Hell's Bells, What Smells? (Day 2 Early Morning)

Bacon!

Serena had stirred expecting to hear Mistah Doctah Adluh click-click-clacking at his keyboard, but instead the med bay was quiet, dark, and filled with the scent of bacon. There are worse ways to wake up, she decided.

The reclining table whirred at the press of a button, morphing into a chair. The pigtailed teenager stretched while yawning, but quickly swore as the pain killers were wearing off. "Guzizi..." She whispered, bringing her hands to her side. “Stupid tape.” Maybe Gil wasn’t so lucky to get tape after all. For one thing, it was sticky, which yes, was its charm, but what it stuck to was skin, meaning if you tugged on it, it hurt! For the other, it itched. She couldn’t wait for the tape to be gone, even if people did write on it.

Last night with Gil, she planned to use discretion. It was a fancy way of saying you should shut up about something. She still didn’t know where she stood, but, she giggled as her socked feet hit the floor, at least she can stand. Gil should be better today, going to some fancy hospital, and all she got was tape. Typical.

She padded down the hall following the scent of bacon, stopping when she heard voices. Eavesdropping. It was like discretion, only in reverse.

“Tha black mold?” The voice of Mistah Doctah Adluh asked. "Yeva showed it tah me when Ah came in. We’re runnin’ a test culture…should have results when Ah get back.”

“Okay,” The voice of Marisol replied. “Elle found that last night. She and I popped a bunch of air duct grates. Lots of mold. We’ve got serious cleaning to do while we’re down.”

Ugh. There was always serious cleaning to do on the Lunar Veil. Maybe that’s why it smelled so funny. She hoped she wasn’t going to get in trouble for not cleaning the vents. Crew Chief hadn’t mentioned it to her, so at least that was a good thing. The last thing she wanted to do was disappoint him.

“Ah’d promised tah take yah tah lunch,” The Doctah offered. “Should we postpone?”

Serena frowned. Last time it was Haddie, this time Black Mold. And Mistah Doctah Adluh said he’d take her to the High Spirit's festival, which Crew Chief said wasn't actually about ghosts and mushrooms. Plus, the drinking age was sixteen. SHE was sixteen. Some fair. They should call it unfair. She covered her mouth so she wouldn’t giggle at her own joke.

“I don’t think so. Gotta rent the duct cleaning gear, which means we’re probably up early tomorrow to knock it out before upthrust. So, Yeva’s joining us too…right?”

Serena’s tummy wasn’t in the mood much for bacon, what with the mold talk promise of extra work. She tiptoed down the hall to wish Roose luck before his operation.

“You’ll be alright.” She promised the older man, before skipping off to tell Gil the same thing. “Sure as the snow is white! Or that the mold is black. I think that’s why the ship smells so funny.” As soon as she found the crew chief, she’d be sure to ask him.

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