Through Time, Darkly

[Pryce]

Several hours earlier-


Pryce.Research.N101
Cortez System.

The jump over, Captain Nathan Wells relaxed slightly in his Bridge chair, the forward viewport revealing the fluffy-looking white haze of the Roatan Ice Cloud.


"Jump sequence complete. Holding position." The words were delivered flatly, with a vague aura of boredom, by the new helmsman, Jayden Bardel. A young, but reputedly capable pilot they'd hired on at Manhattan the last time through. Their previous helm had suddenly quit, after learning of Wells' decision to continue their mission, despite the earlier damage to the ship.


Wells frowned. The man had really tried to convince Wells to change his mind. Should have taken his advice. He thought absently. Unbidden, the man sitting at the operations console spoke; "No damage from the jump." Ordinarily he would had said something to the effect of "All systems green." This time that wasn't the case.


"Continue on through Mr. Bardel, initiate trade lane protocols."


"Yes sir." The helmsman replied, and preceded to push the ship towards the closest trade ring. The movement was handled somewhat awkwardly, more indication the pilot might have been stretching the truth regarding his prior experience. Wells had noticed this, and so far had said nothing. He admitted to himself that he had something of a soft spot for any new kid just starting out. He remembered times early in life , when all he'd wanted was a chance, and how few had given him one. Still, it wouldn't do if his sentiments resulted in the ship splattering against the nearest rock. He'd have to intervene if the kid didn't improve soon.


"Entering lane."


The usual wave of light as they began travel to the next waypoint.


Wells frowned again. So much for that business back in Bretonia. He'd let that lead doc, Samantha Ross, talk him into taking the ship way out to New London. He shook his head slowly. He'd overcompensated for that mess with Nickatelli by playing too much to the docs' wishes. He'd compromised his better judgement, and that had been bothering him something fierce most of the day. If they'd needed something picked up out there, they ought to have had Adam Russ' Firefly, of one of the other DL transports handle it. Ross had expressed an urgency in handling it directly, so he'd folded.


The hair on the back of his neck had started to rise, when their mining contact had asked to meet away from New London, away from the lanes. Ross had pushed him, again, and he gave in, and pulled into the South Hampton field. He'd kept the crew pretty wary as they'd waited in the field for a spell. It was a complete surprise when their contact, not them, got intercepted by hostile ships. The load they'd come out to buy being taken in the process. Wells had finally came to his senses, and started the ship back home as fast as she'd go. Ross had gotten pretty snippy with him for that call, but he wasn't up to trading lives for a little bit of metal.


Soon enough the ship popped out of the lane, and the vast beauty of Planet Curacao became visible on their port side. Wells studied it for a moment. He'd passed by a few times, never been. Well, that was for the rich folks anyway. Someday maybe.


"Keep us on the next lane Mr. Bardel, 'fraid this ain't our stop."


[color=#FFCC33]<span style="font-size:10pt;line-height:100%]Below

Angela Wight walked down the corridor, followed by Doctor Marcus Owens beside her. "Do you think we'll be waking him up?" Angela said, somewhat distantly. "If I were him, I think I'd like to sleep in today. Flying that little thing around must be exhausting."


After the rather odd incidents in the hangar, Doyle had expressed a desire to leave the ship. The staffs opinion on the matter had been split, Ross, Graham, and Donovan worried he would disappear completely, or be seized by someone with less peaceful intentions. Doctors Owen, Hart, and Angela herself had been swayed by Denises' case of giving Doyle his proper freedoms. They'd let him go. Denise and Doctor Hart had gotten off on Planet Manhattan , along with a notable portion of the crew, for scheduled leave. Something Angela wished could have waited abit. With Doyles' main defender off the ship, Angela was a little worried how things might go in Denises' absence. But sure enough, Doyle had gone off, and had come back in his own time, apparently none the worse for wear.


"I do suppose we shall find out." Owens said, replying to her question.


"I hope we don't end up having to move that stuff aound *all* the time." Angela continued, Referring to the clearing of the hangar that had taken place prior to Doyles departure, and the return of part of it at his return."


"Indeed, I've sent a message to Doctor Altura about that, and I do believe it shall be addressed soon."


"Oh! Good!" Angela replied. How, I wonder? Walking through the adjoining equipment room, The two of them had reached the hangar entry hatch.

"Has he been sleeping in that ship of his, or in the room behind the hangar?" Owens asked. A question that would not been necessary had they been keeping him under constant observation.

Angela shugged, though she had wondered about the same. He needs that fighter. She knew that much.

As Owens keyed the unlock of the hangar hatch. Angela asked; "It that really needed?"

He frowned, and didn't answer. The hatch slid open , and Angela stepped softly inside. They'd given him control of the lights, after dimming it abit from the usual harsh glare. Another of Ellis' considerations.

Angela asked out loud; "Lieutenant?"

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