Sunshine and a Leakin' Bag

[Kontrazec (Somni)]

Sunshine and a Leakin' Bag; A tale of copiously acquired wealths and improbable friendships

Part one: A pot of scrap under the raincloud

Hazy brown eyes shot open as bright, invasive light struck the closed eyelids, the light accompanied by a loud screeching sound and a light tremble passing through the hull shell right beside the head these eyes belonged to. The gruff, exceptionally hirsute and angle-featured man blinked several times, waking up and slowly realizing the stimulation he was receiving visually was tightly linked to the warning light, auditively the ship's defense system alert siren and tactile... Well, that one was the deciding factor to have him yelp out, throw the thermal cover off himself and scramble to leave his modular bunk. He struck his head against the bunk's upper edge and expelled a titanic amount of heavy, coarse and extremely colourful curses in various languages, hopping around and pulling on his jumpsuit pants desperately. He at least was glad the impacts against the hull ceased for a while, but he still didn't waste any time pulling his boots on, grabbing a large toolbox off the floor by the bunk and charging towards the door, keening; "Who's tryin'a bang my baby up!?" He shouldered the door open and let the metal swing open on its hinges- Though, it didn't swing fully open, stopping halfway with a thump, a scream and a few more thumps along catwalk grid. He blinked, the light and siren immediately ceasing, staying completely stumped for a few moments before his mind decided it'd be wise to check the damage. Slowly he stalked forward, grasping the door edge with one of his hands, pushing it further open and staring around it, his eyes scanning over the 'victim' of his punt.

Immediately, his features contorted in anger, and he stepped beside the door and stared down at a tall, slender male with a chaotic bush of silver-dyed hair atop his head. "SAAAAAAND!", he bellowed, immediately dropping his toolbox and chasing for the other from the spot- Naturally, the tall male immediately got up and begun bounding along the narrow corridors, far superior to the comparatively short, but stocky man, who was very quickly panting and watching that silver-haired bastard run away with all his gadgets. He groaned, slowly dragging back along the corridors while an androgynous, neutral voice sounded off over the loudspeaker system. "You're oversleeping again, Anderson. I hope I won't have to do such things to you next time. You know how much you mean to us, bunky!", the voice mocked him- Anderson simply flashed a bird towards one of the cameras in the corridor corners, grumbling his way towards the ship's engineering bay. He finally reached a wide double door, several meters wide and directly across an equally wide door leading to the cargo bay. He leaned against the wall and stared into an ocular scanner. "Anderson, Iura.", he mumbled, the door cracking open after a blip from the scanner, allowing the man to pace through the door, shutting it behind himself with a manual release button, putting his toolbox onto its place beside the engine's control panel. "Good mornin', sugar. How you been runnin' for daddy while I was gone, huh?", he cooed to the panel, going to work and wishing he had coffee for the next several hours.

The dull of his day was interrupted when he heard the click of the comm system, directly from the captain's booth- This was something no crewmember hesitated to answer. He tapped his earpiece and connected it to the relay in the corner, linking himself two-way to the captain's cabin. "What can I do you for, cap'n?", he warbled, scratching his beard with a gruff set of fingers which had barely any unburned skin on them. -"First of all, I hope Sand gave you some serious trouble waking you up. I hate tardiness." -"Sorry, cap'n. Won't happen again." Yes it will. -"It better not, Anderson. I don't wanna have to replace you." It was quite well known, by both of the speakers, that no such thing would happen; Mechanics for a Pilgrim were very, very hard to come by. And good mechanics for one... Well, those are an asset to have. "Turret shells three and seven need to be checked, the Twins said these two have a slight lean issue to the right. The air scrubbers in the stores need to be replaced and for the love of everything you hold dear, man, remember to check noone's in the room when you cut the life support." Anderson nodded as he listened. "Uh-huh. Roger that. Alright. I'll get on it, but I can't promise I'll warn Sand, that sadistic prick.", the man responded, leaving the engineering bay with his trusty toolbox, headed through the web of corridors and hallways that was the Reluctant Strider.

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Sucks to be a weight on the wrong side of the brilliance-insanity scale.