Day 53, early afternoon; Conn's quarters; attn: Chuck [f]
Conn settled on the bed of his quarters and surveyed with dismay the boxes stacked there and the furniture that had been shifted around. He'd been released from the infirmary with very stringent limits on the amount he was allowed to lift. He wasn't exactly inclined to disobey them, either. The walk here had been exhausting and he didn't want to tax himself further. He slipped on his newly-issued radio (his lungs hadn't been the only thing messed up by data degradation inside the dart) and clicked the earbud. "Chaplain Gilchrist to control."
"This is Control. How can I help you, Reverend?" a voice answered.
"Is there anyone you could spare to help a feller unload all the things you all boxed up in your salvage operation? I'm under a strict weight limit."
"We're spread pretty thin here, Reverend," the voice answered.
"Son, I understand that, but I got boxes on my bed and no sheets, so I can't even nap till I get some help here. Maybe some of the Athosians would help?"
"Hold on. I have an idea. Someone will be there shortly, Reverend. One way or the other."
"Thank you, son. I surely do appreciate it."
"This is Control. How can I help you, Reverend?" a voice answered.
"Is there anyone you could spare to help a feller unload all the things you all boxed up in your salvage operation? I'm under a strict weight limit."
"We're spread pretty thin here, Reverend," the voice answered.
"Son, I understand that, but I got boxes on my bed and no sheets, so I can't even nap till I get some help here. Maybe some of the Athosians would help?"
"Hold on. I have an idea. Someone will be there shortly, Reverend. One way or the other."
"Thank you, son. I surely do appreciate it."