John looked around the galley as more and more people arrived and made their presences known. [i]Great. People. I hate people. Nine times out of ten, they start shooting at you as soon as they've got the chance. And I can't shoot these guys because I'm supposed to be working with them.[/i] When one of his new cyborg compatriots walked into the room to greet everyone, the mercenary replied with a short groan, acknowledging Valian's question but not putting in the effort to give a real response, which in itself sort of answered the question.

Having nothing else to do, John took a look at the datapad on his wrist to see if there had been a decision on which mission the team would do. He was a bit surprised at the outcome. Out of the nine people on the ship, seven had voted for the same mission. [i]The one I picked at random must have been the escort mission as well. Two more people have yet to vote, but it doesn't really matter what they pick now does it?[/i] He took another sip from his coffee, only to find that he had finished it on his last sip. [i]Just the start to another bad day. Escort missions always suck. At least Yamikov-Fujikawa ships are never armed, we don't want some gung-ho captain trying to help, only to get himself killed instead.[/i] The mercenary checked his datapad one last time to see what they're estimated time of arrival would be. [i]One hour before we reach orbit, huh? Great, plenty of time for someone to try and annoy me further.[/i]