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Dec. 23rd, 2016 11:31 amBodhi knew he’d lost the argument as soon as he lost his temper. But this pompous arse of a scientist was pushing all his buttons, all at once. It wasn’t Bodhi’s fault the what-ever-the-hell-it-was machine was broken. He hadn’t packed it. Hell, when he picked it up on Spindrift, the box was sitting upside under a pile of other equipment.
And yes, it’s late. It came halfway around the galaxy! Even in hyperspace, travel still takes time! And the what-ever-the-hell-it-was was not the only cargo Bodhi had to pick up. The Empire doesn’t pay him for half empty hauls.
And of course the crate was wet! It’s bloody Eadu! Everything’s wet here. If the scientist had collected it when Bodhi signalled he was coming in, he could have unloaded it with the covered lifter with everything else. But oh no! This one had to be signed for! And this guy was too important not to make a mere cargo pilot wait.
Tired, wet and fed up with being yelled at, Bodhi lost his temper.
Now he and the scientist were standing toe to toe, screaming at each other.
“My superior will hear of this!” the man snorted imperiously. “You just wait and see! You’ll never be allowed this route again!”
As if an order to fly that unwieldly space turtle of a ship through these storms was a privilege he should be grateful for.
Only Bodhi was grateful; grateful not to be hauling kyber from Jeddah. He hadn’t been back in nearly six years and he was fine with that. Looking back hurt. Best not to look.
“Fine with me! I did my job!” Bodhi growled back, tossing the water out of his hair like a dog. “Tell your superior! I’m here. I’ll wait!”
Because what else was he going to do? He was tired, wet, fed up and now stuck. The delay had cost him too much time. The take-off and landing window for the moon’s orbit was past. He’d have to wait out the seven hour night of Eadu Prime’s planetary shadow or get docked for wasting a full tank of fuel just to break orbit. Either way, he was parked here overnight.
He stalked back into the ship, pulling up the cargo door and shaking off his mostly-but-not-enough-for-this-place water proof jacket. If this superior wanted to yell at Bodhi, he could come down here and find him. In the meantime, Bodhi was going to get dry and cook himself a meal.
Most Imperial facilities like this had a pilot’s mess and bunk room, for exactly situations like this but Bodhi preferred not to use them. They always smelt of socks and stale farts. And the kitchen would be filthy. There weren’t many things Bodhi could do well – fly, keep up to date with imperial regs, and cook.
Finally dry and warm, he starts in on making dinner.
And yes, it’s late. It came halfway around the galaxy! Even in hyperspace, travel still takes time! And the what-ever-the-hell-it-was was not the only cargo Bodhi had to pick up. The Empire doesn’t pay him for half empty hauls.
And of course the crate was wet! It’s bloody Eadu! Everything’s wet here. If the scientist had collected it when Bodhi signalled he was coming in, he could have unloaded it with the covered lifter with everything else. But oh no! This one had to be signed for! And this guy was too important not to make a mere cargo pilot wait.
Tired, wet and fed up with being yelled at, Bodhi lost his temper.
Now he and the scientist were standing toe to toe, screaming at each other.
“My superior will hear of this!” the man snorted imperiously. “You just wait and see! You’ll never be allowed this route again!”
As if an order to fly that unwieldly space turtle of a ship through these storms was a privilege he should be grateful for.
Only Bodhi was grateful; grateful not to be hauling kyber from Jeddah. He hadn’t been back in nearly six years and he was fine with that. Looking back hurt. Best not to look.
“Fine with me! I did my job!” Bodhi growled back, tossing the water out of his hair like a dog. “Tell your superior! I’m here. I’ll wait!”
Because what else was he going to do? He was tired, wet, fed up and now stuck. The delay had cost him too much time. The take-off and landing window for the moon’s orbit was past. He’d have to wait out the seven hour night of Eadu Prime’s planetary shadow or get docked for wasting a full tank of fuel just to break orbit. Either way, he was parked here overnight.
He stalked back into the ship, pulling up the cargo door and shaking off his mostly-but-not-enough-for-this-place water proof jacket. If this superior wanted to yell at Bodhi, he could come down here and find him. In the meantime, Bodhi was going to get dry and cook himself a meal.
Most Imperial facilities like this had a pilot’s mess and bunk room, for exactly situations like this but Bodhi preferred not to use them. They always smelt of socks and stale farts. And the kitchen would be filthy. There weren’t many things Bodhi could do well – fly, keep up to date with imperial regs, and cook.
Finally dry and warm, he starts in on making dinner.
