"So, bribery isn't above you, eh?"
Ian said with a chuckle, appraising Rob's work. "Much to your probable dismay, Rob, I was expecting a bill.
I know you don't do nothin' for free."
He was still looking up and down the 'Reverie', obviously impressed with the quick turnaround.
He cracked his knuckles and continued speaking.
"As to that little favor...
I could just pay you and leave you to rot on Tarancon.
But there's no good in that, and you've done a fine job here.
So...I suppose I'll entertain you. I'll be needing good hands at Vieques anyhow,
and you and your folks have proven more than capable."
Ian gave Rob a sinister grin, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.
"Of course...this favor you're asking is worth quite a bit more
than your bill, so keep in mind that if I do this for you, you owe me."
Ian produced a flask from his pocket, and took a deep swig. "All I've got left to do here is adapt the engines the Captain wanted,
and hand him back the keys.
Then I can fly back to Bering. You can go ahead and pack your **** and book it to Vieques.
I don't know what I'll tell Tiltman, or who I'm gonna ship to Tarancon, but we'll worry about that later.
Shouldn't take more than twelve hours to get those engines workin', lets just hope they don't explode in my face."
*************************
Ian held true to his mental estimates, he and his Engineers getting the engines installed, adapted,
and even having a successful test fire in only ten hours time.
Granted, they pushed, welded, hammered, and adjusted like madmen.
His crew were to thank for the heavy lifting,
but they kept saying "Dunno how we'd do it without you, boss."
And if he was honest with himself, he didn't know how they'd do it without him either.
After all, he had a history of pushing incompetent engineers through the airlocks out into open space.
This was, he thought, probably the only reason he had such good Engineers now.
Survival of the fittest, or in this case, most competent.
Once they had had a second successful test fire, Ian went down to the bar,
relieving his crew of work duties, and allowing them leisure time.
He was hoping to run into Theobald, and was eager to tell him the good news.
The 'Reverie' was ready to fly, as far as Ian could tell.
Everything was working, right down to the smallest articulation of the turrets.
Ian couldn't help but feel proud of the work they had done.
Though, personally, he would have scrapped such a mess
as opposed to fixing it.
But that was never his decision to make, so he contented himself
to sipping a glass of Whiskey, listening to the bar patrons' banter,
and wondering if he should go look for Theobald.
