The Lost Goats, 22
Jul. 14th, 2012 10:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
avevale_intelligencer"Well, you'll fit in," Zander said, eyeing Soren's headgear censoriously.
"I would remind my Captain," Soren said, "that the fabricators have been under a certain amount of strain of late, possibly due to a certain person playing with the one in his room the whole time we were away."
"If you had returned me to the homeship as I requested--" Adhemar began, with a prodigious sniff.
"That being so," Soren overrode him, "I thought it best to go for something with a loose weave."
"Not sure if it's a hat or a hair net," Zander said.
"It can be a--a pervilious snood for all I care," Soren said, and checked, startled. "I just want something on my bonce."
"Bald spot feeling the draught again?"
Soren bridled, but forbore to comment. His hair was a sore point, especially in view of Zander's luxuriant mop. Besides, the words that had popped out of his mouth had given him unexpected pause.
"Beats me why the Empire never flattened this lot," Zander said as they descended the ramp, Adhemar having been persuaded to remain behind and not to overstrain the fabricators. Clouds swathed the sky over the depressing huddle of shacks that formed the port simple (it hardly merited the name of complex). Beyond the fence could be seen more of the same. Off in the distance, a ramshackle tower surmounted a hill.
"Too useful to them," Soren said. "Remember your elementary poli sci, my Captain. The bigger a government gets--"
"The more it feels entitled to break its own laws, and the more stringently it enforces them on everyone else."
"This place was a hotbed of corruption back in the day. Money laundering, prostitution of all kinds, and of course every variety of whoopee juice known to humankind."
"Not much change there then," Zander said, sniffing the air, practising his Adhemar impression. "I smell rapple, wooze, kevelioc, mamandarol, and sprout soup with butternut squash."
"No you don't." Zander's inability to smell was a byword. Soren sniffed. "But you're about right. Healthy food and brain-melting drugs. Give me the homeship any day."
"What can they possibly want here? I mean, there's no challenge at all."
"And precious little cash, in the off season."
"Guess we'll find out when we see them." The spotty youth on gate duty waved them limply through without speaking.
"Assuming we do."
"Love the hair net," the spotty youth called after them.
"Oh, shut up," Soren said to Zander, who hadn't spoken.
"I would remind my Captain," Soren said, "that the fabricators have been under a certain amount of strain of late, possibly due to a certain person playing with the one in his room the whole time we were away."
"If you had returned me to the homeship as I requested--" Adhemar began, with a prodigious sniff.
"That being so," Soren overrode him, "I thought it best to go for something with a loose weave."
"Not sure if it's a hat or a hair net," Zander said.
"It can be a--a pervilious snood for all I care," Soren said, and checked, startled. "I just want something on my bonce."
"Bald spot feeling the draught again?"
Soren bridled, but forbore to comment. His hair was a sore point, especially in view of Zander's luxuriant mop. Besides, the words that had popped out of his mouth had given him unexpected pause.
"Beats me why the Empire never flattened this lot," Zander said as they descended the ramp, Adhemar having been persuaded to remain behind and not to overstrain the fabricators. Clouds swathed the sky over the depressing huddle of shacks that formed the port simple (it hardly merited the name of complex). Beyond the fence could be seen more of the same. Off in the distance, a ramshackle tower surmounted a hill.
"Too useful to them," Soren said. "Remember your elementary poli sci, my Captain. The bigger a government gets--"
"The more it feels entitled to break its own laws, and the more stringently it enforces them on everyone else."
"This place was a hotbed of corruption back in the day. Money laundering, prostitution of all kinds, and of course every variety of whoopee juice known to humankind."
"Not much change there then," Zander said, sniffing the air, practising his Adhemar impression. "I smell rapple, wooze, kevelioc, mamandarol, and sprout soup with butternut squash."
"No you don't." Zander's inability to smell was a byword. Soren sniffed. "But you're about right. Healthy food and brain-melting drugs. Give me the homeship any day."
"What can they possibly want here? I mean, there's no challenge at all."
"And precious little cash, in the off season."
"Guess we'll find out when we see them." The spotty youth on gate duty waved them limply through without speaking.
"Assuming we do."
"Love the hair net," the spotty youth called after them.
"Oh, shut up," Soren said to Zander, who hadn't spoken.