Seeing to the Captain's hurts had been a good outlet for Sarah Beth's energy.  The intense desire to roam the ship had been abated, if not entirely removed.  Putting everything back where it belonged also helped.  Sarah Beth wasn't compulsive about cleanliness and order but she did prefer it when possible.  Sometimes though your boots just had manure on them and you tracked it into the bunkhouse and there wasn't no dealing with it just then.  But when you could, you got the shovel and scraped it up and put it back outside on the pile.  That's why she took the time now to tidy up.  There was also the matter of the Captain's bedding that needed to be washed.  Well, no time like the present.<br/><br/>Bundle in hand, Sarah Beth went into the corner of the cargo bay where an always finicky, seldom reliable washing machine had been installed.  It was an ancient thing and leaked water, sparks and steam in equal amounts.  It also shook fit to rattle bolts off the hull outside when it was on the fritz.  Sarah Beth loaded it, slitted her eyes and cautiously pressed the button to start it.  Sparks flew and she jumped clean back like a jackrabbit who saw a coyote.  "Gorram it," she swore.  More button pressing failed to even elicit sparks and the machine refused to come to life.<br/><br/>"ARI!" she yelled, voice full bodied and pitched just slightly higher than normal to carry.  "ARI!  Getcher hide down here and fix this motherless, spavined, crawfishin' piece of junk!  ARI!  You hear me girl!"  For good measure Sarah Beth reared back and planted a kick smack in the middle of the washing machine's front panel, leaving a dent to match dozens of others.