[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/016f18e0-0d91-4dcd-a79f-8c9f1b1739fb.jpg[/img]
[h2][color=6ecff6]Fox[/color][/h2][/center]

“-ain speaking. I repeat, all crew proceed from cryostasis chambers to ready stations. Pandora will reach orbit in one hour. Follow the post-hibernation routine and proceed to your station by then. I repeat…”

	With a harsh start, the young man who had chosen to be called Fox jolted back into the land of the living and out of cryosleep. Pushing himself up and out of the cryopod, Fox made it about half a step before almost face-planting into the deck as his still not quite awake legs gave out from underneath him. One hand waving a technician away with an irritated grunt, Fox half pushed, half dragged himself back to his feet before determinedly staggering towards the showers. With long practiced efficiency, first developed out of cruel necessity and later refined by regimented training, the young man quickly showered, dressed and geared up before making his way to the mess hall; this time on steadier legs.

	Absentmindedly grabbing a MRE, Fox moved to join the other pilots, casually plopping himself down in an open seat. Briefly fiddling with his PDA, Fox tosses it down on the table and starts signing.

[color=6ecff6][i]"Morning. Haven't missed the party, have I?"[/i][/color]

	The PDA translates, speaking in a soft, artificial tenor. Digging into his MRE, Fox offers a slight nod towards Konstantin. Though not many of them had an extensive opportunity to get to know each other before setting sail, the two had developed something of an immediate rapport after learning of each other's experience as expendable conscripted pirate chaff.