Dreaming of Me

Posted on Tue 6th Sep, 2022 @ 3:46pm by

396 words; about a 2 minute read

Mission: The Hunted
Location: Deck 512, Escape Pod Row
Timeline: MD 6, 11:05

Damage Control Specialist Third Class Silversmith had her torso twisted awkwardly under one of the bench seats in the escape pod, inspecting a gasket, when Hull Technician Third Class Li dripped grease all over her.

"Oh," Silversmith said, rolling to look awkwardly at the viscous liquid now decorating her uniform tunic. "Thanks, ever so much."

"Not like I did it on purpose," Li answered, and then, "Sorry."

"Yeah, yeah," Silversmith waved it off. "You know, I dreamed about this last night."

"Getting greased by Li?" asked the third member of the working party, Damage Control Specialist Second Class Olt.

"Sort of," Silversmith responded. "I was standing in The Empty Quarter, and I had ice cream, but it was melting all over me, just getting everywhere."

"And why," Li asked, knowing she'd regret asking, but drawn in anyway, "didn't you just eat the ice cream?" She used a rag to clean excess grease off the fitting she'd meant to lubricate.

"My mouth was full of BBs," Silversmith answered, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"BBs?" Olt asked, not familiar with the term. He was leaning in the doorway, watching his two juniors. No one had asked him, but if they had, he'd have explained that the two women were blocking access to the stores he was meant to be inventorying.

"Little copper pellets," Li explained. "For a sort-of toy weapon popular on Earth with children of a certain age. Used for terrorizing neighborhood wildlife, and putting one's own eye out." She wiped the tip of her grease gun with the same rag, and secured the cap over the tip.

"Exactly," Silversmith agreed, grabbing the rag from Li and applying it to her tunic. "I had a mouthful of BBs so I could spit them at the Klingons who were trying to steal my ice cream."

"Klingons?" Li asked, watching Silversmith accomplish not much of anything but smearing the grease all over her midriff. "Why were Klingons trying to steal your ice cream?"

"Oh, Klingons are just mad for pistachio," Silversmith explained, giving up on the ever-expanding grease spot.

"It is a flavor fit for a Warrior," Olt agreed in an assumed gruff voice. He straightened, and went on, "Stop pretending Silversmith ever makes more sense than dream logic, and get that cover re-seated, Li, so we can get this done before lunch?"

 

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