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technogalen (technogalen) wrote in silverage,

"Just Galen, Mr. Scoresby, please."

Galen nodded. "My flight school was six months long, 18 hours a day for 7 days a week. If you plan on heading out to the back of beyond, you have to be able to fix anything that might come up as well as just con your ship."

"The common problem of these days," he chuckled. "The 'Almighty Dollar' as it is referred to. I understand the new Welcome Center has job listings and rooms for the new arrivals. I was fortunate that I can at least sleep in my ship. I've enough power for life support and the like left. I suppose if I ever manage to recharge my hyper engines I could take you along for the sheer pleasure of having someone to talk to while I attempt to make my way back to where I am from."

"But you should at least let me take a look at that burner of yours. Cracks can be welded, parts can be fabricated."

His smile grew much wider. "Forgive me for assuming you'd know what I was talking about. Twenty two sixty seven is a when, not a where. Where is out there." He pointed up. "I'm as stuck here as everybody else seems to be."