Bunkies - Part 1

Cormus had been in his quarters for about twenty minutes which was roughly nineteen minutes longer than he usually lasted before finding somewhere else to be. He had changed out of his flight jacket into a plain dark shirt and was sitting at the small table in the shared center space of the room with a half disassembled thruster control module spread out in front of him, not because it needed work but because his hands needed something to do and the alternative was lying on his bunk staring at the ceiling thinking about the debris field simulation he had run the other day which had not gone the way he wanted it to go.

The quarters were a two person layout, a sleeping area on each side of a shared central space with a bathroom tucked in behind. His side was on the left, bunk made with the particular neatness of someone who had learned to do it fast rather than someone who cared about it, a few items on the shelf above the head of the bunk, a worn patch from his first independent contract pinned to the bulkhead at eye level. The right side was empty and waiting for whoever was going to occupy it which he had been told was happening soon. He had not asked too many questions about that. Ships were small and crew shared space and that was just how it worked.

The center table had become his by default in the absence of a roommate, tools and components arranged in the particular spread of someone who knew exactly where everything was even when it looked like it was going nowhere. He was halfway through the module when he heard footsteps in the corridor outside slow down in front of the door and looked up.

Ragnar stopped outside the door for half a second, taking a deeper breath, his hand tightening around the bag that contained all of his belongings. Not that much to…brag about. He had always been pragmatic about physical items. He had only been on the Dutchman for a few minutes, the ship’s computer helping him find his way to what would be his quarters. As the doors opened, he looked around. His eyes went first to the room, because that was instinct, exits, bunks, bathroom, table, loose components, then to the young man sitting at the centre of it with a half-disassembled thruster control module in front of him. Blond, young, too young in that way that made Ragnar mentally revise room mate into kid Zedd mentioned without meaning to. Cormus Fletcher, then. He looked at the module, then at Cormus, then at the empty bunk on the right with the expression of a man discovering the punchline had arrived before the joke. “Right,” he said, stepping inside as the door closed behind him. “You must be Fletcher. I’m Ragnar Meral, your new room mate.”

Cormus looked up when the door opened and did the same instinctive inventory he always did with new people, height, build, how they moved, where their eyes went first, and Ragnar Meral's eyes went to the room before they went to him which was either tactical habit or the kind of situational awareness that came from having been somewhere that made you care about exits. Probably the latter. He looked like someone who had earned his face.

New room mate, Cormus thought, and then, a half second behind it, oh, this is the one Zedd mentioned. He set down the component he had been holding.

"Fletcher," he confirmed, which was not quite yes that's me and not quite anything else either, just the acknowledgment of a name that fit. He did not stand up. The module was still spread across the table and he was aware that it looked like he had claimed the entire center space which he had, technically, but only by default. "Meral."

He looked at the bag. One bag. He catalogued this the same way he catalogued everything, filed it somewhere useful, did not comment on it.

"Right bunk's yours." He said it like the man hadn't already figured that out, which he clearly had. "I'll shift the tools."
He started gathering components back toward his side of the table without waiting for a response, not rushed, not performatively accommodating, just moving things because they needed to be moved. The thruster module went back into its case in pieces. His hands knew where everything went.

"Ship give you the full tour or just point you at the door?

Ragnar’s mouth pulled into a grin that seemed friendly enough on the surface. “Thought it easiest to get to wherever I needed to stow my gear,” he said, moving to the bunk that looked free and putting his bag down. It did mean turning his back on the man, but he had to put some reluctant trust in Captain Zedd that he didn’t just hire sociopaths. “Not had the chance to look around yet.”