The Truman Space Station silently orbits the human colony of New Titan, its purpose is to organize any new arrivals to the colony, as well as provide a location for the E.S.C. military personal if the planet is ever attacked, which it has been in the past. Currently, only one ship is docked into it, the S.S. Durendal. Other ships float around the station, this the defense fleet, composed of a single huge dreadnought, three heavy cruisers, two cruisers and three frigates. The planet sits at the edge of E.S.C. controlled space and is a likely target for an attack by the Rahq Collective.

Inside the space station, Jon Welch, captain of the newly christened S.S. Durendal walks down the long hallways, his destination, his ship which currently sits in one of the docking bays. Armed guards can be seen around the station, as well as some civilians either trying to leave or land on the planet. Jon passes through the checkpoint to the hangar, four guards stand around the door, they all salute the captain, who returns the gesture, then immediately heads through the doors which promptly shut behind him.

Towards the end of the docks is where his ship sits, more guards stand by the door to the ship, they go into salutes and he passes through there, entering the airlock. After a minute, the interior door opens, allowing him passage onto the ship. He steps inside, appearing at the end of the bridge which is void of any people, only the A.I., Jude, currently in the bridge, though she could appear anywhere else on the ship in a second. The actual crew of the ship was told to wait in the conference room, the captain himself would arrive in a short time. After a couple minutes of walking he reached the door to the room, which he paused in front of, adjusting his navy blue officer's uniform which he was ready to get out of, and into something more comfortable. Then with a step towards the door, he stepped inside the conference room.

The crew was milling around the conference room which composed of a large table with many swivel chairs around it. A large monitor sat on one of the walls of the room, its screen currently black. Jon could feel the eyes of the crew look at him as he walked across the room, reaching his chair at the end of the table. He did not sit down though, he instead took a step back from the table to where the crew would be able to see him best. With his hands folded behind his back, the captain spoke to his crew, addressing many of them for the first time, though he had read all of the information his superiors had forwarded to him, he had not actually spoken to any of them until now.

"Greetings and welcome to the S.S. Durendal, I'm its captain, Jon Welch, you can call me 'captain' or 'Jon', it doesn't matter to me as this is not as much as E.S.C. mission as it is a cross species one, the first of its kind, members of each race, each government, from all parts of the galaxy coming together in order to stop a conflict instigated by a ferocious, but mysterious race now assisted by an even more mysterious ally." He paused briefly, before continuing.

"Our first destination will be into the dangerous part of space, commonly referred to as the neutral territories. The area is dangerous because it is inhabited by slavers, bandits, assassins and all kinds of other disreputable adversaries. Though entering these territories is necessary as it is the first step into the Rahq controlled areas which we must head into to find what we are looking for, answers, a way to end a war before it can begin," He stated with a straight look on his face, looking over the crew. "Inside that territory is a downed probe which had been scouting a Rahq colony of interest. The probe went missing after it reported crashing, we needed to retrieve it, as it holds vital information on both the Rahq and the E.S.C. if it gets into the wrong hands."

"Any questions or concerns about the mission should be raised now, we'll discuss any of these among ourselves before we head off." He stated, glancing at the watch on his wrist. "Which will be very soon." He added, looking back up at the crew, ready to answer anything they wanted answered.

Earlier...
A blue and white vortex appeared in the space near the Truman station as the subspace corridor deposited a Faira corvette back to normal space. It was rare to see one of these anywhere as so far the Faira only used unarmed ships when dealing with the other species, however this time they ferried a very precious cargo. The captain stood up and tapped the computer on her wrist, patching into the human communications: "This is FCv Katla arriving on specified time. Greetings from the Nebula, Truman. Requesting a shuttle, we have a crewman for you." The humans responded promptly: "We copy Katla, Dispatching a transport now." The captain turned to the silver-blue form that was standing next to her: "Last chance. Are you sure about this?"

The answer Astra gave was a slow head shake. "We are new to this part of the universe. And this is a chance to learn about everything we might have to face there - I will not pass up this opportunity," the Faira smiled and watched the human station on the display with her eyes wide. Of course, Astra did receive some files on the races she would be meeting. But the humans were the most puzzling of them all. If she remembered correctly, they were very decentralized and many of them were of so different nature that they used to wage wars on each other - a concept alien to her race. Their fragmented nature apparently shown in their architecture as well. The station was looking close to what the Faira would build - a block of internal space surrounded by armor with systems bolted onto it. But in contrast to that was the docked battleship she'd call home for the foreseeable future - Streamlined, sleek design with next to nothing sticking out. To say that she was ecstatic would be a monumental understatement.

A minute later, Astra boarded the utilitarian craft that was sent for her. She didn't bring much in the way of personal belongings. The Faira barely had space on their ships for what was left of their race to waste on trinkets. Understandably the two marines that wanted to help her with her bags were puzzled when she showed up with nothing but her suit and a small bag which contained her dress greys, sidearm and a picture of another of her species. During the transit, she couldn't overlook that both of the marines were having difficulties taking their gaze off of her. "Interesting, correct? How a species based on entirely different chemistry can look so similar." she siad, trying to break the ice. Fortunately the two soldiers got chatty after that.

Once she arrived on the Durendal, she was awestruck by the spacious interior. The ships she knew barely had corridors wide enough for two Faira side by side. The human ship felt like walking outside. "This way, Ma'am." One of the marines pointed. "Ours are slow people. We can get hurt if we move too fast." Astra said back, but stopped looking at every detail and hurried up. They led her to a door in a hall that was labelled 'crew quarters'. Apparently they would each have their own room? that was beyond luxury! "All I need is a lab. What would I do with all that space?" She suggested. "And where are you going to sleep?" one of the marines asked. Astra's head pivoted to the side in the faira gesture of not understanding: "Sleep?"

Presently...
Apparently the dossiers did not contain nearly enough information. It took a while for Astra to understand the concept of sleep, and she still didn't understand how a species that needed to make itself completely vulnerable for eight hours every day didn't go extinct, but eventually the two marines led her to the lab that would be her workplace. She set up the little stuff she had and got familiar with the human instruments just in time to make it to the meeting with the captain, and all of the others in fact. She was ready for the fact that life might be taking many shapes and forms, but some of her 'colleagues' were beyond her wildest imaginations. Many were actually of the same shape ans her people were - evolution seemed to particularly favor it - but the others she lacked words to describe.

Her thoughts were interrupted as the captain finally arrived and delivered their first objectives. She didn't have any noted towards the mission, however she did have something in mind for the ship itself. Her ideas were still in the basic lines, but if they were to spend extended time behind enemy lines and outside of normal supply lines, she needed to bring over some parts. "Captain, with your permission, I'd like to transfer some parts over from our vessel that might prove useful for bolstering the Durendal's defense." she asked, her eyes meeting the captain's.

The sky never looked so big as Sukara's ship, nothing more than a military passenger shuttle, transported her and others she trained with to the Truman station. Previously the alien girl had been living on a military base in New Titan and now she was going to be transferred to her new job aboard the S.S. Durendal. From the outside, Truman was absolutely massive and when her ship landed, it was even bigger. The transport ship landed on Truman and after passing through the airlock she walked into the main station. Sukara looked around and up, slack jawed, until a stern, petite woman with a viciously taunt bun made a strange noise with her throat to get her attention.

"Miss Jiro-Vriskarin?" The small woman asked.

"Yes." Sukara said hesitantly, looking down at the woman.

"I am Caroline Tate and I will be your escort to the S.S. Durendal." Caroline gave Sukara a once over, taking in her baggy and colorfully patterned pants and worn cotton blouse that showed and extensive amount of mid-drift.

As if sensing what the short woman was about to say Sukara cut her off, holding up a suit bag. "I was going to change." She said quickly. "I have time, don't I?"

Caroline seemed to suppress a sigh and pointed a manicured nail to a bathroom. Sukara ran in and changed into her starched pantsuit and heels. Apparently this was only worn for important situations and what was more important than meeting your team for the first time?When Sukara returned Caroline Tate seemed even tighter than usual and without a word, lead Sukara through the Truman base. The further they went the bigger the base seemed to get. There were all sorts of people and all sorts of aliens, all bustling from one place to another. A suited man came and retrieved Sukara's luggage, promising it would be aboard the Durendal another suited woman asked to check her identification. After passing through many checkpoints and passing many starch clean, hallways they reached the docks. Before letting Sukara go into the Durendal airlocks, Caroline took it upon herself to nit-pick Sukara's uniform. Plucking lint here and pulling wrinkles there before she finally stepped back, looking somewhat satisfied before her eyes reached Sukara's hair.

"Don't you have anything for your hair?" Caroline asked, incredulous.

"What's wrong with my hair?" Sukara obviously didn't see a think wrong with her flaming red hair's fly away bit and random braids and dreads and beads.

Caroline groaned again but then pulled a hair band from her pocket and, rather roughly, put Sukara's hair into a pony tail. After she had finished, Caroline pressed a button and opened the door to the Durendal. With a deep breath, Sukara stepped inside.

That had been her day just thirty minutes ago, now she sat with the rest of her future crew and when her captain walked in, looking exactly as one would imagine a captain would, her heart raced with excitement. This was real. Completely real. Too real. This was the rest of her life coming into play after years of training.

As the captain, Jon, began the first mission objectives, she listened intently. They were going into the neutral territories but her people called it the badlands. The Strag, being known to travel is small groups were often targets for slave traders. It also wasn't a secret that some Strag were running most of the trading rings. However, their mission didn't involve a slave of any sort, it involved a machine, which was perfectly fine with Sukara. She understood the mission perfectly and had no questions.

"No sir."

Shamus made his way through the hallways of the station with his usual leisurely gait, the sound of rustling bark and plant matter could be heard in the silence. He got quite a few odd glances; Shuunai weren't often seen off world. Many people he encountered stepped out of his way nervously, but he didn't pay any mind. Shamus had worked hard for his opportunity to represent his race on the S.S. Durendal. He took another turn and spotted the ship itself; he couldn't help but be impressed by the feats of engineering performed by the other races. A male Vaxir stood patiently on the other side of the room before noticing the Shuunai and making his way over.

"Shamus..fari?" The young diplomat seemed to struggle with the name.
"Shamus suits me just fine." Shamus's voice could be described as sounding like a deep wood wind instrument; Shuunai were known for their unique singing voices.
"My apologies, sir. I'm just here to make sure you're comfortably situated before we take off. We don't get many Shuunai who volunteer for the military after all."
"I appreciate the concern, but I can show myself inside." Shamus nodded his head in a sign of respect.
"If you say so. I'll be around if you need me." The young vaxir turned to leave but felt an arm gently place itself on his shoulder. He turned to meet the Shuunai's eyes.
"You don't seem well rested. Try a cup of tea from an Ekdin plant tonight before bed, you may find it easier." Shamus then simply made his way to the sheep, leaving the young cadet perplexed at his actions.

That was but a few minutes ago. Shamus sat silently in the center of the room, hardly moving a single muscle. Or his muscle equivalent anyways. He watched the other crew mates with a silent fascination. Shamus had spent most of his time off world in the company of humans, so it was interesting to see all manner of species gathered in the same room. For his medical studies Shamus had done extensive research on the biology of each species, but reading about them wasn't quite the same as seeing them in the flesh. He had many questions for each of them, but human etiquette told him that now wasn't the best time.

Shamus noticeably moved for the first time in minutes at the approach of the captain. He lifted his head and watched the captain move across the room with interest. Shamus could feel an air of command about the captain. He seemed confident about their mission. He opened himself for questions from the crew, but Shamus only had one in mind.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Captain. May I gather the medical records of the crew?"

"If you think the parts will help with the mission, then by all means, bring them over. I'll have the A.I. set you up all the clearance," Jon replied, then seem to speak to the table. "Jude?"

"Yes, captain, the authorization has been placed." A female voice stated, as a small green orb appeared floating over the middle of the table.

"Very, good, Jude. Thank you." He said, nodding at the A.I. as it disappeared. "We sometimes have to bypass security issues, its a top secret ship and such, they don't like any unauthorized stuff sneaking on board. But it won't be an issue." He said, looking at Astra before turning his head to look over the rest of the crew. The next person to raise a question was Shamus, the Shuunai.

"It's nice to meet you too, glad to have someone of your expertise on board," He said with a smile, then continued speaking. "Yes, its already been all set up inside the medical lab. All the records are in there, waiting for you to go over them." He said with a nod, then waited for the next crewman to speak up about something.

Earlier
A scream, a crash and the looks of fear...This is all Jason can remember from his dream. Looking around at the station from his bench hidden away in a quiet hallway. Jason realized he didn't know where he was, panic took over as he searched through his Personal canvas bag he was issued right next to him on his left side. Extra uniform,several novels, several photos hidden in the novels of friends and family, his patrol cap. As he searched it dawned on him, this was the Truman. He had arrived several hours before from a passing Transport that was delivering fuel and ammo for the fleet stationed here.

"Hey you can't sleep here get your ass up out of here" a Voice calls from his left him. Jason turns to see a woman dressed in Marine Fatigues standing by the end of his bench, looking at her arm he realizes she is a corporal and that he out ranked her "sorry corporal." he says as he stands up slowly gathering his stuff. "Name and rank now." she commands as an MP comes up behind her "sorry corporal I didn't men to fall asleep here." he mutters.

The corporal becomes visibly angry "You stupid? I said name and rank!" she yells
Jason sighs and pushes his bag away slowly revealing the officers bars "Jason Gonzales first officer aboard the S.S. Durendal." he says as the two immediately stand at attention "Sir sorry sir!" they say "don't worry about lets just forget about this whole thing.."

present
After his encounter with in the hallway, Jason makes a bee line to the briefing. As he listens to his commanding officer "sir how long ago did the probe lose contact?"

"Verification ID, ma'am?"

"Lieutenant Krystina Markov. Wolf Zero. ID SFWZ-4408."

No response.

"Is there a problem?"

"No, ma'am. Just taking a moment to process. Durendal's just through the airlock behind me. I'll open the airlock for you."

Krystina sighed loudly.

"Did you say something?"

"No. Now let me through. I have to report in ten minutes."

"Of course, Lieutenant, don't let me get in your way."

"Please."

The airlock door hissed open, and Krystina quickly brushed past the guard at the door. She gave a cold glare to the other three guards standing around, who had all been chuckling and whispering about the encounter. Krystina pressed into the ship, and made her way to the conference room.

Immediately, she began sizing up the rest of the crew. The aliens, naturally, stood out from the human crew, but there was nothing particularly eye-catching about anyone. Krystina didn’t recognize any faces, but she was sure there were a couple names she’d know of.

Then three faces walked in that Krystina knew she could put names to: Wolf Squad. Krystina smiled. These were the toughest pilots in the galaxy she could find, and she’d worked with all of them at different points in her career.

Wolf One, Brandon Warren. An excellent dogfighter with an eye for openings in the enemy’s defense. He almost had as many kills as Krystina did, but he was also two years older than her. He was cute, brown hair, full beard, standing at just under six feet. Krystina and Brandon had had a fling once, but that fell apart quickly in the interest of professionalism. And because Brandon said Krystina was a stuck up jerk. In her defense, Brandon wasn’t the best in social situations and she didn’t want to put up with him.

Wolf Two, Jason De Guzman. Krystina had picked Jason to be Brandon’s wingman. Where Brandon had an eye for the enemy’s weaknesses, Jason had an eye for his allies’. He covered up all the holes in your defenses and played a good game of bait and switch. Jason’s talent for aerial maneuvers helped to wear down his pursuers, then someone else would come and clean up the mess behind him. Krystina didn’t know Jason on a personal level like she did with Brandon, but she knew enough about his skill in the cockpit to want him on the team. He was taller than Brandon, but had a lot more meat to his bones.

And finally, Wolf Three. Marina Poudret. The petite French brunette was Krystina’s wingwoman and best friend. Marina was almost the aerial ace that Krystina was, and the two knew each others’ flying styles like the back of their hands. Krystina worked with Marina regularly. Krystina grinned at Marina’s arrival. With Krystina and Marina flying around for the Durendal, along with Brandon and Jason, Krystina felt that the starfighter squad was bulletproof.

The squad gathered around her. They exchanged greetings, then the captain arrived to deliver his briefing. When he finished, Krystina moved towards the captain. After everyone else had asked their questions, she threw out hers: “What kind of fighters are we flying, here? Standard equipment or is there something special Wolf Squad should know about?” Krystina motioned to the three pilots behind her.

"Approximately two hours ago. We believed it had landed on a nearby arctic planet or had been simply drawn into its orbit. But lost contact means that someone got to it and tried to access it. The probe has a defense mechanism in that scenario where it locks itself up to protect vital information, of course the defense can be broken into, it just requires someone very skilled in electronics," He replied, looking at Jason. "Regardless, we have to retrieve the prob as soon as possible."

"This ship's starfighters are an upgraded version of the currently produced E.S.C. fighters. The equipment is standard, two front facing laser cannons and two missile launchers on each wing. The upgrades come in the areas of shielding, speed and stealth." Jon said to the head fighter pilot, he had been thoroughly briefed on the fighters.

Jason Nods, That means we have very little time...if some one has tried to break into the probe it means either the enemy has it already..or some idiot found it and tried to loot it..Jason thinks to himself. As he sits there listening to the CO speak his mind races over the possible scenarios he may have to go up against. It could have been possible that there was some one there who had the skill to crack it.. he thinks If so the enemy may know already we are coming for it... which means they may know everything already.. Slowly his mind shifts to where it could be The probe if it hasn't been broken into, would be held in a top level security research base or something akin to that.."Sir what did the Probe hold exactly?" Jason knew it was above his pay grade, but if this was as important as he thought it was I felt the need to ask. Some where in the back of his head he felt the crew should know if they were going after it.

Virgo was awoken by the shuttle pilot leaning across the cockpit and shaking her a bit. "What's going on pilot" Virgo asked groggily "We have arrived at Truman Space Station we will be docking in a few minutes" he responded. Looking out the window she saw the huge fleet guarding the not only station but her new ship. Virgo felt a tingle of excitement rush through her as she looked the ship over it's beautiful admiring its curves and engines. The urge to get behind the wheel of that ship was almost overwhelming but she would have to wait a bit longer.

After the ship docked Virgo stepped out of the airlock looking around the station. Suddenly she came face to face with a young service man "ma'am if you would please follow me I will lead you to the conference room". "Very well solider lead on and try not to stand so close" she said frowning at him "yes ma'am sorry about that won't happen again". Virgo grinned the young man looked like he was bricking it. Leading her to the conference room he kept up a fast pace and stayed a good distance away from her. She walked past several guards on her way with some serious firepower 'this mission must be important' she thought saluting back at at them.

A few minutes later they arrived at there destination the service man leaving her there. Virgo took her seat looking around at her crew mates they looked like an odd bunch but that just made things more interesting. A few moments later the captain arrived and briefed them. "Well this is going to be one hell of a mission" she mumbled to herself. Listening to questions her fellow crewman were asking she perked up very interested about the fighters on board thinking it would be fun taking one for a spin. Then came the bad news that someone was messing with the probe "so how long will it take to get there and also how do we know there isn't a fleet of ships waiting to blow us out of the sky when we get there" Virgo questioned.

Krystina nodded. "Do we have restrictions on tampering with the fighters? Any little touches we might want to make, personalizations and things," she continued. But her line of questioning wasn't yet done, "To follow up her question," Krystina jerked a thumb towards the woman that had asked about getting blown out of the sky, "Will we be needed for this mission? If so, how much prep time do we get?" Prep time was important to Krystina, and she was sure the rest of the squad would like ample prep time as well. They all needed to get comfortable in their fighters and fine tune everything to their liking. There probably wouldn't be enough time for serious engineering work, but she was sure there would be time later on.

Marina smirked from Krystina's side, "Not like you'll have enough time to prep anyways. You're always tampering with something."

Krystina elbowed her playfully. "I'm a perfectionist. What do you want from me?" she grinned.

Marina shook her head. "Nothing. I just like poking at your ego, Krys."

Brandon and Jason chuckled from behind Krystina. She smiled; she could tell there would be a good squad dynamic already, and that was key to successful missions. Chemistry, Krystina found, was often much more important than sheer talent. And Krystina had picked out the Wolves with chemistry and talent both in mind.

"The jump will take roughly thirty minutes, we highly doubt there is a full fleet waiting for us on the other side as it is a neutral zone. Anyone who brought a large fleet of ships into the zone would be asking for questions to be raised. The only ones who would even think about doing that is the Rahq Collective, but they have no reason to do that to go after a small probe," Jon said, thinking about what they may actually encounter right out of the jump. "I would not count out us running into a pirate ship or two as they would try to take the probe and sell it for credits. Though we will be able to handle any pirates as they are usually weak in weaponry, strength and fleet size."'

"Nope, no restrictions. You can adjust the fighters as you wish, they're yours and you'll exclusively use the ones assigned to each of you." The captain said, looking at Krystina and her fellow pilots. "It would be a smart move to get ready in case we do encounter enemies out of the jump. Or if we don't then we still may need one you to fly down to the planet's surface in order to pinpoint the probe's location if it is on the planet."

Probably pirates. Small chance of Rahq. Good odds. Krystina liked those odds. She couldn't decide which she was looking forward to more; the joy of easily taking down pirates, or the challenge of defeating a coordinated Rahq squad. Of course, an ideal situation would mean no combat at all, but at the same time, that was no fun.

On the other hand, the undoubtedly good news was that Wolf Squad had full access to the fighters. Krystina ran a mental checklist of what changes each squad member would make based on what she knew about each of them. She'd personally be adjusting power outputs, siphoning a little bit of firepower for some extra speed and agility. The captain mentioned that the fighters came with shielding, speed, and stealth, but Krystina's dogfighting style relied on strong speed and maneuverability, so she'd be putting as much power as she could into thrusters. She'd also want to paint a wolf's head onto the nose, and the logo she had chosen long ago as Wolf Zero. And probably a big bad red zero on the wings as well.

Marina and Jason would be making similar adjustments to the power outputs, as well as the paint. Marina might splash some flowers on in addition to the wolf livery, and probably a blue three in place of Krystina's zero. Jason would also throw on the wolf additions, but Krystina knew he liked green and would probably make his number two green. And instead of flowers, he'd be painting skulls. He had on all his previous fighters.

Krystina guessed that Brandon would only add the standard wolf livery and a white one for his number. However, his adjustments in terms of performance would be significantly different: Brandon would try to squeeze out as much power as he could from the guns, and maybe even sacrifice power from the shields to do so, making him almost totally dependent on his wingman to watch his back. That's how Brandon had always worked, and that's why Krystina picked Jason as his wingman.

Krystina raised a hand one last time. "What kind of stealth updates are we talking about? Low-emission stealth to mask signatures, I'm assuming?" She promised herself that this would be her absolute last question. She had to get to work on her fighter; the paint jobs wouldn't happen yet, but Krystina had no doubt that the squad would try to make their performance adjustments as well as they could. They weren't going to finish in such a short time frame, but they'd get to work on what they could

Shamus had gotten the answer he was hoping for. He simply nodded to the captain as a sign of respect before leaning back in his chair and contemplating. He was vaguely aware of what they were doing; retrieving a satellite so that the enemy doesn't take it for themselves. He would do all that he could to secure the objective, but satellites and the meaning behind them was something of a vague and foreign concept to someone with his cultural background. The health of his crew however was a much more solid, concrete and easily understood thing to him. He intended to go back to his office and find out all he could about the medical histories of everyone on board in order to personalize his medical treatments. Shamus took his job very seriously.. so much that it occasionally unnerves those he is caring for. The Shuunai are a kind but socially oblivious race.

Shamus zoned out of the conversation slightly as the others asked their questions; Shamus knew what his responsibilities were, and had a hard time following the other crew member's chain of logic. It was simply not of his expertise. He slowly scanned the room, his unblinking eyes taking in every detail. The humans in the room he felt confident he could treat. He spent a lot of time treating humans, and while they have the occasional and unexpected complication, he's treated hundreds of their kind.

The first to capture his attention was the Faira woman. Shamus had never treated a Faira before. She'd be a difficult case. From his understanding, the Faira are an intellectually advanced but frail species. It shocked Shamus how little punishment humans could take; to imagine a race more easily injured then that was distressing. Fortunately the Faira have their own ways of circumventing their weakness, but Shamus took mental notice to keep an eye on her. He might take her aside after the briefing and ask her about anything he might need to know about their kind.

His next point of interest was the Strag woman. Shamus had heard some interesting things about the Strag, mainly that they were known to be fairly capable in the field of medicine. He was intrigued by the prospect; not many other races had a reputation for healing. He might have an informative chat with her later on. Otherwise, the strag's physical structure was similar enough to humans that he felt he could adjust. An interesting facet of their biology was the ability to cloak themselves. He had some research to do on the properties of their color pigmentation and how exactly they managed to attain this ability.

The last notable figure onboard the crew Shamus took note of was the Kaarme individual on board. Their biology would be.. complicated. Their adaptive biology lent them a certain vitality and durability, but each one of them was an individual case. It would take intensive testing and analysis to get anything conclusive about this individuals health needs and recommendations, something that Shamus doubted he would be willing to work through. Outside of the business end of health and fitness, Shamus was a bit uncomfortable with the snake-like species inclusion on the journey. Their ability to adapt and evolve rapidly between generations was a fascinating process, but Shamus didn't approve of their methods. He would be yet another complication on board.

Astra nodded at her question being answered. The easy part was done. Now for actually convincing the Katla's captain to give up some of her spare parts. She flipped the switch on her computer and tied in to the communications network, requesting a channel open to the ship. Unfortunately the network was rather busy so all she got was text.

Cpt. Libra: Trouble?
Sp. Astra: Nothing of the sort, but I'd like to ask if you could liberate a spare shielding generator, along with a workdrone.
Cpt. Libra: You do realize we are not allowed to share military tech with the other races?
Sp. Astra: You do realize I invented our current shield tech and could recreate it here, you can just save me a whole lot of time?
Cpt. Libra: Urh... Fine. Take your logic and do what you do. When do they come to pick it up?
Sp. Astra: Use the drone. I cleared the transfer up here.
Cpt. Libra: Will do. We have to depart afterwards. Good luck, and try to come back in one piece?
Sp. Astra: Will do.... Say hello to the Admiral form me?
Cpt. Libra: You bet.

Leaving the channel, Astra frowned a bit as she tried to remember what the conversation was about up until now, glad her senses were good at multitasking. She skimmed over the mission conversation in her head, not really able to add anything, however two people she did notice. First one was the fighter pilot, talking bout customizing their fighters. She was hungry to get a fist hand look at some human tech and filed a mental memo to ask the woman to allow her to join her for it. While her race has never been to war, from what she could see the Faira were respectable ahead of humanity as far as technology went. Perhaps she could get some ideas.

From the corner of her eye she noticed the CMO paying her some attention. Save for herself, he was ironically the one that stood out the most. While Astra has never been to Earth, the diplomatic package did include some information on the planet's properties, fauna and flora. And the medic she could only describe as a plant-man. Of course, her government wouldn't ever share any of their medical data, just like the fact that they had no planet and were short in numbers. It would pretty much be like giving someone a manual on how to wipe them out. She'd have to dodge around the questions that were no doubt coming somehow. For now she waited for the briefing to end or the parts she requested to arrive.

Three days ago...

She watched them from the corner of the room, silently listening in to the security team as they chatted about their new assignment. It wasn't hard to tell that they had been part of the group assembled for the S.S. Durendal, and that they were quite excited by it. Not only was it easy to tell they were part of that crew, but it was also obvious it was their first real assignment out of the academy, and their attempts to impress a few of the women in the bar were falling about as fast as their empty glasses. The show gave her a bit of a chuckle as the latest target of their pursuits slapped one across the face and stormed out the door even as the offending man laughed it off. A chime in her ear notified her that Cytherea had finished her search of the databanks on the station, finding out exactly who was who and where they were being assigned. "Seems that only the one there is actually telling the truth." She began, her voice only audible for Genevieve even amid the bustle of the bar "The others are fresh out of the academy as well, but have yet to be assigned to any vessel in particular." Thinking to herself for the moment, Genevieve put together the scene before her, taking in the information she had been given and sorting out the most likely scenario to get her on the Durendal.

"I think I have a way." She kept her voice low, putting her head down as she spoke softly, so as not to attract attention to her as she spoke into the device cleverly disguised in the pin at her collar. There was a brief pause as Cytherea reworked the data, wondering what exactly it was that her sister had planned. Stepping out of the booth smoothly and into the light of the bar, she left a tip for the waiter on the check and began towards the door in the path that would go right by the security team. She had, of course, planned the scenario out well ahead of time, even before scouting the officers in the bar, and with her low cut dress and subtle application of makeup, she would be immediately noticed by the group, but likely only to attract the full attention of the officer assigned to the Durendal. It was a low tactic to use, but it did not matter to her, as she knew what had to be done.

She came closer to the group, noting the first one to lay eyes on her and continuing on as the rest started to turn their heads, almost to them when the lead officer turned his head to notice her and giving her a drunken smile. "Hey you." He started, only barely trying to hold back from being too forward "You hear abouts that new ship the ESC got themselves? I'm going to be an officer aboard it." It was almost painful how proud he was to simply be given a crewman's role aboard the ship, and she tried hard not to wince as he beamed towards her, instead offering him a smile and slowing her pace as she came closer to the group, still facing the door, but showing that she had indeed heard him. "Is that so?" Hopefully the man was too drunk to notice that she really wasn't that interested, knowing that she may have put a little too much effort into trying to appear interested "I heard that they were only taking on those who met a very particular requirement..." And if she doubted herself, the man's stupid grimace proved that she had hooked him quite well.

"Well, that they do, after all they need the best of the best to represent the ESC." A small chuckle among the man's friends and co-workers showed her exactly what this man was good at, and it was clearly not his job. She faked another couple of interested responses, reeling him in further until the man was practically hanging off her and his friends clearly envious of him. With the man fully infatuated with her, she left him the suggestion to leave the bar, making her own exit even as the other security members quietly cheered him on as he followed her out and into the corridors. Even a ways ahead of him she could smell the alcohol that hung about him, moving through the halls of the station to Cytherea's advice and heading towards the maintenance tunnels, only looking back to make sure the man was following her and to see that he understood her intent. "Ooh, I like yer thinking." He said, thankfully quietly as they both entered into the confines of the station's maintenance corridors and began moving towards one of the lesser used areas at the end of one of the wings.

"You know..." Cytherea had directed her this far into the station, avoiding the patrols and various maintenance teams currently active up until they had reached one of the service airlocks. Genevieve sighed subtly as she was unable to say anything to Cytherea without raising suspicion from the man. "He's not going to just let you do what you want. Just saying." Smiling to herself, Genevieve knew as much, knowing that she needed to distract him first. Turning around as they reached the end of the tunnel, she beckoned him closer with one hand, while slipping the other under the strap of her dress and giving him a wink. Too easily the man gave in, coming forward eagerly to put his hands on her as she turned him around and put his back against the airlock door. Looking back for a moment, a brief shadow of fear passed across his face as he saw the void behind him, looking back to see Genevieve give him a seductive smile "What's a little bit of fun without risk?" She said softly, coming closer to his face with hers before a flash of a blade came up from the side and struck him in the throat pinning him against the door. A confused gurgle escaped his lips as his eyes looked down to see her hand at the handle of the knife buried in his neck, looking back up at her and spitting up blood. Seeing that he wasn't quite dead and wanting to end it as soon as possible, she gave the knife a twist and wrenched it free with a savage jerk, ripping through his throat and splashing blood against the wall.

There was a soft hiss as the interior locks on the airlock door cycled open and she pushed the man's still twitching corpse through the door and into the airlock, taking a moment to wipe away the blood from the hallway and tossing the used rag on his body. "You really didn't have to do that..." Despite disapproving of her method, Cytherea still had the door opened under administrative command, and cycled the locks to jettison the body and evidence out the station. "Well, no, but it was a lot more satisfying than letting him distract himself otherwise." She returned, feeling quite disgusted with herself for playing him on like that, though more so in that the man had put his hands on her in that way. "At any rate, I take it you've already altered the manifest for the Durendal?" A confirmation tone let her know that both Cytherea had done so, and that she was not happy with her actions, the choice of non-verbal communication clear in the matter. With nothing else to be done in the maintenance tunnel, Genevieve gather herself up and straightened her dress back up, making her way out of the tunnels and to her room where she had prepared her kit for boarding the Durendal...

Presently...

She shifted uncomfortably in the debriefing room, glad to be wearing a helmet in the presence of so many disgusting aliens. This was not going to be an easy mission it seemed, especially since she had found out earlier that she was to be working under an alien, one of the Skrad as she recalled, but non-human none the less. Paying close attention to the captain, she listened to him speak of the general details of the mission, noting that the captain neglected to say just what was contained in the probe's databanks. Neglected, or simply chose to gloss over the question, it was unclear. She could tell that the man had been carefully chosen for this command and that he had been well chosen for his natural charisma, finding that he seemed very well inclined to a leadership position as he addressed each of them individually. Her attention wavered for a moment as one of the aliens spoke, this one being the CMO, the one who would be responsible for treating them in case of injuries in the field. "Cytherea" Her thoughts communicated along the internal link between herself and the AI instantaneously, the neural connections allowing her to speak to her without even opening her mouth. "Upload my replacement medical file to the medical bay, file 24/001a. I'll not have some wretched alien having a record of my biological information." There was only a brief delay as her sister communicated the action to the ship's computers, taking a roundabout method to avoid Jude and masking her presence along the pathways. With that done, she redirected her attention to the group at hand, looking them over once more.

The first of the human crew to really catch her eye apart from captain Jon Welch was the first officer, Jason Gonzales, a man who was quick to get to the facts of the mission and find out exactly what they were facing. He had her approval for now, though it would remain to be seen how far that approval would go and whether or not her allegiance to the Pan-Solar would change that. The other one to find her notice was the commander of the fighter pilots, Krystina Markov, another who was quick to see that her own job was done to satisfaction and keen to get down to business. So far it seemed as if the human side of the crew was up to par, but still she wondered just what it was that warranted UNISEC's attention to this mission, as it looked at the moment to simply be an attempt by the ESC to gather support from the other alien factions. Despite the allowance of aliens aboard the vessel, it was still a human built ship, answering to the ESC, and captained by a human as well.

Without need to speak up, she chose not to do so, not feeling like addressing any of her fellow crew and especially those of non-human origin at the table. She sat still at the table, awaiting either a dismissal from the captain, or for another of the crew to address her directly.

"That's exactly what they are, the stealth upgrades will mask the fighters from highly advanced detection software and radar. This of course if nullified if the enemies on the ship look out a window, then they'd see our ship and or the fighters, but we'll bank on them not doing that." Jon said with a smile, then heard the A.I.'s voice sound, speaking into the conference room to someone.

"Astra, the parts you requested just arrived and have been placed in the cargo bay, you shall find them there." Joan stated.

"Very good, now with that, I believe this meeting is adjourned. You are all dismissed, I recommend walking around a bit, especially in the areas you will most frequent on the ship. You'll really want to get used to your new surroundings, especially if you have not served on a ship before," Jon said, then finished speaking. "I will be on the bridge putting the finishing touches on our launch from the station. If you need anything, don't hesitate to come find me." He added with a nod, then exited the conference room.

Ukkonen had slithered out of the armory shortly after the briefing had begun. It knew the mission and was more than prepared. It had stocked the armory with mainly long range, accurate, and deadly rifles which would be perfect for taking out individuals or small groups. It also kept a couple heavier weapons in case things got hairy. It had a grenade launcher, an RPG, and a large, shoulder-mounted laser which would melt the scales right off a Kaarme-ihmisen. As the meeting was going on, Ukkonen noticed many of the other races were human-shaped with rather boring genetic material. One crew member that really interested him was the Shuunai. Ukkonen knew the name of the Shuunai was Shamus. Ukkonen made a mental note to ask Shamus later on about possibly sampling his genetic material. The Kaarme-ihmisen had always lusted after Shuunai genetic material, and now Ukkonen was possibly able to get it.

Once the meeting concluded, Ukkonen slid right back into the armory. It had been right in the middle of sorting ammo. It wanted the armory to be spotless and organized, cold and calculating.

The armory wasn’t anything particularly special. The customary shoulder-mounted AT missile launchers, automatic grenade launchers, recoil-less rifles, and mines all spanned the rightmost rack, while an assortment of assault rifles, battle rifles, designated marksmen rifles, service pistols, sniper rifles, and mixed array of infantry-portable machine guns took up residence upon the leftmost rack.

A few direct-energy weapons of numerous models and dimensions had been attentively stacked against areas of free space. Spare power modules and batteries accompanied them.

Personally, Turner didn’t mess with those too much; from his own experience, they weren’t reliable or particularly effective when wielded in his twin hands.

No, I came aboard the station about thirty minutes ago. I missed the briefing and opening meet-and-greet; elements of the station’s security detachment gave me a hard time with how much ordinance and hardware I was strolling about with. I’ll get the gist of what’s going on and where we’re headed once I settle in and speak to whoever’s in charge around here.

What section of the ship are you in?

Armory, Maxwell hefted the massive military-issued storage case off from his armored shoulder. It landed on the metal surface of the moderately-sized room with an audible thud. The faint sounds of the contents shifting about within echoed slightly. I need to drop off my gear—or at least some of it. I’m not carrying this locker around any longer than I have to. The last thing I need is someone else throwing complaints and false-accusations at me. I don’t get paid nearly enough to deal with that shit. Talk to you soon.

Maxwell and his sister, Caria, had always been close, but despite the trust both siblings had for one another, he had declined to speak to her of his past troubles with the ESC military court system—the Raqh War and his heinous deeds and less-than-stellar actions during it. As far as he knew, she was completely ignorant of the entire ordeal—unless Aeon had notified her of what happened and what he had planned to do about it.

He was going to miss her terribly.

The soldier cut the radio link, removed his helmet and then set it upon the olive-colored container, the hydraulics and servomechanisms of his powered exoskeleton hissing and whirring with the subtle body motion. He retrieved a bundle of white-colored wiring from one of his chest pouches, manipulated a small electronic device fixed to his right wrist and, without warning, his left ear was suddenly subjected to a series of overwhelming bass lines and pronounced drum patterns, the voracious noise edging out into the open air. The right ear bud dangled uselessly in front of his frontal ballistic plate.

Maxwell turned and, out of the corner of his now unrestricted vision, he noticed what appeared to be—

“A massive snake,” Turner said aloud. The potentially-offensive words slipped out unannounced. He had seen a member of the Kaarme-ihmisen species milling about earlier when he was making his way towards the Durendal, though he had never seen one of them this up close before until now. This one had taken it upon itself to frantically arrange anything and everything within the armory into flawless order.

No wonder everything was so neat.

"...And who might you be?" Maxwell inquired, addressing the reptilian creature with a stern yet nonthreatening voice.

Shamus had waited for everyone to leave before getting up and leaving himself. The captain was correct, he had not served on a ship before. It was mainly the dark emptiness of space and his aversion to it that prevented him from ever working abroad, but Shamus had decided that working on this vessel was more then worth his own discomfort. He stepped out into the hallway and was immediately unfamiliar with where he was standing. Shamus had noticed what looked to be some sort of computer terminal next to the doorway. The captain had mentioned something about an AI. AI were a weird thing for the Shuunai to grasp, but he decided that it wouldn't hurt to try.

"Excuse me, Jude, may I have your attention for a moment?" Shamus spoke into the terminal. The face of a human woman appeared onscreen... but he was told that Jude was certainly not human. He had trouble wrapping his head around that at times. Surely if it looked and behaved like a human it was human?
"How may I help you, Sham-Usafri?"
"Shamus suits me just fine."
"My apologies, Shamus."
"Where can I find the medical lab?"
A detailed map appeared on screen, with a dot representing where he stood. A line formed on the ship's schematic, leading a trail to what appeared to be the lab in question. Shamus did his best to commit the entire thing to memory.
"May I do anything else for you, Shamus?"
"No dear, you've done quite enough. Have a good day." Shamus nodded at Jude with his usual respect before following his instructions toward the medical lab.

===========================================

To say that Shamus was impressed with his new working quarters would be an understatement. As the doors opened to reveal his new lab he was actually rather giddy; everything here seemed up to date. He brushed his hand over each piece of machinery present, doing his usual inspections. Everything here was state of the art. He was expecting things to be slightly out of date and more compact since it was on board a vessel, but things were quite the opposite. Apparently military medics were the ones who were treated to the most expensive of equipment, that was only to be expected. Shamus immediately got to work running diagnostics on everything; he put the CAT scan through testing as he took stock of the various medicinal compounds he had access to. It wasn't until Shamus had taken care of everything else that he decided to access his computer terminal and go through the medical records of those on board.

He was pleased by what he saw. All of the humans on board had all relevant information included. Shamus committed their face and names to memory, as well as any other information that could be relevant like allergies or conditions, but there was very few. Everyone on board seemed to be healthy and in perfect form. Pleased with what he found he decided to shift his attention to the non human occupants, even running into his own records. Shamus looked through his own medical record first, and it seemed completely accurate. He experienced lead poisoning at the age of 15 and had spent a week shedding deceased plant matter before he finally began to recover. It was an unpleasant experience. At 23 he had experienced extreme dehydration due to sodium being slipped into his water trough, a mean spirited prank that a human student had done to him. He wasn't the most well liked at that institute, but Shamus's marks spoke for themselves and he left satisfied with his own performance. He chalked down that behavior to human youth and their own inexperience with his kind.

However, as expected, the medical profiles of the other non humans on board did not have quite as much detail. The records had the name of the Faira woman, Astra, but there was nothing else to be seen at all. If the military mainframe didn't have access to relevant medical information for her species, he was somehow doubtful that traditional research would be any more fruitful. He would need to hold council with her. Sakura of the Strag culture had more relevant information on hand, and Shamus made an effort to absorb all of the medical and biological information he could. Lastly he read up on Ukkonen of the Karmme culture. His record had a lot of interesting information on his kind, but ultimately it boiled down to Ukkonen needing medical attention unique to the rest of his kind. Research would be needed.

First thing was first, Shamus needed to speak to Astra. Through his computer terminal he spoke to Jude and asked for the whereabouts of the Faira aboard, and left his medical lab, and began following the instructions given by the ship's AI.