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   Chapter 15 No.15

Loderunner By Christina Engela Characters: 4818

Updated: 2018-06-30 12:02

"There y'go." Bubba reported to everybody in general. "Warp four." "Looks like warp three, jus' a little more black!" Grinned Deire. "There, Mr. Skooch – Four days to Jupiter. Better make y'self comfy!"

"Four days?" Tim repeated. He hadn't even brought a good book with for the trip. Or any kind of book for that matter. Perhaps a copy of the Puritan bible might have been appropriate. He suddenly felt the need to do a lot of praying.

* * *

"She's old, Mr Skooch." Deire shrugged, sitting at the battered old table in the appropriately named mess hall. "Four ain't all that bad. Even the new ships still takes three days fer the same trip."

It was several hours later, supper time in fact. He'd missed most of the day, having slunk off to bed to nurse his ailing stomach. Vic was somewhere on the cargo deck rearranging things. It seemed he was going to get his money's worth out of her. At least she didn't wait to be told to try and make things ship-shape down there. He liked that. It showed initiative.

Doctor – er, Nurse was trying to cool his stew by stirring and pouring it back into the bowl with a spoon. It was irritating. Sounded like somebody taking a pee in installments. Nurse wasn't saying much. The passengers seemed chirpy enough, Smith and – er, Jones were chewing healthily whilst listening to the conversation with interest. Triple-J was on the bridge, piloting the ship.

"Well, he's jus' sittin' there rea

n a belly laugh.

"Hah!" He cried, grinning. "Still a landlubber, eh? Don' worry Mr. Skooch – we'll make a spacer of you yet!"

Jones and Smith helped themselves to more stew. Tim was observing the younger, still wearing his sand cape. He had medium length blond hair, bluish eyes and a face that could be called slightly effeminate. Been hanging around Dory too long, he chided himself for noticing these things. Jones remained silent, presumably enjoying his meal. It was hard to tell if he was enjoying it. His face was completely expressionless, he noted, almost choking on the stew as he remembered his mental reference to Jones tying his ponytail too tight. If the man sneezed or even coughed he might split his scalp open. Either that or his elastic would probably fly off.

"So what's your name?" Deire asked him, attempting to be friendly.

"Jones." Said Jones.

"Jones." Said Deire, grinning quietly. "Gotta first name there, Mister Jones?"

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