Post by nightarcher on Aug 30, 2013 12:59:56 GMT 1
Still more weeks had gone by. His crew was trickling in slowly, but he still only had barely half his full crew complement. Not enough for him to set out on the Thermopylae properly, or worth risking on anti-pirate and space patrol. That of course meant long hours on the ship going over paperwork and studying the basic diagrams as well as the layout of the decks of the destroyer. As the captain of the ship, it was his duty to know as much about the ship as almost anyone.
Though that would have been better than what he had been doing in the past few hours. A couple of his bridge officers had been caught by C-Sec after having participated in a bar brawl. He had gone to fetch them as soon as they had been handed off to the MPs from the Citidel EAF headquarters. From there Darion himself had been called in to fetch the officers. After they stewed in the MP holding cells for a day or two, they were to be confined to the ship for the rest of the time that it was docked.
And here he was now, in uniform, standing in the station docks, looking out the windows at his ship after coming back from the Headquarters. At the moment he wished he hadn’t been dressed in uniform. He could use a stiff drink, but he would not go to a bar in his uniform. He wasn’t that desperate. But he could indulge in a short smoke, no matter how unhealthy cigarettes and cigars were. It was a guilty pleasure. “I wish that damn transport would get here finally so I have the rest of my crew. They are getting too restless for their own good..” he muttered to himself while looking at his ship, the flawless hull showing how well the repairs had gone over the past year.
Though that would have been better than what he had been doing in the past few hours. A couple of his bridge officers had been caught by C-Sec after having participated in a bar brawl. He had gone to fetch them as soon as they had been handed off to the MPs from the Citidel EAF headquarters. From there Darion himself had been called in to fetch the officers. After they stewed in the MP holding cells for a day or two, they were to be confined to the ship for the rest of the time that it was docked.
And here he was now, in uniform, standing in the station docks, looking out the windows at his ship after coming back from the Headquarters. At the moment he wished he hadn’t been dressed in uniform. He could use a stiff drink, but he would not go to a bar in his uniform. He wasn’t that desperate. But he could indulge in a short smoke, no matter how unhealthy cigarettes and cigars were. It was a guilty pleasure. “I wish that damn transport would get here finally so I have the rest of my crew. They are getting too restless for their own good..” he muttered to himself while looking at his ship, the flawless hull showing how well the repairs had gone over the past year.
