at one end and a closed hatch to Melissa’s left
that led aft. Directly in front of her was the back of an L-shaped couch that
wrapped around a small circular table and one additional chair. On the far side
of the cabin, to the right of the control room hatch, was a small wash basin and a set of lockers. Looking toward the open control deck
hatch, she watched as the captain flipped at switches, turned knobs, and
manipulated controls on various touch sensitive screens. There was also a
female voice emanating from the room, but it was too far away for an accurate
translation. The captain wore the unmistakable visage of concern.
“Mister Kestrel,” she asked, but received no reply. “Excuse me, Mister
Kestrel?” this time she elevated her voice. Still, there was no
acknowledgement.
The engines came online and the entire vessel began to shudder. Melissa
involuntarily gripped at the armrests, only then realizing that she hadn’t
completely eradicated the gooey brown substance for its surface. “Mister
Kestrel!” She was now yelling across the fifteen or so feet that separated the
two.
Shawn glowered at her over his shoulder. “What?”
“Are you sure we can takeoff? We’ve got a lot of cargo back there.”
Shawn turned and shifted his eyes to the hatch on Melissa right, peering with
implied x-ray vision into the cargo hold beyond. He could mentally see the
crates of weapons stacked evenly throughout the back of the ship, weighing in
at an average of two-hundred pounds each. He quickly did the math in his head
once more, then shouted back to Melissa. “We’ll be
fine. I do this all the time.”
She never felt like she’d made more of a mistake than she did at that moment.
“Why do I not believe you?”
He turned back to the control panel, slowly nodded and repeating silently to himself that things would indeed be fine.
Although he couldn’t see her, she’d crossed her arms and was looking at the
back of his head incredulously.
Shawn clicked on the transmitter, linking himself once again to Trent’s
receiver. Deciding that closing the cabin door would only alarm his passenger,
he attempted to speak low enough that she wouldn’t hear. “You checked the
weight of everything first, right?
“Of course. Just like always. But, I’d still be a
little cautious on
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