Martin Crieff (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ghostintheattic) wrote2012-09-22 06:36 pm
ghostintheattic) wrote2012-09-22 06:36 pm
Entry tags:
Well, life goes on. And then, after that, it'll keep on going until it doesn't.
The next day, he woke up without being able to remember dreaming anything. Or, for that matter, falling asleep. He dressed smartly, somehow, picked up his things, the keys of the van chiming as they went into a pocket.
He drove to Fitton airport more self-conscious than he ever had been, both of himself and of his driving, the road, the cars around him. If he'd been given the option he might have steered clear of roads, but that would have been a bad idea in the long run, he decided. He would have needed to drive again soon anyway, and aeroplanes were more dangerous to drive than cars, anyway. There were accidents every day, and it wasn't his fault.
That's what he told himself, anyway, and that was what he believed, and as far as he could tell, that was what was true, and it kept him going.
He parked the van, wincing slightly at how out of place it looked amid the planes and the shiny - or at least, somewhat newer - cars, with its 'Icarus Removals' signage and number on either side. He sighed, and wondered if he was going to have to do anything about it. Then again, maybe not.
He found his own way to the portacabin, having been shown how to get there the day before by an almost overly bright- boy? Man? He seemed to be a grown man, but the way he acted said something else. He'd seemed very happy to see Martin, anyway, which had been a pleasant change from how people usually were with him.
This time, there was someone else waiting there, and Carolyn, his new boss, had apparently not arrived yet. He looked nervously at his watch, only to find that it had stopped. He squawked, having his own suspicions about why that had happened, and instantly wished that he hadn't, and that he wasn't there, or at least wouldn't be noticed for a while.
It just so happened that the other man didn't notice him, at least not yet, anyway, and that gave him the opportunity to look at him and see who he was.
The man was older than Martin by about a decade or two. He had a bit of grey in his hair, which wasn't a mess the way that Martin's would often go, and he was already wearing his uniform. Carolyn hadn't given him his yet, as, in her words, 'I don't think they have one in a size that small'. There was an air of inherent superiority and general irritation coming off of him in almost palpable waves, as he tapped his foot in a staccato beat. There was paperwork on the desk in front of him, which was going undone, pen clicking on and off and occasionally jotting something down, but not on the forms. There was a ring on his finger - married, then - and three on each of his sleeves, and each of his epaulettes.
The first officer, then. Something hard sank to the bottom of where Martin thought his stomach should be. His first officer was going to be older than he was.
Then the door was swinging open, and Arthur was making himself known to the room, saying hello to Douglas - that was his name, then - and wondering where Martin was.
Douglas wondered who Martin was.
Arthur helpfully informed Douglas that Martin was the new Captain, and mum'd picked up his uniform this morning so that's why they were a bit late, but that was okay, because everyone should be here right now, right?
That was when Martin had hesitantly, said that yes, he too was in the room.
They both swung around to look at him, surprised. Douglas, he thought, more than Arthur, because it was probably more than possible for Arthur to miss out something insignificant like another person in the room, but Douglas had, after all, been in the room for quite some time. And should have noticed Martin as he came in.
Martin, morosely, started to wonder if he'd opened the door.
"Right!" said Arthur, brightly, "like I said, we're all here now, and mum's got your uniform, Martin, and so once you've got that on maybe we can get to Gerti, and you can do all the pilot things together that I'm sure you both know about, but have never done before together!"
Arthur was still beaming. Douglas was by this point sending Martin a dirty look, which Martin was rather certain had something to do with the number of stripes on his epaulettes.
Arthur had been holding something else - a hat. He handed it over, and Martin took it, gingerly, noting with butterflies in his stomach (or something close enough) the gold braiding.
This was it.
Carolyn stepped through the door with a bundle of clothes under one arm, practically shoved them at Martin - annoyed with the expense, their last Captain had at least had the decency to be at least of average height - and Martin felt something sort of click into place. By the time they were actually on board GERTI herself, he was certain.
This, he thought. This was good. Maybe it doesn't make up for... everything. But it's good.
He drove to Fitton airport more self-conscious than he ever had been, both of himself and of his driving, the road, the cars around him. If he'd been given the option he might have steered clear of roads, but that would have been a bad idea in the long run, he decided. He would have needed to drive again soon anyway, and aeroplanes were more dangerous to drive than cars, anyway. There were accidents every day, and it wasn't his fault.
That's what he told himself, anyway, and that was what he believed, and as far as he could tell, that was what was true, and it kept him going.
He parked the van, wincing slightly at how out of place it looked amid the planes and the shiny - or at least, somewhat newer - cars, with its 'Icarus Removals' signage and number on either side. He sighed, and wondered if he was going to have to do anything about it. Then again, maybe not.
He found his own way to the portacabin, having been shown how to get there the day before by an almost overly bright- boy? Man? He seemed to be a grown man, but the way he acted said something else. He'd seemed very happy to see Martin, anyway, which had been a pleasant change from how people usually were with him.
This time, there was someone else waiting there, and Carolyn, his new boss, had apparently not arrived yet. He looked nervously at his watch, only to find that it had stopped. He squawked, having his own suspicions about why that had happened, and instantly wished that he hadn't, and that he wasn't there, or at least wouldn't be noticed for a while.
It just so happened that the other man didn't notice him, at least not yet, anyway, and that gave him the opportunity to look at him and see who he was.
The man was older than Martin by about a decade or two. He had a bit of grey in his hair, which wasn't a mess the way that Martin's would often go, and he was already wearing his uniform. Carolyn hadn't given him his yet, as, in her words, 'I don't think they have one in a size that small'. There was an air of inherent superiority and general irritation coming off of him in almost palpable waves, as he tapped his foot in a staccato beat. There was paperwork on the desk in front of him, which was going undone, pen clicking on and off and occasionally jotting something down, but not on the forms. There was a ring on his finger - married, then - and three on each of his sleeves, and each of his epaulettes.
The first officer, then. Something hard sank to the bottom of where Martin thought his stomach should be. His first officer was going to be older than he was.
Then the door was swinging open, and Arthur was making himself known to the room, saying hello to Douglas - that was his name, then - and wondering where Martin was.
Douglas wondered who Martin was.
Arthur helpfully informed Douglas that Martin was the new Captain, and mum'd picked up his uniform this morning so that's why they were a bit late, but that was okay, because everyone should be here right now, right?
That was when Martin had hesitantly, said that yes, he too was in the room.
They both swung around to look at him, surprised. Douglas, he thought, more than Arthur, because it was probably more than possible for Arthur to miss out something insignificant like another person in the room, but Douglas had, after all, been in the room for quite some time. And should have noticed Martin as he came in.
Martin, morosely, started to wonder if he'd opened the door.
"Right!" said Arthur, brightly, "like I said, we're all here now, and mum's got your uniform, Martin, and so once you've got that on maybe we can get to Gerti, and you can do all the pilot things together that I'm sure you both know about, but have never done before together!"
Arthur was still beaming. Douglas was by this point sending Martin a dirty look, which Martin was rather certain had something to do with the number of stripes on his epaulettes.
Arthur had been holding something else - a hat. He handed it over, and Martin took it, gingerly, noting with butterflies in his stomach (or something close enough) the gold braiding.
This was it.
Carolyn stepped through the door with a bundle of clothes under one arm, practically shoved them at Martin - annoyed with the expense, their last Captain had at least had the decency to be at least of average height - and Martin felt something sort of click into place. By the time they were actually on board GERTI herself, he was certain.
This, he thought. This was good. Maybe it doesn't make up for... everything. But it's good.