Williamson

[Barrier]

Day 1

Roald patiently waited for the mechanics to give him the go-ahead. Patience was a quality he posessed in abundance, but his reserves were starting to run dry. Even the bloody paperwork was in order, and if someone told him that it would be so around a month ago, he would have laughed at their optimism. Alas, even the endless blanks and checkboxes were better than doing nothing. And with all that gone, waiting was the only thing that remained.

For want of anything else to do, Roald started going through the mental checklist for what must have been the fifth time in two days. Papers - check. They were not worth screening for errors, since most of them were formalities anyway. Supplies... Enough food rations to last two and a half thousand people around six months. Natalie pestered him about replacing it all with Synth Paste, which apparently would have occupied half the space while feeding double the numbers. The only problem with it was that he hated the stuff. Besides, he was most likely not alone in that regard. But then, even if that didn't convince her (which it did), he would probably have to invoke his authority as the captain, an option which was best saved for the last resort. The water canisters contained double the amount of food, and that was not counting the water meant for washing. He would not be a captain of a fetid vessel. The medical hold was overstocked and masterfully sealed by Winston. He lent a hand to the wiry old man. Roald thought that this was only allowed by virtue of Winston's sympathy for his boredom. Be that as it may, once finished, he went over the list with the old doctor, and they both deemed it completely satisfactory. Over a hundred packages with bedding supplies, magnetic eating utensils, storage containers, carpets... If someone complained about a lack of comfort, he supposed he would have to unpack something from deep storage, but the amounts should be quite exact. Enough H-Fuel and artificial atmosphere canisters (saturated with oxygen of course!) to last them a year in space. Fourteen small blasters and a heavy laser rifle for everyone who had to go amongst the passengers, including himself. Therefore, check. Crew - ... he shifted slightly and switched the position of his crossed legs... - check. No point in dwelling upon them. He was a patient man after all, and that meant that the crew was hand picked by him, over a substantial period of time. He did not doubt their competence.

With a sudden unwillingness to continue with the already memorized checklist, Roald went back to watching the mechanics at their work. Not too long now, he thought.