Take Your Time in a Hurry

[Angel]

The loading dock was relatively silent as Greg entered, the whole ship in its sleepy morning watch. With no sun to measure time, the crew had to rely on set schedule of watches every four hours. The morning watch was usually the quietest, when most of the ship's population was slumbering in their cabins. That meant less bodies crowding around, less prying eyes. It was this time, Greg figured, that was the best to practice his aim. The loading dock was furthest from the cabins, and he hoped the sound wouldn't travel far.

Stolen crates framed the walls on all sides, stacked to unnerving heights. The Laika was beginning to get heavy with loot, and a stop to the nearest planet was long due to sell it all off. Running his fingertips along the flat surface of one of the crates, Greg knelt down and scanned his eyes over the label. Caution: Energy Weapons. The small merchant vessel carrying these had also been carrying a load of other weapons. After gutting the cargo of everything he deemed necessary for his crew, he'd set the crates aside to sell. Weapons could fetch a high price in these sort of times, especially energy weapons.

Greg pulled the top off of one of the crates, smirking at the sight. These energy guns were not the newest model, no, but they were pretty enough as they were. In Greg's short time in the military, handling these sort of weapons had been part of his training. Hefting one of the small guns out of the box, he turned it over from side to side, inspecting it, then stood. Before deciding to do this, he'd cleared out a small area that would serve as a makeshift shooting range. At the far end of this, a couple boxes were stacked onto each other, one tacked with a paper that had accuracy circles mapped out on them.

Standing mid-range away from the target, Greg adjusted the gun to one of the lower settings. It wouldn't do well, at all, to eat a hole through the hull of his ship by accident. There were thick stacks of empty crates lined behind the target anyways, but it was best to be safe. Greg lifted his right arm up and straight, closing one eye and sighting down the gun to the target. He took one breath, two, then shot. A buzz sounded in the air, followed with a tiny bit of heat, then the sound of a crate smacking against the metal floor of the loading dock. Lowering the gun down, Greg lifted his eyebrows. He'd missed the target, instead hitting the box's upper left corner and disintegrating it. It laid on its broken side, smoldering. "Just a warm up shot," He muttered under his breath, moving forward to replace the box back where it was.

[Deux]

Deux sat up suddenly at sound of something crashing. It was faint but more than enough to wake him. He glanced over at the man in the cell nearby. His breathing was even and face was relaxed, not the deepest sleep he could be in. Biting his lip Deux debated between investigating the noise and following his orders. If he left and Kaden escaped again it would be his fault. That would have been very bad. Still in the back of his mind a force seemed to be guiding him toward wanting to stand.

Quietly he stood and walked towards the door to the hall. He had memorized the room and knew where to step to avoid the crates and other objects. Deux found his way to the manual lever to open the door and lifted it until it was barely open. The light from hall leaked in and he glanced back at Kaden to see if he’d stirred. When nothing happened he slipped into the hall and forced the door closed.

Moving in to the loading dock he stopped and waited for anymore noises. No load bangs but someone was in the room, moving around. Deux made his way down the stairs constantly looking around for the source of the noise. Finally they locked on a figure standing on one side of the dock. Relaxing when he recognized the captain he decided to see what the man was doing.

“Hello Captain,” he said politely when he was within the man’s striking distance, “did you make a noise earlier?”

[Kaden]

Kaden opened his eyes and sat up. Finally the boy was gone. He sat up on his cot with a sigh. He looked over at the bars that separated him from the hallway. He stood up and walked towards them and soon found himself on the other side. The transitions were becoming easier now but the terrible feeling of being ripped apart was still there. He stood in the hallway, a layer of sweat beading on his skin as he tried to control his breathing and heartbeat.

He didn't have to look down to know he'd failed. Again he'd transported without any clothing and he couldn't fly his falcon off this ship in nothing but his skin. Getting a compression suit would be hard enough but he couldn't even wear one without some sort of clothing under it. He'd thought about trying to steal clothing but when he did this he wanted as little risk as possible and he wasn't about to add in an entire new section to his escape plan just because he didn't have the patience to learn how to teleport with his clothing.

Kaden growled softly in frustration and turned back towards the cage. A moment later he was once again insecurely contained by its bars. He pulled his clothing back on and looked at the hallway. "Ok. Let's try this again."

[Angel]

Greg righted the box back onto its perch, thumbing the edges of the box's disintegrated corner. Tilting his head up, his eyes scanned over the empty crates behind the target. No holes or anything, so he was in the clear. Energy weapons could be very powerful, especially in the hands of someone well-trained in their usage, and with the right settings one could achieve of variety of results. Annoy, stun, wound, kill, vaporize. Greg liked the customization.

The Captain stood up and noticed another presence in the room, someone heading in his direction. Greg slowly realized who it was as he got closer, and threw on a pleasant expression. The kid he had put in charge of keeping Kaden in his cell. Deux wasn't the Captain's most ideal choice--he had enough muscle-bound, testosterone-filled men aboard the ship at the ready to physically restrain Kaden if the hostage decided to escape again. Of course, muscle doesn't do much good when your hostage can teleport through walls. And cages.

Greg's eyebrows rose, idly clasping his other hand around the energy gun he was holding. "Yes. What are you doing out here, and not in there?" He jerked his head towards the doorway that led to the Brig.

[Deux]

Deux’s eyes stayed on the weapon in the Captain’s hand. As he looked at he ceased to blink and his pupils dilated slightly. He only looked away when the Captain jerked his head. Biting the inside of his lip and glanced toward the brig. He looked down and began fidgeting slightly, particularly his hands at his sides. They kept clenching and he had to force them back open.

“I,” Deux took a small step back, “heard a noise and needed to check it. I can go back now if you’d like. I’m sorry for going against orders.” He gave a small bow and tensed on the side closest to the Captain.

[Angel]

Greg squinted questioningly at Deux, watching him stare unblinkingly at the energy weapon then start to fidget. "You alright? Need to get your head checked?" The sentiment was said in jest, a small smirk curled at the edge of the Captain's mouth. It was his reaction to Deux tensing up; while Greg found that intimidating his crew was sometimes useful, more often than not it was more productive to have crew members that looked up to their Captain.

Greg listened to him apologize. While the words to dismiss him were already forming, he had taken notice that Deux seemed intrigued by the gun. So far Deux's employ on the Laika was highly questionable to the Captain; he wasn't the type that Greg or his crew members would pick up on the Outer-Ring planets. There was no real use for the kid, besides pinning Kaden in his cage. And once that ran its course, what then? Greg would have to waste some fuel to drop him off at some planet.

"Well," His gaze settled on the door to the Brig again, still closed. No sounds of alarm. While Deux had been assigned to guard Kaden on the inside of the Brig, Greg had posted a couple men to guard the doorway out. Most likely they were off playing cards somewhere, or sleeping, which is probably why Deux had slipped past them unfettered. He grimaced, absently waving the gun around dismissively. "You shouldn't be here. I put you in that room so the hostage wouldn't escape."

[Deux]

Deux tugged at his hood when the Captain asked about his head. As far as he knew there was nothing wrong with it. There wasn’t a mirror in the brig though, so he hadn’t seen his head lately. Even when there was a mirror he didn’t tend to gaze at his reflection. It never seemed right.

When the Captain continued talking his gaze shifted to meet the man’s. The only change in his expression was a momentary narrowing of his eyes after he was done speaking.

“I don’t understand,” he said slowly. In an attempt to avoid annoying the Captain he continued trying to clarify, “You have suggested two courses of action. One implies that I go to the medical bay, the other that I return to the brig. Which would you have me do first?”

He glanced down the range at the crate the Captain had shot. Then he looked back that the Captain and his weapon. After a second of consideration he said, “Try supporting your firing hand with the other and bending your elbows slightly if you aren’t already.”

He watched the older man for his reaction. Most of the people he had met didn’t like being corrected When it came to firing a weapon, Deux remember his brother saying that was two of some of the most common mistakes. Of course he hadn’t seen the Captain fire the weapon, and perhaps he had done what he just suggested. In that case he had just insulted the man. Deux pulled on his hood again.

[Angel]

Greg smirked. He could almost hear the resounding 'woosh' as his joke flew right over Deux's head. Deux response was slow and stuff, and the Captain reached over to give the boy a light clap on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it. I wasn't being serious." The smirk disappeared slightly from his face, replaced by a more serious look. "However, you should probably be back on your way to the Brig." It came from past experience knowing that Kaden could be a pain in the ass if he escaped. Yet it was almost beginning to turn into a game for Greg, to see what he could accomplish in this--he'd never had trouble keeping prisoners in their cages before.

The Captain followed Deux's gaze down the shooting range, at the still-smoldering box on its stand. He didn't expect the boy to open his mouth and spout out some advice. Greg cleared his throat, a look of annoyance flashing hotly across face. He'd spent four years in the military on his home planet, and handling weapons was one of his prized skills. Missing the target had been a combination of a tired body and distracted mind. Earthfall was still a fresh wound to many of the crew members, and Greg was wracking his brain trying to figure out what to do about it all. A good section of his crew wanted to head back to some of their home planets and see the damage for themselves. Others didn't care or didn't have family, and wanted to continue on course. The decision tended to keep him up during sleeping hours.

He bit back the urge to retort or lash out at Deux--the boy seemed fragile enough--and instead indulged his curiosity. "What do you know about guns? You don't strike me as a shooting man." Both his eyebrows rose, skeptical.

[Deux]

Deux flinched at the Captain’s touch. Partly he was expecting a harder hit and partly because he was not used to other people touching him intentionally. He had often been bumped into in the halls or crowded mess hall and heard the occasional grunt of apology. In those occurrences he simply said sorry and moved on, he wasn’t certain how to handle the Captain’s action.

He looked up at the man wondering why he was joking about a matter Deux assumed he took seriously. Since the Captain said not to worry about it though, he didn’t. Deux nodded and was turning back when he saw a look go across the Captain’s face. He stopped and clasped his hands in front of him, directing his gaze at the floor, waiting to either have more of a reason to flinch or listen to whatever the Captain had to say, likely at high volumes.

So the question and statement he heard caught him off guard. He looked up from the ground and observed the Captain’s face. The man gave Deux an odd look, which he returned with a head tilt.

“I know everything my brother taught me,” he answered and pointed at the weapon in the Captain’s hand, “I’ve never had experience with that type or model. My training was in weapons that fire solid projectiles. I would not consider myself a ‘shooting man’. I find that blades are more effective, they don’t run out of ammo. Also, in a number of cultures I have not reached the age or passed the tests to be considered an adult.”

[Angel]

Greg listened intently to the boy babbling on, his thumb toying against the side of the energy gun. So Deux had been trained with guns. Well, that was a happy step up from what Greg had expected. He grinned at Deux, at the seriousness of his tone. "You'd be right, they don't run out of ammo. But," He hefted his normal gun from its holster around his waist, a medium-sized handgun that would do well in defending in close quarters. He kept it close, especially around some of the crew members that haunted the ship. It was an older model, well-used, but you took what you got when you lived like Greg did. "They're sometimes nigh useless against a bullet."

With expert ease, he flipped the gun so he was holding the barrel, its butt sticking out towards Deux. He motioned with a tilt of his chin towards the shooting range. "What do you say about giving it a try?" He lifted an eyebrow, curious.

[Deux]

“Only if they are able to hit the desired target,” Deux said flatly, “If the bullet cannot cause damage then it useless as well. I do not make it habit to get shot, or to miss.” His tone could possibly be mistaken for smugness, but if Deux was at all smug he wasn’t aware of it.

He met the Captain’s eyes, stared into them blankly for a moment before taking the gun. For a moment he held it his hands, turning it over like it was something new and mysterious, almost afraid of it. After running a finger along the barrel that he stopped treating it as something delicate, instead it was solid in his hands. His right hand wrapped around the handle and checked the safety and ammo.

When he was done Deux took deliberate steps toward the range, stopping when he was parallel with the target. He lifted the gun, supported it with his free hand and switched off the safety. As soon as the shot was lined up he pulled the trigger three times, barely affected by the recoil. His face was set as he lowered the weapon and walked toward the target.

Reaching the target his body and face relaxed, replaced by his normal stance and then slight defeat. He ran a hand over the bullet holes. They were close to the center, level with but to the right and the grouping was close but Deux still felt the urge to bite his lip.

“I’m out of practice,” he said as he looked back at the Captain, sounding more like a child who lost a toy then someone who had missed a target.

[Angel]

Greg smiled distantly at Deux's response, watching him inspect the gun. "Then you best not miss, eh?" He remarked. The boy seemed to have a bit of knowledge about weapons, but Greg didn't have much wagering on Deux's skills. What could he expect, really, from a shy boy who looked nearly a teenager? Most of the time, Greg found himself to be of sound judgment; so when Deux landed three shots near the center of the target, Greg blinked in surprise and stared at him. He was wrong. Apparently.

The subtle shift in Deux's bearing was noted by the Captain, the slight relaxation and drooping of the boy's shoulders, as if he were disappointed. Deux's movements moments before had been almost mechanical. Then again, the kid appeared to be pretty stiff and monotone anyways. "Out of practice?" Greg asked with a small laugh, squinting at the three holes in the target. "Looks fine by me. At least you didn't miss and destroy part of the box." He said in good humor, motioning towards the gaping hole where his energy gun had hit earlier. "So, you were trained, were you? Who was your brother?"

[Deux]

“Yes,” he said to the Captain, “I am not in top condition. I have not had the opportunity to practice since I arrived on board.” Deux’s finger curled against the target until they were almost fists. Noticing this he tilted his head and looked at his hand, unsure of why his hand had behaved in such a way.

Sighing he relaxed his hand and walked back down the range. Deux dropped to the ground and crossed his legs in one fluid motion. He set the gun in front of him on the ground and undid the snaps securing his hooded vest. Laying it out in front of him, Deux smoothed out the wrinkles before setting the gun on the surface and pulling the fabric closer. Usually he’d be uncomfortable without his hood in the same room as a practical strange but all his attention more focused on the gun.

“Fine, good, okay,” He ticked off as he started to dismantle the gun, “Just words. Comparison is not an effective measure of results either. If that was a target and they lived, the fact that I hit them instead of missing would do nothing to help me.”

All gun was laid out in front of him Deux expected all the parts with narrowed eyes, “Yes I was. When was the last time this weapon was cleaned?” He started reassembling gun before his question to the Captain was even finished. Unless the man had a cleaning kit on him there was no point in leaving it in pieces.

“My brother was my primary caregiver,” he said standing. Deux pulled on his vest, secured the three clasps at the top and pulled back on his hood over his dark blonde hair. He looked at the Captain once more with his pupils dilated a tad more than earlier then fired at the target three more times. Closer then the last three, and better grouping than before but he could tell without walking to down that he had still missed the center.

He walked over to the Captain and flipped the gun around similar to the manner the man had. The barrel was still hot but he didn’t flinch and extended his arm offering the Captain his gun back. His pupils has also constricted to a level more appropriate to the light in the loading dock.

“It’s out of ammo,” he said simply.

[Angel]

He lifted an eyebrow. "I would have given you the opportunity, had I known. As it stands, I'm not even sure you were hired onto my ship." Deux probably wouldn't have stayed on as long as he had if there wasn't this strange connection between the boy and Kaden. Greg was still trying to figure out why Kaden was unable to teleport while Deux was around-- much less, why Kaden could teleport in the first place. As far as the Captain could tell, Kaden didn't know either. Or perhaps he did, and he was hiding the information.

Greg scratched his index finger against the stubble of his jaw, watching Deux dismantle the gun stiffly. "Lighten up, eh? The words were nothing but some condolences." He recognized the need for accuracy, being a military man for several years. His own crew was expected to be disciplined and practiced, ready to jump to arms at the sound of a raid. Greg had a hard time imagining Deux shooting someone else. Yet the boy had been surprising the Captain non-stop since the start of their interactions.

His tone darkened slightly at Deux's question. "Are you attempting to criticize how I keep my guns, now? I cleaned it nearly the other day. I don't take the care of my weapons lightly." The three shots from the gun rang out in the loading dock, buffered against the tall stacks of crates and cargo. Greg retrieved the gun from Deux's hand, replacing it back in its holster. "Aha. Noted." Greg paused, mulling over something. "So this brother of yours, was he in the military? Where were the two of you from?" Sometimes one's home planet was a tender topic, so Greg tended to steer away from it. But he knew some places guide their youth, from birth, towards military service. Perhaps Deux was from one of those planets.

[Deux]

“I was hired as a deck hand,” Deux shrugged, “You had no reason to assume I was in need of it.” His arms hanging limply by his sides.

He tilted his head at the Captain, “Condolences? Why would you do that?”

Deux shrank into his clothing when the topic returned to guns. He bit his lip and looked at the ground, “No Captain, I am sorry for any disrespect. I felt the question was valid and I-,” he paused shifting his weight, “I was hoping that, that may have contributed to my poor aim.”

“I don’t know if my brother was in the military,” Deux answered truthfully, “I assume he was at some point, he was well informed in their methods. He says that I was from Bitumen, I don’t know where he was from. My brother kept us moving. Do you have any more questions?”