Post by sphinxgoddess on Oct 23, 2009 15:23:34 GMT -5
Old fashioned lanterns, antiquities from before the Universal Century calendar's creation, swung ever so slightly on their hooks. Eight in all, they had been placed throughout the living quarters of the small transport craft, Horseman's Banquet. Four had been placed along the walls of what the crew liked to call the "Drinking Room for Discourse," or more officially titled the "De-Classified Operation Room." Of course, at the present time the room stayed more true to it's more informal usage; four men sat spread out across the room, frosted beer mugs in their hands and grins on their faces. The room felt lighthearted, jovial in a sense. Deeds of grandeur became the topic of the night as Earth's orbit gently rocked the men.
"... and that, m'boys, is how I landed m'self the title of 'Captain,'" an older gentleman laughed, slapping his thigh. His captain's hat, a faded and tattered thing that was perched on his kneecap, nearly tumbled off with the force of the blow. The aged captain, loathe to let his cap touch the floor, rushed to its aid. Beer sloshed out of his mug in the process, christening the floor of the Horseman's Banquet in its golden liquid.
Two other men in the room laughed. A space-born fellow of nineteen and hardly yet a man chuckled with them, but then replied in disbelief,"Yeah right! I'll bet there were no such creatures 'terrorizing' the vessels in those days."
"You'd be surprised, laddie," the gentleman said, leaning over towards the teen. One wrinkled hand fell to his un-hatted knee. After all these years he could still tell the difference between bone and metal. He murmured, "You'd be surprised."
Stillness temporarily took hold over the room. The bearded old-timer quieted, and looked past his drink to his memories. Sitting across from him, tipped back in his chair several feet from a six-foot-long weathered table, the youth swirled around the beer in his mug with a few shakes. The two remaining crew members, one beside the gentleman and the other beside the space-born boy, drank their beer without word.
"Well," the ship's mechanic finally sighed. He lifted up his glass to offer a toast, "Cheers to the fact that we are here on this ship, regardless of our past." Three glasses lifted up to his own. A sharp clink, and the fog of deep thought was driven far from all of their eyes.
"Amen to that," the last member of the bunch said. A wink and smile made his one good eye shine. "Captain's got to have a reason for bringing all of us 'ere."
He lifted the cool glass to his lips, and drew the last swig into the back of his mouth. But before he could down the mouthful, he spat the beer out again, spraying the aged man and mechanic in a fine mist of alcohol. They opened their mouth to protest, then quieted. Even in the quiet of the room they could hear her. The steady rise and fall of her chest, tightly laced into a finely made bodice, was unmistakable and strangely... soothing.
"You are right about that, Jarl," Mahara said. She stepped from the doorway and crossed to the head of the table, her heeled boots making minute clacking sounds as she walked. Four pairs of eyes focused on her, noting the precarious balance of her chest inside it's satin and lace corset.
She did not sit when she reached the head of the table. Rather, she leaned over the captain's chair she herself had supplied - a medium-sized ornate piece with feet carved to look like paws. As she did so, dark honey-colored hair spilled around her shoulders and made a silhouette of her chest.
"Indeed, there are reasons why I have invited you onto this vessel," she began. She looked at each of the men in turn. "It is not because you all possess certain qualities I need. No, it is what we all share in common."
Her gaze lingered on the grizzled sea captain for a moment, and her voice softened. "What we have lost."
Mahara then turned to the boy, "What we have gained."
Her umber eyes then fell on the remaining two men. One, whose fingers seemed permanently stained in oil and lubricant. And the second, whose glazed-blue eye saw nothing, and yet everything in the same instant.
"And what we have sacrificed," she sighed.
A brief moment of silence passed. Then Mahara lifted her head, chin raised with an act of dignity. Her pink-raspberry tinted lips blossomed into a smile rarely seen. She pushed herself up from leaning against the back of the chair, and clenched the chair's plush head with her long fingers.
"But no longer will we do such things for someone else's gain," she stated. The men nearly shouted in approval, except for the old-time captain, who grunted and came close to slamming his empty beer mug down on the table.
For once, we will be the masters of our own lives, not pawns in the game of politics and greed, she thought.
Mahara looked around the room, as if searching for something. Her crew did not appear to notice; they waited for her words, and imagined how their corseted Captain would lead them to riches and standing that the Earth Federation and Duchy never could.
"How do we begin, C-C-Captain?" The youth asked, stammering out his words.
Mahara turned her attention to the boy, "It begins now, Xenick." She watched him swallow, hard. She could almost see the tiniest beads of nervous sweat gathering at the bend in his neck.
Her small hips swayed back and forth as she walked around the room. She lifted her hands as if in offering, "Starting here, on this very ship. This vessel is the start of our enterprise; a promise from each of us to work together to achieve our own ends."
She watched her crew nod their heads. Again she felt a smile on her lips. "Now, where's that beer? We've got to drink to our health, and welcome this ship into our service!"
Cheers filled the room, then. Mahara watched as each member of her crew tried to rise and fetch her a drink, before running into and tripping over one another. The lithe Indian beauty told herself she would partake in their method of celebration this night, but the rest of the coming days would need her mind clear and focused.
They need a day without worry, for once. Tomorrow will come soon enough, for all of us.
"... and that, m'boys, is how I landed m'self the title of 'Captain,'" an older gentleman laughed, slapping his thigh. His captain's hat, a faded and tattered thing that was perched on his kneecap, nearly tumbled off with the force of the blow. The aged captain, loathe to let his cap touch the floor, rushed to its aid. Beer sloshed out of his mug in the process, christening the floor of the Horseman's Banquet in its golden liquid.
Two other men in the room laughed. A space-born fellow of nineteen and hardly yet a man chuckled with them, but then replied in disbelief,"Yeah right! I'll bet there were no such creatures 'terrorizing' the vessels in those days."
"You'd be surprised, laddie," the gentleman said, leaning over towards the teen. One wrinkled hand fell to his un-hatted knee. After all these years he could still tell the difference between bone and metal. He murmured, "You'd be surprised."
Stillness temporarily took hold over the room. The bearded old-timer quieted, and looked past his drink to his memories. Sitting across from him, tipped back in his chair several feet from a six-foot-long weathered table, the youth swirled around the beer in his mug with a few shakes. The two remaining crew members, one beside the gentleman and the other beside the space-born boy, drank their beer without word.
"Well," the ship's mechanic finally sighed. He lifted up his glass to offer a toast, "Cheers to the fact that we are here on this ship, regardless of our past." Three glasses lifted up to his own. A sharp clink, and the fog of deep thought was driven far from all of their eyes.
"Amen to that," the last member of the bunch said. A wink and smile made his one good eye shine. "Captain's got to have a reason for bringing all of us 'ere."
He lifted the cool glass to his lips, and drew the last swig into the back of his mouth. But before he could down the mouthful, he spat the beer out again, spraying the aged man and mechanic in a fine mist of alcohol. They opened their mouth to protest, then quieted. Even in the quiet of the room they could hear her. The steady rise and fall of her chest, tightly laced into a finely made bodice, was unmistakable and strangely... soothing.
"You are right about that, Jarl," Mahara said. She stepped from the doorway and crossed to the head of the table, her heeled boots making minute clacking sounds as she walked. Four pairs of eyes focused on her, noting the precarious balance of her chest inside it's satin and lace corset.
She did not sit when she reached the head of the table. Rather, she leaned over the captain's chair she herself had supplied - a medium-sized ornate piece with feet carved to look like paws. As she did so, dark honey-colored hair spilled around her shoulders and made a silhouette of her chest.
"Indeed, there are reasons why I have invited you onto this vessel," she began. She looked at each of the men in turn. "It is not because you all possess certain qualities I need. No, it is what we all share in common."
Her gaze lingered on the grizzled sea captain for a moment, and her voice softened. "What we have lost."
Mahara then turned to the boy, "What we have gained."
Her umber eyes then fell on the remaining two men. One, whose fingers seemed permanently stained in oil and lubricant. And the second, whose glazed-blue eye saw nothing, and yet everything in the same instant.
"And what we have sacrificed," she sighed.
A brief moment of silence passed. Then Mahara lifted her head, chin raised with an act of dignity. Her pink-raspberry tinted lips blossomed into a smile rarely seen. She pushed herself up from leaning against the back of the chair, and clenched the chair's plush head with her long fingers.
"But no longer will we do such things for someone else's gain," she stated. The men nearly shouted in approval, except for the old-time captain, who grunted and came close to slamming his empty beer mug down on the table.
For once, we will be the masters of our own lives, not pawns in the game of politics and greed, she thought.
Mahara looked around the room, as if searching for something. Her crew did not appear to notice; they waited for her words, and imagined how their corseted Captain would lead them to riches and standing that the Earth Federation and Duchy never could.
"How do we begin, C-C-Captain?" The youth asked, stammering out his words.
Mahara turned her attention to the boy, "It begins now, Xenick." She watched him swallow, hard. She could almost see the tiniest beads of nervous sweat gathering at the bend in his neck.
Her small hips swayed back and forth as she walked around the room. She lifted her hands as if in offering, "Starting here, on this very ship. This vessel is the start of our enterprise; a promise from each of us to work together to achieve our own ends."
She watched her crew nod their heads. Again she felt a smile on her lips. "Now, where's that beer? We've got to drink to our health, and welcome this ship into our service!"
Cheers filled the room, then. Mahara watched as each member of her crew tried to rise and fetch her a drink, before running into and tripping over one another. The lithe Indian beauty told herself she would partake in their method of celebration this night, but the rest of the coming days would need her mind clear and focused.
They need a day without worry, for once. Tomorrow will come soon enough, for all of us.
