There's No Place Like Home }{ Myra/Crew

[Sam Grady]

November 24th, 2522

^{there never was a place
there never was a place like home}[/center]



So where did Sam Grady consider to be home? Was it Fury? The cargo ship - Freyr - that she grew up on? Maybe it was the Nyx. That junker pirate ship that was now a rusted, broken husk on some nondescript planet. There's a possibility she considered them all as home. The city of Dis had been her backyard as a kid, then the 'Verse itself when she got older. Being able to fly gave her so much freedom. Well, as long as the ship worked. Right now, the Veasna was still stuck on Greenleaf. Sam had currently exhausted herself from all the extra energy and frustration the last few days had pent up inside her, and had taken to lazily sprawling herself in the pilot's chair. Her chair. No one else needed to sit in it, and she was damn sure no one would dare. Especially while she was up and breathing. Even injured, the pilot would hobble her way up here rather than let someone else fly.

This... this felt like home. It was starting to, anyway. The worn, comfy seat, the blinking lights, the view from the window ahead of her. No stars, though. She couldn't see the stars. Sure, she wanted to, but for now Grady had passed that restless, angry stage and was content to just laze about. Combat boots were propped up beside the cortex screen, eyes half open as she watched some crappy kind of soap opera or another. They still existed to this day... and currently it was the only thing she could tune into.

"Gorrammit, Cindy. We know the ta ma de baby ain' Lance's... I swear if he don' open fire on tha' son o' a whore, Grant I'll..."

The pilot trailed off, wondering why the hell she was watching this trash, but too comfy to sit up and turn the gorram thing over. There was the risk this might end up rotting her brain, but that ship had probably sailed from all the years of abuse her body had taken from whatever she felt like subjecting herself to at the time. Drink, some drugs, fights. You know. The usual. Grady made a point of being 'clean' these days. Booze, yeah. If she can get people to buy her drinks instead of waste her own money - though sometimes she caved and unlocked that metal hand to let some coin drop. No drugs, though. Marlon had been a bad influence on that part.

The name caused a disgruntled little snarl, albeit half-arsed. Sam quickly shrugged it off and eventually sat up, spidery metal digit tapping the screen.
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[myraflynn]

Myra used to believe that a Companion's life was glamorous. And, from time to time, it was. But the vast majority of a Companion's time was spent being fake. She really didn't love the men that she pretended to, she rarely enjoyed the...personal time they spent, and her politeness was a veneer that covered an exquisite boredom with her clients. Sure, they were handsome, mostly intelligent men (and sometimes women), but there was no fairytale romance, no true love between them.

And so it was with great joy that Myra detached her shuttle from the transport ship that had brought her to Greenleaf, and then to the Veasna. The crew of the Veasna were the closest thing she had to family, and heading back to the ship felt like coming home again. She tapped the screen, and sent a wave out to the ship, wanting to find out exactly where it was docked.

The face that answered was, unsurprisingly, that of the pilot, Sam Grady. Myra smiled warmly at her, and spoke: "Grady! It's good to see your face again. I'm in the sky above Greenleaf, just wanting to know where you all are so I can join you."

[Sam Grady]

Grady hadn't expected the screen to change as she touched it, and was a little surprised when it did. Tapping the screen had answered the incoming transmission that seemed to come through at that exact moment. The pilot's eyes widened a touch before she recognised the face and voice. Their fair lady of the morning, evening, noon and night had returned! And maybe even brought a little prosperity with her. Sam quickly pasted on one of her candid grins, metal fingers wiggling in a little wave.

"Well, hey there, missy! We was startin' ta' wonder when you'd get your pretty pigu back here. They have you locked in a tower somewhere? ...Or a dungeon?"

Sam, and her sense of crude humour... would never change.

As for bringin' her in for a snug landing, Sam was already working on that part. Twisting in that comfy chair, she'd tap a few keys, mess with the controls and flick the odd switch.

"Coordinates are on their merry way to ya. Lemme know when yer in range an' I'll prep the slot for parkin'. All the locks are open and waitin'."

It was a good thing she knew how to do her job. Otherwise she'd probably be a waste of space, right? Or a nuisance. Well, she was one of those, but Grady did have her other uses. In a fight, for one. Just like Myra had her uses. Companions always had a lot more sway in any parts of the 'Verse. Good to have around. Sam didn't discriminate against her for the work she did, of course. This was Grady. She was in the mind if that's how you wanna make your money... then go for it!

On the other side of the coin, she didn't much agree with people that had no choice, or were forced into it. Not that she let on she was a kind and protective soul at all. The slavers deal had been because she'd wanted a fight, first and foremost.

Anything chivalrous about it was just an added karmic bonus.