[@Xandrya]

After finishing up his breakfast, Grayson cleaned up a little and retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge. Amy wasn't in their room when he walked in. As much as he wanted to stay and talk this out with her, he knew Benny would be waiting on him, so instead he walked over to the desk, pulled out a notepad and quickly scribbled a note: 

[i]'Ames,
Hope you feel better, although I know there was something still bugging you, maybe we could talk about that tonight? I really wanted to say this in person, but Stryker's given me a job to do- turning part of the gym into a firing range, I'll be there if you need anything love.[/i]

He flicked on the small lamp and left the water bottle and his note within the small circle of light, hoping it would draw her attention, he headed out for the gym.

[@Rultaos]

He had a few minutes to size up the gym and start shoving things aside before Benny returned with tools.

"So, Foreman Grayson, how're we gaunnie turn this gym inta' a range worthy o' dangerous bastarts like us?"

"Well, don't really have a ton of room do we?" he said as he looked from corner to corner, sizing up the room "I mean, honestly, how big is this room end ta end- 30 feet? If that? Won't be much of a marksman's range that's fer sure. Stryker said there was steel plating down in cargo we could bolt to the walls, but dependin' on the ammo bein' used, no tellin' what could happen, could bounce right back off it, or blow right through it, and the wall behind it. No, think our bes' bet is to get ahold of a roll of insu-gel next time we hit port, ya ever seen that? Low-cost insulatin' material they use in prefab homes on th' colonies. Think they use it as a base fer the rubber rooms in asylums too. We put the steel plating up as backing, stick a couple layers of the insu-gel on, fasten it into place and then it's off to the races. Could even grab a stack of those paper targets, stick 'em right to the gel."

[@Shard][@Gardevoiran]

"Alright kid, well I'll let you know when it's all ready. Enjoy the food, I'm gonna head on over, help the guys out."
He nodded in farewell at Willow and started to walk away, he hadn't even made it to the door of the gym mere paces away when a beep sounded from the datapad in his pocket. He almost didn't recognize it, having gone so long without that annoyingly loud tone piercing his eardrums. It was the signal of an incoming transmission from the Alliance. He acknowledged the hail and proceeded up to his quarters to answer the transmission from his private terminal.

An old familiar face, though not necessarily a welcome one, filled the screen.
"How you doing Stryker?"
"Dawson" Stryker said simply, trying to keep the disgust from showing on his face.
"Aww, don't give me that buddy, I know it's been a while, but things are movin' slow all across the galaxy right now. It's a long, long game of chess, and sometimes you have no other choice but to nudge the fucking pawns forward, space by space."
"I'm surprised you know what chess is... what do you want?"
"Oh, just a courtesy call to tell you that we've got another recruit for your merry band of degenerates. Even wrangled together a supply drop for ya out of the kindness of my heart." Stryker couldn't help but flash a smile at that, it was always satisfying to see the hatred between them was mutual.
"Transmitting the dossier now. We dropped him and the supplies with our agent on Laredo, in the Miranoi Cluster. According to the GPS tracking on the Revenant, seems like you're only an hour or so away from that system. No other orders right now, but if you keep within transmission range, that could change soon. Dawson out."

As the screen went black, Stryker leaned back in his chair and sighed, rubbing his eyes, letting the frustrations of being left adrift wash over him. As much as he hated being, as Dawson had put it, a fucking pawn, he was actually wishing for orders, just for a bit of action to bring some excitement into his life. He sat forward and thought for a moment about Rokarr, what Sol had said to him, and remembered his silent resolve. The action would come soon enough, one way or another. As he composed himself, he opened up a comms line to Tibulus in the cockpit.
"Got some coordinates for ya Tibulus. Before you ask, no, not a mission, just a pickup. Laredo, Miranoi Cluster."