dejah_thoris | [oom] A visit to the Milliways Garage with Adrian Shephard

Woola rumbles his subsonic approval of head scritches, his eyes closed in contentment.

"I wonder if it couldn't be converted to a radium drive just as simply. The vehicle, not the ship. I'm not sure I could abscond with that much radium and not have it be commented on." She's musing to herself as she eyes the drive train. It would certainly be an interesting engineering experiment, to recreate a ground running craft like this.

She stands back up and quirks an eyebrow at him, smirking in anticipation.

"Uh-" Shephard rubs at the back of his neck. "I ain't sure if it'd be the same grade as what y'all use on Barsoom, but Bar'll dispense radioactives same as she will anything else that ain't a weapon or illegal where you come from. Might not give you a whole hell of a lot all at once, but she's given me a fair little bit of strontium for explosives when I've asked her real nice. Had to return the safety gear it came with, y'understand."

Not that he's exactly comfortable with the idea of a reactor that close to his groin, but shit, the lady's done it plenty of times herself and if she's got cancer or fucked-up DNA she sure as fuck doesn't look it, so all in all they've probably worked those particular bugs out of the system. And he'd like to not have to worry so fucking much about fueling his goddamn ride.

"Engine's gonna be a mite loud in a place like this, next to somethin' like what you're used to," he warns before stepping forward to fire the beast up.

The machine roars to life, and she steps back, laughing from sheer surprise and no small amount of glee. Woola gives a startled chuff and dashes around the bike, checking it from all angles to make sure it's not about to attack his mistress.

"It sounds like a machine for crushing rocks. Are you sure you wouldn't miss that element of the ride? A radium drive would be much quieter!" Yes, she's shouting a bit to be heard over the rumble of the engine echoing off the concrete walls.

"Ain't gonna lie, I might have to rig up a tape recorder or somethin'," Shephard admits, equally loudly. He bounces in place experimentally; the bike's balance seems sound. "Reckon I'll live, though. You want a ride, I recommend you git on from the left. There's a peg for your foot down there, so put a foot on and swing your right leg over."

Helmets and riding leathers and such are vitally important when you're actually riding, but Shephard doesn't consider a demo in a controlled environment like the Milliways garage to be anywhere near the same. Far as he's concerned, they'll be fine.

She does as instructed, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady herself. It's not that much different from the skimmer, save for the seat being a bit slimmer. She settles down behind him, her hands around his waist.

"This all right?" She doesn't have to speak quite so loudly next to his ear.

Shephard nods. "Heading out in three, two-"

On one, the bike starts moving. Slow and simple at first, because only an asshole takes off like a rocket when he's got somebody new riding pillion, and while Shephard has his flaws he likes to think he's not that much of an asshole. And it's best to get used to an unfamiliar driver's style of taking turns before the speed gets cranked up, anyway.

She leans into him, gripping a bit tighter. She feels the way he shifts his weight and follows suit instinctively. The acceleration isn't too terrible, and she laughs at the feel of the mechanical beast responding to the pavement and the incremental adjustments he's giving the engine.

"You can pick up the pace, if you like. I'm not going to fall off, I assure you!"

"Fair 'nough!" Shephard answers, assuming she can hear him over the engine- she probably can, no helmets involved, after all. And, hell, she's ridden the skimmer, she's got the hang of balancing proper.

Good thing the Buell accelerates nice and smooth when he starts giving it some serious gas, right?

Dejah doesn't hunker down behind him, no. She sits up straight and lets the wind whip through her hair. Woola trots easily alongside them, looking on expectantly like, 'is that all it's got?'

"I could get used to this," she says, and he can hear the grin in her voice.

"Yeah, it grows on you mighty fast," says Shephard. They're doing about fifty; he doesn't entirely trust the garage not to get all weird on him if he goes faster. It's still Milliways. "Ain't a flyer, but she's still a damn fine ride for all that."

"I can definitely see the appeal."

Eventually, she does lean forward against him, lowering her chin to his shoulder so she can share his line of sight.

"What's it's range?"

"She's got about a three'n a half gallon fuel tank and she gits around thirty-nine miles to the gallon most of the time, so a hunnert'n thirty-six, hunnert-forty miles, maybe," says Shephard, leaning left for a turn before straightening out again. "I carry a spare can if I got to go much more'n a hunnert miles, just in case. Saves me trouble."

"I think I could retrofit it with a radium drive, but it would have to be a miniature version of what the skimmer uses. But I think, with a fuel rod say -- the size of your thumb, you'd only have to refuel once every -- five years?"

".... hot damn," says Shephard eventually. "Shit. Yeah, I could go for that. Reckon I'd owe you big, though."

"Nonsense. I'd enjoy the opportunity to -- fiddle with a project of my own. And I'm sure you'll find a way to make it up to me."

"I earned the money t'buy this bike workin' nights'n weekends at the town sporting goods store," Shephard answers. "I'll find a way, I c'n promise you that."

"I have no need of monetary compensation, Adrian. And I don't like the idea of you feeling indebted to me for something I would willing do for free."

"All right, fair," says Shephard. "I ain't gonna complain about that."

He swings right around an Aston-Martin.

"You got anything else down here you want to see?"

"Is there an end to this place? An egress above ground perhaps? Access to the lakeside?"

"I dunno about an end, but as far as reachin' the lake....."

He knows the way. He's been there in the lion plenty of times. The Buell has no trouble finding it at all."

She sits up a bit, dragging a hand through her hair in a futile attempt to keep it from whipping around too wildly.

"Thank you for today, Adrian. It's more fun than I've had in a long time."

Her voice is quieter with the confession, as if the confession of it has taken her by surprise.

"Glad you enjoyed it, ma- Dejah."

Lifelong habit. What can you do.

"It ain't much fun bein' alone down there with the machines anyway. Folks who appreciate 'em ought to know about 'em, I figure."

She grips his side in silent acknowledgement. She does appreciate it, more than he knows.

"It isn't much fun being alone anywhere."

"'Round here you don't much have to be less'n you want to, for what that's worth," Shephard says. "It's useful that way."

We apologize to anyone who's enjoying the tranquility of the Milliways grounds. That Buell engine is going to be roaring out here for a while.

[oom] A visit to the Milliways Garage with Adrian Shephard

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject