The Asgard

[darthbeck]

Cay absently twirled the knife in his hands, a gleaming piece of polished metal that'd cut through anything up to fourteen centimetres of thickness - the length of the blade - if the proper blow was applied to the hardened carbon super alloy, a varient steel alloy too brittle for ship building, but more then supple enough for a handheld weapon. He was sitting upon the bunk in his quarters on the Asgard, waiting for his mandatory downtime to end so he could get back to the bridge.

He was not content to sit around, despite spending more then eighteen hours a day on the bridge, and inspecting the ship. Cay was a man of action, sleep rarely came to him, and when it did, never for long, he had things to do, and reasons to keep moving. He'd taken some psychology courses during his youth, he understood what drove him to excellence as a captain, he knew that deep down, he wanted to keep moving because he was afraid that he'd lay down one day to rest, and never get up, even though the statistics were against that demise.

He expected to end his life as a statistic among the guilds records; "Captain Bartholomew Cay, Deceased." He muttered silently, wishing that something in his room could hear him, offer him some guidance to help keep his outwardly cold demeanor. He had seen his Guild psychological profile once when he had been given temporary unrestricted access to the Core's personnel lists for the purpose of recruiting a crew from existing guild members, the psychiatrist who had interviewed him had commented that Cay "Should be watched with extreme caution, due to anti-social tendencies", while also marking him down as a resource to be tapped for a command position. A vary bizarre contradiction that made perfect sense to Cay, given that he knew his limitations better then he knew the Asgard, and he knew the Asgard from bow to stern, he could recite the latest weapons calibrations from memory, and while off duty, micromanaged the engineers in charge of maintenance on the ship, barking orders as if he was on the bridge.

His crew, while obedient to the last, resented him.

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<span style="font-family:Century Gothic">Violence is Golden</span>