this isnt a bad ship, not bad at all. Stores thought as he was escorted threw the ship. He could see the tail tail signs of repaired battle damage, little things most wouldn’t recognize like the slight off color of fresh bulkhead covers and deck plates next to older ones. You just can’t scrub the all the soot of them, and short of a compleat refit it isn’t practical to replace all of them.
I see the Goon isn’t going to let me out of his sight, can’t say I blame him, I wouldn’t trust some civ brought in in chains on my ship either. stepping into the lift, and stepping aside for the security officer. “Deck 3, please”…
that’s a good sign Thought Stores, as the lift didn’t respond. Some one is serious about security “ Do you mind?” Turning to address the security officer. After a pause and a disdainful glare. “Deck 3”.
The lift doors open after a brief ride in what could not be called “companionable silence”, letting them out on deck 3. Sauntering up to the sick bay door, Stores sets down his sea bag and brushes his hair back with his fingers and straitened his overalls. damn I need a shower, rubbing the bruised left side of his face, wile picking up his bag. Turning to the security officer wile palming the panel to open the door “ready?”…

Clinton “Stores” Reed, Supercargo.