Lost in the woods...

Space: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Osiris. Its continuing mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where-

Bonk!

Gravity was such a bastard sometimes, which was funny because out in space there wasn't much of it around. The slightest jostle of the Osiris had dislodged a book from it's place on a shelf above Ava's head. That was where gravity, however artificial it may have been, had been a bastard. The book fell the three feet only to stop abruptly on the side of Ava's head. The book had interrupted her strange dream and caused an emergency start on her combat protocols.

Like a mouse trap, the blonde would-be brawler snapped into a sitting position and started swinging her arms and flailing her legs. She let out a low growl, as if to scare whoever had struck her and buy her precious seconds to open her eyes... Which she had yet to do. Around the second air punch, her eyes cracked open to reveal a blurry mess of colors and lights. The assault on her still sleeping senses did not go unanswered. It returned a shout and an attempt to stand. Ava's brain had failed ask her legs if they were up for the challenge. With a groggy 'no', they declined the invitation to rouse from their slumber and join the brain. The Captain promptly collapsed to the floor.

Her head bouncing off the floor plating did a better job of waking Ava than the combat start. The blur turned to fuzz for a brief moment, which was washed away with a single blink of her blue eyes. Pushing herself off of her chest and into a side sitting position, she looked around for what had struck her, still trying to figure out what had just happened. Ava's eyes met the book just as the ship shimmied again and yet another book fell off the shelf. It landed square in the center of her pillow, striking with a gentle ploof sound.

"Ben tian-sheng de yi dui rou!" She cursed under her breath.

Someone would pay for the red mark on the side of her face, and right now it was looking like the ship's pilot. Snapping to her feet, Ava Jacoby marched to the door with all the fire in her eyes of a woman about to murder her cheatin' husband. She just about punched the door lock, to which the door quickly sprang open to avoid being kicked down. It was a hand full of hurried steps to the cockpit where she could unleash her rage on the pilot who's flying had disrupted her sleep. The pilot who, working in cahoots with gravity, had struck her about the head and caused her un-witnessed embarrassment in her bunk.

As the door to the cockpit slammed open! Okay maybe it just slid like normal, but Ava imagined it to have slammed. "What are you DOING?!"

As the door slid open, Clifton quickly threw the game system he had been playing across the cockpit. It landed safely against the wall and shattered into a million pieces. His attempt to smoothly discard the evidence of his slacking resulted instead in a brilliant shower of circuitry. Still trying to play it smooth, Clifton leaned back in his pilot's chair and rotated around 180 degrees to face whoever had almost caught him playing video games at the helm. Sucker, he thought with a grin. The grin disappeared when the person in the door was realized to be Captain Jacoby. Rather than sitting up straight to show his shock, maybe babbling on about how sorry he was... Nah, that wasn't Cliff. She was shouting, so that meant she was angry. She wasn't dressed, that meant she was angry enough to storm directly to the cockpit without a pit stop for clothes.

"What am I doing?" He repeated the question asked to him, "I was trying to fly the ship before you burst in here in your underwear. If you're coming on to me Cap'n, that is wildly inappropriate, outlandish, and uh, fantastic."

Still leaning back in his chair, he now kicked his feet up and onto the radio console. Y'know, to get more comfortable. Not to egg her on or anything like that.

Clive had been in his bunk, dreaming of daisies and posies in a field. Of coursse, said field was occupied by several dozen men and women, fighting over what appeared to be a flag pole. Explosions, machinery grinding, gunfire, screams and cries of anger and pain... And the shouts of some one very familar to the dreamer.

"NNnhhhnnggggh...."

Clive grunted as he stirred from sleep, his eyes opening slowly. Grey bulkhead above him? Check. White tank top, with grey sweatpants? Check. Thin military surplus mattress on top of a metal frame, all inside a giant metal box flying through space? Check. He was still where he had nodded off. And in the relative immediate distance, he could hear the captain shouting. Possibly at Mobius. Probably at Mobius. Clive closed his eyes again, unhappy that his medication had worn off so soon, before rolling off the bed and catching himself with a leg, then two. As he stood and walked to the door, he grabbed Isabella, his shotgun, off the wallhooks next to the door. He kept it loaded with beanbag rounds for immediate use inside the ship, but he hoped he wouldn't need them. They were expensive and hard as piss to replace.

As he slid the room's door to the side, he yawned. He took several steps forward, his eyes still closed and head twisted up and to the side, before he slowly walked up to the steps that lead into the bridge. He looked up the stairs to see Ava's back, dressed only in her undergarments.

"Cap'n in her skivvies, shouting at Mobius. I'll be in my bunk."

Ava looked down at her underwear and tank top, "Well I- You just-..."

She quickly reached down for her revolver, which wasn't there. This problem wouldn't be solved that easy. Ava was now very obviously embarrassed, her cheeks bright pink to let everyone else know. The only thing she could think to do was to look around and see who else knew about her underwear problem. As she turned her head to the side, she caught a glimpse of Clive walking away. Why he had a firearm was beyond her, maybe he thought the shouting was the start of a gun fight. He would have liked that, she surmised.

Quickly snapping her attention back to the ship's pilot, Ava spat some more angry words out. "Bizui! Fly my boat straight or you'll be floating home!"

At this point, Ava accepted her shame. She would pretend her choice of attire was intentional and continue with her morning like this. They didn't have passengers so it wouldn't matter. Plus someone had to keep ship morale up, right? Spinning on her heels, she turned around and walked back down the steps to chase down Clive. The rest of the crew would probably be waking up around now. Metal walls didn't make for the best insulation for sound.

No, the hull doesn't really insulate sound much. But this is one of those nights when Dmitri's sleep cycle is broken, so he happened to be doing a quick inspection of medical gear. He heard the captain goin' by before, but figured that's one storm he ain't chasin'. Hearing her pass back though, he plays the gentleman card and holds a spare medico coat out the door. "Captain." Never hurts to have manners... or so he hopes.

'Always with the yelling. ALWAYS, and always first thing in the damn morning.' Six thought, dragging the pair of coveralls that he was half-ass using as a blanket over his head, and rolling over in his hammock. The engine bay was, thankfully, on the other side of the ship from the soap-opera going on in the cockpit, and just in case that it decided to move his way, he lazily kicked his foot out at the door latch, locking it down with a muffled clunk. More yelling, then cursing, and footsteps along a loose floor grate poked at the edge of his conciseness, reminding him of yet one more thing that needed his attention.

...Later, of course. Mechanics are a fickle buhch, requiring their sweet, sweet beauty sleep to make up for the grease stains and bashed knuckles.

The coat startled Ava at first, seeing as it sprung out of an open doorway like it did. It was cold enough, that was for sure. No sense in blinding the rest of the crew with her high beams before she decided to get dressed for the day. She took the coat on stride, putting it on as she walked with a quick little turn. Deciding it wasn't worth it to chase down Clive, Ava paused in step after donning her new coat. Maybe she could talk to Dmitri for a spell, take her mind off the rage that was building on account of her partial nudity.

"Doc," She said simply, folding the coat's flaps over one another across her chest and holding them there with crossed arms.

Wasn't much of a conversation she was starting, but it was one.

Clive slid the door to his room open. As per his nature, the door to his room was manual-operation only. He had switched it when he was hired, and then forced it to remain in that mode by jamming the butt of Isabella into the eletrical panel. He didn't like being locked in or out by a rutting switch. He slid the bottom latch closed as he stepped into his room and closed the door.

He had heard the captain start to chase after him, but was relieved to hear her stop. No time was a good time to converse with Clive- Especially mornings. Mornings that involved him being woken by something other than his liking were the worst. He set Isabella on her rack, before stripping down. He was already awake, he might as well change into real clothes and prepare for the day. Maybe the captain would be actually dressed by then. Clive liked to work and get through the day with all his blood flowing through his brain.

Dmitri puts down the supplies he was looking over and does an about face. "Aye, Captain?" Some of that ol' Alliance protocol stuck with him. Not always a bad thing, though. but then again, he is leaning on the counter, so he's kinda letting it slide.

"Late night?" Ava said, stepping in and looking around.

After she had said Doc, she had realized he wasn't indeed a doctor. He was a medic, and Alliance medic if she remembered the rumors right. Never did ask him, better to leave that stuff in the past. Not something you forgot about either though, had to keep it in the back of your mind just in case something happened. Same with that Clive fellow, the man with all the weapons. He had dealings with the Alliance, though not as directly as Dmitri.

"Not really. I don't always have a full night's sleep. I'm just up far earlier than most. Figure I'd make sure nothing got broke while the ship listed." He looks behind onto the counter to make sure nothing's been knocked over or moved that he didn't notice before. "Need anything to calm down or get back to sleep? I'm doubting this was part of a spontaneous 'crew morale' initiative."

That last comment brought a smile to Ava's face. At this point, sleep was no longer an option. She was up, she had shouted, and her blood was flowing. This was it for the day now. It wasn't so bad, she was usually an early riser in the first place. Though early was really a matter of perspective out here wasn't it?

"No, nothing like that," She admitted, shaking the prior thought out of her head. "No drugs, either. I'll not be headed back to my bunk any time soon, so no thank you."

There was no sense in lingering, Ava figured. Dimitri was busy as it seemed, which was good. She also still needed to get dressed, they were due to make planet-fall in an hour or two.

"Take care, Cap." And he went back to the inventory work.

Sleep refused to return to Six, the constant humming of the engines changing ever so slightly as the ship's course changed to point it towards the next port of call. He rolled over, setting his coveralls aside and lowering his feet to the floor where the solid steel grating met him.

He stood, stretched, and reached out for a white short-sleeved shirt and put it on, complimenting his grease-stained black pants and matching his work boots perfectly. Hammer, large crescent wrench and his favorite screwdriver-come-prybar were attached to his waist as he moved along the walkway, adjusting various valves and banging on certain parts to verify that they hadn't fallen off...yet.

As he finished his inspection he pressed the call button on the ship's intercom, and then hammered the talk button with a closed fist.

"Engine to helm, we're shiney back here. Engines at 82% and ready to make planetfall." he let off the switch for a second, then hit it again to add "And try not to rattle us apart this time. I don't want to have to patch another shredded aileron."

It was only natural for her to retreat. Clifton had after all just defeated her blatant sexual advances. She had no other option at that point but to shout more and leave, lest she be embarrassed further by Clifton Schmidt; all that is man. Poor girl, throwing herself at him like that only to be dashed on the rocks. She wasn't the first, Clifton admitted to himself with a smirk. "She'll bounce back."

THEN OUT OF NO WHERE! The console for the intercom began to beep... But it was loud, so y'know. It was dramatic. Lifting his right leg, Clifton swung it over and dropped it on the general area of the sound's location. There was a confirmation squelch, and then the mechanic's voice. He went on about something to do with engine power, and not wanting to replace something or something. Clifton nodded to himself.

"Did you just wake up back there?" Clifton asked, very much rhetorically.

"If you would fly with a hint of smooth, I still would be!" He barked back into the intercom, "Just try to keep it in one piece this time. I'm out of Welding Strips and can't resupply until we hit a town."

He turned off the intercom and walked back to the engine, patting the transfer coil housing as he moved past. She was solid, true, but showing her age as all ships of her class were ought to do.

Dmitri took the time to inspect his varying sidearms, light to regular to heavy, all three of'em. Not a lot of folk expect a backup backup.

Clive unlatched the lock on his door, and emerged in his usual "working clothes". Scratched boots with steel toes, faded blue denim pants with several brown patches in spots, his worn leather belt, and a faded and frayed light blue dress shirt worn under a brown leather vest. Clive did have both nicer, and more armored, outfits in his room, but nothing called for either at the moment. Isabella remained in her rack as he stepped through the door, glancing both ways before approaching the Captain, now fancifully dressed in a coat and her undergarments.

"Oi, Cap'n. Did Mobius really eject all your clothes out the airlock? I figured he was just blowing smoke out his-"

Clive was cut off as the ship shuddered again.

"MOBIUS, YA GIT! WHERE DID YA LEARN TO FLY, ON THE BACKSIDE OF A CONSORT?"

He shouted off in the direction of the cockpit.