Chapter 2: The Ship and Crew

Laurence collected himself as best he could as he nudged his spectacles higher on the bridge of his nose with a finger scarred and calloused from his work with the machines he loved so well. "Not to put too fine a point on it, sir, but I was on time several minutes ago." He cleared his throat and blushed as he realized too late that he might have come across as belligerent and insubordinate, never minding that time was precisely why he had been hired.

A bright and charming smile broke across the man's face just before he laughed. After stopping next to Laurence, the man clapped him on the shoulder. "Well said, man! Well said."

He continued to grin even as Laurence winced at the familiarity that the man showed him. The hand remained on Laurence's shoulder, a fact which made the shorter man uncomfortable, but he wasn't forward enough to ask the man to remove it.

"My name is Nigel Wellington the Third. Ship's Historian. I anticipate we will be working closely with one another." Mr. Wellington slid his hand down Laurence's arm, a gesture that caused the Horotech to shiver a little, and then held it at waist level in proffered greeting.

What choice did Laurence have? Something about this Mr. Wellington put him on edge even more than others did, but if what was said were true then Laurence would indeed work often with him. It wouldn't do to alienate the man just because Laurence wasn't socially adjusted. Awkwardly, he shook the Historian's hand, but kept it as brief as possible. "Ah...indeed." His smile was just as awkward as his reply, but Mr. Wellington didn't seem to mind. In fact, he appeared to be even more amused. "A task I'm sure will be both a pleasure and a challenge."

"A pleasure, indeed." Nigel scanned the Horotech over. Laurence flushed again and cleared his throat under the man's scrutiny. The action seemed to only encourage the Historian, but a moment later Wellington chuckled and took a step back, relinquishing his claim on Laurence's personal space. "Best we hurry on, then. The Captain is not a patient woman." Wellington looked to the cases beside Laurence and sighed. But then he smiled at Laurence before he made for the warehouse door. "Come along, Mr. Kane. Leave your bags."

Laurence blinked some more, looked to his cases then to Mr. Wellington's back. Leave his precious case? The man was mad! "B-but, Mr. Wellington..." He lifted a hand in weak protest since his voice wouldn't rise to the occasion. "...I'm afraid I really must insist against that. You see ah-" Laurence's complaint trailed off when he took notice that Mr. Wellington wasn't walking any further than the entrance door to the warehouse they were standing before. The Historian didn't even glance over his shoulder as he pulled open the door and stepped in. Laurence made the conscious effort to shut his lips then followed. What he found within was not what he had expected.

He stepped over the threshold into the warehouse, but Laurence wasn't as graceful as the ship's Historian. He caught the toe of his shoe and stumbled, but paid it no mind, as his attention was enraptured with the sight before him. From the outside he never would have credited the warehouse to have the space to fit what was contained within, but some clever person had hollowed out the walls to the units on either side of warehouse five, and sank the flooring, as well. Laurence's hands gripped the cool metal railing that ran along the catwalk he had tripped onto, and he stared in awe at what he had found. "....my God! She's beautiful."

The chrono-ship The William's Hunt nested in her moorings as comfortably as a knife in a sheath. The hull was the standard alloy used to withstand the transit through time, crafted so that the visual end result was somewhere between the greenish hints of bronze and the high shine of brass, accented in frames that had touches of chrome. In the darkness she was lovely. In the light of day she would rival the sun.

Although not intended for extended flight, chrono-ships were capable of it. Based on what Laurence saw in the pockmarks and scuffs on the nose and belly of the ship, Captain de Sade did make use of the ability. Not that there appeared to be any neglect. Some captains saw such wear and tear as battle scars to be proud of, but the worst on The William's Hunt had been buffed and polished. Laurence's quick eyes picked out the details that told him that Captain de Sade allowed for some wear on the ship. However it was just as obvious that she insisted on a high quality of maintenance. He felt a smile pull at his lips and a huff of astonishment pass through them as he realized that he was already under the ship's spell. "Fantastic!"

"Any problems, Wellington?" A deep voice that seemed edged with sharp gravel rumbled up from the moorings a good fifty feet beneath the catwalk. Laurence tore his attention from the chrono-ship to the source of that intimidating voice. It belonged to a man that even from that distance the Horotech could tell would tower over him. It wasn't just what he would call an unnatural height, but the man had shoulders made for building pyramids or transporting small villages from one place to another and had arms to match. And he was eyeing Laurence as if he were uncertain if what he was looking at was human.

"None at all," Nigel replied as he descended the ladder from the catwalk to the floor below. His rakish smile was turned up toward Laurence as he answered the roughneck.

Laurence was positive he would never be on quite that easy of terms with either man, and for a moment he wondered just what he had gotten himself into.

As if a mind reader, Nigel shot the Horotech a wink. "You might see to his bags though, Geri. Doubtful anyone else will get them down the ladder." He turned a blithe smile to the brick of a man who glowered in return. The Historian paid it no mind as he called back up to Laurence, who was dithering in indecision. "Come on, Mr. Kane! Let's get you out of our good Mr. Reynolds way. Unpleasant at the best of times, he becomes downright surly when he has to trip all over people."

"Right." Laurence's reply was more to himself than an acknowledgment to Mr. Wellington. It seemed to be the trigger that got him detached from the railing, and he moved to the ladder. His concern for his bags was diminished in direct proportion to his fascination for the ship he was soon to board.