“I swear, if this ship is not ready to leave in the next two hours, there will be hell to pay,” the captain mumbled to himself. The corridor to Cargo Bay Eight was surprisingly clean and well lit for a cargo ship, although the faint smell of hydraulic oil hung in the air, indicating a potential leak somewhere in the system. “I’ll have to mention it to Michaels. Last thing we need is to blow a hydraulic line at the jump point,” he thought. The captain prided himself on running a tight ship, even if it was just a cargo tramp. A man should always take pride in his work, no matter how simple it may be, or at least that’s what he told his crew.
While he maintained the ship in a clean and presentable manner, the same could not be said for his person. Standing a little over six feet tall, Captain James Lawrence cut an impressive, well-built figure. It was obvious that he had been quite a physical specimen in his youth, though age and a hard life had taken their tolls. His unkempt mess of black hair was now streaked with grey, but his beard managed to hold its color for the most part. He normally dressed in simple work pants, boots and an over shirt, but at the moment he was wearing a pair of coveralls that had seen better days. When they were new, they had probably been blue, though now it was nearly impossible to tell through the oil and dirt that was layered on them. Not that it mattered much. Once the cargo load was done and the ship safely in hyperspace, he could shower and put on some fresh clothes. Of course, none of that would happen if Michaels were running behind schedule. Continue reading
Therefore I Geek 