2237-05-04 - Supply Run

A shipment of supplies arrives to an Aid Camp near the disaster zone on Canceron.

Date: 2237-05-04

Location: Canceron, near Aid Camp 3.

Related Scenes: None

Plot: Operation: Mission of Mercy

Scene Number: 751

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Armed with his Raptor ticket, Salvae has been tapped for a rotation of shipping down supplies. It's a short enough flight from the mother ship, and Salvae sets down near an evacuee aid station. "So, you're the chaplain, hey?" he asks, his thick aerilon accent sounding kind of chipper for the long faces on the ground.

Aldrich is doing his own part, helping to organize supplies to make sure that the right things wind up with the people who actually need them. He was lost in thought through most of the flight, but as they set down and Salvae addresses him, he snaps out of it with a little smile. "Hm? Oh. Yes, that's me. But you can call me Aldrich." He waits to ensure the Raptor has securely landed before he climbs to his feet. "If you have any special needs in that area, I hope you'll let me know. I don't discriminate."

"Oh, no special needs, the folk back on the farm were pretty vanilla," Salvae explains as he unbuckles himself from his seat and crawls into the back as the side door opens up. He squats and looks out into the weather, it's drizzling a bit, kind of a grey evening. "Thought the reports were calling for sunshine and clear skies," he sighs, "Well, one thing's always the same, weatherman only knows the forcast for his bottle." He smiles and crawls out down the wing, getting ready for Aldrich to pass him the first few boxes.

Aldrich chuckles a little at that. "Well, I've found that 'vanilla' is in the eye of the beholder," he remarks, but looks out into the weather over Salvae's shoulder. "Mm. The gods do what they will," he agrees, but with that he looks over the boxes, mentally checking off the contents, before picking up the first to pass it out. "Can I guess from your accent that you're from Aerilon?"

Salvae nods his head, "You betcha," he says, receiving the first box. "First viper was a A930," he says cheerfully, describing the tractor he drove as a kid, the giant green jalopey. "Had to sit on a pile of books to see over the wheel," he chuckles, turning to drop the heavy box of supplies onto the ground. He thinks for a moment, then narrows his eyes as he regards Aldrich, mulling over the eye of the beholder comment. "So, on the other colonies, they don't horn it up in the fields in springtime for a good harvest? Hmm. Been wondering if our priest was weird that way.."

Aldrich grins a little at the cheerful description of the tractor, though it quickly fades to confusion as he passes the next box out. "Horn it up?" he queries. His unfamiliarity with the idiom seems to be unfeigned.

"Ya know, like..." Salvae akwardly makes a motion with his fist, "Or if you're married taking the missus out for a lil roll, ya know?" He clears his through and reaches up for the next box, "Anywas, was something we did round the farm, to make it rain and stuff. I don't know if it worked so well, or not, I was hitting about fifty fifty, or so if I remember right." He shrugs his shoulders and turns to set the box down on top of the other one. By now some of the local workers have approached with a truck, and they begin loading the truck from where Salvae's putting the boxes.

Eyebrows shoot up, quickly followed by a genuine laugh. "Oh! Of course. Should have guessed that, shouldn't I?" He passes out another box, while he talks. "No, that isn't a practice confined to Aerilon, but I'm not sure it's entirely universal, either."

alvae winks at Aldrich and grins, happy that the chaplain has a sense of humour. "So, where ya from?" he asks, now just handing the box off to the other workers who load the truck. "I'm kind of shit for placing accents. Caprican, I can guess, because of tv, but the rest," he shakes his head, "They all kind of glom together if they're not from Aerilon."

Aldrich grins a little, himself, but it has a slightly rueful look as he answers, "The accent might not give it away, even if you were good at them. I'm from Gemenon, originally. But don't hold it against me." He ducks inside to heft the next box and pass it out.

"Ah, that explains the specialty, I suppose," Salvae says, reaching for the next crate. "Bet you can recite Pythia back to front, hey?" He turns and hands it off to the worker. Waiting for the next, he inclines his head, "Only met a few gemenese before. They had this.." he pauses trying to think of the words. "Aggressive friendliness?" He cants his head to the side. "You know what I mean?"

Aldrich chuckles a little and nods. "Missionaries?" he hazards a guess. "I doubt you'll have met any typical Gemenese. The typical Gemenon citizen never leaves the colony if they can help it." He passes out another box. "I guess technically back home they'd consider me a missionary. But I don't tend to think of myself that way."

"Yeah, that makes sense," Salvae agrees. "White shirt with an oversized tie?" he clarifies, taking and passing on the box. "You don't really seem like them, though. A more laid back, and not inviting yourself in for dinner type," he laughs, and glances at the truck, then back to the almost empty Raptor.

Aldrich grins crookedly. "That'd be the ones," he agrees, as he steps back in to get one of the last boxes. "The difference between me and the average missionary is that /they/ left to convert the other colonies. I left... well, to learn, I guess." Or so he claims. He deftly changes the topic with a glance at the truck. "I'd like the chance to talk to the locals before we take off again, if you don't mind. Get an update on what sort of supplies they might need, beyond the obvious."

Salvae takes the last box and nods his head, "Sure thing," he says with a nod of his head as he turns and sets the box onto the truck. He's little more than a taxi driver for this sort of thing, afterall.

Aldrich hops down from the Raptor, just a little more clumsily then would generally be expected, then rights himself quickly. "Hey, fellas... a moment please?" he requests, as he moves toward the truck and the locals loading it.

The guy up front of the truck turns and looks over Aldrich with a bit of a glare. He's broadly built, wearing a toque in this weather to keep warm. "What can I help you with?" he asks, waving away his friend, who climbs into the driver's seat.

Aldrich blinks twice, his smile fading into a milder expression at the glare. "Sorry, I just wanted to ask a few questions. I won't keep you long... I'm with the chaplains, and I wanted to ask you some questions. First, I just wanted to double-check where this truck was headed. But I also wanted to find out if there is anything else badly needed that the CF didn't think of."

"OH, yeah, we could always use more medical supplies. Food, too. There's.. There's lots of mouths to feed." He looks to the back of the truck as the swamper back there closes the tailgate. Salvae's securing the cargo netting inside the raptor, preparing it for the trip back to the mothership. "We're driving this up to Camp 3," he says.

Aldrich nods a little, genuine sympathy showing in his expression. "We're doing the best we can with food, right now... But there's more aid on the way. It may take some time, but we'll do everything we can." He smiles faintly. "Do you need any help distributing this? I know it can be difficult in times of crisis, making sure everyone gets a fair share..."

"Oh, no, thanks, for the offer, but we know who needs it most," The man says with a nod of his head. He even gives Aldrich a pat on the shoulder and a genuine, reassuring smile(TM). He checks his watch and opens the door for the swamper guy that was loading the back, "Look, we gotta get going," he explains before climbing into the truck. "When's your next flight down?"

Aldrich smiles a little, uncertainly, but then gives a little nod. "I'm not sure when the next flight is, but I'm sure the higher ups will send word down..." He starts back for the Raptor. "Take care. And may the gods send you blessings."

Salvae smiles as Aldrich returns to the raptor, all the cargo netting is secured and the ship's ready to head back. The pickup truck heads off down the road. "Well, that went pretty smoothly, hey?" he begins heading up to the cockpit, getting ready for takeoff.

Aldrich nods a little, "Pretty smoothly," he agrees, as he climbs back up to his own seat. "I just wish there were more we could do."

Salvae nods his head, "I know whatcha mean," he agrees, buckling up. "Feel kind of guilty heading back up to my warm rack with all these poor sods camping out in the drizzle." He shrugs his shoulders and spools up the engines. "We'll get them sorted. Scuttlebutt says fleet's coming in with supply ships."

Aldrich buckles in and sits back with a sigh. "It's too bad we can't fit them up on the ship." He smiles faintly. "Yeah, things will get set to rights. Hopefully sooner rather than later."


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