The station was the size of a small city. That was why, when it came time to leave, the three found themselves at a trolley stop. Yasha sat on the bench, sprawled out with his duffle bag sitting next to him. Isam and Omar stood by the 'trolley stop' sign, talking amongst themselves. Isam's old army bag was slung over his shoulder, and Omar's brown suitcase sat on the floor behind them. Yasha pretended not to be interested in their conversation, but he was mildly curious. Even so, it didn't matter. The two were speaking in French, and he barely knew two words of the language. 

"<You didn't have to do this,>" Isam said, looking over at his partner. Omar looked back at him and smiled. 
"<No, I didn't. But I wanted to. If I let you go play space cowboy by yourself, you might come back acting like Yasha.>" He chuckled. Yasha lifted his head.
"Hey! I know my name when I hear it, assholes," He grumbled aloud, his voice lightly accented. Isam and Omar looked back at him for a second before Isam began speaking again. 
"<Well, I'm glad that you're coming. I know the kitchen won't be as extravagant as the one here, but I'll be able to visit you more often.>"
"<A kitchen is a kitchen,>" Omar said, "<How nice it is depends on the chef. I'll working alone, which may be a nice change. It means I can arrange it however I like. I've actually been looking forward to this, to a little adventure.>"
"<Hopefully not [i]too[/i] much adventure.>"

"When you two are done playing Jules et Jim, the trolley's here." Yasha stood and grabbed his bag off the bench. The trolley looked like an elongated golf cart. The driver smiled at them as they climbed on. 
"Where to?" 
"Docking bay 324," Isam said. "Thank you." 

The drive was fairly quick. There weren't many people out this time of morning, so the trolley's tracks were clear. Omar watched as the scenery drifted by: the shops, the eateries, the gardens. He wasn't going to lie, he would miss this place. Hopefully, their assignment wouldn't last too terribly long. Isam was quiet the whole way, thinking about what the future might hold for them. Yasha, about halfway through the drive, broke the silence with "Do you think they'll have any krasotka?" 
Isam sighed deeply and rolled his eyes. 

When they arrived, the three got off and took their bags. They got there just in time to see the captain, Yasha and Isam could recognize him from previous encounters, leading a man onto the ship. 
"Hey Kirk," Yasha called out to him. "Your A team has arrived." He grinned widely. It took him about two seconds to spot the female Hibros and waggle his eyebrows at her. Isam pretended not to know him. He went up to Julius and offered him his hand. "I look forward to serving with you," He said formally. His voice held a stronger accent, Arabic, than Yasha's, but it was still comprehensible. He then motioned to Omar. "This is my partner, Omar. He was recruited as your chef." 
"Nice to meet you, Captain Briggs." Omar smiled and offered his hand as well. Omar had lived in France long enough to actually develop a bit of their accent, but it wasn't quite as strong as Isam's. He couldn't help but notice the distinct smell of alcohol. Had their captain been drinking?