EPISODE CI - WHAT WALKS DOWN STAIRS, ALONE OR IN PAIRS?
(IT'S SLINKY)
The Jennings brothers were sleeping in their shared quarters when both of their com-links began to sound. Having "whooped" it up in the O-Club for the last three days, neither
one moved rapidly to answer. Soon the persistent beeping began to claw its way into Ghostrider's drunken subconscious causing him to emerge from his deep, alcohol induced slumber. He reached for the
communicator and blindly pressed a button.
"Jennings here" he croaked hoarsely, feeling as though he'd just fallen asleep, though judging by the film on his tongue, he'd been there for hours.
"Good morning, Lieutenant", an oddly mechanical voice greeted him. "You are to report to your ship and stand by for further instructions."
"What for?", he managed, running his hand through the brush of hair on his scalp. No reply came, and after a few moments, he realized none would. He swung his legs over the side of his bunk and
looked dubiously at the four foot drop that awaited him. Peering over the edge, he noted that his brother still slept, though his communicator beeped annoyingly on his wrist.
"Wake up", he said, his dry voice rasping in his throat.
Triple J continued to sleep. Ghostrider hopped from the bunk, landing as lightly as he could, though not lightly enough to avoid waking the pain that had been laying ambush inside his skull.
He stepped gingerly over to the sink and poured a glass of water, slipping two tablets into his mouth, before bringing the cup to his lips. By the time the liquid reached his empty stomach, his headache was
a memory, as was the residue of fatigue.
"Ahhh", he said stretching, "the guy who invented hang-over pills should be sainted, eh bro?"
He turned to see if his brother had heard and noted disgustedly that he still slept on. A twisted grin formed on Ghostrider's face as he tossed the remnants of his cup of water on Triple J. The effect
was immediate.
Triple J sat bolt upright on the bottom bunk, slamming his head against the low hanging bar, the impact of which bounced him back down onto his pillow with enough force to crack a walnut. Had it not been
for Triple J's ever present helmet, Ghostrider surmised that his brother would be dead. He suppressed his laughter as his brother readjusted his headgear.
"What was that for?", Triple J asked pathetically.
"What was what for?", his brother queried innocently as he reached for his flight suit.
"Well, my bed's wet",Triple J replied, surveying his surroundings, "and there's a new dent in my helmet."
"Maybe you got hit by a boat.", Ghostrider suggested, tossing his brother's uniform on his bunk.
"Yeah, maybe.", Triple J replied distractedly, finally noticing the noise coming from his communicator. Hitting the send button, he said, "Jennings here."
The message was the same. Pulling himself from the bed, he began to struggle into his uniform.
"Man, I feel like crap.", he groaned miserably.
"You look it, too.", Ghostrider agreed.
Triple J stumbled over to the sink and began splashing water on his face. He grabbed a towel and began to dry off. "I sure wish somebody would invent a pill for hang overs.", he mumbled.
