A whole bunch of expertly evasive military buzz words, and then they were done. Just like that, 200 people, all finished mourning five people killed while they were sleeping. Deli had never stuck with a thing in her life -- not school, or any New Year's resolutions, or the old robotics club [i]she'd[/i] founded, or a single one of the half dozen tangled knitting projects she'd started back when her mother was still into stuff like that -- but she promised herself then and there she would find time to check on Fredo and Diego every night before bed.

The excitement apparently over, the young demolitionist opted not to return to her seat, her patience spent and owing, fidgeting against a wall as a middle-aged Asian woman fiddled with that thing Deli was now beginning to suspect was not a trash compactor. Ah, well. You win some, you lose some. She was just thinking she'd duck out, maybe go check on her brothers before finding out which toys she'd get to play with -- when someone else stood up with a question. 

He'd hardly even opened his mouth before Deli was grinning, wondering just how long it'd be before he started yelling at people to get off his lawn. Her grin widened when he mentioned the mining crew -- she and the original dictionary entry for 'curmudgeon' were going to be partners, then -- until she realized the implications of what he was saying.

She'd been so scared shitless after hearing Diego and Fredo were maybe dead, the First Sergeant's announcements that their files had been opened had gone in one ear and out the other. [i]As a result...some shift members and crew have been changed...[/i]

Deli had been changed. What did that mean? And how much did they know? And who was in the 'they'?

The Curmudgeon -- whom the Sergeant had called Bill, but Deli thought 'Curmy' fit so much better -- was sitting down now, apparently somewhat mollified, but Deli was sure he'd said something about 'half the mining team' having some jail time under their belts. Half the mining team? Half [i]her[/i] mining team? All handling tiny ships and explosives, no less. Deli felt her heart pound against her chest, and did her absolute best to keep her face blank as she stole another look at Curmy. Others were introducing themselves now, among them the pilot of the same mining pod she'd been assigned to. She missed his name, but caught his face and looked back and forth between him and the blue-haired kid who would presumbly -- hopefully -- be responsible for keeping them all alive.

Assuming Deli didn't fuck something up again. 

Assuming it really [i]had[/i] been coincidence that had landed a veritable Breakfast Club of movie cliches-turned-criminal all together in a metal box roughly the size of a coffin. One they'd be shooting out into empty, unpoliced space on a regular basis. 

So much for no segregation.