Deep Space IC

Deep Space IC: Odysseus

Odysseus

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v252/HlySd/Space_Ship_by_Tysho-1.jpg​

Earth Date: December 25, 2094

The Odysseus is a small vessel designed for towing larger ships, small colonies, or cargo. The ship is comprised of two levels and contains a mini vessel called The Trojan that can be used as an alternate form of transportation between ships.

Interior Layout
• 1st Floor: Uninhabitable – it includes the engine room, power core, power generators, the brig, and other technical compartments.
• 2nd Floor: Habitable – it includes the bridge, male and female restrooms, living quarters, captain’s private quarters, director’s private quarters, mess hall, recreation room, escape pods, infirmary, locker, and lab.

Interior Description

The Bridge: The Ship Director, Captain, and Helmsman can be found here assessing the ship’s conditions, and of course, running the ship.
Male and Female Restrooms: Includes showers, sinks, and latrines only (the usual). Baths and alternate restrooms can be found within the living quarters.
Living Quarters: About the size of a single-bed hotel room. It includes a bed, bathroom, desk, and not much else.

Mess Hall: Just like a high school cafeteria. There are many long tables where the crew can sit and chow down. Alcohol is not permitted for consumption unless authorized by the Ship’s Director or the captain.

Recreation Room: Includes a small weight room, pool table, card table, and mini lounge with couches for watching TV.

Infirmary: Typical rooms and areas in a hospital just compact.

Captain and Director’s Private Rooms: You can design them any way you want.

Locker: Where all the food, equipment and artillery can be found.

Lab: This is where characters awake from cryosleep. There are cryo chambers and other strange devices that the scientists are free to design and get creative with as they play.

Brig: The tiny space would make a person who isn’t claustrophobic, claustrophobic. The Odysseus isn’t a prison ship, so the only empty space that could be found that was probably a storage closet for who knows what devices became designated as the brig. There’s no light. A prisoner will only know darkness and the loud, endless noise of the ship’s mechanical organs. No one wants to go there. It’s maddening.

Ship’s Weapon Systems:
None

Ship’s Defense Systems:

• Magnetic Shield – guards the ship against collisions. It can also be used to guide the ship closer to another ship for docking or grappling purposes.
• Hyperdrive – a.k.a. “The Jump,” probably won’t ever be used in this game but the ship has it for getting from A to B quickly. In fact, the ship used it to find the Galileo as it jumped into another solar system.
• Escape Pods – self-explanatory.
• Trojan vessel – alternate vessel for excursions.
• Oracle Communication Systems – allows the crew to maintain communication with those on ship, off ship, and with those back at home base (Oracle HQ).

Odysseus NPCs

Name: Rita Jackson
Nickname: Ms. Jackson (Ooo~!)
Age: 24
Gender: Female
Height: 5’3” (160 cm)
Weight: 110 lbs (50 kg)
Hair Color: Dark Brown
Eye Color: Grey
Visual Description: Rita
Written Description: She looks exactly like the pic.
Occupation: Ship’s Director
Personality: Well, straight-up, the crew doesn’t really like her. She looks fake, acts fake, and talks about Calvin Denver as though he was an emperor. She is infatuated with serving Mr. Denver. She is all too pleased that he went and made her Director of the Odysseus. Her facial expressions seem to only know stoicism and happiness. Never has anyone seen her express anger, sadness, or irritation; however, they have heard her express it. She is a woman that isn’t easy to figure out. She gives the commands and expects the crew to obey. No one is to speak ill of Mr. Denver in her presence. Slander is punishable.
Likes: Dr. Calvin Denver and people who speak highly of him.
Dislikes: Insubordination and those who speak ill of Mr. Denver and his wishes.
Talents: She is unusually smart for looking like an airhead most of the time, flexible, acrobatic, and she can do almost anything perfect, which is just weird. She speaks several different languages fluently and isn’t afraid to show off her intelligence.
Psychological Quirks: She tends to remain calm under any amounts of stress, in any situation, and people can’t seem to get under her skin. She tends to only smile or remain straight-lipped about things. She seems insensitive, always offering the logical alternative and not always the morally right one.
Brief Background: (What no characters currently know or will discover in awhile) Rita is an android created by Dr. Calvin Denver. He designed Rita to simulate perfection and positive qualities in human beings. She serves only him and will tell him everything he wants to hear. She is actually a prototype that he decided to send on some crazy, research mission to recover one of his lost research vessels. It cost him quite the amount of money and he really wants to know what happened to it.

What the crew doesn’t know is that they are all expendable if the mission turns out to be life-threatening. If there ever is…let’s say, a hostile, alien encounter that could threaten the lives of many if the vessel was to attempt to return, it is Rita’s job to make sure the infected crew members are all terminated.
Other Information: Rita is an android. She is super strong, super fast, super flexible, but fortunately, carries no weapons. She can only become a Terminator if the program is unlocked by Dr. Calvin’s voice.

NPC List
• Press - an engineer (created by kittenofdeath).
• Fei Yen - Mess Hall server with the freakish mole (created by HotCider)
• Jose Vargus - a security officer (created by BRIGHTWELL).

The Beginning Summary

It’s been ten years since the research vessel Galileo went missing in the Gaddis System. Oracle, a multibillion dollar corporation known for its scientific miracles, has volunteered to fund a rescue mission to locate the craft and its crew.

You are on the rescue shuttle Odysseus, which is pretty much a futuristic towboat. The mission is supposedly a search and rescue, but Oracle also desires an investigation be conducted to explain Galileo’s failure to return.

Your characters have been in cryosleep for two years and Odysseus’s AI will awaken everyone once it spots the dormant research vessel in the distance. The cryosleep capsules will be drained, life support will be removed, and it will be as though your characters are waking from a long sleep. You can also assume that their bodies were preserved for two years, and therefore, they hadn’t aged for two years. As soon as your characters awaken, they will head to the mess hall on the ship to have a nutritious meal and interactions can be made on the way. During mealtime, the Ship Director will brief everyone on why they are here (pretty much reminding them). He/she will also explain how they are going to board Galileo, any safety precautions such as wearing the space suit and helmet, and how not to wander off alone. Once that’s done, the investigation will begin, and as the GM, I will be dropping some interesting stuff to be investigated your way. Expect the unexpected!

IC Rules

1. Do not post OOC bubbles in the IC. Keep all OOC information in the OOC or if it is to somebody private use PMs.
2. Always write your character’s location. There are several characters in this game and we can’t keep track of them all. Be sure to post your character’s location in bold at the top of your posts.
3. If your character becomes trapped or lost, then you are not allowed to post his or her location. People will have to try and find you by guessing where you are from the description of your character’s surroundings when you give them.
4. See rule #10 in the OOC.
5. If you would like to have a scene happen to your character, then PM the GM. He may or may not permit you to have your own alien encounter. It depends if he feels it will interfere with the plot.
6. You may know something OOC, but IC, your character doesn’t know it. Please do not metagame.
7. Have fun. There will be sex, there will be aliens, and there will be action, horror, and suspense. Enjoy the drama this game will orchestrate.

Links

Deep Space OOC

Deep Space IC: Galileo

Gadget List

Gadget List

Orion Space Suit
User: Male
•Automatic Internal Pressure Stabilization
•Temperature Fluctuation Protection
•Ultraviolet and Particle Radiation Shield
•Automatic Cooling Sensor (cools you off)
•Built in waste bladder (in case you got to go)
Fit: Excellent (fits all body types even overweight)
Oxygen Supply: Excellent
Armor: Excellent
└Micrometeroid Protection
└Dragon Scale Shield – neon-orange, scale-like lenses of concentrated light that protects the user from assault and melts anything that comes in contact with it. Persistent barrage without allowing the system to cool down can result in a meltdown in which the defense shield is no longer active.
└Shock Barrier – in emergencies, the suit will release an electric barrier around the user to shock the user’s assailant.
Mobility: Excellent
└Air Jets (for propulsion in zero-G)
└Grappling Hook (keep you from floating off into space)
└Wall Climbers (cling to all surfaces)
 
Rhea Space Suit
User: Female
•Automatic Internal Pressure Stabilization
•Temperature Fluctuation Protection
•Ultraviolet and Particle Radiation Shield
•Automatic Cooling Sensor (cools you off)
•Built in waste bladder (in case you got to go)
Fit: Excellent (fits all body types even overweight)
Oxygen Supply: Excellent
Armor: Excellent
└Micrometeroid Protection
└Dragon Scale Shield – neon-orange, scale-like lenses of concentrated light that protects the user from assault and melts anything that comes in contact with it. Persistent barrage without allowing the system to cool down can result in a meltdown in which the defense shield is no longer active.
└Shock Barrier – in emergencies, the suit will release an electric barrier around the user to shock the user’s assailant.
Mobility: Excellent
└Air Jets (for propulsion in zero-G)
└Grappling Hook (keep you from floating off into space)
└Wall Climbers (cling to all surfaces)

If anyone mentions a gadget IC that sounds like a device anyone can use, then it will become an actual device in-game and everyone must refer to it whenever they use it.

Incinerator Bin - incinerates trash so it doesn't have to be taken out. It keeps the ship stink free.

MITT
User: Scientists
Alias: Hazardous Material Inspection and Transport Tool
•Nozzle System
•Analyzes mysterious substances
•Biochemical Neutralizer
•Collection
•Pressure Containment
Gadget created by Sylnaeve

A white ring rippled across the star-strewn galaxy, expanding before its epicenter slung forward like a drop of water, a small, argent space craft. The Odysseus had emerged from a jump of folded time and space that had it crossing the Gaddis system’s threshold. The engines quieted to a low hum that was practically a lullaby for the sleeping crew members within.

Inside the Odysseus, the lights were dim. The cryochambers in the lab resembled glass caskets. The orange lids glowed faintly and condensation fogged the glass from within. Within the chilling preservative solution, the crew was frozen for two years, dreaming dreams that would come like any other day. Little did they know their awakening was nigh…

Galileo located…

Crew currently in stasis…

Reviving…

The voice bore an electronic murmur and was youthful and feminine.

Bright squares winked across the orange lids of the capsules, depicting charts monitoring the gradual increase in temperature. The frost on the glass melted into vapor and steam would cloud the interior before the solution was swiftly drained. The chamber door popped open, releasing the hot gas and allowing the cool air within the ship to flood the interior, licking the moisture from Victor Caldwell’s face and chest. The lid opened further, going erect as the life support devices were retracted from his pale flesh to flee like mischievous children beneath the chamber bed just before the Marine awoke.

Victor’s first breath was swiftly taken in through his nostrils and became caught within his throat and lungs. His black brows came together before his body shook from a spasm as it fought to rid his lungs of the solution. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes before he finally sat upwards and spewed a liquid as clear as water across the bed. He spewed two more times before his chest expanded and contracted with deep lungs full of fresh oxygen.

Moisture dripped from his dark hair, rolled down his neck, and clenched torso. His teeth were parted as he continued to filter air in and out of his burning lungs, the burning only subsiding as he continued to do so. He crossed his arms, resting his elbows on the tops of his knees as he lethargically hung his head. Slowly, he opened his eyes, his coin-like spheres sweeping the dark lab and the orange pods that surrounded him.

The first thought that entered his mind was, Where the fuck am I?

Instantly, he remembered boarding a ship that he was to guard, being asked to strip down to his underwear, and then enter some glass casket that had made him feel tired.

What the hell? he thought next.

Turning to the side, he lowered his bare feet to the cool floor and was just about to rise to go wander the place when the dim atmosphere brightened in a flash. The overhead lamps bathed the lab in their blinding light that immediately caused Victor’s pupils to shrink and retinas to scream. Clinching his eyes closed, the Marine hid his face behind a raised arm and growled.

Welcome…

The date is December 25, 2094…

2094? When did two years go by? Was this a joke? Victor glanced to the ceiling in bewilderment as though he could see the one speaking.

The crew is to get dressed and report to the Mess Hall for the Director’s briefing…

The A.I. repeated the message over and over as other members were waking from cryosleep. Out of all the people that groggily awoke, there was one woman who stretched her arms in the air and breathed a refreshed and audible sigh. It had sounded so musical and was full of so much vigor. Springing from her chamber, the short and slender woman tossed her head as her dark-brown mane whisked behind her neck. Standing in a white bra and panties, she faced the crew and graced them with a pearly-white smile.

“Up, up, up! I want everyone dressed and in the mess hall stat. We have much to discuss,” she announced and then with a cheerful giggle, she went lightly jogging away—almost prancing. Rita was excited. Today was the beginning of Dr. Denver’s dream!

Victor caught himself staring with a mixture of emotions that were all synonymous with lost and confused. Was this really the job he applied for? He felt like he was in Vacation Bible School.

Get dressed…, he glanced about the cryochamber and didn’t find any clothes. All he had was the tighty-whities he was given that made him think of basic training all over again. The soggy material outlined the round bulge of his crotch as he sat there slightly hunched over for lazy reasons.

Thin, blue channels then appeared on the floor with tiny lights racing in the direction the crew members were to go to find their rooms and the luggage they had packed two years ago.

Rex

The lights are on! Rex blinkes and tried to breath. Fuckin cryosleepRex rolls over on his side and hurls a nasty fluid over the side of his casket.

The crew is to get dressed and report to the Mess Hall for the Director’s briefing…


Rex spits up again and slowly raises a single middle finger in the direction of the AI voice. This is worst then a Mexican prison he thinks. He blinks his eyes and looks around. Your not on Earth anymore Rex Rex nods his head. What the fuck was I thinking?

The crew is to get dressed and report to the Mess Hall for the Director’s briefing…



Rex is breathing normally now and lays back down in his glass casket looking up at the ceiling. A tune pops in his head he had heard on a oldies station at the launch station. I't another manic Monday, not like Sunday

The crew is to get dressed and report to the Mess Hall for the Director’s briefing…


"I'm going to kill that bitch!" He says out loud. He sits up in his casket. Then with some effort throws himself over the side. He lands on his feet and wobbles a little. At his feet a thin blue pulsing line leads to a sliding door that is open. He follows the line to the door and turns the corner.

The crew is to get dressed and report to the Mess Hall for the Director’s briefing…


Rex smiles to himself Just you wait I got something for you!

Dr. Grace Weston

Grace’s eyes blinked opened and all she could see was the glass directly over her face. It wasn’t moving. The lid hadn’t opened.

Something’s wrong!

I’m trapped in the casket!

She could feel the panic rising in her chest. Even as she heard the popping and escaping of gas that signified the opening of the chamber lid, the terror did not ease.

You are not trapped, calm yourself.

Habit took over and she tried to draw the slow calming breath that would ease her growing panic but her lungs burned. The urge, the need to wretch was undeniable. Warned that this would happen, she didn’t bother to fight it. Instead, she weakly pulled herself to the edge of the chamber and managed wretch and gag herself empty.

Her head was hanging over the edge of the casket, and her eyes were closed when she finally heard a voice repeating a simple message,

“The crew is to get dressed and report to the Mess Hall for the Director’s briefing…”

Steeling herself for what she knew was to come, Grace sat up and although expecting it, the sheer force of the wave of dizziness that struck her almost forced her to lie back down. But the doctor was stubborn, she would only move forward, never back. So, she kept her eyes closed to the spinning world as she swung her legs over and planted her feet on the floor. She thought she heard a man’s voice but she hung on to the side of the chamber until she felt her strength returning to her knees and then opening her eyes she took a tentative step.

Well, she thought, the worst is over, until it is time to go home.

With a happy little smile on her face, she carefully moved along the line of blinking blue light in search of a quick shower and her clothes.

It didn’t take Grace long to shower and dress before heading to the mess hall. Out of the plain white cotton undies and with her own matching blue silk bra and bikini panties under her uniform, she was starting to feel like herself again. She even took the time to efficiently unpack all the things she stuffed into her luggage two years ago. The sight of her familiar possessions placed about in the unfamiliar room was both comforting and unsettling. The doctor didn’t pause to analyze her feelings; she tucked them away for later consideration. Right now, she simply wanted to get to the Mess Hall and get that briefing over with so she could get to the infirmary and make sure everything was in order.

She arrived at the well-lit room mess hall still feeling a bit queasy and uninterested in food. However, she knew the replacement of bodily fluids was important after cryo-sleep so she sat down at a table with a large cup of water and something bread-like but slightly unidentifiable to pick at while she waited.

Katherine Reed’s sense of consciousness roused a few moments before her vision. It was a jolt of reality amidst a frozen dream. For those first few moments she couldn’t see or breath, though she could hear and above all feel. She felt sticky and wet, like a piece of meat that had been left on the counter to thaw before being thrown into a sink full of water. For a nanosecond she thought perhaps this was how she was going to die, blind and choking; the thought was amusing to say the least. But quickly her vision sparked and flickered to life, starting as a dim bead of white light in the center of her field of vision before expanding to a horizontal line. Sharply it flared out, the white snow of a bad reception on an old world television screen consuming her. Kat felt her body react violently as she tried to breath again, only to find her lungs had no room for air. Even as the dull reality of her world came into focus Kat was rising from her cryogenic coffin and the first thing she saw was herself retching up that crystal clear liquid.

Even as her entire body tensed and heaved, a sickening retch of a moan escaping her as she expelled a few more bouts, Kat found herself contemplating what she saw. Her own legs, pale and creamy, though they had a distinct digital quality to them. While Oracle had bestowed her with the gift of sight it was nothing like seeing with a real pair of human eyes. It was like constantly looking through a video camera lens, the world comprised of mega-pixels and data-read outs. Already numerous tiny numbers flashed in the corner of her eye as the cybernetic components began a self-diagnostic report after being inactive for so long. Kat momentarily lost herself watching them, before the dull rumbling in her ears clarified into an all too chipper female voice. Her initial thought was just how squeaky it would sound while she was crushing her windpipe. If it was one thing Kat hated when waking up, it was cheerful people. And after...what...two years by that other annoying voice’s declaration, well, being that cheerful should be punishable by death at the very least.

Kat contented herself with images of watching that brunette being expelled from an airlock as she finally rose from her pod, the cool air feeling good upon her glistening skin. She wore nothing but a pair of boyshort panties and a sportsbra, the rest of her taut and toned figure left bare, that pale flesh glistening from the condensation. There was no denying those sinful curves or the definition of her muscles, nor the obvious arousal of her nipples that pressed through the black material of her top. A slight wave of vertigo overtook her for a brief moment, though she fought it off with a sigh before a hand raised and combed through her short crimson blank streaked with black. The voice was repeating itself, echoing about her as others rose from their coffins like zombies pulling themselves up from the ground. Well that made her one of the living dead too, didn’t it? The thought caused the first smirk in two years to pass over her plush lips, though it was sure not to be the last.

Without putting much thought into it Kat followed the blinking lights on the floor till she found herself in a small room she dimly remembered. The sight of her gear though drew out some memories. It didn’t take long for her to collect some clothing and other essentials before she found the communal showers and rid herself of two years worth of funky feelings. The hot water felt good, as did washing herself from head to toe. After what felt like a blessed eternity Kat emerged fresh and new, though far from energetic.

Heavy combat boots thumped against the metallic plates underneath as she emerged within the cafeteria. She didn’t feel all that hungry yet, though Kat never was one to eat first thing in the morning. There was one thing she desired though and that was a smoke. Of all the people filing into the large room the least offensive appeared to be the pretty blond Kat vaguely remembered as being some kind of scientist or doctor or something that didn’t shoot big guns. Without thinking she slid up to her table and sat down opposite of her, lifting her knife and thrusting it into the bread, or meat, or vegetable matter that filled a big portion of her plate. Releasing it she watched the knife remain straight up and the red headed woman laughed lightly.

“I think I killed it,” She said smoothly, even as shecomprises reached into one of the many pockets of her pants and withdraw a beaten pack of cigarettes. One, slender cancer stick was removed and placed between her lips before her lighter flicked out and brought the tip to a smoldering cherry red.

Rylee Scott: Engineer

She was drowning in empty black space. Rylee's lungs felt heavy and she couldn't get air. Something hissed in front of her and her eyes flew open, the brightly lit and austere surroundings dazzling her almost back into blindness. Panicking, she obeyed her primary reflexes and flailed wildly, collapsing onto a hard floor and convulsing like a landed fish.

I'm not drowning. I'm not even in water. I'm on a fucking floor.

She doubled over sideways and retched liquid, flinching when a loud and obviously synthesised voice finally made it past her ears and into her conscious mind.

The crew is to get dressed and report to the Mess Hall for the Director’s briefing.

The voice was familiar... Rylee knew these computerised voices like regular people knew their friends.

Odysseus. I'm on board Odysseus.

She made it to all fours and then her feet, heaving air into her lungs and forcing her mind to focus as she looked around. The blue lights leading away from her cryo-chamber blinked encouragingly. Rylee looked down at herself and was relieved to discover she still retained her muscletone. They had told her she wouldn't atrophy in the chamber but having never been put on ice before, Rylee had been leery of the whole process. She stalked somewhat unsteadily after the little blue lights, trying to regain her bearings.

At 26 Rylee was very young to be on such an expedition but her mechanical and engineering knowledge coupled with her military experience and expertise made her twice the asset. Uncle Sam had wanted one of their people on Odysseus for this mission and Rylee had outperformed everyone else who was considered. What she lacked in experience and nano/biotech expertise she made up for with her fitness, leadership qualities and military trained self discipline. It also looked good for a woman to be selected for such a high profile gig.

At her quarters Rylee regarded her gear without sentimentality. She favoured a hard, military issue bunk and in the lockers beside it were the few possessions she owned in the whole world... make that universe. She peeled off underwear slick with the fluid she had coughed up and stepped into the shower, impressed and slightly dissatisfied with the perfect temperature of the water, which she cranked down until it was cold enough to pull together her scattered wits. She scrubbed her mouth out with a toothbrush, towelled off swiftly and flipped open her closet. Rylee pulled on a fresh thong and sports bra, a military issue tank-top in khaki, gunmetal grey combats and thick socks along with her trusty steel toed boots.

The details of the mission came back to her as she found her way to the mess hall without a single wrong turn. She strode in and regarded her crewmates impassively, frowning at the absence of Adam Walker, maybe only the top half of him got cryo'd. She smiled mischievously at the thought of him waking in a coffin, unable to retrieve his legs. If he didn't show up soon she'd have to go looking for him.

"Morning." Was all she said.

It was only when she sat in front of the food that Rylee realised she was hungry. She loaded up her plate with a little of everything and sat eating with gusto. It took a hell of a lot to put Rylee off her food and it seemed that 2 years in cryo just wasn't quite enough. One or two of the others grimaced at her poor table manners, obviously still queasy. Rylee smiled brightly at them with her mouth full and went back to her chow. It was nice to not have a rationed meal for a change.

Rukka Nova - Mess Hall


Rukka sees the young girl pass him by on the entrance of the Hall and he watches as she sits down and starts to eat, he then thinks: "Better get some food too, people are all arriving and the briefing will be soon"

He then picks some food to his own plate and sits himself on an empty spot, looking at everybody that was in the room and trying to guess the part of each one in this mission. Waiting....

There had been dreams.

In the immediate moment of waking he had mistaken reality for one of their fractured realms. The memories of places, people, and things visited while he'd slept began slipping from him the very moment his eyes had snapped open and without them he felt bereft, naked, left shuddering in the metal capsule that had been his bed while his body lay wracked and his throat tightened and trembled. He gagged. And then, as he sat up and the world spun into a blur of kaleidoscopic colors and images, his stomach heaved with the first of several silent, powerful retches.

Still, in those moments were his body racked itself from the shock of waking, the thought of the standing contrast flickered in his mind. Fascinating and strange that while his mind fought so hard to retain - his body was consumed with the need to purge. And so, like this, he remained with his hands white-knuckled upon the cold rim and his body heaving under the shock of this messy and entirely artificial birth. No nurse greeted him, or the others that woke in their nearby capsules, with a swat on the ass. This was not the birthing of film.

Their mother, however, made herself known.

He had never found it within himself to get used to the sleep. There were some, like the spirited woman who had bounded on ahead as though fresh from a nap, who took to it with ease. They had always been the lucky ones. Colton was not so lucky. The sleep rooted itself deep within his bones and left his mind spinning, eyes sharp on the minutia of the ship’s interior as though he was scrutinizing its smooth surface for some crack or flaw in the bulkhead. The truth was that he was waiting for his eyes to adjust, waiting for the world to stop heaving and trembling with each of his movements. He vomited again, onto himself this time. The liquid unnervingly cool as it splashed across his chest and down onto his lap. He, unlike some, spilled himself with a quiet, tremulous power. The wrenching heaves of others filling the room.

It was some time before he found himself watching them. A few rising, others lingering still, their hands pawing at their bodies with fresh towels. He was not in charge here and it came as some form of relief. The newness of the Corporation’s wealth and comfort had not settled. Government sleep cells, and the nature of a Marine wake-up, was not so patient as this. He relished it. Took his time. And, guiltlessly, was one of the last to rouse and make his way to the showers on legs that were still trembling as he crossed the cold metal floor.

The novelty of space travel had worn off some through the years. Here, aboard the glorified tug that represented home, he was struck by the sudden need to appreciate the small marvels that had brought him here. Outside lay the vastness of space, dark and infinite, twisting madly on like an endless ebon tide broken only by the worlds and stars that dotted its infinite reach. They were debris cast out from primal detonations, cataclysmic events of all imagination that somehow, amidst chaos and destruction, gave birth to life or the elements that sustained it.

He showered with these thoughts and others while his body woke, taking quiet comfort in the warmth of the water beating against him. Marine vessels, more often then not, were not so luxurious. The deep and steady thrum of the engines had often been his lullaby on long operations. Here, though, the floor did not vibrate through his feet. There was no rolling purr of thrusters. It was quiet. Like the space they invaded before their ship moved through it. In the absence he gathered himself, drew on the clean slacks, collared shirt, and over-jacket that he had brought for this occasion.

A part of him still felt strange in civilian gear. The rest, though, adored the comfort. It was a crisp, light, professional look. His pants were thin organic linen, straight legged and classic fit. Light. Almost beachy. The shirt was a light blue, linen as well, with a stiff and short collar. He had eyed the tie he’d chosen but left it behind, throwing on the blazer and shifting briefly before turning.

The mess hall, and strangers, lay ahead. He found them there and a seat apart from them all. It was where he was most comfortable, where he had always been comfortable. The periphery of the group would perpetually be the place he could be found. Things, he had found, grew complicated within the heart of a group. It was easier to be a loose part of it.

Especially now.

'Alright someone turn off the damnable light.' The man thought in a state of groginess. In a hazey rush if thought discontentment and awe at the wonders of modern technology Secondary Helmsman Corcin Narcen looked forward from his pod as he tried to adjust his eyes to the feel of waking up after two years. Then he fetched and had just enough time yo turn as he felt the bile and liquid rise into his throat before it was expelled.

The crew is to get dressed and report to the Mess Hall.

His lean body felt sluggish and slow and as he ambled out in his back and white floral print boxers he saw other shapes moving. ' Good, neughbors in this chilly hell.' He thought with a slow smile as he glanced to the other people waking up and at least felt that things below were still working as he glimpsed some of the female crew members.

He recalled hearing a very cheerful exuberant voice before he left with his gear and found his room. He prepared some socks and a light grey short and fresh boxers of a black, green and white print and then he went in and hopped into the shower. The room was alright and more than he had thought would be afforded him. Then it was shower time. Under the hot water he stretched and leaned and stretched again getting the kinks out of his system. Running a hand through his short black hair he wandered what awaited him and the rest now that they'd found the target ship.

After stepping out he dressed quickly and made sure his uniform and hair looked in tip top shape. He headed over to the mess hall and smiled warmly to those assembled. Seeing a knife wedged in some of the food as the presumed owner tool out a cigarette and lit it. He gave her a small nod figuring he might need one in a bit to ease his nerves over the thaw while he grinned towards the girl who seemed the only one eating the chow.

Getting his own interesting looking meal together he say down near the smoker abd the girl chowing down and dug a fork into the food to sample it. 'Well it's no chilly dog.' Corcin thought glumly before he took another bite.

Rex

Rex followed the blue pulsing lights in the floor to his quarters. He places his hand on the frame or the door and the door swishes open. "Lights on " he states flatly. A gentle glow files the room . He walks in and looks around the room. His gear is next to his bed. The walls are the same pale tan and stainless steel. The beige floor is lightly paddded. He takes off his now damp underwear and places them in a laundry bin near the shower room.

He turns on the shower and it hits him with a jolt. He backs up away from the stream and finds the temperture setting. he adjusts them to a setting more to his liking. He thinks back to his first Senior Flight Instructor Don't play with it just get it clean. The soaps up and rinses off. It takes two more tgimes till he feels clean. He turns off the water and steps out and walks over to the dryer. The warm air flows over him and soon has him dry.

He reenters his sleep quarters and picks up his over seas bag and places it on the bed. He looks at it, just to make sure itis his.

LIONHEART, REX-CAPT.
15th TIGERSHARKS-RECON
MORGANTOWN, RENO SYST.

He sighs as he looks at his bag. "I miss you guys." He thinks of his dead wife and two little girls. He opens the bag and removes a brown pull over. On the back is written:

Chunks of Meat
World Tour 2088
Cairo-Rocks

That had been a great show. He slips the shirt over his head. He looks inside and pulls out, Chinese silk shorts. Swedish socks. Ukrainian navy camo pants and his English SAS boots. He dresses and closes up his bag. He lifts it off the bed and places it in closet and shuts the door. He gives the room a quick look over. He decides it needs more work, but he will get to that later.

He leaves his room and follows the signs to the mess hall. As he enters he sees several of the crew are allready chowing down or at least have food in front of them. He walks around the outer wall to the serving area.

Ah, Corperate food, ok. It is better then a Mexican Prison, I've yet to see a brown roach swimming in the gravy.

He gathers up a small portion of greens and meat sticks, and a starchy clump. And walks over to a long table on the far left side. Puts his tray down and takes a seat. He puts his head down and says a short prayer. Then stabs a meat stick.

Dr. Grace Weston

Pulling apart her food with her fingers, Grace had tasted a few bland crumbs of the UFO (unidentified food-like object) on her plate and was considering taking it back to the infirmary for preliminary testing when a tall red-head sat down across from her. With a smile growing on her face she watched the young woman stab her knife into the food on her plate.

“I think I killed it.”

The smile faded from Grace’s face as she carefully evaluated the wounded breakfast. She slowly nodded.

“Definitely,” Grace said, attempting to sound grave. “It is my professional opinion that whatever it was – it is beyond saving. In fact, you may have done it a favor by just putting it out of its misery.” With a sad little smile, she gestured to the pile of dry, shredded crumbs on her plate, “This, on the other hand, might require a more serious intervention. I’d try giving it mouth to mouth but I’m afraid I’d choke on it.”

“My name’s Grace, Grace Weston.” A smile returned to her face in full force, it was open and friendly and just a little bit lop-sided.

Grace was still smiling when a lean young man joined them at the table and glumly began to eat from his plate.

“So far, the water is more flavorful than the food bit if the coffee is good, I might just survive.”

Grace was sure that she's be able to identify the crew on sight. She had recognized Security Officer Reed and Helmsman Narcen from the pictures in their medical files but it was only polite to allow them to introduce themselves. What if Katherine wants to be called Kitty? she thought but doubted the likelihood. Does Corcin want to be called Corky? Again, not likely.

"Grace Weston", she said, introducing herself again. "I'd offer to shake your hand..." She tried to rub the crumbs of her fingers, "but I'm afraid this might be contagious."

Corcin at the Mess Hall near Dr. Watson and Reed.

Corcin gave her an easy smile as he let some of the stuff hang off his fork for a moment as he studied the consistency and flinched slightly at the sight of the stuff.

He nodded to her comment and took a drink from his glass as he studied Grace for a moment and tried to recall if he'd heard about her or spoken to her before the two year chill down.

"Haha no problem." He said easily after taking another drink as he turned to the left more towards her. "Corcin Nacken, Secondary Helmsman. You can call me Cor if you like. Easier to shout than Corcin though hopefully I can keep those occurrences at a low frequency." He said with a sly grin before he took one more chunk of the food substance. While he fervently wished to be chomping down on a nice hot beef taco from his favorite little stand back home he was a bit hungry and so he choked down a few more of the bites.

Kat @ Mess Hall

Despite the dangling cigarette Kat’s smile grew as the blond before her proceeded to give her own analysis on the condition of their meal. The tip of that cancer stick grew brilliantly for a brief moment as the woman inhaled, only to tilt her head back and release a puff of smoke skyward. It would have been rude to blow it in someone’s face, especially someone who didn’t deserve it and thus far Kat was still glad she had decided to flop down at this table.

“I’ve been in a lot of firefights and trenches in my day,” She finally said lightly, her voice smooth and with a certain hint of huskiness. “I’ve seen my fair share of lost causes and that there needs nothing better than a quick, clean death.”

Kat enjoyed the woman’s sense of humor throughly, even as another approached and sat beside them it didn’t seem to deter the red head one bit. The dim light flashed against those ruby eyes as they literally shot to her side, taking in the man who sat beside them. The gleam of something mechanically shone in those depths and at this close of a distance it was not hard to tell the red of her gaze was something far more than some silly cosmetic contact lens.

“You can call me Kat, or Security Officer Reed if you’re a pretentious twit I’m sure will be shuffling through the doors any minute,” Kat plucked the cigarette from her lips and flashed Grace another smile before she tipped her cancer stick and flicked her ashes onto her own tray. “Pleasure to meet you Grace. I’m no good with names and especially not with titles. You dun look the type to be totting heavy artillery though...so whatta yah do?”

As she asked she turned to the other and gestured towards his plate with her cigarette. “If you need a little seasoning lemme know. I’m sure a few sprinkles will give it a south western kick.”

She laughed lightly, threatening to tip her cigarette over his plate regardless though she simply brought it back to her lips for another puff. “Just fuckin’ with yah Corky.”

Mess Hall

Corcin leaned back slightly and gave the security a look of cranky amusement.

"Haha," He chuckled a bit giving the security expert a cautious look.

"I guess after two years I'm do some fucking with." He said with a sly grin as he watched Kat bring the cigarette back to her lips.

"But you're right it would probably be an improvement on this stuff." He said to her before he looked out across a few of the other crew members gathering together in the mess hall

It was a familiar sensation, waking from cryogenic suspension, at least it was for Adam Walker, as an engineer he had been woken up during long trips for spot repairs enough times that he was an old hat at the whole process, the only aspect of the whole situation that gave him pause was the sounds of others, one engineer was usually enough to fix any problems, so most of the time he ended up with the ship to himself when he awoke.

That meant they had arrived, well, that or something really bad had happened, but there were no warning sirens blaring, so he assumed that wasn’t the case. With a casual ease he bounced from his pod to stand on the decking below, his metal feet making far less of a clang than most would expect. He didn’t open his eyes, he didn’t need to see right now and hated getting the immersion solution in his eyes, but his keen hearing could tell him what was happening around him.

The director was the only other person already on their feet, and she gleefully went off without hesitation. Adam considered that as he spat a glob of liquid back in to his pod, he was well used to reanimation and even he didn’t feel that good right now, definitely odd in his opinion.

Others began to awake, some panicking, one of them even sounded like they had spilled out on to the floor, Adam smirked when he figured out that it had come either from, or very close to Rylees pod, the thought of her loosing it was amusing, but ultimately immaterial to him. He departed, still not having opened his eyes, instead relying on his knowledge of the ships layout and the fact he knew how many steps it was to his room. It was 107, if anyone was curious, though he doubted they would be.

He walked in to his room and immediately started activating his equipment by remote, killing the lights so they could slowly cycle to normal levels to ease his eyes back in to use, activating the shower and getting it nice and hot, and putting on some music, his 'neo-classical' music to be precise, he hated the term, but it was adequate to describe music from the late 90s and early 2000s. The dead can testify came on and he smiled, it was one of his favorites, so he eagerly sang along as he made his way in to the shower and scrubbed the gunk from his body with a calm expression and near fanatical motions.

That done, he dried himself off and fixed his hair, ensuring that the perfectly symmetrical parts were just that, and that the other parts weren’t, then quickly took two pills from a small container that had been waiting for him on the sink. He looked around the room, it was still set up properly from before, so it only took a few minutes to make the tiny nudges to get things back in place by mere millimeters, the sight of all his things as they should be brought a smile to his face, which persisted as he quickly threw on a black singlet, a short sleeved orange jumpsuit with the oracle corps logo on it, a tool belt and a sturdy pair of shoes.

Dressed ready and clean, he set off, he had probably taken longer than the other crew members, but he didn’t care, he did things his own way and got his work done, so nobody in a position of power over complained. The mess hall was already mostly full, so turns out he wasn’t the last, apparently some people took longer than him, he couldn’t imagine why, but that was just the case.

He collected some food, plain rice, pineapple, chicken, a jello cup and some water to wash it down, then headed over to a group that included some fellow engineers, they generally left him to himself unless he started talking. it wasn’t until he was close that he noticed Rylee sitting at the table, she was not one of the people who he liked, but it was too late to veer off and sit somewhere else, it would have been too obvious, better to just sit and take it like a man.

He sat next to engineer Press who nodded politely to him, they had done some work together in the past so he knew to give Adam a bit of leeway in most situations, then started eating his food, choosing not to acknowledge the woman sitting across from him and hope she would do the same.

Tagged: Ford, Reed, and Lionheart

Victor hadn’t noticed the lights until after a few crew members began to wake. There were some good-looking girls stirring, some he hadn’t seen at orientation. The trip might not be so bad. The Marine stood and watched as one by one, the other crew members glanced to the floor and then walked briskly on their way. His grey eyes descended to the floor to see a blue channel trailing from his cryochamber down a hallway. Another man walked past him, following the line, and so Victor decided to follow his own. If there was a memo about following blue lines in the floor, he didn’t get it, and seeing how so many others knew to do it, he couldn’t help but feel in the dark. Whatever.

The line ended before a metal door that whisked open on a whisper. It was his bags on the bed that lured him inside like a mouse to a piece of cheese. The door closed behind him and the A.I. spoke on an inside voice:

Welcome Victor Caldwell…

Your room is 0334…

Reset your room password at the panel on the wall…

He had opened his luggage bag and was digging a hand around inside it for some underwear that wasn’t gnawing on his dick.

Reset your room password at the panel on the wall…

His hand closed about a stack of boxer briefs that he had purchased two years ago. He set them on top of his bag and slid off his underpants. He didn’t even put them in the clothes hamper, he threw them in the nearest incinerating trash bin. Orange light flashed against his pale skin as the damn under garments were sent back to Hell. They had left red lines all over him.

Reset your room password at the panel on the wall…

Breaking into the new set of underwear like Christmas—ironically it was…Victor paused to stare in mild surprise at the realization as he tested the elasticity of the black boxer briefs he would be wearing.

Well, whaddaya know, he thought.

Reset your room password at the panel on the wall…

Setting his underwear on the bed, Victor then removed from a side pocket a bottle of spiced body wash, a foldable caddy, and some shower flops. He set the shampoo in the caddy and removed a white, fluffy towel that he wrapped about his hips.

Reset your room password at the panel on the wall…

Making his way out of the room, Victor was a foot from his bedroom when the A.I. said:

Password failure…

Lockdown proceeding…

Dropping his caddy, Victor whirled and caught the door before it closed with his right hand.

“Oh no you don’t you bitch!” he growled between clenched teeth.

The electronic door was fighting him, trying to seal his room. His left hand soon joined his right, the muscles in his arms and chest were swollen with strength as he slowly pushed the door wider. It began to spark and expel whirring noises, and his right arm was strangely getting warm. Glancing to the glowing-blue door panel, Victor turned his back to the door, leaving his right arm to hold it open as he reached toward the panel with his left. His legs were spread and feet planted to keep from sliding across the floor. His white towel was slowly parting and sliding further down his hips to his misfortune.

Victor entered his current age and birth year as the pass code before the door finally retracted.

Password Confirmed.

Victor stumbled a little and quickly grasped his towel to secure it back around his hips. His face was red not only in humiliation but anger. Stepping out of his room (that he had staggered into), he scooped his caddy up and noticed from his peripherals a girl standing there in a cotton candy-blue towel. She was soundlessly staring, her eyes saying she had watched the whole thing.

His silver eyes flicked to her briefly, but he didn’t say a thing. He simply went straight into the shower room, frowning the whole way. Did he say he hated the A.I. on this ship? Well, he hated the fuckin’ A. I. on the ship.


Victor’s shower hadn’t been long. It had been long enough to wash the slime from his skin and hair and fill the shower room with the smell of several pungent spices. Through the thick steam that rose in fat plumes about him, he gazed at his right arm. He had forgotten that he had lost his real arm long ago. His eyes briefly became distant as he listened to the rapid crackle of particle rounds, shouts: Shoot it! Shoot it!, and then his own agonizing scream. He had never heard himself scream like that before and never thought he would.

When he came out of his temporary coma, his left hand was clutching the bicep of his right arm. He was still in the shower and the hot jets massaging the back of his neck and shoulders. Victor cut the water.

Mess Hall

The sight he walked in on in the cafeteria made his brow raise. There were people scattered all over the place. Some were eating by themselves distanced from each other as though they were scared of each other or antisocial. As long as there was nothing going on that he didn’t know about (like the blue lights), he didn’t care. Besides the smiling and chatting babes, the one person Victor noticed immediately was the other Marine with his high and tight hair cut, collared shirt, and…fuck that. The only thing Victor maintained was wearing a belt like the one he was wearing with his black jeans. No one would catch him wearing a belt in his quarters. His pants would sag and he wouldn’t care who would see what he was wearing. If they were offended, they shouldn’t be in his room.

The other Marine had brought an amused smile to his face as he walked across the cafeteria to get in line. The lunch lady was looking like she might have gotten some freezer burn because she was all sorts of ugly. It was the huge mole on her chin that sprouted two follicles of hair that had Victor’s attention as she stood there with her jowls hanging and tiny lips, tensed and painted in a bright pinkish-purple lipstick.

“What you want?” the lunch lady asked.

Victor was horrified to hear her thick accent and her broken English, but he put on a good poker face. Whatever was in those trays, it didn’t look like food he could immediately recognize. His eyes skipped over several before he saw something that looked like a plain-old chicken sandwich and pointed to it. It was at the end of the counter.

“This?” the lunch lady asked, pointing to some mystery meat swimming in gravy.

“The chicken,” Victor clarified.

The lunch lady then began rescuing the pinkish-grey slab of meat that was apparently chicken from the gravy that dangled like pond scum from her spoon. Victor’s right eye twitched and a slow grin mixed with disgust and faux-joy parted on his face as he threatened, “Lady, if you put that on my tray…”

“Fei Yen, gāi míng nánzǐ xiǎng de jī ròu sānmíngzhì…”

Suddenly, the Camp Leader was standing next to him with a bright smile on her face. The Director was dressed in a nice black business suit with a white undershirt beneath her jacket. Fei Yen set down the soup spoon and grabbed some metal tongs to pick up the chicken sandwich and set it on the lunch tray. Victor stared at Rita awkwardly before he asked, “Three more please.”

The chicken sandwich was probably all that he was eating today since it was the only thing that looked like real food.

“Sān gè,” Rita translated happily.

Victor took his tray once the lunch lady added more sandwiches and muttered, “Thanks…”

Rita beamed so bright his eyes squinted some. “You’re welcome!”

The little woman then marched on her way, making a beeline toward the red-head that had been the only one smoking in the hall.

Rita unceremoniously snatched the cigarette from Reed’s fingers and scolded as though the security officer had been five, “No smoking on the ship. We don’t want to contaminate the air space. That would be bad for everyone, hee, hee!”

The Director then strode on her way, tossing the cancer stick in an incinerator bin. She then found a wall to stand next to that was just behind Lionheart. She glanced at him and the food he was eating and said, “Mm that looks scrumptious.” She flashed him a grin before she glanced to her watch. The crew was certainly taking their sweet time getting to the Mess Hall.

Victor had found his way over to Reed, Weston, and Nacern after having watched Rita rip the cigarette from the fellow security officer’s fingers. It had made him snicker. He knew she had to have been pissed. Setting down his tray with piles of ketchup and mustard packets on it, Victor took a seat next to the red head, setting his plastic cup of red energy drink down next. He then picked up a ketchup packet, trying to suppress the long and amused smile on his face—and failing.

He dressed his chicken sandwich and raised it up to his mouth, the grey, long-sleeved shirt he was wearing seemed to tighten to the slight shifting of his muscles. It appeared to fit him snuggly with how it molded about his torso, but it was actually loose and comfortable. He had gotten into the habit of wearing long-sleeved shirts since he got his tattoo on his left arm. At the time, the mood tattoo seemed pretty cool, but then when it started giving away certain moods he was in, it became a problem.

He took a large bite out of the sandwich. Hopefully that would help keep down the laughter that threatened to escape his throat.

Mess Hall

Corcin scoffed slightly Director's plain old no nonsense approach as she neatly took the cigarette and just chucked it away.

'Ding ding guess who just made Reed's shit list.' He thought with a barely contained grin and slight heh towards Reed. He had thought for sure the ship's air scrubbers would be able to handle the cigarette smoke. Wasn't like they didn't have enough stuff that could go wrong and kill them instantly so what was the harm in a little smoking here and there.

"What a bitch." he said under his breath with a small grin looking towards Rita before he took another swig of water. His eyes glanced towards Kat again looking at her eyes, he had almost missed it earlier but had seen a tiny glimmer as she glanced his way earlier. He'd hoped she'd found something she liked with those piercing rubies of hers. Before long he found he did not catch what he had caught earlier and instead glanced towards the new visitor next to Reed and gave the man with the sandwhich a polite nod.

Ellen sucked her finger where the freezer burn from her accelerated revival procedure had thawed her various extremities at different rates. She was lucky, the equipment they'd used in the navy had been built for rapid thaw, but not for comfort, navy personnel were expected to not complain about discomfort, despite how agonizing it could be to fly with blistered palms. The designs used in the Odysseus were far more efficient and effective and when she'd used her captains authorization, higher than any but the directors, to override the standard routines to program a swift thaw into her tube she'd been surprised with how well the machine had adapted.

She'd been out of stasis a full ten minutes before the rest of the crew, as such she was forced to rely on the blueprints downloaded through her lace to find her way through the ship, first to her quarters to dress, then to the 'bridge'. She was impressed, though she'd seen it two years ago when she went under the array of technology and equipment, as well as the advanced holoboard system that generated around the captain's chair when she sat down was still far and away above anything the military was using.

She took the opportunity to call up the files of the various crew members, there was something intimidating at the speed and ease with which a large cache of files flowed onto the screen, she spent the next fifteen minutes or so familiarising herself with her crew. When the AI repeated for the fifth time that she should head for the mess hall to be briefed by the Ship Director. Ellen sighed, she'd never got on that well with hierarchy, it would be like having an Admiral on board, except at least an Admiral had some experience, even if they were old and out of date. This Ship Director was a business woman, and there was no way she had the proper experience to run a mission like this. Not that any of them really did. At least she had a fair complement of ex-military, the eggheads would be clever but she didn't put much faith in them being useful in a tight corner, the engineers would likely be better for exploring the Galileo, if anything closed unexpectedly they should be able to get them out of a tight situation.
______________________________________________________________

Entering the mess hall, she looked around, already seeing a cluster of people forming around a table. As she watched Jackson snatch the cigarette from between Reed's lips. She rolled her eyes, most navy captains would turn a blind eye to such things, the air scrubbers would account for the smoke and there was so much in a Navy deployment that could go wrong that the now even smaller chance of terminal cancer seemed a better option to most other choices of death.

She strolled over, the loose fitting combat pants and the vest top moving easily on her curvaceous form, taking a seat at one end of the table, a mischievous smirk on her face.

"Merry Christmas ladies and gentlemen, did you sleep well?"

Rukka Nova - Mess Hall

Merry Christmas! - Rukka replied.

He then stood aside a bit, as he saw the woman sit down next to him. When he did this he noticed the other man away from all of them and shouted:

- Hey! Come on over! I won't make small talk! Promise!

Rukka signaled the man to approach them with his hand and blinked in a sign of friendship as his black tie wiggled with the waving motion of his arm.
He then focused his blue eyes on the woman, only to turn again to the man and thinking: I wonder if these two are friendly, they certainly don't look arrogant as that anti-smoke marshal.

Dr. Grace Weston - Mess Hall

“Nice to meet you Kat.”

Not Kitty but close, Grace chuckled to herself.

“You’re right, no heavy artillery for me. My mandatory weapons training only made it as far as, ‘point this side towards enemy’ when I got rushed into this slot.” She gave a half shrug. “Your originally scheduled doctor dropped out or was dropped at the last minute, or something. So, here I am.”

Although I don’t know where here is or what exactly we are here to do. Just a small matter.

The sharp but friendly banter between Corky and Kat eased most of the tension that Grace had been holding in her neck and she felt herself start to really relax for the first time since she woke up. It was more beneficial than a hot shower.

This might not be too bad.

And then, ripping the cigarette from Kat’s fingers a beautiful woman said with a smile, “No smoking on the ship. We don’t want to contaminate the air space. That would be bad for everyone, hee, hee!”

Grace blinked, once, twice and waited for some reaction from Kat.

“What a bitch.” Corky said what Grace was thinking, so she nodded her head in agreement.

The Director’s laugh was practiced but grating. Some people are annoying; they just can’t help, so you have to try to be patient – or so Grace thought. But deliberately treating a grown woman like a child, that’s a line it usually isn’t wise to cross with a woman like Kat. One who can so clearly handle herself.

So, it was a moment before Grace spoke, “Well, here’s a thought, if the ship’s life support systems and air scrubbers can’t handle the smoke from a cigarette, we are in some real pretty ….”

Before she could finish her sentence they were joined by a very tall man.

He’s gotta have a foot on me.

She greeted the distraction and his large tray of food with a smile.

“Hi, I’m Grace Weston. Ship’s doctor.” She looks down at his tray of items she can only hope to identify by food groups, not individual foods. With a grin she looks back up to him, “I guess I’ll be seeing you later.”

Rex-Mess Hall

"Mm that looks scrumptious.”

Rex heard the little Director behind him and did not turn around. He stabs a peice of mystery meat and looks at it.

"You surprise me Director. On the first day out of stasis and you are breaking one of Dr. Denver rules. I refer to the Oracle memo of 3-15-90. And I quote.
Due to the importance of the mission of Odyssus in rescuing our missing ship the Galileo. And in accords with UN mission statement in the ending the third Ming War (2064). Only English will be spoken on Oracle ships. Directors are instructed to enforce these English only rules, strictly."

Rex turns and looks at the Director and continues." Any first violation of said rule will be delt with either a cofindment to quarters for no less then three days when not on duty or three day of continueous duty. Any further violations of the rule will be considered a greivous violation and requires stay in the brig no less then five days. End quote"

Rex takes a bite of his meat stick and looks at the small Director. "We can handle this one of several ways, Rita. I can inform the Captain of your violation and have security cofine you for your violation. Or, I can send a interspace memo to Dr. Denver at Oracle HQ and let him decide what is to be come of you. Or, We can forget the whole thing by you stoping by my quarters, say once every three days and suck my cock till I cum!" Rex smiles at the Director and takes a bite of his meat stick.

"Oh and by the way Merry Christmas" Rex turns around. And starts looking for the Captain.

The Mess was, as ever, the heart of the ship. It beat with the slowly strengthening pulse of the crew that began to fill it. Some, chattering away already, stretched on the obvious and subtle introductions to which people were known. He saw smiles and smirks. The scent of a cigarette curled lazily through the air and bit his senses with the acidic tang of its smell. There was no mourning on his part when it was filched and disposed of. Smoking had always offended him in some small, insignificant way. He’d overcome it with time and an understanding that vices, no-matter how small, were a principle right of men.

The noise did not worsen his headache. It didn’t help it, either. The first day of waking from sleep was always a troublesome one. He’d always carried it with him longer than some. Still, it wasn’t the lingering malaise of the sleep that kept him from the others. It was merely his nature. While they bonded, already, over the lighter mannerisms and quips that so frequently defined humanity - he was content to appreciate them from a far. Those that could eat, even so soon after waking, provoked a small spark of envy to circle through him. He smothered it behind his measured observation of their place at the table.

The Director, in particular, caught his attention.

Corporate, or not, her chipper manner held with it a practiced and easy edge. She moved steadily through the room. Each stride carried with it a measured assertion, subtle and sure, to which there could be little doubt whose ship they were on. In the end she was the one he’d answer to. Her words saw it fit to cut him the check that was by industry standards, generous.

And then, just like that, trouble. The man’s words should have registered a reaction from him immediately but he was slow, groggy still. A flicker of tumult barely rippled through the otherwise patient cast of his wolfish features, allowing him to slowly lean forward until his palms rested atop his bent knees. The Director, for now, would dictate the course. It was her word on how to handle the situation at hand, the man whom Colton could not have known so boldly threatening some crude and vile extortion. But he was near enough, separated as he was, that there was little danger for the woman here.

It seemed this would be a more eventful ride than he’d thought.

Rita Jackson

You surprise me Director…

Rita’s finely-waxed brows rose with curiosity. Her cheeks puffed as her pink lips parted, revealing the stark-white rows of perfect teeth in a pleasant smile.

The helmsman known as Rex Lionheart, then began his daring accusation. She violated one of Dr. Denver’s policies? Gasp! The man confidently went on, mentioning the Ming War, and the UN. His declaration then came to a crude end, which had been his undoing.

The smile on her face hadn’t thawed or faltered as her hands went to rest on her hips.

“That is an interesting policy Mr. Lionheart, considering that Dr. Denver hires workers of various ethnicities. I don’t believe that he would erect a policy that would discriminate against them. Now, if you’re referring to Dr. Denver’s policy considering the use of English in the workspace, it states and I paraphrase: ‘in times of emergency; the communication of safety-sensitive information; but by no means affects employees on break, lunch, or off-duty.’ If you still wish to contact Dr. Denver with your concerns, then we can do so after the briefing. Along with the reporting of your false accusation, we can share with him your violation of his sexual harassment policy and his workplace bullying policy…”

The expression almost seemed fixed on her face with how still it was. “I will remind you, Mr. Lionheart that I am the Director of this ship and Dr. Denver has entrusted me with this mission for good reason. Being that I am the authority on this ship, I will not tolerate vulgarities such as the one you made towards me from you or from the rest of the crew on this ship.”

“Mr. Ford,” Rita hailed. “Allow Mr. Lionheart to finish his meal but after the briefing, I would like him taken to the brig so that he can have uninterrupted time to think over his actions and to understand that I am the lead authoritarian on this ship.”

She didn’t ask. She ordered. She was in charge and some crew members would have to understand that the hard way.

She glanced back to Lionheart. “I will have Helmsman Nacern take over your duties until you are permitted to return to them. Six hours in the brig. You will be released when its lights out. I will grant you the liberty to sleep in your own bed tonight. It is Christmas after all.”

Speaking of Christmas, Rita waved in Captain Kain’s direction as the captain took a seat at one of the long tables. “And a Merry Christmas to you, Captain.”

Rita’s false gaze settled back on Lionheart. She didn’t like those who would accuse her of violating Dr. Denver’s rules. It was unforgivable. Her loyalty to Denver was unmatched!