Alone at last

[rosetto 0]

Sal was happy that his first mission, as it was, was at least over. After finishing his work on the bridge, he decided to do a general systems check which was periodically required and long overdue on the QoB. Not that the QoB wasn't in working order, sure she could fly; maneuver quite well for the old bird she was. She had just been neglicted for several years. Sal recalled his father used to get after him about plow maintenance. Being exposed to the Martian atmosphere, there was always some kind of suspension coil or chamber seal that needed to be checked for wear.

 

He pored over the reports and schedules, updating them and running the required diagnostics. There were quite a few of these routines that looked like they had not been run at all. They were not important routines, and he knew from experience that a vessel could operate perfectly fine without ever running them. But he also knew that things tended to go bad at just about the time you needed them the most. He had noticed a slight response delay in the flight controls which had caused some instability while they were flying. This was most likely due to a slowing of data thoughput and he purged the old data from the active system storing it on off-line isolinear chips.

 

Happy with the new reports, Sal shut down all of the systems and started to return to his quarters to check on things on the "Home Front". Now that was an interesting term, he thought. Where was his home? He surely missed his wife & daughter but this, the QoB, was his new home. This is where he wanted to be. He passed the science lab where all of the commotion had occurred earlier. It was dark and silent now. In fact the entire vessel seemed ghostly silent but it really didn't bother him. He was actually thankful for the stillness. It was a welcomed change and he headed up stairs to the galley to see what they had on hand in the way of intoxicating beverages. What he would do for a nice glass of Southgate, he could not imagine. He'd thought about having some shipped in but had no way of knowing exactly how long they'd be here. Perhaps Pete could use some at the maze, he thought as he began rummaging through the various cabinets and finding most of them stocked with anything except food.

 

All he found were two unopened bottles of Klingon beer that looked like they'd been in the back of this cubboard for at least three years. Klingon beer was actually better with aged because it was not carbonated. One could hardly comment on the malt or other particular ingredients. In his opinion, Klingon taste buds were an oxymoron. He'd heard that it was best served at room temperature and well, this was a room with temperature and he cracked one open. There was, of course, no action and when he did find a glass and poured the brownish liquid it produced no head. Sal looked at it as he held it up to the ambient lighting. Apparently the Klingons never invented a copper; just tossed the hops in the masher, because there were what Sal liked to call 'floaties' in the glass; particulate matter floating freely as if weightless in the viscous brew. He shook his head and took a large drink. It was extremely bitter and a little grainy but otherwise quite tasty. He nodded his head and took another long draw from his glass.

 

After finishing his beer Sal headed back to his room to get cleaned up before meeting up with the guys at the Maze. They had to get Joe back somehow and then find work. Sal didn't really know what his part would be in all of this but was willing to work with whatever was presented to him. He was actually enjoying not having total control of every aspect in his life. There was a certain freedom that he felt. No worries...