A New Arrival
The heavy echo of combat boots on the metallic flight deck carried across the hanger bay like the opening beats of some annoying song that gets stuck in the brain. A few working mechanics turned to see who was bothering to make all the noise.
He was lithe and lean and carried himself with the swagger of someone whose abilities were only outmatched by his ego. An athletic frame was wrapped in the gray-green flight suit of a viper jock. He was a short man, with an almost elfin sparkle in his dark brown eyes. The thin, well trimmed facial hair an loose cascade of brown hair only added to his mischievous aura. A duffel bag was held loosely in his right hand while an old fashioned guitar case was slung over his shoulder. Both were beaten and patched in several places. He nodded to the few who made eye contact with him. His air of cool arrogance gave those who saw him the impression that this rogue believed himself to be perfectly at home in spite of the fact that everyone of the crew on duty at the moment regarded him as a complete stranger. Finally, he turned and made his way towards a seemingly random wrench turner.
"How goes it?" His tone was light and casual, as if he knew this man.
The mechanic didn't look up from his work, regarding the strange pilot with only a grunt of recognition.
The pilot raised an eyebrow and paused for a moment. "Right," he said with a sigh. "Well, if you'll direct me to the Captain of the Black Hydras or the poor bloke charged with running this bucket I'll be out of your way."
The mechanic glanced at him for only the briefest of moments before jerking his head towards the aft of the hanger, where the exits were visible.
"Right," the pilot said with a nod. He turned away from the fellow and began to walk away. "Let it never be said that the crew of the Avalon weren't a friendly bunch."