No matter where you go in Sycamore, from a pastoral scene to the hustle and bustle of the city, you can smell the freshness in the air. As the universe's first fully terraformed planet, it's hard not to feel an inkling of pride for it – the hard work of all the great-great-grandfathers of the human race. If they didn't build it, then they bled or starved for it, which is, to some, a contribution in itself. Everyone believes they deserve a slice of the pie that is Sycamore, its fields and pine forests, its sun-cycles and its drizzle, its agriculture and fledgeling nature reserves... Beauty and peace has been sewn into the planet's very structure.

And yet, there are more individual military bases on Sycamore alone than in many star systems out on the Rim. Frontiers, they were all called, numbering from 50 to 60 (with a few covert, unnamed ones hidden in the mountains and such). Each marks a battlefield of a short, bloody civil war that everyone – UNES, the Defective Alliance and civilians alike – is inclined to forget.

Frontier 60 is a military base of concrete walls and plastic windows, tucked away from the public eye. If anyone saw the warping of the metal framework or the holes in the structure patched with concrete, they'd be most uncertain as to the future of the rebellion. Despite what its derelict condition may suggest, however, it is the newest of military bases, only seven years old. Not counting the history of the re-purposed building, which started off as a temporary boarding house for the earliest of colonists – a prefab meant to last a few decades, not centuries. After that it was a hospital, a field hospital tending to the mess of the war only a short hike from its doorstep. And after that... nobody wants to remember its short-lived stint as an asylum, especially not if they're living and working there.

Those pine forests that are oh so common on Sycamore surround the base, standing straight and gloomy as they protect the front entrance and the dirt track that meandered off the motorway to reach it. The deep gouges left in the earth by tires squelching into the grass to park have made a muddy soup of the land but – nobody cares about the front!

The Medusa's resting 'round the back!

---

Caelum C. Jameson

Head on the table in a draughty cafeteria that overlooked the entrance to Frontier 60, Caelum groaned. It had taken every centimetre of military training she possessed to drag herself out of bed at such an ungodly time of day – only 0600 hours – and in her mind she couldn't be faulted for imagining the brutal death of the whistling chef on the other side of the room.

A seemingly endless number of brown folders of the classified sort lay scattered around her, empty cups of contraband herbal tea on top of them. At the mere thought of the paperwork, Caelum groaned again. When she'd asked Admiral Tennyson for information on her future crew, she was not expecting huge stacks of paper with every shred of information meticulously blacked out. She had names – for most of them – and the positions they were likely to fill, and on the first page of each goddamn one of them there was a post-it note that read 'Sorry, C.'

What if the new captain fought her for control of the ship? What if the doctor couldn't cure star-sickness, or couldn't quarantine the Pox? What if they were pirates, hoping to turn her baby, her Medusa into a raiding vessel... or smugglers, or slavers? What one of them was a... was a crazy man-eating psychopath who would wait until reaching the black and then turn on the crew?

Caelum tugged on her hair, taking a deep, relaxing breath. Deja vu. She recalled the wait for her first mission, back when she was just a teenager, and the nonsense questions she had asked herself then. Perhaps going back to The Medusa wasn't a good idea after all – it would only conjure up further feelings of nostalgia, surely, and if the crew were any bit similar to her last...

That would be the worst possible outcome, she admitted to herself, the worst 'what if'. History was doomed to repeat itself, if one didn't learn from it.

Staring despondently out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the rain, she knew both instinctively and intellectually that she would never let the opportunity slip through her fingers, no matter what the crew was like. She would give her left arm to fly The Medusa again, and her right... and her toes, too, but that was getting a bit too morbid even for her. The worst part of it was knowing that her ship was just outside, resting as she was checked once more to see if she was ready to face the universe, and she wasn't allowed to see her.. Not until her crew were present.

Where was everyone, anyway? Was she early, or were the others late? She'd sent the message on her communicator almost ten minutes ago! Then again, she was the only one of them who actually lived at Frontier 60. She would have to factor in travel time and weather and public transport and–

Somewhere in her (entirely mental) tirade, she began to curse out every god she knew of – prompting a strange look from the chef – begging them to please, please speed her crew along.

MEDICAL LOG 001 - NICKI F SHARPE
CURRENTLY: Wasting time...

As a sort of rule, Nicki never took pathways. In such a day and age, pathways get you killed; they're where people expect you to be walking. It was like skipping with a gun to your head, entirely pointless...not that something as trivial as a gun would be able to hurt her. Paranoia was a dead-seated mental factor of her life. She refused to think everything was okay, and it's not as if she had much of a choice in the matter; Nicki's brain would always find a million outcomes to something as simple as starting a spaceship, or walking to a base...or meeting a new crew for the first time. Hence she paced through the surrounding pine forest rather than walk across the muddy path, just to calm herself down.

Admittedly, the last time she met a new crew they promptly tried to shoot both her legs off. Nicki had very good reason to be nervous. Vaguely, she recalled that it was a bounty crew, and an unpleasant scowl formed on her lips. Of course they'd shoot their medic, how very intelligent of them. Unfortunately for that lot, they forgot to read up about the woman they were trying to maim and were found a few weeks later floating in space without a suit. Nicki looked up into the sky, squinting at the bright blue shades of early morning. How far do I need to throw someone to get them into orbit...? she mused.

Irritably, Nicki tore her gaze from the sky and focused it on the concrete block that was swimming into view. She knew the pilot was inside because her communicator vibrated fifteen minutes ago and Nicki ignored it. She also knew that the pilot was either punctual or desperate, because she sent the reminder three minutes earlier than Nicki would assume they would...hence why she would make them wait a few minutes for her to amble along, because Nicki hated getting rushed.

Nicki wiped her feet on the mat in front of the entrance and paced purposefully to the reception desk. "Nicki F Sharpe, I'm here for the...ffffu-..." Nicki cut herself off; another little habit, she didn't like to swear but the receptionist glanced up at Nicki with a knowing little smile and outright fear shining in her eyes. Well done, keep an eye on me whilst I'm on the ground. That's not going to put me in a bad mood at all. snarled Nicki in her head. She glared down the woman, lifting her lip up in a snarl that never managed to escape her throat as the telephone slid across the desk a little. That was just enough; the receptionist squeaked and quickly typed in Nicki's name, printing out her file for her.

"H-here you go, Miss 'Sharpe', go and t-...go and take a seat with Miss Jameson at the back!" stammered the receptionist whilst Nicki snatched the sheet of paper from the trembling woman and entered the large cafeteria. Her gaze slipped down the paper at her new file...The audio transcript for PLU27 isn't on there. In fact, it's been blacked out entirely...I guess that was nice of them, thought Nicki as she saw the massive black box over her personality section. Everything else was intact, though, even her history.

Nicki moved in a straight line towards the pilot who was busy muttering to herself - at least I'm not the only one who does that - and the large tables and benches slid out of the way on their own accord, parting the cafeteria like the red sea before her. The most unnerving part though would be the fact Nicki didn't even seem to notice she was doing it; it was just happening, there was no arm-waving, or even so much as a glance in the direction of the benches. Nicki was too interested in the heap of paperwork in front of her pilot. As she passed, the benches slid back into place, leaving a little bubble of clear space around Nicki...it was almost as if the benches were too scared to get close to her.

Nicki sat down opposite Caelum, and without so much as a hello, grabbed a nearby sheet of paper and ripped it up. It had her file on it, but with more blacked out information than the one she got from the receptionist. Looking Caelum dead in the eye, she blew the scraps of paper into her face and promptly handed her the file with (almost) everything on it. "The Alliance are sticklers for keeping things private," she sighed reflectively, "so I went and got you the full one. I guess you'll have to figure out my personality on your own, Caelum."

Risty's lips pursed as the Defective Alliance transport shuttle that had taken her to Frontier 60 landed just in front of the entrance. The warped, almost useless looking metal and broken concrete walls looked, to her, something taken straight from a Deep Colony. She had been expecting that in the last seven years the Defective Alliance would have been able to build -something- that looked better than the shithole she had been trained in. No wonder her brother had contacted her - If this was the best the Defective Alliance had, they'd need the best the galaxy had to offer. Thankfully for them, as far as she was concerned, she was the best mechanic that the galaxy had to offer.

The Shuttle doors opened, and the two heavily armed and armored guards assigned to her by her brother rose from their seats in the shuttle seconds after she did, flanking either side of her. Her brother, Rear Admiral Eugen Garce had assigned two of his best soldiers to make sure that she didn't change her mind at the last minute, and return to The Strontium Serpents, leaving The Medusa without a mechanic who knew what she was doing. "The Medusa. Good name for a Strontium Serpent vessel. Might just see about stealing it, when this is over." She thought, smiling softly to herself - Although the smile vanished when the guard to her right handcuffed her hands behind her back to prevent her from trying anything. "What... Fuckin' Seriously?" She demanded, but the guard remained silent, both of their faces hidden from view by their helmets.

"Get moving." The other ordered her after a moment. She ignored him, and continued to glare at the one who had handcuffed her. After a minute, the one on her right nodded slightly, and they both grabbed her by her upper arms, and dragged her off the shuttle, and through the entrance of Frontier 60.

They marched her right up to the receptionist, who Risty noticed was trembling in fear, and staring at her telephone, as if it might explode at any second. "Strange. Usually people hear my name, or, at the very least, see my tattoos before they start cowering." She mused. One of the guards coughed into his fist, getting the receptionist's attention. "My name is Risty Garce, I'm here for the Medusa mission." After a second of the receptionist staring at her tattoos, the receptionist blinked, and then pointed towards the cafeteria.

With a slight nod, the guards led her to the cafeteria, and then to the table where two women were sitting. They forced her to sit at a bench next to a red haired woman, handed a file with her name on it in big red letters to the raven haired woman, and then turned and walked off, leaving her hands cuffed behind her back. "What... What the fuck? You stupid fucking cocksuckers, what do you expect me to do? Fucking make a run for it? Not fucking likely!" She shouted at them, electing no response from either of the two soldiers as they walked towards the exit, leaving the cafeteria, and heading towards the shuttle to transport her gear onto the Medusa.

Risty hung her head for a moment, and then sighed. "Fucking Hell..." She muttered as she looked at the red haired woman she had been sat next to. "If you don't mind - I have a key to get out of this sort of thing in my right front pocket.... Mind getting it for me?" She asked, grinning at her. "Names Risty Garce, the mechanic. I'm guessing you are Caelum, the pilot?" She asked the raven haired woman. "Those assholes got your message, but they were a little busy making sure I wouldn't run off - Although I agreed to the mission, so I'm not really sure why my brother had them tag along to begin with..."

Caelum C. Jameson

Caelum had barely read the first line of the file she'd taken from the rude Psyche – Nicki F. Sharpe, she corrected herself – when the second arrival showed up. Mostly because she was trying to stare the redhead out. It was a trick she'd learned from life on Mars, way back when she was a kid surrounded by other kids floating objects around willy nilly, and if she were to write it down it'd go something like, “Be a wild dog. They ain't afraid of no Psyches. Psyches are just folk like any other to them.”

She turned with a bright smile to the girl named Risty. Her grin somehow widened further when she glanced at the tattoos, then at the handcuffs, then at the huge red lettering on the file. Dangerous, she decided, but doesn't feel the need to prove it. “It is Caelum. Caelum I am. I – well, I'll stop now,” she said, twirling a tuft of hair around her finger and pouting. “I'm afraid I was looking forward to the whole 'you show me yours and I'll show you mine' with regards to these files. Those escorts of yours ruined the fun.”

Flipping through to the third page of the Garce file and finding the list of criminal offences, she blinked once in shock. The word 'piracy' stood out like a sore thumb, mostly because it was bolded, but the sheer number of them astounded her. Risty couldn't have been much older than she was, and yet – by the thickness of the file – she'd clearly lived more.

She shook her head, turning to Nicki again. “F. Sharp – that's what I'm going to call you from now on, like the musical note, geddit? – it's not nice to waste paper. Trees died for it, y'know?” She fiddled with the torn shreds of paper on the desk as if it was a mosiac, sighing wistfully. “I could've made a plane with it. Or one of those little 'fortune tellers'...”

Caelum forcibly suppressed the sly grin trying to trickle across her face again to replace her mournful facade but in the wake of her excitement it was quickly erased. “Not long now 'til we're on The Medusa, slippin' through the stars. She'll be as quiet as a mouse,” she swore, before hesitating. “Well, a mouse that has some sort of affliction of the lungs and can't breath without rattling. We never did find out what caused that problem.”

On the side of the road leading up to the knackered looking base stood Thomas with a judgmental look on his face, purposefully having arrived early, maybe even too early, to give himself some time to think about what he would be officially signing up for the moment he enters the building. The patched up walls and clearly experienced metal showing that the building had overcome some troubles.

He picked up his communicator as the message of the Pilot asking for everyone's arrival time had been sent, he then simply packed back away and resumed dwelling in his thoughts, about the crew he'd be spending most of his time with mainly and secondly over the possible mission they'd be sent on.

He noticed a red haired woman approach the base. His cold eyes swerving off the base and onto her with the first thing he noticed being that she, instead of taking the main path, had arrived from the pines surrounding the base. He silently watched her from afar the side of the path he was standing on with no care if he would be noticed, then looking back at his watch before arching his back and waiting some more.

The second arrival caused him just as much wonder as the first had, he watched as the next shuttle arrived and two armed guards approach it before leading a handcuffed woman into the base. Thomas began being overcome with curiosity, glad that so far the crew members had shown diverse arrivals. He waits until the soldiers drag the handcuffed woman inside the base before calming strutting his way towards it himself.

He enters the building, scanning everything in his surrounding but mostly noticing the relatively nervous looking receptionist. His tactful pacing towards the desk she was seated behind immediately grabbing her attention. "Thomas Riley Grayson." He states with a single firm nod. The nervous secretary looks up at the man with a smile "Right this way sir!" she says with a relatively cheery voice and points in the direction of the cafeteria. Inside the cafeteria he notices three women, two of them being the women he had seen outside before entering the building himself and the third presumably being the pilot. Making his way around the table to stand across the handcuffed woman he shoots a glance at the already present reports before placing his own one on the edge of the table where there'd be some room left. Refusing to take a seat he slowly paces around the room, only offering a "Morning" accompanied with another one of his firm nods before continuing to listen in on any possible conversation.

Tide was awakened from a paricularly pleasant day-dream by the shrill hiss of pneumatic brakes, as the truck he'd hitched a ride in shuddered to a halt by the side of the road. "We're there", the old driver told him, looking puzzled. Tide leaned forward to get a better view from the truck's large windows. Tall trees stretched away into the distance along both sides of the road, broken only by a narrow dirt track that disappeared into the dense forest close to where the truck was parked.

"You sure this is the place?" asked Tide.

"Well, those co-ords you gave me aren't on the road, they're about a kilometer that way," replied the driver, gesturing in the direction of the muddy track, "Maybe there's something down there?". Tide nodded, swinging the door open and jumping down from the cab, dragging his canvas backpack down after him. He slung the heavy pack over one shoulder, waved his thanks to the driver, and slammed the door shut. He watched the truck rumble away down the road in a cloud of diesel smoke and dust, with a resigned sigh. It wouldn't be the first time he'd been dumped in the middle of nowhere by someone keen to be rid of the 'big ugly bastard', before he could rob and murder them, or sexually assault their dog, or whatever the hell it was people thought he was going to do to them.

He took one last look around him, hoping to spot something a bit more civilised looking than a tree, but there was nothing. He dug a squashed cigarette packet out of one of his many pockets, and tapped it upside down on the palm of his hand. Empty. Fucking typical. He dropped the empty packet on the ground, hoisted his pack further up onto his shoulder, and set off into the trees.

The path was deeply rutted with wide tyre tracks, which gave Tide the slight hope that it might actually lead somewhere. It still came as something of a surprise to him though, when the trees opened up into a large clearing around a dilapidated looking building. A rusted sign at the edge of the path proclaimed in faded white lettering that this was indeed 'Frontier 60'. He was just about to cross the muddy ground to the doorway, when the unmistakable roar of rocket engines from above made him hesitate. An alliance shuttle was dropping towards the clearing, white hot spears of flame from its landing thrusters scorching the mud and grass in front of the building as it settled onto the ground.

Tide waited in the treeline, watching with puzzled interest as three figures emerged from the shuttle and disappeared into the building; two heavily armed guards, escorting a woman with her hands cuffed behind her back. Was this going to be a convict delivery mission? It'd be a shame if it was - the prisoner looked a hell of a lot more interesting than most of the women he'd seen so far on this world, though judging by the amount of armour those guards had been wearing, maybe she was one to steer clear of.

Almost as soon as they'd gone into the building, the guards were back, minus their prisoner. The shuttle was lifting away from the ground before the doors had finished closing, and it quickly disappeared above the trees, leaving Tide alone once more in the clearing. He was just about to start towards the building, when a figure appeared from the trees in front of him. Tide hung back, watching the man cross the clearing to enter the building by the same door the guards had used. He waited a couple more minutes, before following the man into the building. He found himself in a reception area, where a wide-eyed, dazed looking receptionist stared at him from behind her desk. "Medusa?", she stammered.

"Err, yeah. Medusa", replied Tide. The receptionist pulled a thin folder out from under her desk, handed it to him, and silently nodded towards the large cafeteria behind the reception area. He treated her to his best smile, which for some reason didn't seem to calm her down at all, and strode into the cafeteria.

There were four other occupants of the large room, sitting around a table at the far end. He recognised the prisoner from the shuttle as one of them, though she didn't seem to be under guard any more, which only added to Tide's confusion. He weaved his way between the tables and chairs that filled the room, his heavy boots echoing loudly on the tiled floor, until he reached the group. He dropped his pack on the floor by the table and sat down on one of the empty chairs.

"Alright?" he grinned, "Anyone got a smoke?"

MEDICAL LOG 002 - NICKI F SHARPE
CURRENTLY: Making friends. Trying to make friends.

Nicki was confused as to why she was getting the stare-down from her pilot-to-be. So far, all she's done is shift some tables and get rid of a useless document; did she offend her somehow? This was not how Nicki wanted things to go. She stared back at Caelum as her mind spiralled into countless methods of trying to solve this issue, because she had to be friends with everyone, no questions asked. Swiftly, Nicki resorted to trying some sort of bumbling friendly approach, in which she used more words than were really necessary and put on a different tone of voice.

"Oh, uh, I'm sorry if I offended in any way Caelum, I just...didn't think you needed it, is all." apologised Nicki, her face falling a little. For good measure, Nicki decided to add a joke; "Besides, the amount of info you're getting off these reports, they're better off as paper planes, right?" she chuckled, smiling at Caelum.

The smile never reached her eyes, which remained as blank and as calculating as ever. Maybe that was just how she was.

Nicki's attention was diverted by the new arrival, and her smile dropped as she looked at Risty. Looking was, in effect, a huge understatement; she practically dissected the woman. Handcuffs - prisoner. Tattoos...pirates, something-serpents. Strongium? good at escaping, equally good at killing people - even whilst handcuffed, why else would she have those escorts... listed her mind as she yelled obscenities at the retreating escorts. Nicki shut her eyes for a moment. Correction - not good at killing people with handcuffs. Safe to be around civillians. Risty asked for Nicki to get the key out of her front pocket and Nicki obliged (Doesn't mind stealing, testing to see whether or not I'll let her go...of course I'll let her go, she looks like great fun...) immediately, unlocking the handcuffs manually and politely setting the key in front of Risty.

Once Risty introduced herself, Nicki smiled at the woman - again, one of those almost fake smiles that never really reached her eyes. "Nicki F Sharpe, medic. Pleased to meet you." she replied cheerily. Her eyelids flickered as Caelum had the nerve to call her F Sharpe - what a stupid, godawful nickname. But hopefully Caelum didn't notice as she slid into an enraptured speech about their clattering old spaceship, to which Nicki leant forward and gave the pilot her full attention and an equally as amazed expression whilst her brain came up with several ways to end that pilot's life, one of which involving the teacup sitting on the stacks of paperwork.

Another person came in - Nicki got distracted. Her mind switched into observation mode again. Straight back, tactful pacing, no smile...used to authority. Didn't shove his report on top - used to authority, but not arrogant. Won't sit down...it's not medical, so he either likes to look down on people or is too nervous to sit down. PTSD? Not talking much either. Doesn't like to waste words. Very businesslike. Probably won't take the pilot's eventual jokes when they come around. murmured her thoughts in a constant stream whilst her 'normal' no-emotion smile graced her features once again with a nod and a 'good morning' to the man. Captain, or co-captain, but certainly not anything less than that, added her thoughts.

Nicki ran a hand through her sheet of red hair in an attempt to silence her overworking brain. Hopefully it wasn't going to be like this for everyon-Heavy boots, probably a soldier, he's twisting through that mess of benches without hitting them - good reactions, almost certainly a soldier. Carries a pack with him - well prepared. Not very intelligent - and a smoker, too. Nicki stared at Tide before realising that she was staring and decided to do the most medic-like thing and sniff, throwing him a frown of disapproval. "You won't be able to smoke on the Medusa," she warned, "I'd rather we didn't have to change the oxygen filters every time we take a pit-stop. The name's Nicki F Sharpe, Medic."

Nicki turned to glance at totally-not-going-to-kill-us-all Risty. "I hope those escorts aren't tagging along with us, that'd put a downer on the whole trip." she said, almost sympathetically. Almost. Then, she turned to smile at her new best friend I hope you die first Caelum. "Who else are we waiting for, then?" asked Nicki.

Just when Nicki thought it couldn't get any better, she felt it; a moodswing. Everything got a lot darker, all her outcomes became grim, it was getting harder for her to remain cheery and she didn't want to alienate people on her first day. Her shoulders slumped. "I'm...not used to this gravity field strength," she added in a less energetic tone of voice, trying to pass it off as mild discomfort instead of massive emotional freak-out.

The annoying alarm blared in the small bedroom, causing the man, Erik Brindley who was laying facedown on the tossed bed to turn his head, staring at the clock for a moment before he brought a hand hard down on it, stopping the alarm and damn near smashing the machine. He yawned as he sat up, rubbing his tired eyes, then noted the time, he had to be at the meeting place in exactly one hour, more than enough time to get ready.

He glanced around the room, then at himself, within an instant he disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, the sounds of a five minute shower being taken could be heard as Erik cleaned himself up, then reemerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his in shape form. He pulled open his backpack, pulling out a set of fresh clothes. Simple, a clean white T shirt, nice jeans, combat boots and a jacket. Not like he had to wear a monkey suit where he was going, nor would he really want to.

As he finished getting dressed, and tying his boots he picked up his pack, then zipped it up and left the room, closing the door behind him. It was just some cheap hotel he only had stayed at for the night, he just needed to find a cab to bring him out to the forest where the military base he was supposed to meet the others at was. It was a military base so he couldn't just have the cabbie drop him off at the front door, maybe just have the driver stop near the forest entrance. Erik was smart enough to find where to go, they did give him directions.

After briefly visiting the food court, and snagging a bagel, he popped out the hotel, his eyes blinded momentarily by the star hanging high in the sky. It was really damn early, and he still wasn't used to this beautiful world, made him almost forget about the hellhole he managed to crawl out of, almost. He took a bite of the bagel, then signaled for a taxi, which appeared right away. He muttered for the driver to take him out to the forest, then swung into the backseat, placing his pack next to him.

He reached his destination shortly, stepping out of the cab, his eyes looking around the wondrous forest. It was one of the few times he actually saw a legitimate forest. He paid the taxi driver, then began his walk, his backpack slung onto his back. He underestimated the walk, and finally saw the military base, he figured he was one of the last ones there, not like he was late, it was just that people always showed up early. He was on time.

Erik stepped through the front door, noting the receptionist, who he approached, the woman looking up at him with open eyes.

"I'm Erik Brindley, supposed to be here for some Medusa mission" He stated, rubbing the back of his neck, still tired as he didn't get very much sleep, never did the night before something big like this. The receptionist motioned him towards the cafeteria, which Erik responded to with a nod and a thank you, then moved towards the room.

He paused, finding a table which seated what he assume were his crew, a mix of females and males, some of them looking more like hired thugs than soldiers. Though he was told it wasn't exclusively
military personal that were chosen for the job, so he wasn't too surprised to see people from different walks of life. He expected it.

"Hope I'm not too late, was a hell of a walk to get here." Erik said, flashing a grin in the near silent room, trying to carve away some tension. He wanted to start off on the right foot, giving the wrong impression to these people would make things awkward on the mission.

Erik shuffled out of his jacket and backpack, dropping both on the floor near where he sat down. His shirt revealing the detailed tattoos on his arms. They would have to see them sometime, and besides, there were others with tattoos, it wasn't like he was the inked freakshow in the group, it made him feel less out of place.

"It's nice to meet you all, I'm Erik," He stated to the others with a friendly expression. "Thrilled to finally get going."

The place had smelled of garlic, and Pascal Souchon was glad to trade it for the fresh, cool air of the mountains. He supposed that the smell had mostly been his fault. The fourteen men living in the flophouse in the foothills had taken turns cooking, it had only been fair that way. Most of them had been loggers, laborers, seasonal workers. Their food had been hearty, certainly, but not exactly refined. Pascal had been glad for his turn- it gave him a chance to bring out his old recipe for bouillabaisse, passed down through the family. It had gone over well, except for the smell filling the cheap rooms. He had taken some ribbing for that.

Max liked bouillabaisse.

Pascal shook his head, trying to push the thought out of his mind. He had a job to do. Trying without success to ignore the past, he instead tried to focus on the world around him, the towering pines on either side, the mud of the road he was walking on, the bump of the hard case holding his disassembled rifle against his back. He had come into the region earlier, seasonal loggers coming in, looking for work. Everyone had assumed he was one of them, and nothing he had said told them otherwise. He thought it best not to advertise his true purpose.

And so he had left the cheap room he had rented, overpaying generously, headed into the mountains early in the morning on foot. He often had to stop and sit down for moment- everything just seemed heavier than he was accustomed to, and that certainly included his rifle case and his small bag of personal items. But now, here was Frontier 60, the squat cluster of buildings looming in front of him.

Pascal didn't know why he was doing this. Just seemed right.

He was quiet, skinny, not the least bit intimidating. Pascal entered the complex completely unopposed, found his way to a harried receptionist. "Souchon reporting for duty," he said, his voice barely above a whisper but still betraying his Lunatic accent. He gave the receptionist a thin smile that didn't touch his blue eyes as he was motioned towards the mess.

Pascal walked in, quietly sat down and divested himself of his two pieces of luggage. He said nothing, merely watched the others, and waited. He tried not to think about Marie, and he tried very hard not to think about Max.

Risty nodded at Nicki, a half-smile gracing her lips as she rubbed her wrists, but she was obviously annoyed by how the guards had just left her, handcuffed. "Charmed." She said in response to Nicki's introduction, and then laughed at Caelum's 'show me yours, I show you mine' comment.. "Sorry, I don't swing that way, Caelum. Well, not unless I'm really, really drunk. But I agree...Those two assholes didn't seem like they'd be interested in anything other than getting their job done." She grinned, leaning forwards. "She seems smart enough, I suppose." She mused, before laughing hysterically at the look of shock etched across Caelum's face. "Those are only the laws they they -know- I've broken. They can't legally put down crimes they think I've committed, that would be against my Civil rights. And yes, what you are reading is correct -They hired a known Pirate to be your mechanic. Yar-har feedle de."

She winked at Caelum, before turning to look at the new arrival, silently keeping her eyes on the first one who entered - Thomas, by the name on his file. "He's trouble, that one. I'm guessing he's the captain - Men with confidence and poise like that tend to be promoted quickly enough. I bet he has all the ladies swooning with the way he acts." She watched him pace about the room, and began chewing on her nails absently. However, when another man entered the room, she turned her gaze towards him, watching as he weaved his way through the scattered benches and tables. "Tall, and strong. Friendly, by the looks of it - He'd make a good enforcer for sure - At least physically. I doubt he's the kind of person to break someone's leg because they didn't pay. Handsome, too." She crossed her legs, and grinned at his question. "I do." She said, pulling a pack of cigarettes from a pocket and tossing it to him - After she lit one for herself, of course. "I hope you don't mind Menthols." She grinned, after taking a long drag on her cigarette. "Its all they tend to have in a pirate vessel - If you want to smoke, you have to get used to it." She crossed her legs, and visibly relaxed.

She glanced at Nicki, and grinned. "As the person who would be changing the filters -I don't mind changing them." She took another drag on her cigarette, and then breathed the smoke in the air, above everyone's heads, so not to be rude - Not that she cared, but it wouldn't do to have someone have it out for her before they left. Becides, if she decided to kill them all and steal the ship, it would be that much harder if everyone suspected her already. If anyone was going to be betrayed, it wouldn't be her. "I doubt it. They're just supposed to make sure I'm delivered to The Medusa - Nice name, by the way, Caelum, - And then they're likely going to head back to where ever they were stationed." She nodded at Nicki, and patted her on the shoulder gently. "Can't stand planetary gravity. I much prefer the Grav-Fields of ships - They're just strong enough that you won't float away, or fall into machinery, but they aren't as harsh as a Terraformed planet's." She commiserated with her, having the feeling that she'd get along quite splendidly with the other woman.

"Ah fuck... Those assholes better have taken my guns and gear to The Medusa - They took my shit when they 'collected' me, said they'd have it delivered before The Medusa takes off. I feel naked without my KOKCH 574 - I've had it since I was twelve." She said, looking frustrated as she took another drag on her cigarette, watching the two new people enter the cafeteria. One was a dour looking man - Quiet, probably due to some tragedy or something along those lines, and likely dangerous in combat - His muscles reminded her of some of the men she had served with in the past - He was obviously a crack shot with a gun. A sniper, perhaps?

The other looked to be a deep colonist - She tended to be able to tell, being one herself. She grinned when she saw his tattoos. They could tell a lot about a person, she found. Not bad looking, either of them. Seems we'll have quite a few handsome men on board, by the looks of it." "Nice tats." She called to him as she dropped the butt of her cigarette onto the ground, crushing it with her heel. "I'm Risty, the mechanic." She smiled at him as she crossed her arms under her bust, before she began looking around the room, glancing at the various crew members. "They don't seem a bad sort. If anything, I won't likely be betrayed by any of them - No waking up to find that my throat has been sliced open. Hopefully."

Tide casually stopped Risty's cigarette pack as it skidded across the table, nodding his thanks as he removed one of the methols, before sliding the packet back across the table to her. He leaned back in his chair, the cheap plastic creaking ominously, and nonchalently flicked the unlit cigarette upwards, catching it in the corner of his mouth. "Don't worry Doc," he grinned, "I'll make sure to open a window on the ship." His eyes met Nicki Sharpe's for a moment. A very brief moment. Somewhere, deep in his animal hindbrain, a little warning alarm was going off - Run! Fast!.

Blissfully unaware of why he was doing it, Tide turned his attention away from the medic, and reached down to heft his backpack onto the table. It was something of an old relic, made of thick gray canvas, and covered in pockets that fastened closed with buckles and straps. He could have replaced it with something better - maybe something that was actually waterproof - but he'd grown rather fond of it over the years.

"I've got a lighter in here somewhere," he mumbled, pulling random bits of clothing and equipment out of his pack. "It's a nice one too. Was a present." As he dug deeper into the recesses of his pack, he pulled out a scratched and battered looking communicator. It was pulsing red along one edge, and beeping softly. With a quick glance in Caelum's direction, he stuffed the device back into his pack, and continued rifling through the pockets. Eventually he found what he was looking for; a slightly tarnished silver lighter, inscribed across the front in flowing script - For my little pootles, love always, Marley.

"Yeah, I think it might have been second-hand," he said with a wry grin, flicking the lighter open to light his cigarette. "So, anyway. I'm Tide. I'm probably here to carry stuff."

Caelum C. Jameson

Caelum was teetering on the edge of putting her head in her arms, blocking her ears with her hands and singing 'lalala' until everyone – her own crew – wandered away. Instead, she busied herself with the front page of F. Sharpe's file, folding in the corners and smoothing them back out again. She was the pilot, not a people person!

Thomas R. Grayson (the captain, Cap'n, she noted) was blessedly quiet. Caelum couldn't help but draw parallels to the men in her mother's old novels that she was forbidden to read. Silent and brooding and the like. Of course, his lack of talking could be attributed to observation, him watching for the crew's weaknesses so he could kick-start his master plan of taking the helm and turning it into a pirate vessel...

Where was that idea coming from? She shook her head to clear it of errant thoughts like a dog shaking water from its fur. If anyone it'd be the mechanic. Stop!

She swapped from fiddling with the file, to anxiously fiddling with the zip of her slate grey jumpsuit, if only to hear the reassuring sound of the mechanism. It was similar to that of The Medusa when the cabin door sealed and unsealed. Every second or two, the bright eyesore of her tie-dye shirt shone through. Any distraction would be better than the subconscious ordering that was going on in her head, organising which crew members would fall to star-sickness until there was no sound, no oxygen anywhere but in the pilot's cabin. F. Sharp would definitely be first, then–

This time, Caelum really did rest her head on the table in exasperation. Rubbing at her eyes, she excused her actions with a quick, “I hope the other few I messaged get here soon – otherwise I'm liable to leave them behind so I can see my baby. The Medusa, that is.” Her leg started bouncing up and down, shaking in nervous excitement... or was it tension. Her desperation to see The Medusa was quickly turning into a desperation to see The Medusa so she could hide in the pilot's cabin away from human contact.

'Course, she didn't feel too bad that Tide and Risty and F. Sharpe were all conversing easily and she couldn't find it in herself to do the same. That Pascal fellow – the skinny, morose looking one who in her mind sucked the fun and excitement from a meter wide space around him – didn't seem to interested in talking either.

Bzzzt.... Bzzzt..... Bzzzt

Valerie opened her eyes to the somewhat disturbing sensation of a buzzing comms unit on her cheek. She blinked as it buzzed away at her. Bzzzt.... Bzzzt.... Val took it off her face with an uncomfortable peeling sensation and looked at the screen, sleep blurred vision made it hard to read as she squinted at the screen for a good few minutes "Co-ordinates." she mused and rolled over, closing her eyes. She stiffened and her eyes snapped open "Co-ordinates?" she repeated and sat up, her big fluffy pyjama dress flopfhing with her body "Three minutes ago? I'm meant to be there.. Now?!" she stared at the screen "Oh god." she muttered and threw herself out of bed, pulling on undies, tops and trous- "WHUP!" THUD "Ow.." she muttered, trousers around her knees and face first in the floor at 0605 hours in the morning. Great.

She pulled herself to her feet, did up her trousers, pulled on a waist coat and then spun around "Need. Need. Need. What do I need?" she snapped and then ran around, "Gun!" she called, drawing it into her hand. She scooped up some keys, threw on a pair of boots and then brushed her hair, she looked around and her eyes settled on the fridge, suitably empty for the trip she ducked inside and grabbed a bowl, shovelling the contents into her mouth, Bzzzt.... Bzzzt "Oh shut up!" she called and finally turned off the comms unit buzzing, she hurried to the bathroom and started brushing her teeth but her face contorted to one of utter dismay "My face..." she said pitifully and traced the lines of her comms unit which has been imprinted on her face. She rubbed at it quickly then began scrubbing, too much toothpaste was used as foam bubbled out of her mouth, she choked and coughed and spat out what she didn't swallow and gurgled some mouthwash before hurrying out the door.

"Sycamore!" she shouted as the threw herself into a taxi-service ship then ordered to be taken to a city which was as close to Frontier Sixty as she could get. She leant back and put a hand on her bag, looking through it, she'd packed it the night before, clothes, as many as she could stuff into one of the size-regulated bags. Literally. Stuffed. Hair brush, toothbrush, toothpaste, all the basics, she assured herself. Goggles, where were her goggles?! She fished around before slamming her head back and a familiar clink of goggles sounded behind her, she reached up and realised they were perched on her head already.

She threw a handful of pre-calculated money at the driver and ran out the ship, weaving through citied , oh what was the time? Late. She didn't dare look at it. She reached the city borders and dashed out the gates, no time to get a cab, no time to wait for anything like that! Running it was, lucky she was a fast runner. She splashed through muddy puddled and ducked under low-hanging branches, anything to get there on time! When she tired she slowed her pace but kept running "Ohhhh" she moaned "This isn't my area.." she complained. "I hate running!" she called, loud enough to scare away birds in the near area. It got muddy. Quickly. She waded through mud, running over it as fast as she could as to not allow herself to sink in, oh how glad she was that she was wearing a long sleeved black lace-hemmed shirt tucked neatly into long, tight around the leg, grey trousers, a belt and tall boots. Any mud dried on brown and dusted off grey. It's like she was untouched, apart from her boots, they looked like mud hell. She ignored this and kept running.

"WHEEZE" Oh my gosh. Did that come from -HER- throat?! That noise had never been made before "WHEEEZE" oh man it was her alright. But the gross, squat looking Frontier Sixty was -in view-! "WHEEZE" oh how embarrassing. She ran to the door and practically slammed into it, scrubbing off her boots on the nice, clean looking door-mat, which when she stepped over, looked like it'd just been given a horrific mud-mask treatment "Valerie, Crew, Co-captain - WHEEZE- Just gonna" she pointed to the crew "Go." she said and stumbled through, ignoring the calls of the receptionist, they could check if it was here when she -SAT DOWN- she approached the group, gasping for air that had so rudely been taken from her "Hi.... Co-captain....Valerie Sangster..." She managed, in every pause there was a hurried gasp for air.

Thomas kept quiet, offering each new arrival a, as welcoming as possible, nod and feint smile before finally stopping his pacing around the room next to Pascal. Thomas shoots a glance at the lighter Tide pulled out "As long as it works I don't see why that'd be a problem." he answers smirking ever so faintly before beginning to massage his fingers, causing a few to let out cracks "Thomas R. Grayson by the way, here as your Captain." he adds quickly before folding his arms and offering the whole room an affirmative nod.

His thoughts then shoot back towards each individual once again, scribbling down mental notes to avoid causing any nervousness to arrive. As experienced as he was with meeting new people that we would be working with, the first moments always caused him to become paranoid to a certain degree. He always tried giving off the vibe that he was a man that knew exactly what he was doing and wouldn't hesitate to do it.

"I hope you're all looking forward to getting to know each other as much as I am. Some of you certainly seem to be able to keep the-..." he was interrupted as Valerie burst through the door wheezing heavily and gasping for air as she stated her name and position. Thomas kept his mouth and eyes slightly wide open, worried something bad had fallen upon her before realizing she had simply been in a rush to get here. "Careful, don't forget to breath." he quirked his brow in ever so slight amusement.

"Thanks, yours are pretty interesting too," Erik said to Risty as he returned the smile, glancing at the dangerous looking woman. "I handle explosives, if you need something blown up, I can do it." He said confidently, he earned the right to be, he'd been at it for awhile now and was damn good at what he did, though he'd never say he was.

He looked at the captain, Thomas as the man introduced himself the crew. Erik's analyzing the man with his eyes, trying to get a read on him. The man looked well enough to lead a ship, Erik just hoped the captain could handle the different personalities the ship would have aboard it. His point was reaffirmed as another crewmen stumbled in, another female sounding like she just ran a marathon.

"Did you run here from the other side of the planet or something?" Erik asked the co-captain right after she introduced herself to the crew.

Valerie swept her hair back and re-adjusted her goggles, nodding subtly to Thomas, she rolled her shoulders and glanced back to the Receptionist who'd lost interest in her, seems like she -was- Valerie! Good thing too, otherwise she'd have some form of identity crisis whilst out of breath. If that happened she might just conk it. She looked to her comms unit which ceased it's buzzing then looked over her outfit, more specifically her boots, and sighed. She drew in a big breath before managing a "I'm going... To have to clean these." murmured between breaths to herself. She gave them a kick, dust and mud crumbling a little off her, onto the floor. The most uncomfortable feeling, however was being too hot, burning from embarrassment at wheezing loudly in front of the crew, her crew (Sort of) as an introduction. Talk about first impressions.

She looked up and her eyes snapped quickly to Erik, her happy, kind gaze became one more harsh, judging and analysing before easing to a subtle kindness, in fact. That emotion almost.. Flickered across her face. There and then gone in another moment, maybe the first time around her you'd think it was just your mind playing tricks on you! That obviously isn't the case, though. "Yeah, something like that!" she said, loudly and laughed, then she waved a hand dismissively, as if the topic wasn't important "The actual running bit was just from the nearest city which turned out to be a -lot- longer away from here than it looked!" she exclaimed, her voice raising as if it were a sort of joke. She blinked a few times, rubbing her eyes and huffed a sigh. She straightened herself, feeling somewhat uncomfortable with the pretty much nothingness to do, except, that is, introduce herself a little better.

MEDICAL LOG 003 - NICKI F SHARPE
CURRENTLY: Sulking.

Nicki fell quiet really quickly. Forget the others, forget this room, she couldn't even bring up enough energy to say hello to any of the new people. Of course, she couldn't stop her mind from working, and it thumped away like a migraine, monotonously churning out the facts on her new crew members, starting with Erik. Genuinely wants to make friends. No significant tattoos. Stupid hair-cut. Again, keeps his backpack with him, he either doesn't trust the Medusa or couldn't be bothered to walk all the way to put his bag away...Either way, he's prepared. And by god he's dull on the point of being completely blank... Nicki dismissed the man almost right away. She let loose a little whimper of pain, before realising that whimpering in pain is probably a very odd thing to do, so she quickly apologised with a "Sorry, migraines, get them a lot..." and went back to her bad mood.

Someone slightly more interesting walked in. No no no no no-Skinny, fairly diminutive, not a talking person but that's not because he's flaunting his power because he's got absolutely none. No introduction, looks very nervous...sad. Grieving. Mourning. Perhaps an underlying mental issue like chronic depression or PTSD? Well, the captain certainly doesn't have PTSD, he's actually talking and making little barely-humourous jokes... Damnit! Every time she did that it hurt her head. Nicki straightened up a bit, trying to look more alert, more cheerful...and then someone touched her shoulder and Nicki was caught so off-guard that one of the benches lurched backwards with a clattering BANG, followed by a squeak of surprise from the terrified receptionist in the other room.

Nicki peered up at the offender, and was caught off-guard again because she looked at Risty and instead of getting a page-long list of facts, all her mind would come up with was...Huh. How nice of her. This was a very rare occurrence; and also, annoyingly, one of Nicki's weakest points. Sometimes in her life a couple of people might ascend in Nicki's ranks from 'friend-who-belongs-to-me' to 'actual-friend-and-equal', and it just so happened to be the double-crossing, murdering, kidnapping, stealing pirate who'd sack the ship as soon as we were out of orbit. Nicki certainly had to keep an eye on this woman, because she could sense that things were going to go awry very quickly.

Risty-the-not-friend and the other man, Tide or whatever his name is, started smoking in the room. Not like Nicki cared too much, so long as it didn't reach the med lab. Speaking of not reaching the med lab...Nicki's eyes fell on Caelum. That woman had issues that couldn't be fixed with medicine, Nicki noticed. Fidgeting. PTSD. Not talking. PTSD. Constantly marred by her thoughts-oh I feel for you, trust me- but still a sign of PTSD. Weak excuse, whatever's on her mind is almost as heavy as mine, PTSD PTSD PTSD... Nicki stared at Caelum with concern, and all of a sudden her eyes lit up with surprise and narrowed. She knew now. She realised what was up.

Instantly, Caelum went from frenemy to "DO NOT TRUST EVER."

Of course, Nicki had to get distracted by the gasping, wheezing woman who sounded like she was going to have a heart attack. She quickly turned around, peering at the late, hurried, unorganized co-captain. Ran quite a distance, went on the path, either kissed or slept on her comms unit, late, really not organised at all, pretty cheery...why'd they trust her with co-captain? Hell, even noodles over there would do better than her! thought Nicki, her gaze flickering to the still-silent Pascal, then back to Valerie. Erik took a jab at her, and Nicki grinned a little at the joke until-Woah woah woah what was that?! Is she just pretending? Step number one, woman, never drop your act like that for such a minor thing...step number two, don't hide your true intentions from a woman who's already pro at that kind of thing. Looks like you're going on my list too, along with Risty and Caelum.

Why did it have to be the women who were deceitful, manipulative and untrustworthy? Nicki might as well hang around all of the blokes just to make sure she doesn't wake up with a scalpel in her back.

Devan Tide

Tide watched the new arrival with a look of wide eyed bemusement. He hooked his foot around the leg of an empty chair, and pulled it out from under the table, the metal legs scraping against the tiled floor with a nerve-shredding screech. "Here, sit down before you fall down," he said, a mixture of concern and amusement on his face, before turning to Erik.

"Explosives, eh?" He took the half-smoked cigarette out of his mouth, and crushed it against the tabletop with one hand, idly scratching his unshaven chin with the other. "I'm starting to wonder what sort of a job I've gone and signed myself up for here!" His laugh was somewhat hollow; this was one damned strange crew he'd joined, and Tide wasn't entirely sure he shouldn't just get up and walk away now.

Of course, he knew he wouldn't. Whatever the job was, if it needed this bunch of misfits to pull it off, he figured it had to pay well. Either that, or at least offer some fun and interesting ways to end up dead. He stood up, pushing his chair backwards across the floor with another ear-piercing screech. "Gonna get something to eat," he said, setting off across the cafeteria in search of coffee and something greasy. Preferably something involving large quantities of bacon.

Caelum C. Jameson

Gnawing on her lower lip as the absurd girl who would be the First Officer – or an absolute trainwreck – Caelum did a quick headcount and sighed dramatically at the result. If the remaining crew members for whom she only had a communicator number, not even a name, couldn't even be on time for the most important mission of their lives...

One Psyche out of three – only the rude doctor who tore up the paper in front of her and rearranged all the seats in a giant psychic schlong-waving competition. (She conveniently erased the memory of them sliding back into position afterwards.) She should count her blessings.

She was going to leave it another hour, wait through a whole sixty minutes of awkward small talk and tattoo fetishes. Sure, she could follow Tide's lead and grab some grub while she waited but... they didn't have the lovely chocolate-flavoured ration bars she hoarded so viciously – only 'real' food. Her foot tapped one too many times against the linoleum floor and eventually Caelum could take no more. “That's it! Good enough! Come out to the back of the base when you're ready!”

The pilot climbed over the back of her red plastic seat childishly, weaving her way around the tables and chairs and casting a worried glance at the one she assumed was Pascal Souchon on her way to the exit. His was one of the files that contained both a name and a picture, even if all the details were blacked out. As a result, it didn't mention that he was far too silent for his own good. Shaking her head, she waved at the neurotic receptionist at the door with a, “Hi, Nancy!” and whizzed her way out on a cloud of excitement.

“My name's not Nancy...” she heard the receptionist mutter just as the door slid shut.

As her boots sank into the filthy grip of the mud, untied laces leaving dark streaks of the stuff over the leg of her jumpsuit, she grinned at The Medusa's looming figure – all shiny black and grey metal. She didn't want to know nor care if the others were following her or not. She'd fly the damn ship herself if she had to. It was the captain's job to make them all follow. Probably.

"...Lovely." Risty said as the train-wreck of a First Officer burst through the door, gasping for breath. She stared at her for a moment, and then shook her head, sighing. "Just lovely." She glanced at Captain Grayson as he spoke, raising an eyebrow at his little 'speech', a small grin forming on her face. "Oooooh boy, he's a speech giver. This is going to be -so- wonderful..." She nodded slightly at Erik's complement, grinning. "Thank you." She laughed softly as he said he mentioned he was a demolitions expert. "Explosives, hm? I think I can find a few uses for you, then." "Explosives. Lovely. Don't stand too close to him in a firefight."

"You... Ran here from the city?" She asked Valerie, shaking her head in amusement. "Interesting." "Oh fel, she's one of -THOSE people. Happy go-lucky- and bubbly. Doesn't seem like a threat, however. More fool I to trust her, then." She glanced at Tide as he walked off from the group, looking for food. "Grab me something too, will ya?" She asked, before lighting another Cigarette, smoking it in silence, looking at Nicki, watching her silently. There was something... Off about her, but at the same time, she wasn't any different than some of the people on The Glycon.

"When I'm ready, hmm?" She said as she watched the pilot dash from the room, and she rose to follow her. "Don't forget: Food." She called to Tide, grinning as she followed the pilot out of the base - Nodding at the receptionist slightly. "Apparently it is now, Nancy." She said, before exiting the base. "...That's the Medusa?" She asked, disappointment evident in her voice. "...How..nice..." What a piece of shit. It'll break in half before we leave orbit, I swear. At least it has a SIGMA FTL Drive. That'll stay good no mater what." She glanced down at the mud, and scowled slightly as her boots were getting caked with mud. "I hate planets." She muttered. The most you'd get covered with in space was Oil from the mechanical parts. And blood. Blood always got all over her and her armor, it seemed. Not that she minded - Oil and blood both smelled nice, especially if it was UNES blood.