William Harper
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Location: Retribution, Bridge
Zero core shielding. Older model ship. Flying directly into atmo without so much as a hailing ping. Harper had read about this in reports, heard stories from prisoners and other pilots. He checked the instrumentation again, just to make sure. Reavers. It could be noting else.
The misplaced pilot had seen several recordings of the aftermath, the victims, of these creatures that he did not believe were people any longer. And of course, when the vid from the Miranda colonies exploded across the Cortex, he saw, just like everyone else. It left an impact. Somewhere underneath the surface of Harper's solid exterior, a cold hand closed into a fist around his viscera. These were
things that were once human, that now existed purely to deny anything that moved a decent end.
Yes, the possibility of Death By Sodomy followed by being the guest of honor at an impromptu brunch of People Sashimi was not his idea of a good time. So much so, in fact, that it stirred up a heretofore flutter of nerves that usually only took him when he thought about that fucking rock, floating in the Halo and away from human reckoning, that he was forced to labor and subsist upon for the
last three years. Maybe the Halo took away a portion of his nerve. True enough, he wasn't quite the same man he was, years ago. More prone to violence, certainly. And apparently, significantly more jumpy about certain things.
Of course, their Gunner wasn't helping. He was anxious, obviously. So was Harper.
"We have our orders from the Captain, Sergeant Williams. We escort the Firefly vessel offworld, and engage if necessary. If they're after us and not some quiet settlement to eat, they'll attack with harpoons first. We will have range. Don't worry though - If they attack, I'll try to make them miss."
Foy Coiffeur
Location: Retribution, Bridge
The foppish gentleman carrying the magnum bore auto-locking man portable sniper cannon (otherwise known as Foy with his Callahan) bobbed up and down on the balls of his feet, as if he were readying himself for a rousing bout of fisticuffs. He wasn't sure exactly why, but in this moment a minor fit of excitement overcame him.
Hostile crew on the ground, doing Who Knows What, additionally a hostage situation brewing. And all the while, it appeared that they were indeed upon a planet selected for a good Reaving, just as his lifelong friend and fellow Farradayan, Jahosafat Moreau, had predicted.
"Ah, but this is the most delightful calamity I have witnessed in quite a stretch of time, Dr. Moreau. I daresay, you possess a singular aptitude for locating the absolute best of social functions, and securing me an invitation, sir." Foy took a deep bow, extending his fine felt bowler in his left hand in front of him.
"Why, I feel like a child who has just tasted sweet and salty carnival fare, waiting in line for the Superfluous Plum Blossom Tilt-a-Whirl for the very first time. I've not tangled with angry Reavers and scorned women on a two-front conflict before today. I am curious as to which is the more dangerous of our adversaries. I doff my cap to you, Doctor." 
