On Patrol: A Difference of Expectations
I found Firus, legs sticking out from under the giant red pipes, tool box open. Puffs of steam escaped in almost high-pitched whistles from pinpricks in the metal. Those would need to be patched before much longer.
Squatting down next to him, I cleared my throat.
Firus’ voice came back distorted and metallic. “What do you want?”
“Banon said we’ve been cleared to leave soon.”
“So? You getting antsy?”
I ignored that. “Are you sure you should be fixing these things yourself? You’re the Captain.”
“Don’t mean I can’t get my hands dirty. Pass me a C-wrench, willya?”
I fished through the tool box and gave him the first wrench.
“What’s this? Don’t they teach you anything? I said a C-wrench, this is M-sized. Look for one like this but much smaller.”
“If you’d use standard sized tools like everyone else, I wouldn’t keep having this problem.” I muttered.
“Nothing. I just think you might be undermining your own mechanics by fixing things yourself.”
“Nonsense. Everybody works on this ship- even you.”