001 ✫ Video

[useofaswhat]

Afternoon, folks. – Evenin', now. [The man on screen clears his throat and nods in greeting, a little awkwardly. (And no, he's not actually wearing a floral bonnet. Today.)] This Admiral fella wanted a handful o' help and thought I was the man to give it so wǒ zài zhèlǐ. Name's Captain Reynolds, Mal if you ain't one to stand on ceremony. I'm sure it's fine to meet you all, and if it ain't, you go ahead an' let me know. [There's a smile purely for the sake of decorum, which drops off his face almost immediately as his eyes rake over something off-screen, as if reading.]

Let's see what we got here, then... Prison ship, eight levels and two additional restricted areas, complete with library, common rooms, medbay, an' my personal favorite, fully stocked kitchen. Probably serves better'n protein too. Laundry services, showers, art therapy facilities, and gardens included. Now that don't sound like any prison I ever been to. Hell, y'all even got a bar? Got quite a slick operation here, real nice 'n cozy.

But it still ain't as good as my boat.

Comments

[truth_is_cold]

I believe that's been the sentiment of every person with a ship that's ever been aboard.

[useofaswhat]

An' in my case, it's right.

[truth_is_cold]

It's right in every case. This ship is terrible. [Someone was an inmate before a warden and still harbors a cynical grudge.] Regardless, I miss mine considerably.

[useofaswhat]

Big an' cold, ain't it? Kind of lackin' in personality. [But it's got to be hard to hate a ship with a full kitchen and a pub.] What do you fly?

[truth_is_cold]

I used to be the Commander of a warship, the Andromeda Ascendant, under Captain Dylan Hunt. I've since moved on to the private sector. [If leaving means "broke civilization", and private sector means "trying to fix all that breaking".] But she was a good ship, and highly capable.

[useofaswhat]

You flew a warship? [Now that's got his attention, and not necessarily in the good way.] Fightin' against what? You ever see action?

[truth_is_cold]

The Magog mostly. Snub nosed aliens that have to kill their prey to eat, and infect sentient beings with their spawn. Brutal, and technologically capable as they are unpleasant.

[And others of his own kind but that's complicated and he just really hates the Magog.]

[useofaswhat]

They sound like a pack fulla real bastards. Also sounds like you won, right?

[truth_is_cold]

It's complicated and political. There was a treaty that handed over the worlds my people colonized to the Magog that overran them. This led to... complications.

Last that I heard, there was finally a win by a slim margin.

In any case, despite all that, I would still favor that ship. There's no place like home, no matter what your cabin vaguely looks like.

[useofaswhat]

Congratulations, though I can't say I'm particularly envious. Bad enough fightin' a war against people, I'm glad we got no aliens.

Hope you get back to her without too much wait, then.

[truth_is_cold]

I'm afraid it's a permanent leave, as much as I'd like to see her again. [she'd probably be pissed as hell to have him on board again.] I have a new home and a family now. But she is a lovely ship and I'll remember her fondly.

[useofaswhat]

If I were t' ask what happened, you suppose you'd be inclined to tell me? [It doesn't sound like that kind of story, but at the same time, it sounds like a hell of a story.]

[truth_is_cold]

I could, but it involves insurrections, the fall of civilization, the event horizon of a black hole, mysterious aliens that see future events, a 300 year time span, an alternate universe, a hologram, and possibly would require the ingestion of copious amounts of alcohol.

[It's a pretty big story. It's the fish that broke your pole big.]

[useofaswhat]

Sounds like an invitation to a drink if I ever heard one.

[truth_is_cold]

As long as you share more about your ship. [Because he does miss the life. A lot.] Whenever you're available.

[useofaswhat]

Well, I still gotta settle on in an' get the layout down. You gonna be up for a while?

[truth_is_cold]

Probably. Just let me know.

[useofaswhat]

You know where the pub is?

[truth_is_cold]

Absolutely. [It's a happy place!]

[useofaswhat]

Meet ya up there?

[Spam]

[truth_is_cold]

[He heads up to meet him at the bar, knowing that there's more entertaining subjects than the fall of Space Rome but he's eager to socialize. One of the few advantages of this boat is meeting people and Mal seems very interesting. Either like a male Beka or someone Beka might date- (Honestly, he'd rather keep it to the former in his mind because he'd be more inclined to like him than decide automatically he's up to no good, Beka never had the best taste in partners).

Whenever he shows up he already has a green, thick drink of some sort that seems to keep up with his metabolism.]

[Spam]

[useofaswhat]

[It doesn't take Mal long to get the lay of the land, so to speak, and he saunters into the bar not long after Rhade and joins him with a glass of whatever whiskey they'll pour.]

...You ever tell me your name?

[Spam]

[truth_is_cold]

[He smirks slightly, which is apparently his default rather than a normal smile.] Gaheris Rhade. [He offers a hand to shake, one that's attached to a spikey arm.]

[Spam]

[useofaswhat]

Malcolm Reynolds. [Noting the spikes, he carefully avoids them as he shakes Gaheris' hand firmly.] So, I think you said somethin' about the fall o' civilization and psychic aliens?

[Spam] And now I'm back from arts.

[truth_is_cold]

Not psychic, but invasive. They infect people with larvae to reproduce. Invariably against their will [maybe twice he's seen otherwise and in either case filled with why would you do this?!]. What's your ship's name?