Alfred was already heading in the direction of the briefing room when the message rang out. His dropship had docked a few hours ago, and he had taken the time to unpack in his cabin. Back on duty after a 6-month medical leave, he hoped that his fresh energy and enthusiasm would match how rusty he was. A few days in the training complex on Earth gave Alfred a bit of his old edge back, but live combat would be needed to return to full capacity.

He checked the map on his deck (similar to Emily's, but without administrative capabilities.) to ensure he was going the right way, before entering what should be the briefing room. The room was not small, but crates piled in the corners made it a little claustrophobic. The occupants were a varied bunch, not seeming to fit any description of a team. A small platform across from the door supported a scruffy man with multiple scars, who appeared slightly upset about something. "I'm sorry," Alfred said, with a polite, cultured tone. "I appear to have taken a wrong turn. Could any of you direct me to the briefing room?"