Co-authored by TheCountryWarrior, Ikate Keda Studios
Holsteiner
Under way to matchstick.
???? A.D
Joan floated through the ship, still wearing her gear. She hadn't taken it off since the start of the mission, despite being fully allowed too. Still, she didn't seem all that bothered by it. Though, she was wearing one of the jet packs, and carried another as she floated between the bunk beds. Finally, she found herself next to Juan’s bunk, and stopped. "Oi, Spaniard, 'ows about yous put on yer whistle and flute, a we's 'ave a rabbit on the 'ull?" She asked, offering the second jetpack. "Less yer really wan'in ta ride me ovah."
“A tempting offer, but that doesn’t seem optimally maneuverable. Massive question, what does ‘having a rabbit’ mean? I don’t speak English Advanced.” Juan is double and then triple checking his gear before he faces the frankly terrifying vacuum of space. He would be adding the jet pack to his suit, silently stoked to have a jetpack in his possession.
"A chat. Rabbit an pork's da full sayin," Joan explained, maneuvering around Juan as he checked his equipment, before checking it all over herself. "Though, ah preciate ya bit takin the offah. Last bloke 'oo did turned out ta be a right git," she said, looking his boots over. "Make sure dem daisies are tight yeah? The less wiggle da beh'ah."
“Ooh, I think I almost understood that on,” Juan said. “Those kinda offers can’t be so easily accepted, I’ve been burned by them before. Once almost literally. So I’m tight as hell, and not just my body, the suit too. How long have you been doing this?”
"Fourteen years," Joan responded, looking Juan up and down. "Now, is easy ta git turned round, an not somefing ta be shamed of if ya get nervous," She started, standing at the airlock. "I damn near pissed meself the first time. A ittle fear is good. Space is dangerous, get wha' mean? Take yer time. Is preh'ay easeh once ya feel 'er out a bit. Tevah in, jump when yer ready," she said, snapping her anchor into the provided bar, and stepping off the ship.
Juan stares off into space, the vast immensity of the expanse that stretches on forever. It’s so big. One misstep and he could be part of it forever, never seen again, alone as debris in space. He had faced down bloodthirsty terrorists, drug buddies through mud to get their dying forms away from enemy fire, and he’d been fighting since he was ever allowed to. But looking out into space was terrifying. Here he had no control over the situation, just his own body, and the sheer size of the universe felt like it was crushing him. Breathing heavily now, he clutched his eyes shut and held onto the ship like a child to its mother when it felt it was in danger. “I’m sorry. I'm sorry, it’s just… so damn big.” He tried to catch his breath, focusing on the ship, the closest thing to ground he could possibly find in the depths of the void.
Joan did a short burn, getting her back to the ship. “Is all right,” She said, looking him over again. “Ya gots yer gear all squared, an yer at the ledge. Furder dan most folks git. Dis ain’t like da mili’ary, ya ain’t gone git thrown out fer ‘esitatin. We gots all day,” She reassured, stepping between him and the ledge. “Ah’m ‘ere ta ‘elp ya. Tell me whacha needs, wha’s da worry right now?”
Panting, he takes a deep breath, and sighs. “I can do this. This is…” he hesitates, but growls at himself. “This is just a new thing, and I never thought I would have to walk through space in my lifetime. It’s so immense, if I get lost, that’s it. Trapped somewhere unfathomable, the ultimate needle in a haystack.” He tugs at the anchor, testing its strength. It of course won’t fail him, but that primal mortal side to his brain tells him that, sure it might not, but on the flip side: it might. “I’ll be alright. Thanks Cowboy. I’m gonna do it. Don’t hold any extremely unmanly noises against me.”
“Ah’m recordin dis ‘ole thing,” Joan teased, holding her hands out. “Give me yer ‘ands. Once ya git used to bein out dere, den we can ‘ave ya jump in. Sound good?” She asked.
He nods, and takes her hands. “With these hands I thee EVA. Or thou EVA. Thee or Thou, never could get those straight. Fly me to the moon Cowboy, and let’s hope to god we won’t have video of me squealing for the next decade.”
“It’d give me a good ‘ickle, it would,” She said, holding onto him, pulling him towards her and kicking off the airlock. “See, don’ fink bout wha’cha see. Fink bou da feel yeh?” She explained. “No differen’ dan in da ship. Jus’ less ta ‘old on tah. Ah’ve gotcha, she ain’ gone hurt’cha.”
He tenses up, clutching her hands a bit tighter than he meant to, and he lets a small “eeee…” as they start drifting. “Okay… Okay!” He had begun to breathe rapidly, but now that he was actually floating, and started to calm down. “This could be a lot worse! Oh Dios mio, don’t let go just yet. Or do, I forget whether one tells the child you won’t let go and then do, or say you will let go to prepare them.”
“Eh, fear out ‘ere are a li’le more valid den a dustbin worryin bout scrapin a knee,” She said, shrugging a little, changing their course. “Ta be ‘onest, ya ain’t clu’ching me like a babe, so yer doin beh’ah den da las’ bloke ah ‘elped out. ‘E screamed like me bo’el o “por’er af’er she foun out I couldn’ get up da duff no more. And she screamed, leh meh tell ya!”
“Oh, do you take a lot of guys on EVA’s? Cowboy, I misjudged you.” He chuckles to himself, and takes another deep breath. “Well I’m glad some idiot set the bar super low so some other idiot like me could accidentally exceed it. Quick question, what is a bo’el?” He fumbles over that pronunciation, but to be fair so is she if one was honest.
“Uh, a bo’el? Like… Bo’el o beer?” Joan offered. “Ya drink from the damn fings!” She laughed, before smacking Juan on the forehead with a fist. “And are ya callin me a ‘ore? Ah migh ‘ave ta take offense ta dat!”
“Oh bottle!” He chuckles, accepting his fate of a smack. “Your words, not mine! I can’t help it if you had such low standards to take me on an EVA, that must mean you’re easy.” He chuckled to himself as he prepared to be smacked again.
“Oh das da game yer gone play!” Joan said, lifting a leg and pushing off Juan. “Well! Le’s see ‘ow easy ah am now, hmm?” She teased, quickly using her jetpack to stop herself from moving, and even making sure she remained just out of reach of Juan.
He gave a slightly louder “eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee” as his body reached for purchase anywhere in the void, and his breathing picked up again. He found his anchoring line and held onto it, panting as he regained his composure. “Holy shit you crazy bi… my bad, but holy shit why is space so fucking floaty?! Don’t answer that, I know why. I’ve got this, this isn’t so bad!” He let go of the anchor line that he reminded himself was hooking him to the ship so to not panic. “I guess I should try actually maneuvering in this suit designed for maneuvering in space.”
“Yeh, not such a crazy bi’ch now, am I?” Joan asked, keeping close enough that she could intervene quickly if she had too. “Now, da pack is easy. Just look where yer wantin ta go, and use da con’rol in yer palm tah engage. Das da bigun fer EVA boardin. E’eryfing else will come wif prac’ice.”
Juan breathes deeply, and chuckles. “No, you're still crazy.” He uses the palm control, and sparingly pushes himself about in space, staying near Joan in case something goes terribly wrong. “Practice. I can do that. It’s how I survived the wars, it’s how I’ll survive space pirates. You think this job’ll pan out? I kinda… didn’t have anything else to do, so I’m here now. Didn’t really think on if pirating the pirates would work long term.”
“Well, da ways I see it,” Joan offered, starting to move away from him. “It’ll pan out if we’s does our jobs. As we’s said in London, da Baked Bean likes ‘er work done well, and’ll pay ta ‘ave well done work, yeah? Is not much differen’ den figh’in on da ground. Just… More Floa’y as you says it.”
Holsteiner
Under way to matchstick.
???? A.D
Joan floated through the ship, still wearing her gear. She hadn't taken it off since the start of the mission, despite being fully allowed too. Still, she didn't seem all that bothered by it. Though, she was wearing one of the jet packs, and carried another as she floated between the bunk beds. Finally, she found herself next to Juan’s bunk, and stopped. "Oi, Spaniard, 'ows about yous put on yer whistle and flute, a we's 'ave a rabbit on the 'ull?" She asked, offering the second jetpack. "Less yer really wan'in ta ride me ovah."
“A tempting offer, but that doesn’t seem optimally maneuverable. Massive question, what does ‘having a rabbit’ mean? I don’t speak English Advanced.” Juan is double and then triple checking his gear before he faces the frankly terrifying vacuum of space. He would be adding the jet pack to his suit, silently stoked to have a jetpack in his possession.
"A chat. Rabbit an pork's da full sayin," Joan explained, maneuvering around Juan as he checked his equipment, before checking it all over herself. "Though, ah preciate ya bit takin the offah. Last bloke 'oo did turned out ta be a right git," she said, looking his boots over. "Make sure dem daisies are tight yeah? The less wiggle da beh'ah."
“Ooh, I think I almost understood that on,” Juan said. “Those kinda offers can’t be so easily accepted, I’ve been burned by them before. Once almost literally. So I’m tight as hell, and not just my body, the suit too. How long have you been doing this?”
"Fourteen years," Joan responded, looking Juan up and down. "Now, is easy ta git turned round, an not somefing ta be shamed of if ya get nervous," She started, standing at the airlock. "I damn near pissed meself the first time. A ittle fear is good. Space is dangerous, get wha' mean? Take yer time. Is preh'ay easeh once ya feel 'er out a bit. Tevah in, jump when yer ready," she said, snapping her anchor into the provided bar, and stepping off the ship.
Juan stares off into space, the vast immensity of the expanse that stretches on forever. It’s so big. One misstep and he could be part of it forever, never seen again, alone as debris in space. He had faced down bloodthirsty terrorists, drug buddies through mud to get their dying forms away from enemy fire, and he’d been fighting since he was ever allowed to. But looking out into space was terrifying. Here he had no control over the situation, just his own body, and the sheer size of the universe felt like it was crushing him. Breathing heavily now, he clutched his eyes shut and held onto the ship like a child to its mother when it felt it was in danger. “I’m sorry. I'm sorry, it’s just… so damn big.” He tried to catch his breath, focusing on the ship, the closest thing to ground he could possibly find in the depths of the void.
Joan did a short burn, getting her back to the ship. “Is all right,” She said, looking him over again. “Ya gots yer gear all squared, an yer at the ledge. Furder dan most folks git. Dis ain’t like da mili’ary, ya ain’t gone git thrown out fer ‘esitatin. We gots all day,” She reassured, stepping between him and the ledge. “Ah’m ‘ere ta ‘elp ya. Tell me whacha needs, wha’s da worry right now?”
Panting, he takes a deep breath, and sighs. “I can do this. This is…” he hesitates, but growls at himself. “This is just a new thing, and I never thought I would have to walk through space in my lifetime. It’s so immense, if I get lost, that’s it. Trapped somewhere unfathomable, the ultimate needle in a haystack.” He tugs at the anchor, testing its strength. It of course won’t fail him, but that primal mortal side to his brain tells him that, sure it might not, but on the flip side: it might. “I’ll be alright. Thanks Cowboy. I’m gonna do it. Don’t hold any extremely unmanly noises against me.”
“Ah’m recordin dis ‘ole thing,” Joan teased, holding her hands out. “Give me yer ‘ands. Once ya git used to bein out dere, den we can ‘ave ya jump in. Sound good?” She asked.
He nods, and takes her hands. “With these hands I thee EVA. Or thou EVA. Thee or Thou, never could get those straight. Fly me to the moon Cowboy, and let’s hope to god we won’t have video of me squealing for the next decade.”
“It’d give me a good ‘ickle, it would,” She said, holding onto him, pulling him towards her and kicking off the airlock. “See, don’ fink bout wha’cha see. Fink bou da feel yeh?” She explained. “No differen’ dan in da ship. Jus’ less ta ‘old on tah. Ah’ve gotcha, she ain’ gone hurt’cha.”
He tenses up, clutching her hands a bit tighter than he meant to, and he lets a small “eeee…” as they start drifting. “Okay… Okay!” He had begun to breathe rapidly, but now that he was actually floating, and started to calm down. “This could be a lot worse! Oh Dios mio, don’t let go just yet. Or do, I forget whether one tells the child you won’t let go and then do, or say you will let go to prepare them.”
“Eh, fear out ‘ere are a li’le more valid den a dustbin worryin bout scrapin a knee,” She said, shrugging a little, changing their course. “Ta be ‘onest, ya ain’t clu’ching me like a babe, so yer doin beh’ah den da las’ bloke ah ‘elped out. ‘E screamed like me bo’el o “por’er af’er she foun out I couldn’ get up da duff no more. And she screamed, leh meh tell ya!”
“Oh, do you take a lot of guys on EVA’s? Cowboy, I misjudged you.” He chuckles to himself, and takes another deep breath. “Well I’m glad some idiot set the bar super low so some other idiot like me could accidentally exceed it. Quick question, what is a bo’el?” He fumbles over that pronunciation, but to be fair so is she if one was honest.
“Uh, a bo’el? Like… Bo’el o beer?” Joan offered. “Ya drink from the damn fings!” She laughed, before smacking Juan on the forehead with a fist. “And are ya callin me a ‘ore? Ah migh ‘ave ta take offense ta dat!”
“Oh bottle!” He chuckles, accepting his fate of a smack. “Your words, not mine! I can’t help it if you had such low standards to take me on an EVA, that must mean you’re easy.” He chuckled to himself as he prepared to be smacked again.
“Oh das da game yer gone play!” Joan said, lifting a leg and pushing off Juan. “Well! Le’s see ‘ow easy ah am now, hmm?” She teased, quickly using her jetpack to stop herself from moving, and even making sure she remained just out of reach of Juan.
He gave a slightly louder “eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee” as his body reached for purchase anywhere in the void, and his breathing picked up again. He found his anchoring line and held onto it, panting as he regained his composure. “Holy shit you crazy bi… my bad, but holy shit why is space so fucking floaty?! Don’t answer that, I know why. I’ve got this, this isn’t so bad!” He let go of the anchor line that he reminded himself was hooking him to the ship so to not panic. “I guess I should try actually maneuvering in this suit designed for maneuvering in space.”
“Yeh, not such a crazy bi’ch now, am I?” Joan asked, keeping close enough that she could intervene quickly if she had too. “Now, da pack is easy. Just look where yer wantin ta go, and use da con’rol in yer palm tah engage. Das da bigun fer EVA boardin. E’eryfing else will come wif prac’ice.”
Juan breathes deeply, and chuckles. “No, you're still crazy.” He uses the palm control, and sparingly pushes himself about in space, staying near Joan in case something goes terribly wrong. “Practice. I can do that. It’s how I survived the wars, it’s how I’ll survive space pirates. You think this job’ll pan out? I kinda… didn’t have anything else to do, so I’m here now. Didn’t really think on if pirating the pirates would work long term.”
“Well, da ways I see it,” Joan offered, starting to move away from him. “It’ll pan out if we’s does our jobs. As we’s said in London, da Baked Bean likes ‘er work done well, and’ll pay ta ‘ave well done work, yeah? Is not much differen’ den figh’in on da ground. Just… More Floa’y as you says it.”