[b]Engine Room[/b]

All Connor wanted was just a good night's rest.

The day before had been incredibly taxing. Not only was it the coldest day of the year, it was also the one day when he had to marshal out with the rest of his regiment to go on some exercise to prove that yes, they still knew how to fight. Even though he went along with it like every other militiaman, Connor never saw a point to the exercises. The Shetlands were about as far away from civilization as one could get without going to darkest Africa or the ends of the Earth. The most 'action' they ever saw just involved a handful of them sailing out to chase away Danish or Norwegian fishermen who entered British waters.

He was so worn out by the time he got home that he had simply just dropped his rifle on the floor and fell face-first into his bed, still wearing his uniform. Washing up was something that could wait till the next day, he had thought. At that point in time, he wanted nothing more than to just close his eyes and sleep. Thus, when he woke up and found himself in a place which he could only describe as being a cross between a dream and nightmare, he felt his heart skip more than just a single beat.

He quickly got to his feet and looked around him. There were others with him, some asleep, two awake and seemingly busy doing something with some odd contraption that he had never seen before. In fact, the entire room was alien to him; it looked like one of the engine rooms of the steamers which occasionally docked at the Shetlands for resupply, but at the same time, it looked far too advanced, like something out of a writer's imagination. He did not like this at all, but forced himself to remain calm. There was no way he was going to get anything done if he started panicking, though for the first time, he found himself wishing he had his rifle with him.

The second thing he did was to look down at his own body. Yes, he was still in his uniform, and it still looked as dirty as it was when he fell asleep in it. He took a look at each of the people around him. While they looked normal - or at least what he thought was normal - he still found himself feeling more at ease when he felt the hilt of his sword bayonet, even though it was notched and worn from being used for everything other than its intended purpose. 

Once he had gotten his bearings, he figured that if he was going to find his way out, he was going to have to work with the people around him. The two studying the contraption looked approachable enough, and so Connor carefully made his way towards them. "This was not how I wanted to wake up," He said and cleared his throat, trying to keep his tone as light as he could. "Connor O'Flaherty. I take it neither of you know what's going on either?"