circle7 | ACTION TIME

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ACTION TIME

The two days had come and gone since Locke stayed over at Weiler's. He was tipsy when Weiler had called that night and made their two day check-in rule - not that he forgot, but he couldn't stop the nagging feeling that something was off when he went to bed that night.

On the morning of the third day, he remembered.

The rule was to get out. He tried calling Weiler once, in case he had forgotten his own rule, but Locke was sure by now that it wasn't like him. It was all the sign he needed when the call went straight to voice mail. He headed right out the door of his room, only gathering his pistol and communicator. Through the bustling of the soldiers' morning routines, he managed to keep himself fairly blended in. No one seemed to be looking on him any differently. Locke was on the last stretch of the emergency escape route of Gladsheim's base - for Circle members, that was - when someone called his name.

His real name.

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"Your mantra, hm?"

Ace came back out, a tablet in hand. The card Locke had given him was sticking out of the top, its edges glowing green.

"This bad boy'll boil down to some rather fine parts," Ace said, pleased. The blue print of the military ship was displayed on the screen, some of its parts highlighted in red. The card held all the information about its status. "Got a coupla' burnt out guns, but tha's nothin'. So tell me what ya need, and I'll set it up."

Ace took the card out, pressed a couple buttons on the tablet, and passed it over. A list of ship model names shuffled onto the screen. Locke held it so that both him and Weiler could see it. He started with the top - a Delandroid Scather model 2300L. It was flashy, sleek, but wasn't made for combat and looked to only fit one person comfortably. It had a sarcastic AI installed into it that made it famous.

Locke went to the next one.

"What was wrong with that one?" Weiler asked, but only curiously. He wasn't about to fight with an actual pilot about what machine he was going to pilot, but it was just that the AI sounded like an awful lot of fun.

"Have you ever fought with an AI over directions before?"

Weiler just smiled. "It might have been the most intelligent conversation I've had in years, if I had."

He rolled his eyes, looking at a different ship now. Comfortable for two for travel, modified for combat, but a little slower than he was looking for.

"Delandroid is a little AI happy these days, since they're the best out there," he said, "their robots are as cocky as their company."

"We gots one workin' for us," Ace said proudly. "Some rich bugger sold him off thinking he was broked. Turned out the thing just didn't like the guy's hair. The mech took a shinin' to me shiny head, though."

"It is charming," Weiler quipped, smiling as he straightened - some habits were impossible to kill. He managed to hide a wince if there was one, keeping his hands folded behind his back as he stepped half a step back.

"May I take a look around?" he asked Ace, before turning to look at Locke. "You know I'm not any good at this stuff, so you might as well choose."

"Getting close anyway," Locke said, focused on his search. Ace smiled at Weiler. He seemed to be taking his own shine to the man. (He wasn't a killjoy like Locke.)

"Naw, help yerself," Ace answered happily. "I could show yer around if ya like."

Weiler shook his head, already making his way to the edges of the work area. He wasn't foolish enough to stride right into the middle of a hanging bulk of metal surrounded by soldering tools and whatnot. "I'll manage. Locke might need further advice after all - just call me when you're finished."

Locke did look up to watch him walk away. It did allow him and Ace some space to talk.

"I appreciate this, Ace," Locke said, leaning up against the window of his office, favoring his left leg. Ace crossed his arms, canting his head to the side.

"Nothin' to appreciate, buddy," he said. "You did me a favor, now I'm doin one fer you. Though really, yer givin' me a damn good haul." Locke smiled, looking at the specs of a ship that caught his eye. It startled him when Ace spoke next. "Haw! Where'd ya learn that?!"

"What?"

"That thing yer did with yer mouth. Almost missed it with yer 'stache." He slapped a heavy palm onto Locke's shoulder and he winced.

"Very funny," he mumbled. "Hey, Ace, if anyone tracks Weiler and I here and come asking..."

Ace dropped his hand, a serious look drooping his features. He dug his hands into his pockets.

"Yeh, I know what to do, pal." Locke frowned, shaking his head.

"No," he said, garnering a confused look from Ace. "Don't put yourself in that position. It's a dangerous one. But I do want you to tell them I came here alone. If it comes to that." He didn't look any less confused, but he nodded.

"You got it, Locke."

Locke nodded and handed back the tablet. His choice was displayed - an AI-less Delandroid Grawthing 6700. Ace winced, holding big hand to his undoubtedly big heart. "Oh, yer askin' a lot, mate." But he smiled. "All yers. Go grab yer friend and I'll pull 'er around."

"Thanks." Locke smiled back before going to catch up with Weiler.

Weiler, who was inspecting what looked like the blueprints of another ship, projected onto a cluttered wall littered with oil grease, pinned notes and marker doodles, didn't look up as Locke approached, though he had certainly heard him. The blueprint projection hardly had any space to even display, always overlapped at odd corners by old receipts in Ace's bold and eccentric handwriting, much like the man himself. There was a wealth of information to be gathered here, but not much of it was relevant. Perhaps if he passed his eyes over it, he'd recall a tidbit or something useful if he ever did find a need for it, though.

"I thought you might have wanted some more time to talk to your friend in private," Weiler admitted. "Did you already choose?"

Locked looked up at the wall. Looked like a big project he was working on.

"Nothing you had to be absent for, really," he said. "And he's bringing it around to the front. Shall we?"

For someone who was...well, in the same field, Locke was surprisingly unguarded about certain aspects of his life, to a degree where Weiler might have worried about him if it weren't for the fact that, as fugitives, the two of them really had little choice but to rely on each other. It was a facet Weiler could appreciate in application, but not one he could entirely wrap his head around. Hadn't being betrayed by the Seventh phased his idea of 'trustworthy' at all?

"I thought I'd give you the privacy just in case," he supplied, turning and sauntering toward the door. "That was quick, though. I suppose you are a man who knows what he wants."

A corner of his mouth quirked, but it wasn't quite in amusement. Things he didn't want Weiler to hear could have come up. They simply didn't. Ace wasn't someone he considered a 'friend', anyway. When it came down to it, they talked business; not that Locke couldn't tell that Ace always desired a little more friendliness out of their interactions. He was a friendly guy, and more than fit his definition of 'trustworthy', but... When someone knows your past, you're wary.

"I know a good ship when I see one," Locke said. "Sorry to say, but I opted out of the AI interface."

"Disappointing. But if you want, I can argue with you about directions to make up for it," Weiler offered graciously, exiting just as the Grawthing 6700 rumbled into the empty space in front of the small mechanics shop, upsetting dust, dirt, and scraps alike as it came to a hovering stop.

The machine was clearly not new by any means, its hull showing signs of ageing even if some effort had clearly been put into cleaning it, but that was a good thing. The last thing they wanted to do was to fail flying under the radar because their ride was too shiny. Weiler lowered his arms from his eyes once it had stopped moving and upsetting every particle on the face of the earth.

"You have interesting taste."

Locke crossed his arms, and while normally very passive in his expressions, he seemed pleased with what he saw. Simple, gray and black, two levels, discretely modded for combat situations, impressive engines... A good choice, if he said so himself.

Ace waved from the cockpit through the window before the ship's legs extended out, stretched to the ground, and planted there. The engines hummed to a stop, Ace disappearing to open the hatch. The stairs filed outward, perfectly aligned with where Weiler and Locke were standing.

"I take you fellers be wantin' the grand tour?" Ace shouted down, waving them up.

"Please," Weiler said with a smile, climbing the stairs slowly, pulling Locke with him by the wrist. He made a very good show of masking his injury - only those who knew to look for it would have noticed the way he favored one side.

Edited 2012-07-04 02:28 (UTC)

It struck Locke then how odd it was, being used to these little gestures Weiler pulled. Maybe because it was now a point that they were 'acquaintances' that it stood out. Or, because Locke did know about Weiler's injury, he reasoned it could've been a precaution to balance him if he had a particularly nasty spike of pain. Either way, he didn't address it.

The main deck was roomy, comfortably fitting the three men, with a few standard seats for take off. To the left was the flight deck; not much different from the military ship's. A large, round door partitioned off a hallway from the deck, with three doors to each side. A few cabins, a medical room and storage room. Beyond the hall was a makeshift kitchen and dining hall, and the stairs to the upper deck.

The upper level had the captain's quarters (just a bigger bedroom, really) and an observation deck. Ace gave Weiler a sympathized look, as though sorry that it was Locke who was obviously captain, and obviously getting the bigger room. (Somehow, Locke wasn't so sure that was actually going to happen.

Down below was the standard engine rooms and docking area, where Ace opened the back, the large, metal wall falling open to spit them back out onto ground level.

"Well, what yer think? Keeper?" Ace beamed at them, holding up the access cards to the ship.

Weiler took the sympathetic look graciously, closing his eyes and shrugging in what was clearly a, 'What can you do?' expression, but he quickly moved to looking over the other parts of the ship - not that there was much to look at, but looking for tracking and bugging devices was an ingrained habit by now. He knew the look and make of almost every kind for sale on any solar system market and luckily did not find one bug anywhere (though there would be, of course, a more thorough check later on, when it wouldn't offend the salesman).

Weiler rounded back to Ace and beamed. Either Ace was a very good actor, or he was of a strange and rare breed - an honest man. "I think it's charming," Weiler said, in lieu of explaining how it certainly wasn't any seven-star hotel, but it would do. "What do you think, Captain?"

"It's great," he said. "And pretty generous."

"Not that again, Locke," he said lightheartedly. Ace grinned, completely dwarfing Locke's hands with his own when he stuck the cards in his palm. "Just take 'er."

Locke finally relented with a nod (and just a slight smile), pocketing them. "We still have a couple errands. We'll bring the other boat to you and trade off from here after."

"It was a pleasure meeting you," Weiler said from where he was leaning on the back of the pilot's seat, knowing his cue when he saw it. He smiled and waved as Ace left the ship, but not before the big man issued another one of his grappling bear hugs to Locke, this time from the front (though the complete 360 seemed to be standard procedure regardless). When the door closed behind him, he asked, "What did you do, that he'd owe you a favor this big?"

Then, after a pause, Weiler seemed to have realized what he had asked and shook his head, waving a hand in front of his face. "You don't have to answer that."

Locke was rubbing his back with a grimace, swiveling the co-pilot's seat to sit down. (All the standing was doing a number on his knee, too.) He seemed to be considering whether he wanted to answer the question or not. Well, he could use the break anyway.

"When Ace was starting out this business, he needed some help getting it off the ground," he said. It was vague, Locke realized, answer and not answer enough if he wanted to leave it at that. He ran his tongue across his lip. "Supply wasn't really meeting the demands. So I got him his supply by stealing ships and parts."

"Living on the wild side there," Weiler commented, smiling as he eased himself into a seat as well. "Good to know I'm tagging along with someone who's used to skirting the law," he added, despite the fact that Weiler's only real employment had always been by an organized crime conglomerate. "I'm in good hands."

He leaned over his arm rest and a little out of his seat until he could chase the movement of Locke's tongue with his mouth. It was more brief than the contact would have normally been, if they hadn't been on a schedule here. "Thanks for telling me, Captain. Let's get out of here."

After a short stare at Weiler, Locke gave a small laugh, pressing the ship's card into the dash. A couple buttons, and the engines were roaring to life. The controls lit up in succession from left to right. It was ironic, that those things meant 'good hands' to Weiler. Well, such was being part of the Circle, he supposed.

"There's more to that story," he admitted, "but maybe when we have time."

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ACTION TIME

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watch me force you into a long post all by yourself (this is what it feels like to play evan and vi)

FFFFFFffffff

DID YOU ENJOY IT

IT WAS FUN TO STRETCH OUT MY CREATIVE LEGS A BIT

IT WAS VERY WELL DONE (i still love ace)

T-THANK YOU /////

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pun intended

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