Your crew is on your Firefly-class ship in the Black.

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"If you're gonna do it, overdo it; that's how you know you're alive." - Ani di Franco

Violet

"I really like it out here.  It's quiet and there's no bad people you have to kill, plus the stars are all shiny like a perfectly polished pistol."

Wendi proudly flourishes a perfectly polished pistol she has obviously diligently been working on while she sits at the galley table hunched forward legs splayed to either side of the chair.  Smiling.  Five pistols ranging from a teeny-weeny derringer to a monstrous canon that looks far too big for this little raggedy anne of a girl to even lift, never mind hold, or fire, are laid out on the table in front of her.

---

And, isn't sanity really just a one-trick pony anyway? I mean all you get is one trick, rational thinking, but when you're good and crazy, oooh, oooh, oooh, the sky is the limit.

"Kid i've been back and forth across the black more times than I can count, but i've gotta say that is the strangest thing i've ever heard from a gal as pretty and young as you."

Daedalus rolled into the galley hoping to find some tolerable coffee to keep him up for the long night ahead of him. He eyed the little pixie as she cleaned what appeared to be an arsenal in front of her.

"Shouldn't you be asleep with a teddy bear or playing with dolls?"

---

"We've done the impossible, and that makes us mighty."

"I like dolls."

---

And, isn't sanity really just a one-trick pony anyway? I mean all you get is one trick, rational thinking, but when you're good and crazy, oooh, oooh, oooh, the sky is the limit.

---

"We've done the impossible, and that makes us mighty."

Only half done Wendi begins to carefully place the pistols away.  No one should have to be alone.  Griff didn't talk too much, but she liked when he did, he knew a whole lot, not like the Captain, but he was still realy smart.

---

And, isn't sanity really just a one-trick pony anyway? I mean all you get is one trick, rational thinking, but when you're good and crazy, oooh, oooh, oooh, the sky is the limit.

Daedalus rolled up the catwalk back towards the bridge. His wheel chair was fairly plain, but useful in more ways than one. He was grateful of the captain McCord for modifying most of  stairs to ramps on the top level of the ship but the firefly class ship was still not the most accessible boat he'd been on. It was surprising how much one took walking for granted. He ran his fingers across the bare bulk heads remembering his own boat of days gone.  The thermos of warm coffee cradled in his lap as he passed the entrance hatches to the the crew quarters and onto the bridge. With coffee in hand he swung himself into the pilot's chair. All systems read green. Aemon had been doing a good job so far. Daedalus looked past the controls and blinking lights to the stars of the black he settled down for a long watch. 

---

"We've done the impossible, and that makes us mighty."

Each of the shiny guns begin to disappear one at a time, tiny first, then the next until each has been placed exactly where it should be on Wendi's person the second largest in the speed draw holster on her hip, and then she picks up the Big one wraps it carefully in a soft clothe ties a pretty pink ribbon around the outside and carries it carefully toward her sleeping quarters.  Smiling, this place is good.

---

And, isn't sanity really just a one-trick pony anyway? I mean all you get is one trick, rational thinking, but when you're good and crazy, oooh, oooh, oooh, the sky is the limit.

The Last Chance flies smoothly through the blackness of space.

OOC

I changed my post complaining about technical difficulties because Rich fixed them, but I can't delete this post without help.

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"If you're gonna do it, overdo it; that's how you know you're alive." - Ani di Franco

Violet

I'll take the one closest to the bridge

McCord looks up from the accounts and rubs the bridge of his nose. "God in Haven help me, We turn a profit on this trip or the Last Chance needs to learn to run on hope and starshine" He then climbs his ladder and heads into the mess. He smiles at Wendi as he enters. "Nice collection. Never did see the point in haven all of them weapons myself, only need one to kill a man. Two if you want to be fancy." His eyes fall on a one specific gun. Used to sell those, used one a lot. Always made sure I knew what I was selling. Mind if I?" And he gestures towards the weapon.

---

-Nova

IT IS THE RESPONSIBILITY of intellectuals to speak the truth and to expose lies. --The Responsibility of Intellectuals, Noam Chomsky. The New York Review of Books, February 23, 1967.

Wendi takes the indicated weapon in a clothe by the barrel and proffers the handle to the Captain.

"Sometimes they run out of bullets and there are still more bad people to kill.  I don't want to run out of bullets before I kill all the bad people.  My daddy ran out of bullets."

Wendi smiled, Captain McCord was a good person, and he knew just how to handle that gun.  It made her happy.

"I was putting them away, so I could go talk to Griff"

She hoped the Captain would never need more than one gun.

---

And, isn't sanity really just a one-trick pony anyway? I mean all you get is one trick, rational thinking, but when you're good and crazy, oooh, oooh, oooh, the sky is the limit.

---

"We've done the impossible, and that makes us mighty."

"C'mon....  Where are you ya li'l whun dan...."
With his legs hooked over the lip of the decking that he'd pulled up in the engine room, Aemon hangs down into the open bay.  A line is hooked into an eyelet off the wall with a snaplink, connecting the engineer's work harness to the ship in case of a mishap.  A glowstick hangs from a hook under the decking, sheading light on a complex of tubes and wires that Aemon is digging through.  He holds himself to a cross-beam while searching for a sub-junction controler for the fuel feed system.  When he finally does he pulls a bronze box the size of a deck of cards from a pocket on the arm of his jump suit and plugs it into the junction.  Once a small L.E.D. on it starts blinking he lets go of the beam and swings back under the hatch and pulls himself up wigh a sigh of exertion.  For a moment he sits there blinking, light headed while the blood that had pooled in his upper body drains.

"If only easy to maintain meant easy to access....  'Least it tain't none o' that Gurtsler tsway-niou."
He twists around to sit on the access's lip and brings his right arm up to read the display on his newtech computer gauntlet and tap a command into it.
"C'mon, connect you over rated piece of go se."
The gauntlet gives off a soft ping as it detects the feed from the enabler.  Shae continues to tap on the screen as it accesses the engine's programming and begins a diagnostic.
"'Cmon....  Please be a glich...."

---

New to the forums, just returned to the comic.

After Captain McCord has her #3 gun firmly in hand Wendi leans to one side and places the palm of her white hand flat onto the deck, then with barely a noticeable effort bends her body till her legs are up over her head in the air, he bare white painted feat bend down from above to gently pluck her big #5 gun off the table and begins walking on her hands toward the cubby she so happily now calls home.

"Maybe I could teach Griff to walk on his hands and then he could get around easy even without his chair."

She tips and seems to fall down her hatch as if plummeting to her death, only the frequency of her bizarre methods of moving makes the motion  seem common place and nearly normal.  She does not think she just moves.  The light touch of her feet below a few moments of silence and then like a missile from its silo she springs back into the hall from her hatch all smiles and giggles.

---

And, isn't sanity really just a one-trick pony anyway? I mean all you get is one trick, rational thinking, but when you're good and crazy, oooh, oooh, oooh, the sky is the limit.

With practised ease the Captain takes a few shooting poses, smoothly sliding the gun to his left hand and drawing his own gun, then taking a few positions with both. Satisfied he puts his gun away, spins around Wendi's weapon in his left hand and offers it to her. "Thank you very much Milday, its a wonderful weapon." he says with a bow.

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-Nova

IT IS THE RESPONSIBILITY of intellectuals to speak the truth and to expose lies. --The Responsibility of Intellectuals, Noam Chomsky. The New York Review of Books, February 23, 1967.