that.
Helton: What?
Ship AI: (OC) I can’t open the cargo bay doors, Sir.
Helton: Why not?
Ship AI: (OC) They are manually locked, Sir.
Helton looks over at where the doors come together, and there is a very solid looking manual latching bolt shut fast. He gets a somewhat frustrated “well, DUH!” expression on his face, and momentarily puts his arms akimbo, staring at the latch. He walks over, and with great effort loosens and unlatches it. Nothing happens.
Helton: Open the door.
Off to his side, an airlock-type hatch door to the stairway opens with a creaking sound like a crypt that hasn’t been opened for centuries. Helton looks at it, a quizzical expression on his face.
Helton: (Articulating carefully) Open the main aft cargo doors that I just unlatched.
With a rending, screeching sound , as if the crypt occupant is annoyed at being disturbed, the massive doors grind sideways, revealing the closed loading ramp sloping up.
Helton: Lower the ramp.
Ship AI: (OC) I would not advise that at the current time.
Helton: (Annoyed) Who’s in charge here?! I said lower the ramp.
Ship AI: (OC, softly skeptical) Are you positive, sir?
Helton: Yes, I’m positive!
Ship AI: (OC) Right now, sir?
Helton: YES! Drop the ramp RIGHT NOW!
There is a slight pause, the sound of metal sliding on metal, then with a tremendous crashing, WHUMPing CLANG!, the massive ramp drops in freefall, hitting the ground hard, as if it’s not under control at all, sounding like an iron mountain falling to earth. Sunlight blasts in. Standing right next to now-nearly-horizontal ramp in a cloud of dust is a very surprised Floyd, eyes huge and startled. He turns slightly to look at them, and the ramp lying across his very recently made foot prints. He was missed by inches.
Floyd: Um, uh, yuuu…
Helton: Oh, God, was there someone behind you?
Floyd: N-n-n-no, bu-buuut… some …
Floyd points off beside the ship, trembling, in shock at his close call.
On the road near the side entry of the ship is a utility truck with several workers and a lot of equipment in the back. On the ground and walking briskly toward them is a sharply-dressed pair of men. Seymore (mid-30s, very slick looking) and Seeless (50s, balding, paunchy, weaselly).
Seymore: ( Sounding like a used car salesman with a quart of high-octane coffee in him) Jed Seymore, Seymore’s Custom Aerospace Maintenance. Biggest and best ship shop in Adelaide. I heard that you were planning on refitting this fine old ship, and I am at your service. We can start with a full survey of her to find out what she needs, then work through a bill of particulars. Survey’s free if you contract the work out to us, and we are the only company that could possibly put this grand old classic back in service. When would you like to start?
Helton: ( Suspiciously)… How much for just the survey, no promises?
Seymore: Ah, a man that likes to keep his options open! Good idea. For a ship of this type and age, it would need a very thorough going over, and just the preliminary might take five or six-
Helton: Quote, or walk.
Seymore: Ah, well, it’s not like I can-
Helton: Five… Four…
Seymore: One fifty.
Helton: … A hundred and fifty what ?
Seymore: Well, we’d have to-
Helton: (Firmly) NO.
Seymore: ( Indignant) What do you mean, NO?
Helton: If you can’t give a specific price for a specific service, then “ no .”
Seymore: You can’t just turn me down like that ! There’s no one else around that can do this sort of work.
Helton: I’ll find someone.
Helton turns and walks back up the ramp. Seymore starts to follow.
Helton: ( Flatly) Off my ship.
Seymore: ( Getting angry) Now, look here-
Helton glances over toward the truck. The group of workers have jumped out, and are walking over to their boss, carrying tools. Not just workers, enforcers .
Helton:… Let me think about it, and make some calls to see how things work around here, OK?
Seymore: (All smarmy smiles again) Fine,
Helton: What?
Ship AI: (OC) I can’t open the cargo bay doors, Sir.
Helton: Why not?
Ship AI: (OC) They are manually locked, Sir.
Helton looks over at where the doors come together, and there is a very solid looking manual latching bolt shut fast. He gets a somewhat frustrated “well, DUH!” expression on his face, and momentarily puts his arms akimbo, staring at the latch. He walks over, and with great effort loosens and unlatches it. Nothing happens.
Helton: Open the door.
Off to his side, an airlock-type hatch door to the stairway opens with a creaking sound like a crypt that hasn’t been opened for centuries. Helton looks at it, a quizzical expression on his face.
Helton: (Articulating carefully) Open the main aft cargo doors that I just unlatched.
With a rending, screeching sound , as if the crypt occupant is annoyed at being disturbed, the massive doors grind sideways, revealing the closed loading ramp sloping up.
Helton: Lower the ramp.
Ship AI: (OC) I would not advise that at the current time.
Helton: (Annoyed) Who’s in charge here?! I said lower the ramp.
Ship AI: (OC, softly skeptical) Are you positive, sir?
Helton: Yes, I’m positive!
Ship AI: (OC) Right now, sir?
Helton: YES! Drop the ramp RIGHT NOW!
There is a slight pause, the sound of metal sliding on metal, then with a tremendous crashing, WHUMPing CLANG!, the massive ramp drops in freefall, hitting the ground hard, as if it’s not under control at all, sounding like an iron mountain falling to earth. Sunlight blasts in. Standing right next to now-nearly-horizontal ramp in a cloud of dust is a very surprised Floyd, eyes huge and startled. He turns slightly to look at them, and the ramp lying across his very recently made foot prints. He was missed by inches.
Floyd: Um, uh, yuuu…
Helton: Oh, God, was there someone behind you?
Floyd: N-n-n-no, bu-buuut… some …
Floyd points off beside the ship, trembling, in shock at his close call.
On the road near the side entry of the ship is a utility truck with several workers and a lot of equipment in the back. On the ground and walking briskly toward them is a sharply-dressed pair of men. Seymore (mid-30s, very slick looking) and Seeless (50s, balding, paunchy, weaselly).
Seymore: ( Sounding like a used car salesman with a quart of high-octane coffee in him) Jed Seymore, Seymore’s Custom Aerospace Maintenance. Biggest and best ship shop in Adelaide. I heard that you were planning on refitting this fine old ship, and I am at your service. We can start with a full survey of her to find out what she needs, then work through a bill of particulars. Survey’s free if you contract the work out to us, and we are the only company that could possibly put this grand old classic back in service. When would you like to start?
Helton: ( Suspiciously)… How much for just the survey, no promises?
Seymore: Ah, a man that likes to keep his options open! Good idea. For a ship of this type and age, it would need a very thorough going over, and just the preliminary might take five or six-
Helton: Quote, or walk.
Seymore: Ah, well, it’s not like I can-
Helton: Five… Four…
Seymore: One fifty.
Helton: … A hundred and fifty what ?
Seymore: Well, we’d have to-
Helton: (Firmly) NO.
Seymore: ( Indignant) What do you mean, NO?
Helton: If you can’t give a specific price for a specific service, then “ no .”
Seymore: You can’t just turn me down like that ! There’s no one else around that can do this sort of work.
Helton: I’ll find someone.
Helton turns and walks back up the ramp. Seymore starts to follow.
Helton: ( Flatly) Off my ship.
Seymore: ( Getting angry) Now, look here-
Helton glances over toward the truck. The group of workers have jumped out, and are walking over to their boss, carrying tools. Not just workers, enforcers .
Helton:… Let me think about it, and make some calls to see how things work around here, OK?
Seymore: (All smarmy smiles again) Fine,
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