“Just waiting to be told what to do, Captain,” she said sweetly.
“All right, then how about you take care of some of the complex math the rest of us “mongrels” aren't suited for?” He scowled at her. “For instance, what process would I use to measure what an unbelievably massive sewage leak you are, on the scale of major cosmic phenomena such as quasars?”
The elfin woman's sweet smile became slightly acid, especially when a few of the colonists snickered. “It's actually really simple math, sir . . . you can do it on just two fingers.” She raised the aforementioned fingers toward him in twin rude gestures, then turned and stomped away.
“She's right,” the same young man from among the colonists said, “that does provide a pretty accurate measure of her sewage leak-ness.”
“That's quite enough, Farron,” Jorroc said mildly. “Just because Miss Ishiv is being her usual charming self doesn't mean you have to emulate her.”
For some reason Farron glanced towards Lana, looking embarrassed and irritated about being publicly rebuked. He certainly didn't seem to have the same emotional discipline as Dax or even Aiden, which made him seem younger even though he was probably about her own age.
Jorroc had turned back to watching the colonists work, face sagging into a weary expression. “Thorne is a good man,” he said in a quiet voice, unexpectedly turning the conversation back to her question, “and I'm willing to accept that he's fighting on against evil in the only way he knows how. It's admirable, but I hate to think of a nice young lady like you getting dragged into his personal war and coming to the same end he seems determined to find for himself.”
“Hey!” Aiden called, making them both jump. Lana was worried he'd overheard some of that, but to her relief, if he had he didn't mention it. “This junk metal isn't going to move on its own, Lana, and last I heard you were still a member of my crew. Come on, get to work . . . you can stand around jawing once we're done.”
Chapter Thirteen
Sanctuary
The rest of the afternoon was spent unloading the cargo bay and getting everything moved to a warehouse, using ground vehicles with actual wheels rather than antigrav or gravfield nullifiers.
Of course, Lana didn't know that was anything unusual until Belix, who'd hung around the working crew and colonists in spite of the fact that nobody seemed to want to talk to her, made a snarky comment about caveman cars. Which, surprisingly, didn't go over well as an icebreaker.
Once unloading was done, Aiden sent Lana and Dax to help the colonists change the ship's profile by welding on new metal plates, tearing others off, adding random jags and gouges, and of course, painting it all matte black. It was hard work, although she wasn't skilled enough to do much besides help hold plates while other people attached them.
But in spite of that, she had a good time, talking and laughing with the colonists they were working with.
Being around so many people after she'd only really known five before now was a bit overwhelming, but also nice. There were all kinds of new things to talk about, and new faces and new voices. Everyone was fairly reserved with Dax, not rude but not going out of their way to talk to him about anything besides the job either, but they all accepted Lana with open arms and seemed to want to get to know her.
Particularly Farron, who went out of his way to find reasons to work with her.
She had to admit it was nice to be the center of such friendly attention, although she felt a bit bad about Dax; she tried to include him in the conversation where she could, but he had withdrawn into his most taciturn self, the way he acted when he was around Aiden and the captain was really getting on his case.
Maybe she should ask Jorroc about the weapons officer, at least to find out why people seemed to treat him differently. She couldn't see anything too different about him, aside from his rigid discipline and the way people avoided or ignored him when he didn't seem to have done anything to deserve it.
That just made it seem all the more unfair.
They left the job of altering the ship's exterior unfinished with the sun still well over the horizon, gathering in an open area of the green where colonists had set up tables and chairs and a sort of outdoor galley, or kitchen she supposed. Jorroc had taken charge of half a dozen grills and was overseeing other men busily flipping steaks on them, while women on portable stoves cooked potatoes and greens or mixed salads in large bowls to go with them.
Lana hadn't smelled much in her short life, aside from things like oils and solvents, the smell of metal and fabric, the slight body odors emitted by her generally hygienic crewmates (including Dax's, which she found she quite liked), and of course the less pleasant stink of her waste when she had to use the facilities.
Of all the scents she'd experienced so far the food she'd eaten on the ship, especially what Dax had gotten for her, had by far the most interesting, varied, and enjoyable ones. But foods processed for long term storage and then made edible in the galley's food preparation appliances generally didn't give off very strong odors, probably by design on vessels with enclosed air systems where scents tended to linger.
All that said, nothing so far could even come close to matching the smell carried by the smoke wafting from the grills. Lana amused the people around her by following it around so she could keep inhaling the incredible scent of cooking meat and subtle spices, and watched the flames lick the thick steaks with something close to awe.
Her stomach felt like it
