Post by farcry11 on Jul 19, 2014 10:12:53 GMT
PART 1: REMINISCE
------
Pete sat in his study, hunched over his old desk. Cigar smoke and the smell of old books permeated the place, giving it a homely feel. The old star-captain leafed through a book- Selvion Renworth's autobiography, "Life of an Admiral". Peter smiled as he read through the book- written in the same aloof style with which the man had always spoken. Of note was the conspicuous absence of even a single chapter about the N.S.S Aurora- though Pete couldn't blame Renworth. The place held bad memories for him- for all of them.
The old captain shut the book quietly, donned his old navy coat, picked up his pipe and tobacco, and left his house for a smoke. It was a beautiful day outside- more common than not on the beautiful planet that was Europa. Peter himself lived a few hours away from the planet's "capital" city, in a small and sleepy village called Oxgrove. His house was modest- an old colonial-style place ringed by a waist-high mud brick wall painted white. It lay off a dirt road, and was a little ways off from the village proper- but he liked it just fine out here.
As the old man sat down on a little wooden chair right outside his wall, he waved kindly as people went past- he knew everyone in the village, of course. Old eccentric that he was, he still got out and about quite often. There was Gino, the butcher, going past on his old vintage motor-cycle. Going the other way was Daniella, a schoolteacher, on a squeaky old bike. His greetings were returned in full. The old man enjoyed the interaction, sitting, smoking, and greeting, when he noticed an unfamiliar car come up the road. It was a hovercar of the highest quality- clearly meant for the upper crust, with thrusters of platinum and a grille of gold. The captain raised an eyebrow as the car alighted in front of him, and a well dressed driver climbed out.
"Hullo," Peter said, puffing on his pipe. The man acknowledged him with a curt nod, and then opened the back door, allowing someone to step out... An older woman, her brown hair streaked with gray. She'd aged well, and looked young enough to be 50. Peter stared for a moment, then jumped slightly, taking his pipe from his mouth. He'd know that face anywhere.
Cross smiled at him warmly, as he stood to hug her. They embraced, and he stepped back, holding her by the shoulders.
"It's been too long," he said. "Much too long . If I'd known you were coming , I'd've made you a cuppa tea- but I'll get on it now, well, now that yer here."
"Thanks, Pete. Don't rush, okay?"
Ten minutes later, they sat in his living room , sipping on black tea and nibbling at some biscuits from his pantry. They chatted about a whole range of matters- where they'd been, what they were doing, politics, the weather, old friends, new friends. Their conversation strayed back the Aurora, after a time- it always tended to.
"We were wild back then, weren't we?", Adrianna said, smiling from the memories. "We were at our prime."
"Aye, you've got that right," the old captain responded, chuckling. "Ye know, I check up on the blokes sometimes. Most've 'em have passed on, but some o' us are still around. Vigor in us yet, n' all that."
The two talked at length- old stories, old memories. The conversation drifted from subject to subject like a boat on an open sea, and before long it was late in the afternoon. Adrianna checked the time on her holo-watch and stood.
"I'm sorry, Peter- but I really must be going. I've got an appointment out in these parts, you know, and I was just dropping by for a while. It was wonderful catching up."
"Of course, of course- made my day, ye know. Yer welcome here any time. Best of luck at yer appointment."
They exchanged goodbyes, and she left in something of a hurry. Peter watched her care take off, and returned to his study. Stowing Renworth's autobiography on a shelf, he withdrew a massive tome- a compilation of the great Icelandic Sagas- and began to read. The stories never ceased to entertain him, with their straightforward telling and their artful poetry.
As he read, his thoughts drifted... He had adventured too, once. First as a privateer, drifting through deepspace in one ship after another- and later on, in the service of NanoTrasen. Many exploits he'd partaken of aboard the NSS Aurora- he remembered it like it was yesterday. Back then, a stun baton in one hand and a laser-pistol in the other, only him and his fellows standing between the crew and their almost certain doon. He'd felt so alive...
So why had he stopped? As the thought entered his head, he looked up from his book, staring blankly at the wall. Retirement was cushy, but was he really, truly living? No- he wasn't made for the pleasant afternoon tea or the lazy Europan summers. He was of different stuff- a swashbuckler, a drunkard, a fighter. And here he sat, wasting away...
[W.I.P again because I'm still tired]
------
Pete sat in his study, hunched over his old desk. Cigar smoke and the smell of old books permeated the place, giving it a homely feel. The old star-captain leafed through a book- Selvion Renworth's autobiography, "Life of an Admiral". Peter smiled as he read through the book- written in the same aloof style with which the man had always spoken. Of note was the conspicuous absence of even a single chapter about the N.S.S Aurora- though Pete couldn't blame Renworth. The place held bad memories for him- for all of them.
The old captain shut the book quietly, donned his old navy coat, picked up his pipe and tobacco, and left his house for a smoke. It was a beautiful day outside- more common than not on the beautiful planet that was Europa. Peter himself lived a few hours away from the planet's "capital" city, in a small and sleepy village called Oxgrove. His house was modest- an old colonial-style place ringed by a waist-high mud brick wall painted white. It lay off a dirt road, and was a little ways off from the village proper- but he liked it just fine out here.
As the old man sat down on a little wooden chair right outside his wall, he waved kindly as people went past- he knew everyone in the village, of course. Old eccentric that he was, he still got out and about quite often. There was Gino, the butcher, going past on his old vintage motor-cycle. Going the other way was Daniella, a schoolteacher, on a squeaky old bike. His greetings were returned in full. The old man enjoyed the interaction, sitting, smoking, and greeting, when he noticed an unfamiliar car come up the road. It was a hovercar of the highest quality- clearly meant for the upper crust, with thrusters of platinum and a grille of gold. The captain raised an eyebrow as the car alighted in front of him, and a well dressed driver climbed out.
"Hullo," Peter said, puffing on his pipe. The man acknowledged him with a curt nod, and then opened the back door, allowing someone to step out... An older woman, her brown hair streaked with gray. She'd aged well, and looked young enough to be 50. Peter stared for a moment, then jumped slightly, taking his pipe from his mouth. He'd know that face anywhere.
Cross smiled at him warmly, as he stood to hug her. They embraced, and he stepped back, holding her by the shoulders.
"It's been too long," he said. "Much too long . If I'd known you were coming , I'd've made you a cuppa tea- but I'll get on it now, well, now that yer here."
"Thanks, Pete. Don't rush, okay?"
Ten minutes later, they sat in his living room , sipping on black tea and nibbling at some biscuits from his pantry. They chatted about a whole range of matters- where they'd been, what they were doing, politics, the weather, old friends, new friends. Their conversation strayed back the Aurora, after a time- it always tended to.
"We were wild back then, weren't we?", Adrianna said, smiling from the memories. "We were at our prime."
"Aye, you've got that right," the old captain responded, chuckling. "Ye know, I check up on the blokes sometimes. Most've 'em have passed on, but some o' us are still around. Vigor in us yet, n' all that."
The two talked at length- old stories, old memories. The conversation drifted from subject to subject like a boat on an open sea, and before long it was late in the afternoon. Adrianna checked the time on her holo-watch and stood.
"I'm sorry, Peter- but I really must be going. I've got an appointment out in these parts, you know, and I was just dropping by for a while. It was wonderful catching up."
"Of course, of course- made my day, ye know. Yer welcome here any time. Best of luck at yer appointment."
They exchanged goodbyes, and she left in something of a hurry. Peter watched her care take off, and returned to his study. Stowing Renworth's autobiography on a shelf, he withdrew a massive tome- a compilation of the great Icelandic Sagas- and began to read. The stories never ceased to entertain him, with their straightforward telling and their artful poetry.
As he read, his thoughts drifted... He had adventured too, once. First as a privateer, drifting through deepspace in one ship after another- and later on, in the service of NanoTrasen. Many exploits he'd partaken of aboard the NSS Aurora- he remembered it like it was yesterday. Back then, a stun baton in one hand and a laser-pistol in the other, only him and his fellows standing between the crew and their almost certain doon. He'd felt so alive...
So why had he stopped? As the thought entered his head, he looked up from his book, staring blankly at the wall. Retirement was cushy, but was he really, truly living? No- he wasn't made for the pleasant afternoon tea or the lazy Europan summers. He was of different stuff- a swashbuckler, a drunkard, a fighter. And here he sat, wasting away...
[W.I.P again because I'm still tired]