The earth-shaking sound of metal on metal footsteps warned of Jacqueline's arrival long before she came into sight. She had already been busy around the lower levels of the ship for some time, helping to move and install the large upright docking cradle that served as her necessary alternative to a bed. With her massive frame, there was no bunk that could fit her, and even if there was the regular diagnostics and maintenance required by her suit was most easily dealt with during a normal sleep cycle. Since such a thing couldn't fit into the crew quarters, a small section of the cargo hold had been cordoned off to function as her domicile. What it lacked in privacy it more than made up for in functionality, as the cargo hold was one of the relatively few places on the ship where she never had to worry about damaging the roof by raising her arms too high.

When she arrived at the briefing room, she had to duck slightly to fit in through the doorway. Her suit's integrated helmet was inactive, revealing her heavily scarred face and messily tied-back hair. The suit itself was blocky and industrial looking in a way that only military hardware was, and combined with her size she almost looked like one of her parents was an actual tank. Looking around, her one good eye passed over the available seating to rest on some crates left in the corner—crates that looked sturdy enough that they wouldn't just crumple under her weight. Walking over, she eased herself into a sitting position, bringing her head to eye-level with the rest of the room's occupants. Drumming her fingers on her knee with one hand, she scrutinized the rest of the crew that had so far shown up.