Soul of a Gambler

Part VII - "Friends With Wings"

Days slipped quietly by as the plan had begun to unfold. Thankfully, there had been no more killings since the first day and the exomarine who's phone had been pinched curiously enough never came looking for it. Arna had been assigned to him on more than one occasion since, generally to "test" the systems of the Reactor and Engines that had been quietly finished under her supervisor's nose.

Jax had been moved around several times since then, taking in what he called a "holistic understandin'" of the ship and how it worked. Sweetening the deal, he hadn't been assigned to welding duty since the first day either. No more singed facial hair for Jax. On more than one occasion he had been assigned to the bridge, directly under Commander Cross' great scrutiny. 

Working the bridge was probably the best of the details he could hope for, not just considering the light workload but as he worked he paid close attention to everything that the bridge crew did. As he buffed floors he familiarized himself with the layout of the area with the captain's chair on a raised dias at the back where Cross sat with one leg atop the other smoking like a self-righteous chimney, burning down endless chains of fine cigarettes that made Jax a special flavor of jealous; and most of the other systems managed by semicircular banks of terminals that outlined the dias from below like a trench. Communications sat to the far left on the same level as the captain, and navigation to the right. That left Gunnery, Helm, Engineering, and Tactical in the trench.

Jax expressed great confusion when today he was assigned to polish the windows on the bridge, because as far as he knew there were none. The captain's chair faced a blank wall of reinforced metal. He stepped between the trenches and knocked on the sloped portion of the far wall.

"You want me to polish this random metal? Why don'cha just have me polish any other ol' panel? Just as good, don'cha think?" Jax cocked his eyebrow, one hand out toward the blank wall.

Cross smiled as he lit what was probably cigarette number five--Jax was sure he was only doing this to spite him--and he pressed a button on the right armrest of his seat.

The wall that was previously blank all at once flickered to life with a massive curved screen that ran all the way across the front side of the bridge. The screen displayed the whole-lot-of-nothing of outer space. Somewhere between the marvel of technology that the bridge's bay window was and the sight of empty space Jax was struck with an icy shudder up his spine.

"This window is one of the more sophisticated pieces of kit this ship has to offer. Krazoran design, reverse engineered. They call it projection-windows or some shit like that in their backwards-ass-sounding language. Outer cameras pass an image through. No structural weakness."

"Damn, 'aight Cross you've impressed me."

He started at the far end near Communications and sprayed the cleaner onto the screen in a couple measured bursts from the spray bottle in one hand and wiped in quick circles with the other. While he worked, he heard Cross humming elatedly to himself and lighting cigarettes six, seven, and eight. As smoke began to build on the bridge, unable to be whisked away by the air recycler fast enough Jax began to wonder how Cross hadn't gotten sick or given himself a headache yet.

As the cloud flattened and filled the volume of the bridge, Jax caught himself bouncing his left foot as he followed the curve in the window about midway down. From behind him, he heard Cross grunt with frustration.

"Davis! Do me a favor, eh?"

Initially, he didn't turn, but was coaxed into doing so by the sudden strike of thrown cardboard against the back of his head. He moved to face Cross with more of a sauntering sway than quick steps, and made sure to crunch the empty cigarette pack beneath his heel.