Abby stopped mid step, her brow furrowing curiously for a moment as she turned back around, toward the dark-haired woman on the end row.

"Dr... Albright, yes?" Abby quite literally smacked herself in the forehead, a small laughing sigh as she began to walk back to the woman she'd only just passed. "No excuses here, my head has been going a thousand miles a minute - then again... Oh, you probably don't remember me."

Abby laughed as she knelt beside the veterinarian's chair, one arm resting on her knee. "Things were a lot hectic at the time though, I can't blame you. Abigail Larson - 'Abby,' please. I was with the soldiers who arrived at your wildlife sanctuary?"

Hectic was likely the understatement of the century for that day, but Dr. Albright already seemed upset, on edge - instinctively, Abby chose her words with a care. "I should have at the time, but there never seemed a good moment. I wanted to say thank you; a belated thank you for my son. He was one of the kids who came to see your wolves after they were brought aboard the Copernicus. The bald eagle too, the injured one. Michael had never seen these animals before up close - none of them had. He and his buddies couldn't stop talking about them."

"You were so busy, but really, that meant a lot... "

The silent buzz of the tablet's alarm rang through her knee where it was perched, her brow lifted curiously as she glanced down at the screen. Abby frowned, biting her lip as she stood. "I'm sorry Dr. Albright. Excuse me... But I would love to catch up after this, if you'd like?" Her words were sincere, a genuinely hopeful set of her fingers on the younger woman's arm before she had to turn away back to the stage, and take an honest to God second look at her tablet screen.

Under normal circumstances Abby would have replied via voice-activated response, but she honestly did not wish to speak aloud at this moment. The odds of being overheard were near nil, but Abby's fingers flew across the virtual keyboard anyway. "Good morning Mr. Bach, and thank you for your glowing assessment of my enormous testicular endowment, the size of which apparently would make a whale weep with envy."

Abby did not despise these men and women, these "NI Technicians," not the way that some aboard the Copernicus might. She did not fear the things they could do, their capabilities or their knowledge, nor would she pity them either. Not because she did not feel for their circumstances - far, far from it in truth. But because pity was like to the last thing that would do them any good at all.

They were people, merely people in extraordinary circumstances as was every last living person aboard the Copernicus. Abby would treat them as such, all the way down to the snark that could lighten the mood in an instant - even if she wasn't particularly feeling it herself. "But Big Bill's a teddy bear you know. Really. Make sure you give him a great big hug if you ever get to meet him. He definitely likes great big hugs. Oh, and lockdown procedures will likely not be necessary, but should the need arise? The SRT team is present as well. Skull cracking will commence apace."

Abby ascended the stairs to the stage, and checked the time on her tablet, her face stony and set as she stood there, a small figure entirely alone on that stage though, by all appearances, entirely at ease.

A portal slid back behind the stage, the sound of which pulled the First Sergeant's attention directly as she bellowed the Auditorium to attention. Without any visible mic, the First Sergeant's voice was amplified just so throughout the room, such that she might seem to be standing at any point in the many rows of seating. The military personnel in the room would know to stand immediately, while the call served to let the civilians know the briefing was at hand.

The man who emerged from the black portal in the hologram forest strode across the stage, long strides eating the distance between himself and the First Sergeant with a feline grace. A full head of short, neatly-trimmed silver-grey crowned him, the ACUs he wore similar to Abby's own. For anyone in the know, the two stars he wore as insignia proclaimed this man a major general. For anyone else who simply had eyes to see, the man's very aura, his ease and commanding presence proclaimed him "the guy in charge."

"At ease," he called, his voice traveling as simply as the First Sergeant's throughout the space, allowing the military personnel to return to their seats. He joined Abby in the center of the stage, glancing toward her with a curt nod before his attentions turned toward the audience.

"Good morning everyone." His voice was smooth, warm and easy on the ears though the hologram forest disappeared entirely, revealing vast swaths of pale grey and blue screen where once a soft summer day had been. "And welcome Third Shift. For those of you I have not met, I am General Benjamin Lahan, the First Commander of the Copernicus. Thank you for being here and, because I can imagine how most of you must feel?" Lahan laughed softly as he began to pace the stage slowly, making a slow arc as his eyes roamed over every last person in the Auditorium, taking them all in at a glance with those sharp hazel eyes. And if his eyes rested overlong on the roughnecks, on the kid with all the tattoos and blue hair, or on the young, smiling girl with the bouncing ringlets and the dark past? If they lingered on the men and women who, during their lifetimes on Earth, might have taken the left-handed fork in the road more often than the right?

Well there was nothing but warm reassurance to be found in that open, paternal grin.

"I'm going to keep this short for all your sakes, the sake of your stomachs, and the sake of your heads. My office is located in Section One, alongside Navigation - and the door is always open. This morning I wanted to give those of you I haven't had the pleasure of meeting, a face to go with the name, and thank you all personally for being here today."

"And so as a man of my word? I'm turning the reins over to the capable hands of First Sergeant Larson, our new Head of Security. I'll look forward to meeting many of you during the course of your shifts." The General leaned down to speak a private word in her ear before turning to leave

Abby called the Auditorium to attention once more, waiting until General Lahan left the room before she waved the military personnel back to their seats. Some small part of her really wanted to bring the forest back, the one banished by the General. But whatever spell those breeze-teased trees and blazing blue skies might yet have woven was already dissipated, and wasn't likely to return with the news she had to give them anyway.

Abby's gaze searched those faces again. Deliberately. Thoughtfully. She sought the dark eyes of the kindhearted veterinarian, and then looked to Connor, that decent, brilliant kid who looked anything but. To the light-hearted, smiling guy who seemed to have a... Yes, that really was a cat on his shoulder. Abby almost smiled when her eyes found that grinning smartass Reece, and the strangely comforting bulk of the mountain that was Big Bill.

But she really did smile, just a little, when she looked to Gavin: the only man she knew capable of both easy, comfortable silences without expectation, and bedtime stories with Tolkien with that rich, lyrical voice. Abby took that breath of solace gratefully.

"Good morning," she began, her words even and measured. "Yes, I'm First Sergeant Abby Larson and yes, your Head of Security for the next three years of my own shift. Normally this is the point where I, or someone else like me, would make nice introductions and then have all the crew chiefs and section leaders stand, introduce themselves - and then we'd all get back to nursing our headaches or stomach aches for another day or two before we getting to work."

Abby nodded, her unflinching blue-eyed gaze sweeping the audience. "We'll still get to the introductions, but there is some additional information it is my responsibility to pass on to you all. And since every person in here is an adult, I will lay this out simply."

"During the course of Second Shift, five people in stasis died: three women, one man and a child." Abby held up a hand quickly, before anyone could protest. "Next of kin have already been notified, and know who they are."

"At first, it was assumed to be a problem with the cryostasis beds, but that was not so." Abby ran through all the cop speak in her head, the jargon that turned the horrific truth to a more manageable, bloodless banality. "After a fourth woman was attacked, subsequently woken from her medically induced sleep and managed to escape, it became obvious that all five people were murdered by the same man - a cryo tech."

"The man responsible was arrested, tried, and subsequently executed."

Abby did not wait for a reaction. She wasn't done yet, "As a result, previously sealed and secured personnel records have been opened. Some shift members and crews have been changed out - as not a few of you have already discovered. Further, additional security personnel have been woken, and surveillance protocols tightened considerably."

"Legal protocols have been tightened as well. Tampering with a cryostasis bed with the intent to harm, maim or kill the person within is also a capital offense. General Lahan wishes me to assure you all, that your continued safety and security are his utmost priority.

Abby's jaw was clenched tight. Hell, she was halfway sure her molars might shatter at any moment, though all she did was sigh softly through her nose and brace herself. "Are there any questions?"

Immediately people around him exploded into worried and horrified whispers and Connor could only gape and stare wide eyed at the stage. A heavy stone felt like it had just dropped in his gut and a shudder raced up his back.

He had been terrified going into stasis the first time, he’d been afraid that he would never wake up again. The tech’s had assured him though that it would be okay. They had been a great source of comfort when he went under, he had literally placed his life in their hands and trusted them.

But this…

He stood up from his chair while raising his hand and called out loud enough to be heard, “Why would someone do that?” He asked, his hand shaking a bit as he lowered it. He heard a few people call out in agreement, wondering why someone would do something so senseless. Connor sat back down and ran a hand through his hair, looking at Abby and studying her expression. His heart sputtered remembering that she said a child had also been murdered, his mind quickly flashed to Michael.

Remembering that Abby had been behaving pretty lightheartedly before the briefing he relaxed. If Michael had been murdered then she wouldn’t be so calm.

The thought passing he tried to calm down but all he could wonder was why, why would someone do that? This ship was supposed to be safe, it was supposed to protect them until they arrived to their new planet.

He wanted to kick himself for being so naive. He forgot what he, what they were all dealing with here. It wasn’t about aliens anymore. It was all about humans and human nature.

And the realization was a terrifying one.

Abby expected the horror of all those assembled; and in a way, she almost welcomed the gasps and the fearful whispers. These were, after all, the reactions of normal people in the face of genuine evil - and God knew she'd seen her seen her fill of the vile and the wicked in her deployments during the Sino-Korean War. But however strange it might seem, the horrified reactions of so many people in the Auditorium, the regular decency of everyday people like Connor, gave her a measure of comfort.

She wasn't here to be comforted though. She was here to be the face of calm surety, reassurance in a world where they were all brutally reminded, malevolence and death were not found just in the insatiable maw of the alien. Abby waited patiently for a few moments, until the disturbed buzz of the assembly could die down some, but before anyone could yet work themselves up to shouting or – God forbid – hysterics. But most of the men and women on these shifts, held vital positions of responsibility. She would have been genuinely disappointed if any of them really did melt like rock candy in the rain.

"That’s a good question Connor. Honestly, probably the best and only one. And if I could tell you that? We likely wouldn’t be having this conversation. And honestly, to the why… “ Abby opened her arms wide and, though she could only shrug slightly, shaking her head helplessly, she still answered him sincerely – even if her answer was wholly inadequate.

“We both know there isn’t a single explanation I could give that would suffice.” Despite the endless throbbing ache in her head, right behind her eyes, Abby would have given most anything to hop off the stage there and then, to wrap Connor a big, reassuring hug. The betrayal and alarm in his eyes matched what she imagined she’d have found in Michael’s own if he were here right now, hearing something like this.

But Michael was “asleep,” and Connor was a grown man, and there wasn’t a single thing she really could do for him, but treat him like one.

Her eyes swept the auditorium, and eventually worked their way to the men and women of her security forces, and SRT Bravo, seated as most soldiers are wont – attentively and together, and toward the front of the assembly. They’d all been woken and debriefed some 48 hours ago on the situation – though none were yet privy to the suspicions and concerns the outgoing commander had shared with her. With all her heart Abby hoped Lee's confidences would stay just that - suspicions and concerns that, while worthwhile to consider theoretically, remained in the abstract and the speculative.

Stella blinked away her tears in surprise when she felt a hand on her arm. Startled that she’d lost herself to her sadness so thoroughly she looked up into the sincere eyes of the military woman crouching before her. It was a good few seconds before her ears caught up with what that mouth was saying and even then she felt herself taken up and washed away in a flood of memories. No, she didn’t remember the name of the woman but as memories of that frantic time hit her like churning snow melt she recognized the pretty, sincere face among those captured in the memory. She nodded, her throat too closed off for words when the woman mentioned her charges. The wolves, Daedalus the eagle and so many others who had been rushed onto the ship and so many who had been left behind because there simply wasn’t time.

She recalled to the press of children who watched as each of her charges was given over to the care of another, settled into this ark before she’d been rushed off to Stasis with just enough time to see her pack settled and little else. Time, she’d lost time and so much more and as the woman straightened and walked to the stage Stella felt a surge of impatience fill her. She’d lost time, but her charges hadn’t. How many still lived? How did they fare? She hadn’t thought that Daedalus would ever fly again, but maybe here in this ship of miracles someone else had been able to mend it for him. Not that it would do him any good. There simply wasn’t room to fly on this ship, not with such a wingspan as he had.

She snapped back to attention and lifted her chin. She wanted to be off, to see to her animals but this debriefing had to be endured before she could do that. Her attention was fleeting, she had no stomach for these sorts of things and the gentleman who arrived and broke the illusion of the trees was every inch that for all his warmth and concern. The hole he left in the lie kept drawing her eyes and making her skin prickle. The prickle only intensified when the earnest woman took over the meeting and delivered her news. Dead, in stasis? Murdered.

She shivered and let the cacophony of voices crying out in protest and shouting questions wash over her. The one question that got through and answered in its own way. But she was troubled. Secure personnel documents opened, people shifted as a result? What did that mean? What had they found in the records of those shifted? She was surprised to find her hand was raised, a question on her tongue.

“What did you find in the records that required shifts to be changed?”

She hoped the prickling across her skin, the strange unformed worry were false. She just wanted to get to her charges, to touch their fur, to breathe in their scents and linger in their uncomplicated presence. But there were questions.

“None taken.” Gavin said in reply to Bill’s mention about not wanting to visit him in a professional capacity. “Trust me, my practice of medicine is a secondary feature necessitated by humanity’s current, shall we say, less than flourishing reality.” Gavin opened his hands as if surrendering to this truth. “Still, if you should ever need anything, my door is always open.”

With that brief exchange over, Gavin allowed himself the simple pleasure of watching another unfold before him. The young man with the electric-blue hair approached the trio of two miners and a doctor, and took a hesitant seat before plucking up the offered donut.

Sounds like the beginnings of an awful joke, Gavin thought with a smirk.

He listened with interest as the blue-haired man introduced himself as Connor, and as a mechanical engineer assigned to maintain and repair the mining ships. Gavin’s eyebrows rose with an impressed air as Connor continued on despite the ribbing from both Bill and Owen, and informed upon his prestigious tutelage.

The fact that the miners held little stock in Connor’s pedigree did not surprise him, though it did not make the encounter any more pleasant to watch. Gavin felt an empathetic twinge of discomfort for the young mechanic. As Connor at last departed, looking justifiably put off at the unspoken price of the donut, Gavin made a mental note to meet the MIT grad himself when time permitted.

The meeting began shortly following the donut incident, and Gavin settled in to his chair as General Lahan was heralded into the Auditorium by Abby’s voice. He watched with perfunctory interest as the commander of the Copernicus spoke his greeting, and gave the obligatory note about his door being perpetually open. Gavin was somewhat put off with the man’s effort, as even given the General’s high capacity, he had to have a free fifteen minutes in his schedule to give an update on the ship’s voyage himself.

Oh well, Gavin smiled, looking to the bright side as the General disappeared. At least we have Abby to do the honors for us.

What followed, however, was a wrinkle no one in the Auditorium was prepared for. Least of all Gavin. Sitting up in his chair, Gavin’s eyes were narrowed with intensity. The corners of his mouth tugged downward in disgust as Abby described the events and tragedy that had been Second Shift.

The capacity for human cruelty was shocking, all the more so when it was carried out at the brink of Armageddon. It was a truth that soured Gavin’s stomach, and turned it within him. Five souls. That had been the same number Abby and her team had saved that day back at the Mountain when he had been with Michael, her son. Such a correlation made the loss all the more poignant.

Once again, the ledger of humanity moves ever closer to the red. Except this time, it was of our own doing.

Gavin listened as Abby was bombarded with questions. Connor’s query about motivation sparked a thought in his own mind. His hand rose, and after a woman that Gavin recognized to be one of the veterinarians asked after the reasoning for shift changes, he added his own voice to the room.

“The victims,” he said, “how were they killed?”

Deli was, of course, late to the briefing. She was late to most things, just one of many reasons she'd never bothered following Dacio into the military. Not when smoking barefoot in a Spanish meadow somewhere was so much more...rewarding. Besides, she figured she was only going to enjoy the view for so long. She may as well get her appreciation time in now, while she was still all wide-eyed and innocent.

Innocentish.

Sergeant Larson had already been introduced, and was a few minutes into her pre-icebreaker when Deli squeezed in, selecting a seat off to the side where she could fidget when she got bored, without offending too many of the military personnel in attendance. Not for the first time she thought Dacio would have done well here. But that thought was sort of a bummer, so she quickly moved on to what Sergeant Larson was saying.

Deli had never been a very strong decision maker.

The nausea she'd been staving off for an hour hit her abruptly as the cold reality of what Larson had said sunk in. Objectively, Deli knew probably only a second or so had passed between the Sergeant's admission and her subsequent reassurances, but it felt much, much longer. Ironic, considering the previous three years had passed in the blink of an eye.
It took a long time for the questions asked to reach her ears. Even then, she didn't register them right away. There was, at first, only one question in her mind, repeating itself over and over and over again, rising in pitch to hit high, sharp, painful notes, the heroine of your favorite thrilled edging down a dark hallways as a gleam of silver bobbed behind her, insidious. Psycho, sans the bathroom and the Oedipus complex.

Three women, one man, and a child.

One man, and a child.

One man, and a --

And she'd thought her brothers would be safer off without her. Yeah. Right.

Without a word, Deli leapt lightly to her feet, skirting chairs and legs like Frogger on crack. She looked for a waste basket, couldn't find one, and went for what she sincerely hoped was a Star-Wars-esque trash compacter tucked into a wall. The front panel slid away with a touch, whereupon Deli was visited by the same nausea that had plagued everyone else when they'd first woken. Unsurprising. Deli was late for most things.

Her task done, the young demolitionist made a face and dragged the back of her hand across her mouth. "Guay," she muttered under her breath. Then, louder, green eyes for Abby and Abby alone: "The...murderer. He confessed? He killed five people, attacked a sixth, all on his own, and no one noticed?" Deli tilted her head to the side, still decidedly green. "How do we know it won't happen again?"

In the following silence, an older Korean man at the back of the room, largely unnoticed until then, said, very gently, "Are the victims' next of kin still awake?"

The implicit question was clear in his demeanor: May I speak to them?

Antoine straightened as Ms -no, First Sergeant- Larson called attention, Mowzer nibbling at his cheek indignantly as the scritches paused. Military discipline didn't fade so quickly, it seemed, though he relaxed quickly once the 'at ease' call came. One hand returned to keeping his cat well and happy then, the other falling down by his hip, thumb hooking into the pocket of his khaki's for support.

And he stayed pretty much like that, despite the news that rocked everyone else back, despite the storm of questions and worries that then surged forwards. He remained steady and calm at the edge of the mass, idly petting his pet, only the faintest smile still remaining.

It wasn't that he didn't care, or didn't agree what happened was horrific, or anything close to that. But unlike most of the crowd gathered to hear these words, he had already known the news- if not every detail.

A medtech killing his cryo-patients? Taking advantage of the then-helpless human beings he had been chosen to oversee? Oh yes, every medtech had heard of that. The news of security changes hadn't told them why, at first, when they were woken up to prepare for the third shift, but it hadn't taken long for word to get out. Whispers traded from the techs of the second shift during those quiet days when barely anyone had been awake. Rumors that flourished even now, after the third shift had woken up, finding nothing but more evidence to support the claims that yes, this had indeed happened.

And every one of Antoine's peers had been asking the same questions: Why? How?

Much of the cryo process -from going to sleep to being woken up- was automated, it had to be. No human could be trusted to accurately calculate the dosage needed for each individual aboard the Copernicus- No human could trust they had accurate enough information on everyone to even attempt such a feat. To drug someone to the point of near-death, where the brain functioned only the absolute barest minimum required to be woken again, called for a kind of precision humans simply weren't capable of.

But they were capable of programming computers that could perform that very task. Computers that could take near-perfect measurements of a person's health, and know precisely the dosage required to induce the state needed for cryo-sleep. Computers that could evenly cool the body down to near-freezing, maintaining the delicate environment required for preservation. Computers that could then warm the body once more, leaving only what residual drug remained as the 'symptoms' of waking from cryo-sleep.

It was work that required repetitive perfection. That was why the computers were set to do their job and only their job. That was why the Techs kept constant watch to ensure no changes led to bugs in the programming, that the computers were kept in top condition, that even in the remote case something went wrong, a human hand was there to fix it.

But this time, a human hand had broken it all. How had he bypassed the security protocols he should never have had access to? How did he manage to individually thaw and re-cool sleepers without any alarm being raised? People were vulnerable in cryo-sleep. That's why there were computers, there were checks, there were walls even a tech couldn't be able to bypass... shouldn't be able to bypass.

But one had. And now everyone knew.

"What do you think, Mowzer?" He murmured the words softly into his pets ear... who promptly turned to rub his cheek down Antoine's nose. "The next round of checkups will be fun, right?"

Shaking his head at his own bad joke, the Medtech smiled a little more and kept himself at the back of the crowd, tending to his cat. It'd be curious how many of his peers had chosen to attend this meeting, if there were those who were too scared to stand in public when the news was dropped. Nothing to blame them for, really, but it was good to hear the official word. Good to see the human reaction. Antoine made no attempt to raise his voice in question alongside the others, or to whisper in horror between those around him, but he did watch, and listen.

It was a bit like rebreaking a bone in order to set it. Painful for all involved, but necessary to heal. This was the low, right here and now, and he hoped others could see that too. The break was made, the setting was in order, and the healing would soon begin. It would only get better from here on.

Ester sat up at the announcement of the vicious, unthinkable crime against the helpless sleepers. She shot a look at Naomi who was looking at her, the knowledge on her face. An unspoken communication that they would speak about it later passed and Ester turned back to the front. She heard the shouted questions and concerns, remaining silent, leaning forward as if to catch any utterance from the woman at the podium. Naomi ran her hand over the bump of her belly, cradling it protectively.

She knew what had happened and it was worse than what was said. What was done to the women before they died. Naomi shivered and hugged her stomach. She knew the survivor but held her tongue, there would be another time to speak about that. Ester noticed her discomfort and to assuage her own anxiety reached out for her younger sister’s hand, gripping it tight.

Owen Reece forgot about the donuts, his grey eyes narrowing at the words from Abby’s mouth. It made him sick to think about, poor bastards never had a chance to fight back, sleeping in pure innocence, just as all of them had just been. It could have been any of them. He tightened his fists, Connor’s question was a valid one but obviously it could not be answered and if it had, it was not information they were going to likely be privy to.

The doctor asked how they were killed. A question that was on his mind, call it morbid curiosity, but it was not really important. The fact is that someone had gone nuts and played interstellar serial killer. That he had been caught and dealt with was of course a relief but the results were going to resound with the rest of them. Sealed records opened, security tightened. Reece was not particularly worried about himself, though his record would show a conviction for assault, it was probation and if they read the details they would see it was a rather justified beating. His concern was more for his friend Bill, who had served several years in prison for a bar fight.

Would the higher ups separate them? They had already lost their demo man to an accident right before they left Earth. He had some blue haired kid as a mechanic and now a stranger who would be handling explosives around him. Reece did not want another new person. He trusted Bill implicitly and that was something priceless in this new frontier. Reece remained quiet, his pale eyes glaring straight forward, waiting for more information.

In the back, among the people who were family of the professionals or simply regular folks caught up in the last minute gathering of anyone that could be brought aboard, sat a young man who would serve as a line cook in the cafeteria and he listened intently. His elbows were on his knees and his hands folded as he leaned in. He was leanly built, with a few crude inked tattoos on his arms, his hair cropped close. His face was thin but not unpleasant, utterly forgetful but for the scar on his chin and the large dark eyes.

He breathed out slowly, hearing the murmurings of horror at the murders and he agreed, it was terrible. He was glad they caught the man and took care of the problem. It was the announcement of records being unsealed that made him sweat. Rubbing his palms against his jeans, he leaned back, his heart pounding.

He welcomed even the distraction of the pretty girl with unruly curls running to puke and he wondered if it was stasis or the reaction to what had occurred. He thought for a moment to get up and see if she was alright but remained seated, it would not be good for him to do such a thing. The less attention he called to himself the better, especially after what the security would read in his file. He wondered if it would become public knowledge and he shifted uncomfortably.

Abby simply held up a hand where she stood, her voice low, measured and calm. She'd had forty-eight hours to digest this little slice of hell, and that still hadn't made this insanity sit any easier. Five people dead. She was still reeling, reconciling this body count with the number of people they'd saved on one of the last rescue missions on Earth, just outside The Mountain.

Five people!

Her head throbbed miserably with a mixture of pounding rage and lingering cryosickness, but the First Sergeant stood as cool and steady as she ever had. "I understand you have questions. If you'll give me a moment, and your attention, I will try to answer them all best I can." She turned to the veterinarian, to Dr. Albright whose question first caught her attention.

Technically, Abby hadn't had to do 'cop speak' in more than three years. But it was good to know, it was a skill that didn't fade too badly with disuse. "In the judgment of authorities during Second Shift, the nature of these crimes was deemed sufficient cause to open previously sealed records - to include the results of background investigations and criminal history checks."

"I can't speak to the deliberation process since I wasn't there. Nor, as I'm sure you understand, can I speak to the specifics in those files."

Abby shrugged almost imperceptibly, a small smile for the young vet. "Well, honestly I wouldn't even if I could. But in an overabundance of caution and concern for the safety of the people aboard the Copernicus, more security personnel will be working these remaining shifts to Canaan and the composition of certain crews has been changed."

Her eyes passed meaningfully over Reece and Bill, but did not linger. For all the cavalier smartassery and the surly curmudgeonry, these two were damn good at their jobs - and they'd lost just as much as anyone here. Sure, they had pasts that weren't white as driven snow. A lot of people did, but they didn't deserve this shit. Hell, there were likely several dozen others that didn't either.

"But all the shift changes and crew composition have already been determined and, to my knowledge, there are no more are on the horizon." It was the only comfort on that matter she had to give.

Her azure-eyed gaze fell on the biologist with the impeccable taste in reading material, vintage clothing and, according to Michael's glowing report, last generation videogames. Abby winced inwardly at his words, though outwardly she only nodded, acknowledging she'd be fielding his question next.

'Damn it all, Gavin... '

She understood of course: the doctor in him would want all the details that could be given. Nobel Peace Prize nominees weren't exactly known for their incurious ways and, any other time, that insatiable, clinical inquisitiveness was one of his more endearing qualities. But at this moment, their purposes were at a crossroads. Gavin wanted to know, to understand every facet of what had happened; but Abby simply wanted to keep some measure of calm. Nothing about what she had to say would give anyone peace of mind, but for now she'd settle simply for keeping order.

Abby watched without comment as a pretty young woman toward the back, who'd arrived to the briefing late - but just in time, it seemed, to catch Abby's announcement - vomited into what the First Sergeant could only pray was a waste container, and not the holographic circuitry panel she suspected it was. Her garbled question echoed Gavin's in many ways, asking for details she would not give, and yet tinged with a hope she'd get some kind of reassurance this couldn't happen again.

Her mind raced for that perfect balance: just enough details to inform, without the unnecessary specifics that would outrage, sicken or horrify. "I hope you understand Dr. Brock, that because there are still family members and close friends who remain awake, I won't be detailing specifics here. I hope it will suffice to say, that any number of protocols were bypassed on the cryobeds. The 'how' of what this sick... "

Abby's voice trailed off for only a moment, catching herself before any very real fury of her own slipped past her lips. "How the murderer did what he did, was, and is, currently being investigated and addressed, to ensure nothing of the sort can ever happen again. I'm not a cryotech, and I'm sure any explanation of mine would fail on many levels to give you a proper answer anyway. But this is a matter that is being addressed, and round-the-clock remote surveillance in all the cryopods has been implemented as well."

Though her voice was cool, poised and professional, there was an unspoken plea in her eyes. 'Let that be enough for now Gavin. Please.'

Without skipping a beat, Abby's gaze turned toward the distinguished looking man in the back. Her brow furrowed for a moment as she glanced down to the tablet screen in her hand, and then looked back up to him once more.

"Dr... Pastor Park?" she began tentatively, unsure the title he would prefer to be addressed by. "The family members who were in stasis have been returned though, as I mentioned, there are still people directly affected who remain awake. They have already been given your contact information, and there will be a private dossier waiting for you when you have settled in - along with your predecessor's reports."

Collab between Igraine and RoadRash

Five people murdered...sufficient cause to open previously sealed records...background investigations and criminal history checks…

Bill snorted, shaking his grizzled head in indignation. He understood, on an academic level, why they had opened the records; he also knew that his history consisted of a single assault, exacerbated only by his size and levels of intoxication at the time it had occurred. They had no reason to suspect him of being a potential serial killer. In the decades since his release from prison, he hadn’t had so much as a speeding ticket. A few punches had been thrown in the intervening years, sure, but nothing he’d ever done time for.

Still, it galled him to no end to know that everyone “in the know” now knew him as “Big Bill the Convict” instead of “Big Bill the Drill-hand.” That label would stick, it always did, and it bugged him that the first thought in people’s heads when they looked at him now would be to wonder if he was going to snap and cave somebody’s head in with his boulder-like fists.

He sat quietly in his seat, fists clenched, until the last of the questions had been answered, then rose to his full height to address the First Sergeant himself.

“So, these records y’all opened. What’s the plan there? Y’gonna start segregatin’ those of us who messed up back in the day? I know we ain’t all angels up here. Half the minin’ crew’s been locked up for one thing or another. Gonna be hard for me to run a drillin’ operation with a cop standin’ halfway up my ass.”

Abby cocked an eyebrow as she looked to Bill, and honestly she just had to bite her inner lip for a few seconds. Hard. Because she was really about to burst out laughing, somewhere between nervous, exhausted laughter and genuine mirth at the mental image of one of her MPs dangling off the backside of “Big Bill” like some monstrous hemorrhoid.

The sharp pain chased the giggles away - laughter that, at this moment, no one else would find funny at all. Not even her. Tired, damn she was tired and could probably sleep for days. Well - should sleep for days. Abby somehow doubted she’d be doing much after this briefing - if she really did get a chance to lay down anyway - but stare at the ceiling of her cabin, or at the snow-covered forest path she kept in her own portal.

Abby took a deep breath, stony-faced and appropriately somber all over again. “No Bill. No one’s records are open to public scrutiny - that I can tell you. There will be no armed guards, no one peeking over anyone’s shoulder 24/7. Hell, I honestly don’t have that kind of manpower, even if that was what anyone wanted to happen.”

“No segregation. No armed escorts. But as far as I’m concerned, folks deserve to know that their criminal records and files and background checks have been reviewed by the people in charge.”

Nodding grumpily, his frown never leaving his face, Bill sat back down with a creak of upholstery. Though he was still irritated, it mollified the old roughneck somewhat to know that his past wouldn’t be held against him. Not in a way that interfered with his work, anyway. He was sure there would still be sidelong glances from the security teams, and that old wariness from the bosses that always comes from knowing they’re dealing with an ex-con who can (and has, unfortunately) broken a human spine with his boot, but there wasn’t much to be done about it.

Abby’s resigned gaze fell over the auditorium as Bill Cothran sat back down again. She knew he wasn’t happy, and it was more than his usual grouch at that. Hell, she wasn’t either - not by a longshot. But there wasn’t a damn thing to be done for it - all these ‘security measures’ had been a fait accompli anyway, long before they woke her.

The First Sergeant waited several long moments, ensuring there would be no more questions forthcoming before she moved on to the more banal aspects of the briefing. ’At least publicly.’ The thought rolled through her head like the ominous rumble of distant thunder, promising the storm to come. She had no illusions that this matter was even remotely settled among the members of the Third Shift.

Still, something that vaguely resembled a smile crept on her face as she glanced toward Sergeant Davis, the wise ass Marine with her kid’s name. “A few introductions before we all head out today, so you can put some faces with the names, and know how to contact the security personnel if you need.” Abby strode to the edge of the stage, a lift of her chin indicating Mike was “on” - finally - for this round. “Sergeant Davis?”

Mike got to his feet and walked smoothly to the stage, the soft hisses and whirs of his prosthesis nearly inaudible. It was an advanced model, state-of-the-art, and he’d long since learned to compensate for the microsecond delay between his nerve impulses and the motion of the leg. As a result he moved as nimbly as he ever had, even at a dead sprint. As the Marine mounted the steps, the contained energy behind every movement was palpable; despite his calm, gentle eyes and open, easy smile, it was clear that he lived on a perpetual hair-trigger, capable of exploding into action at a moment’s notice.

Moving with the liquid grace and confidence common to all warriors, he muttered a quiet “Rah, First Sergeant” as he passed Abby, giving her a brief grin before crossing to the center of the stage and turning to face the crowd. His clear green eyes swept the assembly briefly, cataloguing everyone present and habitually noting stances, body language, and basic temperaments in an instant. His spine was ramrod straight, shoulders back and chin up, his black-sheathed arms clasped loosely in front of him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Sergeant Michael Davis,” he began, his calm voice carrying easily to the farthest reaches of the room. “I lead Special Response Team Bravo, here aboard the Copernicus. I just wanted to take a moment to introduce myself and my men, and reassure you that the ‘men in black’ over on the Starboard side of the room are here for you. We’re not government storm-troopers, despite our appearances.”

Smiling, the Marine continued, “I’ve served nine years in the Corps, as a member of 1st Force Reconnaissance Battalion out of Camp Pendleton, California. I participated in a number of combat operations, both overt and covert, in the Korean Peninsula and South China, and have been trained in everything from advanced marksmanship and airborne insertion to shipboard combat techniques and zero-gravity search and rescue.”

Allowing his eyes to roam the audience once more, seeking eye-contact with everyone present as he paused briefly for the information to settle before motioning towards his men.

“Corporal Lopez there is a Recon Marine as well, and Specialists Sullivan, Decker, and Sczruba are all Army Rangers, with similar training and combat records. Each of us is also a certified Combat Lifesaver, so we’re roughly equivalent to hospital EMTs in terms of medical expertise.”

The assembled SRT members raised their hands at the mention of their names before allowing their Sergeant to continue.

“I just want to reassure each of you that you are in good hands. The Military Police will be handling basic security throughout the ship. They’re highly trained, first-rate soldiers, and will be dealing with the day-to-day patrols and responses here aboard Copernicus. You’re safe under their care. My team will be prepared, trained, and equipped to respond to emergencies ranging from heart attacks and workplace accidents, right up to a full-scale boarding operation. Not that I’m anticipating one.”

Mike grinned and stepped back, nodding to First Sergeant Larson.

“You’re in good hands, folks. If you have any questions, or need me for any reason, my door’s open 24/7. Anything further, First Sergeant?”

“No Sergeant Davis, I think you pretty much covered it all there,” Abby laughed softly, with a grin to match the Marine’s own, shaking her head as she lay her hand on his shoulder. She tilted her head just enough to cover the inch or two in height he had on her, to whisper in his ear.

”Except maybe the translation, Mike. I bet half of what you just put out got auto-filtered by the civilians… “ She clapped his shoulder, still grinning as she turned back to the crowd in the Auditorium.

Mike grinned and gave her a quick wink, out of view of the audience, before stepping respectfully off to the side and assuming an easy “parade rest”, his hands clasped loosely behind his back.

“Before we head out,” she announced, “This would be a good time for the crew chiefs, section leaders and specialists among us to get their own introductions in as well. Faces to names - we’re going to be working together for some time.”

Connor took in a deep breath and tried to calm down and move past the storm of emotions created by the news of the serial killer. It was over and done with. The man had been caught and promptly dealt with. Still it didn’t ease the niggling in the back of his mind of how it could have happened and would it happen again?

He dragged his attention back to the front as the briefing continued, itching to get out of the auditorium and to the mining pods to get to work. He didn’t know what kind of condition the previous engineers left them in.

He didn’t react much when Abby suggested that anyone in a leadership role introduce themselves. He did shift a bit closer to the edge of his seat because the phrase ‘head out’ was uttered and he was ready to get going.

Propping his elbow on an arm rest he rested his temple against his fist as he watched a few people stand up and introduce themselves. A lot of people had worked on the Copernicus so it was impossible to know every face and name of those in leadership roles, especially if the people of Third Shift had changed.

“Connor.” Blinking at the whispered sound of his name he craned his neck back to see a Elizabeth Charles, aka “Charlie” trying to get his attention. He smiled at the older woman’s familiar face and waved his hand slightly.

Charlie made a ‘stand up’ motion with her hand and Connor frowned in confusion for a few moments before it clicked.

Oh crap that’s right, I’m the specialist for the mining ships. He made a face at the thought of standing up and introducing himself in a room of two hundred some odd people. He shook his head and promptly slipped down in his seat until he disappeared from Charlie’s sight. Great job Douglass, you’re a real professional. He sighed, practically feeling Charlie’s disapproving look burning holes through his chair.

Sooner you do this, the sooner you can get out of here. He told himself, slowly pulling himself up properly into the chair and then forcing himself to stand. “Hi,” He began, holding up his hand into a lack-luster wave. “My name is Connor Douglass and I’m the specialist for maintenance of the mining ships. If you are assigned to work on them and you need help with anything you can come find me in Hangar 6.” As soon as he was done talking he sat back down and rubbed at his forehead. He looked behind him at Charlie to see her grinning and giving him two thumbs up.

He made a face before sticking his tongue out at her, making her roll her eyes. Yup, completely professional.

Reece looked with amusement as Connor finally stood up and spoke but the sly smile turned down as he said 'Hangar Six'. That was his hangar. He glanced at his tablet, tapping it to bring up the note that told him assignment. Hangar Six, Mining Pod 24, that was his hangar and ship.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered under his breath as the kid stuck out his tongue to the one who had urged him to stand up. "MIT grad, huh?"

It was his turn and he stood up, removing the toothpick from his mouth before he spoke. "Name's Owen Reece, I'm the lead pilot of the mining pods. There are twenty four crews that will be working hard this shift to harvest ice from asteroids to refresh our water supply. I'm a former helicopter pilot and I've got years of mining experience, hell I was born with coal dust in my blood."

He grinned a little, the dimple not quite hidden under his scruffy beard. "We'll do our part to keep this tub running. If any of you'uns got any questions or such, just let me know. I'll be in...Hangar Six."

His gaze dropped to Connor for a brief second before looking back up and he shrugged, "Guess that's about it."

Reece sat back down, stretching out his legs as he looked at Abby up at the podium before his attention shifted to the next person standing up to introduce themselves.

Introductions. The word made Ester's palms start to sweat and she rubbed them on the thin cotton slacks. She was going to have to stand up and speak about herself in front of all these people, right after the somber and startling news they were given. She took a deep breath and felt Naomi's hand pat her shoulder. Ester never liked to be the center of attention, she preferred to bask in the shine of those like her sister who radiated good nature and were open and friendly. It is why they got along so well and it is also why her eyes had been riveted to the handsome Marine who seemed to glow with energy. But now, the spotlight was rapidly heading her way and she could feel herself shrink against her chair.

After the blue haired mechanic with all the ink introduced himself, a few more stood up and spoke briefly and suddenly it was her turn. Ester stood up, feeling her knees shake and she pressed her hands against her thighs to steady them. It was not the first time she had to speak to an audience but it never failed to unnerve her. Even in the dimness of the auditorium she could feel their eyes on her. She cleared her throat and looked over the audience, her large dark eyes even wider. She caught Abby's eye and when her gaze fell on Sergeant Davis she felt a blush creep up her fair skin. Looking away quickly, her eyes passed over a man with a large cat and the face of a woman who looked as nervous as she felt.

"I am Ester Baum," her words wore softly spoken and she saw a few people lean in towards her to hear so she took a deep breath and began again, in a louder, stronger voice.

"I am Ester Baum, I will be leading the agricultural program during the Third Shift," she said in her Hebrew accented English, her slender fingers clasping together in a nervous gesture. "I will be in charge of the hydroponic farm and of the botanical gardens. If you have any questions or would like to visit...just ask. I ah...that's about it."

She sat down quickly and felt her face burn with embarrassment. Naomi laughed gently and reassured her with hand on her arm. Ester could feel the heat of her face and wondered if she resembled a cherry.

Questions and answers that weren’t answers and she was left with a hungry hole that couldn’t be filled. She didn’t feel safe with what she’d been given, but truth be told she wasn’t going to feel safe regardless. Everything was different, everything was gone. She’d survived loss before, she reminded herself, she could do it again.

Stella closed her eyes and breathed in deep through her nose, the sort of breath that used to bring her calm and center, the sort of breath that reminded her of the richness all around. But now it smelled of artificial clean and strangers yet still the familiar act brought with it calm and center as if by habit. She let her eyes open just as a striking man with an aura of confidence took the stage and spoke for a long time in words that made her eyes blink which then proceeded to roll right over her. Lost to the military jargon as Abby had predicted, nevertheless she came away with information she would file away for later. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small pocket notebook with a nib of a pen stuck into the spiral binding at the top. She flipped it open and wrote down a few of the names he’d said and then a bit of a note to remind herself for later.

The practical activity soothed her and she did the same for each subsequent person, notable among them a blue haired mechanic, a miner and then a botanist whose soft voice spoke of nerves as frayed as Stella’s were. She was not fond of speaking in front of people, she wasn’t really fond of speaking at all but it had been a skill she’d needed to acquire in her work. People needed to know the value of what she protected, funds needed to be raised after all. With her dark eyes and earnest face she was the natural choice to be the face person for the various banquets and fund-raising events. Even more than talking though, she was good listener. One thing she had discovered that saved her in many a social situation was asking leading questions. She was rather good at giving people the opportunities to speak about themselves, something they typically were eager to do. It spared her speaking more often than not.

But for the times that didn’t work, such as just then, she’d managed to learn how to speak with eyes upon her by pretending that they were just the kids she so often gave tours too at the various centers where she’d worked. She stood, as the others had when there was an opening and looked around, meeting the eyes of all who looked, not letting herself see the lie of the trees, not letting herself think about how far from anything she knew they were. Not thinking about the six who’d died while she slept, victim and killer alike. Her bearing changed just a little, her shoulders straightening and her chin lifting. She opened and warmed under the weight of the eyes on her, like a morning glory for the early sun.

“I am Dr. Stella Albright, I am the head veterinarian for third shift.” Her voice carried well, smooth and rich with a pleasing New England accent. “I will be in charge of the animals in the various biodomes, overseeing care and breeding programs as well as tending to the personal companions of those aboard.” She nodded to the man with the very handsome cat on his shoulders.

That being said she nodded to the botanist knowing that she would likely be working closely with the woman.

Hob sighed as he watched the Briefing from their place within the net. He felt sorry for Sergeant Larson as she had to stand up there and announce at large that there had been a murderer among them, one who had not felt compelled to leave his past behind him. Nor could he envy her as she fielded the questions from the masses. Not that they weren't good questions, but most of them simply did not have answers! And those that did? Well, they hardly mattered now. The victims were dead, their murderer was dead, and paranoia was going to be on the menu for the next several months. While Hob had little doubt that a great deal of this would fade in time, he knew that everyone's fears would resurface come next Shift Change. "And good luck getting these folks back into their coffins," he muttered into the aether.

He noticed the frizzy haired girl vomiting into one of the holo projector panels and winced. Thankfully Yuriko was already on top of it, re-routing the hologram image to different projectors to help cover the gap that started to appear even as the panel short-circuited. It wouldn't total cover the lost image, but at this stage Hob doubted anyone in that room was paying too much attention. Death had a way of taking top priority in the human mind. Efficient as alway, she followed up with a maintenance request to engineering.

As the meet and greet continued, Hob reflected that far worse for everyone would be the time in-between. There would be those who would now be looking at their fellow workers throughout all of the next three years, wondering who among them might be a thief... a rapist... a murder...

"Oh, fuck," Hob swore vehemently as he composed another message to the Sergeant. Annette and Charlie looked up in surprise at his cursing. Not so much Singh or Yuriko, as they tended to be quicker on the uptake. Tyson just didn't care. But having the rest of Third Shift suspecting one another could easily lead to feuding and witch hunts that would jeopardize the mission. Hob wasn't big on military protocol or discipline. He was big, however, on making sure the medicos and engineers who maintained the NI tubes were kept alive! Another message was sent off to the First Sergeant's command tablet.

You might want to specify that not everyone who was moved is a suspected or known criminal? Maybe before they all leave? Otherwise anyone assigned to a new shift is gonna be the odd man out pretty damn quick. Just my two cents.

Singh caught his attention, the Indian businessman dressed in golden brocade suit straight out a Bolliwood movie. "You and Annette should introduce yourselves, Robert. After all, on paper you are the watch leads for this Shift."

The curly haired grandmother, dressed in a 1950's housecoat with curlers, looked towards Hob. As if on cue, they burst out laughing to send a flock of butterflies soaring throughout the 'net. Gasping for breath, Hob wiped away a virtual tear. "What am I going to tell them?!" 'Hi there! This is Eddie, your shipboard computer, and I'm feeling just great, guys, and I know I'm just going to get a bundle of kicks out of any program you care to run through me!'" He called the sound file up from his own memory. Annette sniggered while Tyson whooped it up in laughter. Hob, still laughing, sputtered out, "No, no, wait! I got a better one, I got a better one!"

He took a moment to compose himself, straightening his bow tie before before saying, "We are controlling transmission.. We will control the horizontal... We will control the vertical..." Hob couldn't even get the whole thing out, and even Singh was laughing by the time he finished his recalled memory of The Outer Limit's opening. Even as they started to recover, Hob decided he'd need to go bug OLGA to review and recapture the mental image and audio of that show. "Oh, man, I wish there was someone named David leading one of the teams!"

Tyson, the youngest of them, looked confused even as he grinned. "Why?"

Hob grinned even wider. "So I can ask him, 'Just what do you think you're doing, Dave?'" True, it wasn't as funny given the theme of that particular movie, but it helped. The artistic Hob in his plaid suit knew he had to keep them all distracted, otherwise their own fears could popular the system with Ghosts based on murder and death. Just because the trauma they endured as NI Techs made them a bit more callous than the rest of the ship's passengers and crew didn't make them inhuman. Or any less concerned about their own well being.

"No, we'll skip the whole introduction thing." Hob finally snorted. "Anyone who needs to know who we are either already knows or will find out soon enough. Besides, we all agreed, right? No leaders. Maybe out there in the real world, but we can't function like that in here, not even in theory. We work together."

Hob looked at the screen he had summoned and shrugged. "I'll leave this up if you guys want to keep watching. I want to go see what OLGA's been up to."

Yuriko rolled her eyes. "You know she's not real, Hob! Besides, she has no access to anything outside of her own programming. All she can do is watch us run around the system and run her own, separate routines."

Pursing his lips, he nodded sagely. What Yuriko said wasn't strictly true, but Hob saw no reason to contradict her. "I known, I know. But she's got a cute avatar. And more importantly, she's been awake all this time, guys. The other shifts don't tend to pay much attention to her, and there's probably stuff that went on that the other teams might have missed or didn't think was important to leave in their reports-"

"Which we really should read," opined Annette. Hob ignored her.

"Not to mention that as an AI, she has a different point of view. One that we might want to pay attention to from time to time?" He also left out that he found the concept fascinating! As a human living and interacting in a virtual world, Hob saw OLGA as the only 'native' inhabitant who interact with the NI-Techs in turn. Departing for the Core, he left the teams behind him even as he sent a message to Dr. Brock with signature.

Yo, Doc! Gonna go ask your daughter out on a date. Rollerskating and malted shakes before we go make out at the drive-thru movies. What time you want her home by?

Antoine listened along with the introductions, noting the various colors of those speaking. A young, blue-haired and bright-eyed man followed by an older, rougher career-workman followed by a soft-spoken, timid young lady followed by the sure-spoken lady who looked right at him.

Antoine couldn't help but smile wider in return for the nod, mood rapidly rising, quite the collection already, the third shift seeming like it could be quite the enjoyable time. Who might he get to speak with over the course of this shift? Maybe someone who's native language he didn't know yet? Was that too much to hope for? He had been able to speak with everyone he had woken up at the start of the shift -one of the reasons he had been assigned that block- but he hadn't gotten to learn any. It was a missed opportunity that was almost criminal on it's own. He hadn't gone and gotten this gift to never use it!

Though, that wasn't really what he should be thinking about right now. As each speaker got up and sat down in turn, a needling thought bored its way to the fore of Antoine's mind. Despite the news that had only just been broken to the masses, despite how much of a bad idea it seemed, he couldn't help but feel that one from his group should speak before long. Everyone needed to know that he and his fellow Techs were in much the same boat, and possibly moreso. The loss of security, the loss of trust was keenly felt by those who only wanted to ensure life continued aboard the Copernicus.

And yet no Tech had stood up yet.

Well. They say if you have the idea, then you're the best person to carry it out...

"Down we go, Mowzer," His cat let out a rather indignant yelp as Antoine lowered him from shoulder to ground. Mowzer spared a moment to glare up at his Human, flicking his tail in dismissal before slipping away into the ship once more. "Sorry buddy, there are protocols, you know?"

Mowzer didn't know, and wouldn't care if he did, but that didn't stop Antoine from trying. Straightening his shirt once more, the Tech stepped forwards to draw attention from the seated crowd.

"Good day, I am Antoine Eadoré." A warm smile was offered to those who looked his way, Antoine nodding politely along with his words. "In addition to serving as a translator should the need arise, I am one of the many Cryotechs awake for this shift- And it is in that capacity that I would like to say a brief word..."

He paused for a moment to catch his breath, and ensure he had their attention, before diving right ahead.

"In the wake of the news we've all heard, I imagine many are concerned for their family and loved ones who are still asleep now. Each of you has spoken with myself or one of the other cryotechs aboard as you woke, and I want to let you know that we will do everything in our power to reassure you that those sleeping are very much safe. If you have any questions or concerns, you need only to ask."

He scanned the room as those last words spoke, gaze falling over everyone before he offered a shallow bow and stepped back, moving to the edges of the auditorium once more. There we go, his responsibility for this meeting was done, and maybe he could get that vacation soon. It had been nothing but non-stop work ever since he woke up, helping ensure the third shift all awoke properly, that the second shift was asleep safely, and that no risk was posed to those sleeping through both. Something of a break was desperately needed.

A whole bunch of expertly evasive military buzz words, and then they were done. Just like that, 200 people, all finished mourning five people killed while they were sleeping. Deli had never stuck with a thing in her life -- not school, or any New Year's resolutions, or the old robotics club she'd founded, or a single one of the half dozen tangled knitting projects she'd started back when her mother was still into stuff like that -- but she promised herself then and there she would find time to check on Fredo and Diego every night before bed.

The excitement apparently over, the young demolitionist opted not to return to her seat, her patience spent and owing, fidgeting against a wall as a middle-aged Asian woman fiddled with that thing Deli was now beginning to suspect was not a trash compactor. Ah, well. You win some, you lose some. She was just thinking she'd duck out, maybe go check on her brothers before finding out which toys she'd get to play with -- when someone else stood up with a question.

He'd hardly even opened his mouth before Deli was grinning, wondering just how long it'd be before he started yelling at people to get off his lawn. Her grin widened when he mentioned the mining crew -- she and the original dictionary entry for 'curmudgeon' were going to be partners, then -- until she realized the implications of what he was saying.

She'd been so scared shitless after hearing Diego and Fredo were maybe dead, the First Sergeant's announcements that their files had been opened had gone in one ear and out the other. As a result...some shift members and crew have been changed...

Deli had been changed. What did that mean? And how much did they know? And who was in the 'they'?

The Curmudgeon -- whom the Sergeant had called Bill, but Deli thought 'Curmy' fit so much better -- was sitting down now, apparently somewhat mollified, but Deli was sure he'd said something about 'half the mining team' having some jail time under their belts. Half the mining team? Half her mining team? All handling tiny ships and explosives, no less. Deli felt her heart pound against her chest, and did her absolute best to keep her face blank as she stole another look at Curmy. Others were introducing themselves now, among them the pilot of the same mining pod she'd been assigned to. She missed his name, but caught his face and looked back and forth between him and the blue-haired kid who would presumbly -- hopefully -- be responsible for keeping them all alive.

Assuming Deli didn't fuck something up again.

Assuming it really had been coincidence that had landed a veritable Breakfast Club of movie cliches-turned-criminal all together in a metal box roughly the size of a coffin. One they'd be shooting out into empty, unpoliced space on a regular basis.

So much for no segregation.

Once the introductions were over the third shift was dismissed. Ester and Naomi slipped out before the crowds and the sisters walked arm in arm down the hall. Naomi lead her in the general direction of the gardens and animal sanctuary. The news about the deaths of those in the cryobeds shook Ester as it had everyone else in the auditorium. To be killed when you were at your most vulnerable, completely unconscious and by a person who was supposed to take care of you. It was hard to think about. They walked in silence as people streamed past them, separating and going down various corridors towards their new work stations.

Naomi gestured for her to follow, walking with a slight sway as she compensated for the increasing weight in front. She paused, putting her hand on her belly and grabbed Ester's hand, putting it on a bump that moved under her skin.

"She's awake, feel that? I think that's an elbow or a foot," Naomi said. "It's so strange, feeling something alive inside you...and that you would love it more than anything."

Ester smiled gently, feeling her niece announce her presence. "I can imagine. I'm sorry David can't experience this with you."

The young woman sighed and nodded, her dark eyes meeting her sister's and the glowing smile faded, "I am as well but it could be much worse. I know you want to talk about it, I can see it in your face, ac'hot."

Ester nodded, "I have all the same questions that were posed in the briefing. What can you tell me?"

"I can tell you that the feelings you felt in the meeting were tenfold when the crimes occurred and that one woman survived," her sister replied. "I've become her friend and she told me what occurred."

Ester's brows drew together in concern as she saw her normally self-assured sister hesitate and look upset. She held her tongue, giving her time until she composed herself. Naomi took a deep breath, "Her name is Pauline Weber, she's American...a pretty college student who was supposed to sleep the entire journey but...that man. She woke up during the attack and managed to fight him off. He raped her, Ester. He raped the other women as well before he killed them. The man and child were killed so that...so there might not be a pattern, at least that is what the authorities suppose."

The botanist blinked at the hard words, her chest tightening as Naomi continued. What horror it must have been to wake up to being violated by a stranger, a nightmare brought to life. That the girl had found it in her to fight despite the weakness upon waking from the cryosleep was incredible and to escape the hands of a killer.

"Pauline could not be put back to sleep you see?" Naomi said, raising her eyebrows and placing her hands on her belly. "She would not get rid of it and some think she is a fool to keep that man's child. But she sees it as I do, that child is hers not his. He's dead and life goes on, even after such tragedy. She's smart and she's tough and will make a good mother."

Ester put her fingertips to her full lips and closed her eyes. The poor girl had been impregnated by the attacker and now would bear the results of the rape. She could not blame her for not wanting to be rid of it, humans were few in number and any life that would help replace those five...no six, she could not forget the attacker, should be welcomed. God would find a way to preserve them and she had to believe that now, no matter what the religion or lack there of, the people of the Copernicus were His chosen.

"That's terrible," she said softly, "To think we can travel to another world but we cannot leave the worst of what we are behind."

Naomi glanced away for a moment, her lips pursed in thought before turning back. "Come with me, we'll visit the nursery before you go the gardens it is on the way."

They continued in silence until the large room where the doctors offices were located was in sight. Naomi led her off to the right and through the glass she could see what looked like a day care with cribs and another room with a scattering of toys and two women sitting cross legged on the floor as a toddler giggled over knocking over a tower of plastic blocks. One of them was young and fair faced with long strawberry blonde hair and was applauding playfully as the baby started to stack the blocks on his own. She looked up at the two as they entered and smiled at her friend and the one that was obviously her older sister she talked so much about.

"Pauline, how are you?" Naomi greeted her, "This is Ester, I'm sure you guessed that though."

Connor glanced down at the tablet he’d been issued to make sure that he was going the right direction in the winding hallways. He would memorize the map after his self imposed work day was done. Everyone on Third shift had been issued the day off to rest and recover from the effects of cryo-sleep. If someone was really getting hit hard with it they got two day’s off.

As fun as sitting on his ass and doing nothing sounded, he really just wanted to get to work. He could put everything behind him when he was safely in a mining ship engine bay. His own depressed thoughts of his family, the horror of what happened during second shift and the growing unease of who would snap next; it would all be put behind him once he had a wrench in hand.

Just focus on the machines. Connor stopped when he came to the door of the conference room for the hangar and took in a deep breath to settle the nerves in his stomach. He hoped the crews would all be out exploring the ship. He wasn’t really looking forward to meeting twelve new people, especially when he was the only mechanic. Especially when one of those people would be Owen Reece.

It was just his luck that not only was the guy that thought he was an idiot was assigned as the pilot for one of the ships he was responsible for; he was also the lead freaking pilot! He couldn’t have been assigned to Hangar Five, it had to be Hangar Six.

The guy was going to be breathing down his neck, if that little look he shot him at the briefing was any indication. This was going to be fun, he could already tell.

He opened the door and saw no one inside of the conference room. Thank God for little blessings. He stepped inside and looked around the space. It was like a normal office conference room with a long table, black cushioned swivel chairs, a whiteboard on one wall and a holographic projector in the middle of the table.

The only difference from a normal office space was the line of windows on the right wall that revealed the hanger. Connor walked over and peered out at the large metal space and the four blue ships lined down at the bottom. From where he stood he could see all of the dings and scratches each pod had from mining in the asteroid fields.

A small smile stretched on his lips despite his sour mood and he headed for the heavy metal door by the windows that lead out into the hanger. His work booted feet clanged loudly on the metal stairs, the sound echoing almost eerily in the silence of the hanger.

“Miss me?” He called out to the pods, holding out his arms and grinning up at the towering machines.

Shaking his head at himself Connor strolled along the wall and entered into the little office space that would be his for the next year. He wrinkled his nose at the disordered mess of the place and sat down at the desk in front of the three interconnected computer monitors. He turned them on and leaned back in his chair with a loud creak, looking around at the disorganized state of the office. He hoped that it wasn’t too much of a reflection of the mechanic before him.

Turning his attention back to the computers he logged onto them to see if there were any notes the other guy left him about the ships.

He started opening files and felt a tick begin to form in his eye as he read through the notes that were left for him by the previous mechanic. Finally he had to stop reading and turn away from the monitor’s pinching the bridge of his nose. There were multiple parts in each pod that needed replacing and pod 24’s engine wasn’t working at all. The note entries had been made a week ago, which meant that the previous mechanic had plenty of time to fix the problems but had probably said ‘fuck it’ and decided to leave it for the next guy to fix. Which would be Connor.

“Well thank you mystery douche.” He muttered, standing up from the desk chair to head for the locker in the office. He opened it and pulled out a dark green jumpsuit and a set of work gloves.

The excitement he would feel about getting to work was severely dampened by the knowledge he was picking up a lazy guy’s mess. After suiting up he returned to the computers and entered into pod 24’s system so he could open the cargo bay door located on the right side. Hearing the hydraulics hiss he grabbed the tool belt hanging by the door, thankful that they were still in good condition and a radio that was under the desk.

Since pod 24’s engine wasn’t running he decided to start with it because it would require the most attention to figure out the problem. Connor walked up to the pod, smiling up at the sight of the open cargo bay. “Hey there beautiful.” He chuckled, setting down the radio at the top of the loading ramp and reaching inside of his unzipped jumpsuit to pull out his music player. Plugging in the battered device held together by some duct tape he turned it on and set the radio to full blast.

A guitar started strumming and he nodded his head to the beat, doing a little jump as he strolled into the ship with the radio in hand.

"Naomi!" Pauline turned to peer over her shoulder, toward the voice of her friend with a wide, sweet smile. The young woman rocked forward, unfolded her long legs and pushed herself up off the plushly carpeted ground. The jeans she wore were baggy but comfortable, as was the thick knit sweater, rolled up at the sleeves and just a touch too long. Borrowed clothes all, and Pauline would always be so grateful, for the generosity of people like this little boy's mother Vida.

The older woman waved Pauline away with a wink when she saw Naomi. Pauline bent to run gentle fingers over the curly black hair of the toddler who'd managed to stack those four plastic blocks, giggling as he played the giant and toppled them all over again. Like all babes, Joshua thrived on endless repetition. This latest bit of demolition was actually the fifth time he'd displayed his amazing, growing accomplishments for Pauline and his Mom.

Her fingertip traced that plump, incomparably soft cheek of his, earning herself a wide grin that consisted of all four of his perfect, ivory teeth, two up and two down. He was beautiful, so beautiful...

"Oh I'm wonderful - I admit, a little nauseous, but nothing a lunch of crackers and ginger ale didn't fix. And did you see Joshua's tower? Such a big boy!"

Pauline wrapped her arms gently around her Naomi, maneuvering tenderly around the burgeoning baby bump of course, before those pale blue eyes turned to Ester. "And you know, I didn't need to guess at all - I'd have known her anywhere! Such a resemblance! Ester, it is so good to meet you - finally!"

Pauline wrapped her arms about Naomi's beautiful elder sister, pulling her close in a warm embrace before stepping back. "AH! So sorry, I hope I didn't shake you up too much? Waking up out of cryo is pretty awful, isn't it?" she asked, crinkling her lightly freckled nose prettily. The question was, of course, very deliberate in its banality. Pauline could not know what Naomi may have told her sister, though she might suspect, at least a little. Pauline could not begin to imagine what was said during the Third Shift briefing, but she did not intend to live with her head hung low, or wear that dark, too-heavy mantle of victim for all time.

Pauline understood sympathy of course. It was only natural, and she doubted she would be unable to keep herself from sympathetic feelings either. But the one and only thing Pauline did not want, could not abide, was pity. She was alive, and soon she'd have her little girl too - what was there to pity in that?

"Are you two headed to the gardens? Oh yes, Naomi told me all about you Ester - well, the very best parts, of course. Your deepest, darkest secrets are all safe! I bet sisters have a lot to catch up on, but would you mind if I came hitched along for a while?"

Pauline smiled, and she waited and she hoped.

It seemed the meeting was over. Its end seemed both sudden and strangely interminable to her. As people began to stand and move away, up the aisles or towards doors she hadn’t noticed for the trees, Stella sat for a second in her seat and let the feel of the motion wash over her like the tide. She was adrift. This was a new world she’d woken up into and one she needed to acclimate herself to and fast.

She felt the deep sadness that had taken her after she’d witnessed her parent’s deaths begin to bubble and boil inside her. The inky morass felt like a hungry thing to her. It seemed as it if wanted to consume all her light. She had spent years not speaking the last time it had taken her, years buried in its black pall. She didn’t want to do that again, not for anything.

She straightened in her seat, running a hand through her tousled curls in an effort to tame them but it only added to their charming chaos. She took the next step quickly before she could think about it and stood, turning to see who was still about, looking for one figure in particular.

He was handsome, she’d give him that. With a light to his eyes that made her heart flutter and a smile want to prick at the corners of her mouth. She had a thing for bad boys and he looked like the baddest of all. The sort to leave a woman like her broken hearted. She could live with that, she had before. She spotted him, up at the edges of the auditorium and she realized he was about to leave it. She’d lose her chance if she didn’t hurry.

She slipped out of her row of chairs and on swift feet more used to eating up rough woodland paths she charged up the aisle before she lost her nerve and she lost the chance to meet the gentleman in question. Her heart was pounding with nerves but also with the first spark of interest and excitement she’d felt since getting her charges on board and sliding into her stasis bed. She welcomed the excitement. When she reached the top she forced herself to call out,

“Excuse me!” She said to the blue-eyed med tech with the charming widow’s peak. She knew her cheeks were flushed but she didn’t let herself care.

She stopped just before him and cocked her head to the side, her curls bouncing in response to the motion.

“Mr. Eadoré was it? I’m Doctor Albright, Stella. I’m wondering if you would be so kind as to introduce me to this handsome fellow?” She gestured towards the Bengal cat that had been sitting on the man’s shoulders in the auditorium, her eyes lit and her nervous smile blooming.