(no subject)

[flybywash]

Wash is in his booth, blueberries at one elbow and coffee at the other. In front of him are a slowly shifting digital map of one sector of his galaxy -- a couple of planets are scattered across it, along with markers for fuel points and major trading ports -- and a notebook scratched full of equations. His forehead's creased a little in concentration as he leans over them.

Two fuel points within reasonable distance of Illyria: one four hours before, if they burn carefully enough, the other six hours out the other side. No telling yet exactly how much havoc the shields'll play with the engine and their reserves, but....

Absently, he nibbles a blueberry and jots down a few more numbers.

Comments

[timsbooks.livejournal.com]

Deep calculations?

*Tim is peering at the map, sipping his tea.*

[flybywash]

Wash shakes his head. "Not really. Just typical fuel res -- "

And he finally looks up, and blinks. "Hey, I thought you were in jail."

[timsbooks.livejournal.com]

*Tim arches a brow, sipping from his tea again. He seems somewhat humored.*

I was. I did my time. Now I'm out again. All those years in advance of us, and you still haven't foudn a good self renewing fuel?

[flybywash]

A little testily, "No, we haven't. Duìbùqĭ for not living up to the lofty standards set by the twentieth century."

He bends back over the chart.

[timsbooks.livejournal.com]

*Tim frowns, looking over the map again.*

Well, both the Martians and the Antlanteans use ships based on thought power. And the Daxamites are big on the whole solar power thing.

[steadfastknight]

"Excuse me," came a voice from near the bar - "you, with the blueberries? I may be able to assist with that."

[flybywash]

Wash looks up, frowning, but doesn't see anyone near where the voice is coming from.

"Uh...no thanks, I got it," he says, wary.

[steadfastknight]

"If you're certain."

The voice seemed to be coming from that very, very black car near the bar.

[flybywash]

....Hey, wow, how did that get in here?

Wash looks around again, trying to spot somebody who might be looking at the car in a smug 'oh, yeah, that's mine' kind of way. When he doesn't, he quickly rolls up his chart, grabs his notebook, and abandons the booth to get a closer look.

The fact that there seems to be a voice coming from it and nobody in the driver's seat doesn't faze him. Could be as simple as a remote comm unit, y'know.

[steadfastknight]

Kitt was silently extremely amused. He used to be very used to the reactions he got as a car. Now, having the chance to cause them again - after all this time, it was quite novel. The windows, however, were blacked out completely. If there was a driver, he or she was well hidden inside. "I see I've piqued your curiousity."

[desert-worm.livejournal.com]

Luke is sitting at a nearby table, going through several travel brochures and making notes on a pad of paper.

... Except for the part where he's totally distracted by the map. Because it's shiny.

"Those are planets?"

Okay, so it's not the most insightful question, but he hasn't run into many people around here who are familiar with interstellar travel.

[flybywash]

Deadpan, without looking up at first, "No, they're brightly coloured marbles I ran over with a mule and taped to a piece of paper. I just like confusing people."

Wash makes a few more notes, then glances up at the new person with a smile. "Here." He pushes the map a little closer so he can get a look.

[desert-worm.livejournal.com]

He leans over and frowns slightly at the map. "What world are you from? I've only found one besides mine that has this level of space travel."

[flybywash]

"Right now? Nowhere. I'm living on a ship -- home planet's atmo failed 'bout a decade back. Pretty much a dead rock now."

He gestures to the map. "That's only a little bit of the system. Whole thing's got about seventy planets all told."

[desert-worm.livejournal.com]

"Yeah?" The mention of ships gets a grin. "A big ship, I guess. I only do starfighters for the most part, but damn, it's good to meet another flyboy."

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

Someone's hand reaches to steal a few blueberries, but at the same moment, Wash is distracted from the theft by a kiss on the cheek.

It's called stealth.

[flybywash]

And Wash would never, ever fall for such a clever ruse enacted by a master blueberry thief such as his wife.

Except for the part where he totally would.

Smiling, he leans into the kiss a little bit and says, "Hey, Zo'."

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

"Hey."

Zoe slides into the booth next to him, glancing at the screen.

"So, how's it goin'?"

[flybywash]

"It's going in progress-making ways." His mouth twists a little as he turns the chart so she can see. "Unfortunately, I think the progress-making ways involve us hitting Illyria at an absolute maximum of eighty-five percent capacity. Could be tricky."

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

Zoe nods, her expression turning serious. "That with or without the extra burn from the shields?"

[mapmakerchur.livejournal.com]

A short, slender, bipedal, tailless, maned felinoid wanders by, and then stops, looking intently at the digital map. Her ears go forward, and she lets out a very soft "hnnn".

[flybywash]

Wash pops another blueberry into his mouth, crosses out a few numbers, and writes down a few more. He doesn't notice the giant walking cat standing right next to him.

At least, he doesn't until his eyes wander upward and he lets out a short yelp of surprise.

[mapmakerchur.livejournal.com]

Chur's ears flick back. "Sorry, ser," she apologizes. "I haven't seen any starmaps since I came here, is all, and I was wondering if you were on the ship that na Cuthbert knows crew of? Because it's difficult to carry on a conversation with someone who doesn't even know they can leave their planet, and he said it'd be easier to talk to people from that ship's crew."

[flybywash]

Wash smiles, tentatively, though his eyes are still pretty wide. He's seen weirder things in the 'verse than talking lions, true, but probably not a whole lot.

"Uh, yeah, I think I might be, unless Cuthbert knows anybody else living on a ship. Um." He starts to set down the pen, reconsiders, tucks it behind his ear, and offers a hand. "Wash, middle of nowhere, 2518. Pilot of Serenity."

[mapmakerchur.livejournal.com]

Chur eyes the hand and then sighs and allows her hand to be grasped in return. It... feels pretty much like a cat's paw, only she has an opposable thumb.

"Chur, currently halfway to Urtur, some time after 2400 human time or the 11th year of the New Peace. Mapmaker, Sleepwalker, and supercargo on The Pride of Chanur," she replies, and purses her lips into a delighted smile.