A rush of sensations hit you as you awaken from a deep sleep. As you slowly come to your senses, you realize you seem to be in a cryo pod that is slowly defrosting. After a moment, the door slowly glides open and you feel the straps that once held you in place recede into the pod. Feeling slowly comes back to your extremities, a dull orange glow hits your eyes and a soft buzz permeates the air around you. The odorless recycled air typical of most spaceships hits your nose as you finally begin breathing on your own. Examining yourself, you find that your wearing a form fitting once piece jumpsuit covering everything but your head and hands.

Once out of the pod you find yourself in a small circular room with four other pods, similar to the one you were in, lining the perimeter. The walls and floors seem to be made of a dark metal. The only light in the room comes from a single bulb in the center of the ceiling, and it seems to be running on emergency power. In the center of the room is a light brown colored table with piles of clothing sitting on it. Each pile appears to correspond to a pod, and on inspection it's revealed that they are the cloths each of you originally wore. Unfortunately, none of your weapons or other gear is in sight.

After a time, as you change and greet each other, you hear a click come from an unknown source. The soft buzzing you heard before is drowned out by a much louder buzz, which you eventually realize is feedback. The speaker system seems to have turned on. The loud buzz finally subsides and a deep mechanical voice begins speaking.

"Hello and welcome aboard. If you would all please make your way to the bridge, I can debrief you and we can begin our first mission. Thank you." With that quick message you hear another click and the original soft buzz returns.

Along the wall, in between two of the pods a door opens and presents a long dimly lit hallway made of the same material as the room you are currently in. At the end of the hall you can see a four way intersection however only one of the other halls appears to be lit. This presumably leads to the bridge.

The pod's doors slowly slid open and a girl tumbled out. She landed on her hands and knees in front of the pod, head pounding, limbs numb, and memories gone. She had been in deep freeze, artificially induced cryogenic sleep. She was entirely unsure how long it had been, under what conditions she had gone into the pod, where she was. In fact she was unsure of just about everything except for a few basic truths: She knew her name was Rain Causwell, she knew that she was the best damn pilot in the universe, she knew that she had held onto a wealth of tech knowledge, she knew they had some sort of job to do, and she knew that she needed her jacket. Rain reluctantly rose from the floor, glancing around. The room was filled with several pods similar to hers, four to be exact, and out of those pods came other people. She glanced at the table in front of her, clothes piled on top of it, the brown leather jacket which she craved along with them. She picked up the pile and laid each garment out in front of her. Jacket, a white t-shirt, jeans, boots, and her glasses. She wore glasses? It would appear so.

She didn't take off the jumpsuit before she dressed- she wasn't about to get naked in front of a bunch of strangers, especially since they were all men. Instead she put her clothes on over the suit, first tugging the jeans up along her legs. They fit tight, accentuating her body and choking off her legs with the layer of suit beneath her. She'd make due. Next she shimmied the t-shirt over her torso, then pulled the jacket over her. She didn't zip it up. Finally she placed her feet in the brown boots that came with the pile of clothes, then pulled the glasses over her face. She was wearing three layers- if she wasn't within the cold hull of a spaceship she'd be very hot. For now she was satisfied with her attire, and finally she shifted her attention to the group awakening and changing along side her.

She donned a warm and open smile, glancing at the faces of each. She was aware of the fact that she was the only female among them, a slight disappointment- groups of men with a single women occasionally would come at odds, but hopefully these men were smarter then that. She examined each- one a rugged and though looking man, whom she placed in his late thirties. The next was athletic looking, around the same age as the first but not quite as gruff. Next was a bearded man whom she would guess to be in his late twenties, although his facial hair may been throwing her off. Finally, there was an older man with grayed hair and a grayed beard to match. Sixties? Hard to say. Out of all of them she felt that she was inclined to trust the old man most- perhaps a foolish instinct, but he looked somewhat grandfatherly, and age tends to temper people's personalities. The others she couldn't really speak for, for she had avoided the inclination to make a snap judgement about them based on their appearance.

She was still wearing her smile all this time. She cleared her throat, preparing to speak, "Well. I'm not, uh, entirely sure why we're here but we should probably introduce ourselves in case we're... here long? Wherever here is. I'm Rain. Er, that is to say, my name is Rain, I believe. Not that I'm, y'know, 'rain'. Rain Causwell. I think that's my name at least, I don't remember a whole lot." A strand of hair fell in front of her face, and she blew it out of the way. Her smile weakened a little with nervousness as she spoke, but it recouped it's strength. Her head was still pounding and she was acutely aware of the fact that that was not a great introduction, but she gave a little wave at the group as she finished speaking.

She would wait for the others to introduce themselves or leave, and then speak. She cleared her throat again, pointing down the lit hallway, "Well, I'm just going to, uh, go that way, since that seems to be the way to go." Striding down the hall towards the bridge.

Jericho stumbled out of the pod, grunting as he landed on his feet, the scentless smell of recycled air assaulting his nose while he quickly took gauge of his surroundings, and himself. Other pods, including other people recovering from their stasis, five including his own, were in the room. The table had clothes, his own being with reach while the others were not, and the only light was emergency powered, far as he could tell. He himself was wearing a damn ugly jumpsuit, and his head hurt something fierce. Right, his memory was wiped, he could tell that much from the complete lack of recollection of anything earlier than waking up in the pod. No, he could remember a thing or two. He was Jericho Cross, bounty hunter, and his actual gear and weapon wasn't on the table. Smart, don't give the disorentatited and possibly pissed mind wiped passengers arms so quickly. Was it smart? Something told him it was smart, internally, so he listened to that feeling while he took gauge of his fellow passangers. Not an impressive looking bunch, for the most part, and he grabbed his clothes, a tank top replacing his breastplate and his coat thankfully there, while doing so.

The slacks were a bit more snug than he felt was comfortable, but he wasn't going to waste time ditching the jumpsuit until he had time in privacy. He would also have to examine himself for scars, injuries, anything that might indicate hints to his past. Next came the tank top, which he remembered was worn under his breastplate for his own good. Chaffing, maybe? Regardless, it mostly hid the ugly as sin jumpsuit now, and tugging on his coat and boots pretty much completely made it vanish. No armor, he remembered there was supposed to be armor, but he reckoned that would come later once they figured out what the hell was going on. Speaking of they, his thoughts turned to the assembled group. Token women of the group, slim, short, and pale. Probably a pilot or spacer of some sort, looked like she didn't get much sun either way. Looked young, perhaps mid to late twenties? Not terribly imposing, either, so his thoughts quickly moved on. Next two were fairly average looking guys, some hard jawed kid, probably a glass jaw (figuratively speaking), and the other had some scruffy beard. He pegged those two around late thirties, and middish twenties, respectively. There was the old guy then, white haired, and probably one of the more dangerous men in this room. Sixties to seventies would be his guess there, and he jammed his hands in his pockets, finished analyzing each person for now, since no one had acted.

The woman started babbling first, not very impressively either, but Jericho didn't concern himself much with it. Rain Causwell, a name to the pale face. She seemed to be waiting for a response of sorts, and the bounty hunter shrugged and spoke, his voice gruff, both from not having spoken in who knows how long, and seemed to be a natural state of tone. "Jericho Cross, far as I remember it. Figure there is work to be done, so let's get this over with." Jericho, unlike miss Causwell, did not bother waiting much at all after the doors opened and the mention of heading to the bridge for answers was made. Good, he needed those right now. He also needed his gear, which he remembered having at some point, and really wanted right now. Answers first, then gear, then deal with whatever reason they were out...wherever they were right now. He would take the lead, by virtue of not waiting, following the path towards what he figured would likely be the bridge. And then, whoever this phantom speaker was, better have some answers. Not remembering shit out of a stasis pod didn't do much good for his temper.

With a grunt and click from his knee, Ben hauled himself out of the pod. Damn things he mentally griped, they might keep you alive but they sure as hell don't keep you comfy. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck, feeling a familiar set of pops and cracks as joints woke up and moved for the first time in... how long? How long had he been in the pod? Ben couldn't remember getting into the damn thing or agreeing to let anyone knock him out. So how long had he been frozen? A quick sweeping glance of the room didn't reveal any obvious time keeping devices, just a four piles of clothes and four other pods. There's always the old fashioned way he thought, running a hand across his beard and head. If he'd been in the pod a long time, he would likely have a very different amount of hair than last time he looked in a mirror. His cursory examination lead him to believe he'd been frozen for not too long, given that his beard and hair felt familiar. Of course, someone might have thawed me out temporarily and given me a shave. Or am I just paranoid? With a grunt, he concluded there was no sure way to know how long he'd been out, nor where he was. What did know was that he wasn't wearing this pod suit any longer than he had to.

He stepped forward and sorted quickly through the pile of clothes in front of his pod. His normal gear, a nondescript black jumpsuit, fingerless gloves, some necessaries and a pair of well maintained black shoes. But none of the little hold outs he liked to have with him, just in case. Someone or perhaps several someones had very carefully gone through his clothes and removed them, even the little knife stored in the heel of his left boot. On the one hand, anyone that confiscates your weapons is unlikely to be your friend. On the other, they could always have shot him while he was in the pod so whoever took his stuff probably didn't want him dead. Small comfort. As he rifled through his pile, he noticed a girl clamber from her pod, pull on some clothes from the pile and then introduce herself. Seems harmless enough he thought after giving her a once over. Before he could respond, another person stumbled into view. This one looked a lot more familiar to Ben, in a way. The man wasn't familiar, the face wasn't known to him but the stance, the body type and the slight growl in his voice all spoke to Ben. Definitely a fighter, possibly a bounty hunter? he thought as the man suited up. Moves like he's used to the weight of a gun on his hip and paces like a caged tiger. The other two didn't seem to have emerged from their pods yet.

Ben shrugged. This wasn't the first time he'd awoken with no damn clue where he was or how he'd got there. True, it was normally a lot easier to guess, due to a thumping headache, but he'd be damned if he'd look unsure in front of any youngster a quarter of his age. Nodding to the two in front of him, he said "Name's Ben, some calls me Old Ben, now look away if you're the shy retiring type or don't want to know me a whole lot better." With that, he started to struggle out of the pod suit. Working his arms and chest out, he revealed hard, wiry muscles beneath skin that looked like it could tell a whole omnibus of stories. Scars, burns and strange marks jostled for position with long forgotten marks of the wind and weather. Eventually he got the suit off and pulled on his own, much softer gear. Lacing up the boots, he stood up and stretched again. "Ya ain't really awake until you're dressed, I always say" he said, to signal to the others they could look back without seeing something they might regret later. Just then, a mechanical voice spoke, telling them to head to the bridge. The second one to emerge, Jericho Cross, strode away with the air of one about to hit something and the girl trailed after him.

"No time like the present" grunted Ben, walking after them.

With a step forward Robert exited his pod as the door opened for it, releasing the gas within the chamber out and dripping to the floor coating his feet as he exited. His body shivered as the gas that caressed his body fell to the floor, looking at the black skin tight suit that he was wearing which offered little for the cold as the thin material held snug around his body. He noticed that his dark skinsuit was different from the other who had awoken suggesting that perhaps this was his own? Either way, the skinsuit and the cold was not his only worries as the throbbing pain which was smacking his head was getting annoying, with the pain capable of making anyone wince in surprise as the numbing cold began to disappear. Looking to both his left are right were other people who also exited out of their own pods and a door which was the only exit for them to leave through. But before he got ahead of himself, there was a table in front of them all that contained piles of clothes which he assumed were for him and the others respectively. A good amount having been already taken and given to their respected owners leaving whatever was Robert one of the few articles of clothing left to retrieve. Shifting through the belongings in the pile, a few of the clothes resonated or at least felt similar in a way that indicated what was his... and not some strangers.

Deciding since introductions will be harder to do latter, this unusual moment will have to do since he best time seems like now. "So I guess this is as formal of a greeting we are giving to each other then? I'm Robert and I guess we are stuck together for now but if you don't mind, can you turn around? I don't mind if you look but just a warning in advance" He said as he began working his way through the clothes on the table.

His black skin tight suit that he had on was distractingly tight on his skin but with the addition of a pair of dark pants and a t-shirt to cover himself up, he wasn't as exposed like before. Picking up the remaining pieces of clothing, the ones he chosed just seemed to fit as he pulled a sweater over his t-shirt and put on a comfortable and sleek trench coat. Feeling the unique padding inside the coat as he handled it within his hands, and the intricate pockets within it as well. Once he was finished putting on his shoes, he looked at the remainder of the clothing which was for the last person to exit the pod but he felt like he was missing something that was his. Perhaps something to cover his face but he wasn't sure why or what reason he wanted a bandana to cover his face but he simply had a feeling that something important was missing from him. Wracking his brain for answers which it didn't have, he sighed as another sharp sting of pain shot through him, making him grunt silently.

Between the pain in his head and trying to figure who he was along with where he is at the moment, is a problematic situation as he barely remembered himself. If he was he reviewed his memories correctly, 'I am Robert Minsky, age 38 who was born from some back street plant from what I remember and I am a mercenary... Okay, so I'd don't recall seeing anything on the table as my weapons and... Oh crap- Profiler! Who in the hell took it?' Sighing as Robert remembered what he was forgetting in his possession, was the Profiler his most valued tool and in a sense life's work. Shaking his head even more annoyed now that he remembered this part of himself, he looked up at the girl who introduced herself as 'Rain Causwell', observing her briefly before another character introduced himself as 'Jericho Cross' and then finally 'Ben' or 'Old Ben'. Watching the newly awoken trio head out, he followed them along as it was the best idea after the mechanical voice told them to proceed to the bridge.

Ozmond

---

Oz decided that being unfrozen was not a pleasant experience. He gasped for cold, stale, air, wincing at the light as his pod opened with a hiss. He tumbled down from the upright pod, sitting on his knees as he caught his breath. He took a precursory glance around him and found that he wasn’t alone.

Another man, about his height but significantly more muscled. Before he could feel too self-conscious, he came to the conclusion that he had the better beard. A woman, who he easily had eight or so inches on. She was smiling, which he found interesting considering the situation. Another man, who he immediately decided he was afraid of. The man had a hard face, and gave off a vibe that said “do not fuck with me.” Oz was only too happy to oblige. The final person in the room, an older man who was somehow scarier than the last. He had steely eyes, and a beard that Ozmond had to concede was better than his own.

They began introducing themselves. Robert, Rain, Jericho, Ben. It only felt right to add his own name to the list. Before he could, people started dressing. He suddenly realized they were all wearing skin tight black body suits. Some years ago, he may have been distracted by the tightness of their garb, but years of doctoring had killed that. He watched, realizing that everyone was putting on their clothes over the body suits. He decided to do the same. He donned the thin, long-sleeve thermal shirt and the heavy A-MOS pants. The A-MOS jacket came next, and he buttoned it up, feeling more comfortable with its familiar weight. He slid into the boots last, deciding to attach the helmet and goggles to his belt, since it appears as though they weren’t in combat. He stopped suddenly. How did he know what an A-MOS was? He couldn’t remember ever wearing one, but it felt familiar. He panicked silently, realizing he could remember little, excluding his name. There must have been a memory wipe of some sort. Yes, that sounded right. He realized that the woman, Rain, was beginning to walk away and decided to speak.

”Ozmond. Ozmond McGregor. Though almost everyone I’ve ever known calls me Oz. I-I’m a, uh, m-medic, I think.”

He began to remember a bit more. He knew he had been an army medic, a fact that suddenly made him aware of the fact that his pistol was gone. He couldn’t remember what army he had fought for, though. He shook his head, deciding to follow the lights towards what he assumed to be the bridge. Everything would probably be explained there, right?

As you enter into what you presume to be the bridge, you find yourself in an area easily three times the size of the cryo-stasis room and made of the same dark metal as it. At the front of the room, straight across from the doorway, is a large window glaring out into the dark void of space. Along the walls of the room are several consoles with various ship readings flashing across their screens. In the center of the room is a large circular console with five chairs around it. On the console, in front of each seat, is a small personal display and in the center of the console is what appears to be a large holo-projector. In the center of the ceiling you can see a weird orb shaped object that you get the uncomfortable feeling is watching your movements. As you enter the room and begin looking around you hear the speaker system turn itself back on.

"Thank you for coming to the Bridge as I requested. With you all here, we can begin introductions and briefings. I am the shipboard Artificial Navigation and Defense Intelligence, or ANDI for short. You are aboard a light cruiser called The Phantom, commissioned by [ERROR] and registered to [ERROR]." A pause as ANDI seems to check himself before continuing. "I apologize for those errors, but it appears many of my memory cores were wiped the last time we docked. As I was saying though, you are aboard the Phantom. This ship was built with state of the art stealth and navigation systems, and mid tier defense and weapons systems. It was also built to be as hands free as possible. Except for my data core and the ship core, all systems are built into the ship itself and maintained by microbots within the structure. As such, there is plenty of time for training and relaxation by the crew, yourselves, during travel and little need for maintenance."

As you come farther into the room, the holo-projector starts up and projects the image of a small, blocky shaped space station.

"In terms of the current mission, we are currently 1 AU away from our mission target, the COFTA Research Space Station Beta Omega Epsilon located just outside COFTA space. Your mission is to board the station, transmit all data cores to me, retrieve any physical research, and destroy the station. Use of deadly force has been permitted for this mission, and anything not relevant to the mission is free to take. At sublight speeds, we should be docking at the station within three hours. Feel free to visit your rooms, communicate with me, relax, and explore the ship. I can be contacted from any room by speaking out and saying my name. All personal items can be found in your rooms."

Finishing his debriefing, ANDI turns the speaker off. At the front of the bridge, the window darkens and is replaced by a map of the ship, split into two levels, with each room labeled. Looking behind you, you also see the lights have turned on in the rest of the hallways.

The bridge was an odd room with a notable lack of a pilot's seat. Rain began pacing around the room, examining the consoles and displays. As she did a mechanical voice began to speak, introducing itself as ANDI. AI? Microbots? Stealth? We're working for someone with very deep pockets. Rain was slightly disheartened to hear that the ship's maintenance and piloting was automated. It didn't sit right with her. She would need to look into taking control of it for herself. She didn't trust the AI with a human task. Although theoretically the AI would've flown the ship flawlessly, there were key differences between an AI pilot and a Human pilot that made Humans better suited for the task. The prime example being the fact that the AI flew the ship like it was a textbook. There was no creativity, no ingenuity, and that didn't agree with Rain. Although her pride probably accounted for a larger part of the mistrust.

But for now there were other things to do. She looked at the assembled group, "Well, I'm going to go to my room... and then I'm going to go check out maintenance, so come get me if I'm needed for anything... by the by, I'm a pilot. The very best," She spoke her next sentence lowly so the AI hopefully wouldn't catch it, "Better then a damned robot." She resumed speaking at a normal tone, "I'm also a mechanic, engineer, hacker, er... general genius." She said with a short laugh. She was, of course, still smiling. "Well... see ya later, I guess." She turned away, heading to her room with a wave.

It was a fairly spacious room. Unusual fare for space- most ships have their crew packed like sardines, efficient use of space was a big deal. Evidently not as important for the Phantom. She looked it over, and her heart dropped. So that's how it is, huh? She was distressed because this room was without a shadow of a doubt her design. That very fact had many implications, the most important being that she agreed to this. Did she want to forget? Why?

She would need to find answers. For now she examined her room. The most prominent piece was her bed- it wasn't some luxurious queen sized affair. It was a simple twin bed. She wasn't planning on sharing it with anyone. Beside it was a nightstand, a lamp and an alarm clock placed upon it. A small closet sat in the corner, packed with her clothing, a mirror making up the door of the closet. Along the side of the room was its second most prominent feature- a workbench, equipped with a multitude of tools, drawers filled with transistors, resistors, capacitors, an army of parts. She would have some fun with it. Lying on the workbench was her toolkit, her pistol, her PDA, and a belt equipped with spots to carry her gear. She would put it on after she finished looking over the room. On the opposite wall was a desk, on which a state of the art computer sat, attached to an unnecessary amount of monitors. In the back was a bathroom- shower, toilet, everything she would need.

For now she would shed the skintight jumpsuit, finally able to feel comfortable in her clothes without it. She picked up the belt on the table, putting it on. She attached her PDA to it, then placed the gun into the holster. It wasn't really her gun, she knew that much. Her grip on it was clumsy and she didn't want to use it, but she recalled that someone had made her carry it in her past. She left the toolkit for now- too big and cumbersome to carry around casually.

She left her room, taking the elevator down to the lower level. Although maintenance wasn't technically required she still felt it was her job to take a look. As she strode through the storage area she spoke aloud, hoping the AI would answer. [b][color=0094FF][b]"So, uh ANDI, I have a couple of questions... well, first, uh, is there anything you can tell me about me that I wouldn't know? Accounting for the memory wipe, that is. Secondly, not that I don't trust, uh, you,"[/color][/b] She didn't trust it, "Is there any possibility of me taking manual control of the ship? I don't really like the whole autopilot thing, I'd rather fly myself." As she finished speaking she opened the door to maintenance, taking in the ship's cores.

Bloody robots Ben thought, scowling at ANDI's interface. Who gave that thing the right to keep me here? He'd never been one to move before he knew what was what, however, and decided to check the rest of the ship out before drawing any conclusion. As he was about to leave the room, Rain started talking. The best? Bah, I've seen pilots who could fly circles around her, I don't doubt. Still, it's good to be confident. When she was done, he gave a shrug. "I wouldnae want to make any claims so bold as being the best pilot there ever was but I'd say I'm fair good to have in a scrap, so long as I'm on your side. Yon computer says we'll be docking in three hours, so I suggest everyone acquaint themselves with the ship then suit up and warm up."

With that, he walked out and made for what was 'his' room. Arriving in it was... strange. Ben had a sense that he'd been here before but couldn't place any of the details. The little cabin was spartan, with no more comforts than a bed, a desk and a chair. The rest of the room was taken up with exercise machines; dumbbells, a chin-up bar, a balance board. All were serviceable and well used though Ben didn't recognise them. On the desk sat a stylus and some paper, alongside a set of tools Ben definitely remembered. The box contained his maintenance gear, a collection of tools, specialised and otherwise, for repairing and maintaining everything he owned. There were needles, thread, polish, brushes, screws, tweezers, sprays and an array of clothes for a myriad of different uses. With this kit he could keep his guns in pristine condition, his boots sealed and tough, his clothes thick and warm and his mind in good shape. Nothing helped soothe the agitation of purposelessness than caring for something he owned. Even looking at the kit now, he could feel some of his frustration at the mysteriousness of his current situation melting away.

Can't stand around doing nothing all the live long day he thought with a sigh. First things first, he reclaimed all the small holdout weapons he liked to have concealed on his person, all of which had been carefully laid out in one of the desk drawers. Knife, pistol, knife, flashbang, knife, grenade, knife. All slotted away into different places in his suit and boots. With them equipped, he felt considerably more self assured. Anyone attempting to put him away in cryo-sleep again would have another thing coming. Secondly, he decided to make a few... precautions. Selecting a suitable blade, he went back to the cryo chamber and concealed it within his pod, near the floor. It wasn't immediately obvious to the naked eye but a quick search of the pod would reveal it. He'd have to hope they were less thorough about searching the pods than they would be about his searching his clothes.

Next stop, the armoury. Despite living his entire life surrounded by them and using them constantly to great effect, Ben wasn't particularly fond of guns. People thought of them as symbols of power and might, as things that instantly made your problems smaller. In old Ben's experience, guns mostly just brought a whole new world of problems with them. Still, he wasn't going to let some silly self examination stop him from examining the contents of the armoury. Stepping inside, he immediately knew one thing; whoever paid for this ship was loaded. There was everything; breaching charges, assault shotguns, laceration mines, sniper rifles, tear gas, rail guns. And in the corner, leaning against a wall, Ben's constant companion; Nessie. A treasured assault rifle, Nessie was one of the few guns still in common use to fire solid slugs rather than lasers or plasma. Of course, she didn't just shoot lead, her bullets were hollow-points containing small explosive packages that could blow the head of a rhino. Still, Ben always felt a twinge of superiority when laser guns fizzled and failed but Nessie kept on blazing away.

Quickly moving through a few routine checks, such as snapping back the slide and adjusting the sights, Ben spoke aloud to the ship computer. "ANDI, you there? I want to know a wee bit more about this 'research station' and who will be on it. I'm no going to go into a firefight blind, d'ya ken?"

In the maintenance access area of the Phantom, you find yourself in a room reminiscent of the bridge. The walls are covered floor to ceiling with consoles and touch screens controlling and displaying the workings of the ship. Everything from fuel levels and weapons status to the air conditioning and heating systems are displayed. With your trained eyes however, you notice that most of them seem to be under a kind of lockdown, preventing manual access to them. Straight ahead of the door you came in is the door leading to the ship core and AI data core room. Unfortunately, the door is locked by unknown means and won’t open. You can however see into the room through a reinforced window that's part of the door, and what you see amazes you.

In the center of the room is a large metal sphere suspended in place by reinforced beams jutting out of the ceiling and floor. Wires of all sizes hook into and attach to the sphere, drawing obscene amounts of energy. Giant reinforced wire/hose like structures come out of each side of the sphere and disappear into the floor. The whole room seems to pulse, as if the sphere itself is drawing in the light around it. Your trained eye can tell that this is unlike any ship core you’ve seen, as it is an antimatter core. In fact by most accounts this type of core is theoretical at best. The fact that your ship has an antimatter core speaks volumes of your employer.

At your questions, ANDI readily replies, ”Ms. Causwell my own records on you all are quite limited as it appears they were mostly erased. I will give you what I can though. It appears that you came highly recommended as a top tier pilot. In fact, while there are no official records saying as much, you were considered one of the COFTA’s best pilots, unofficially ranking higher than any human and many non-humans. In fact, the only humans to match or exceed you were those with major cybernetic enhancements and augmentations. However, it wasn’t just your piloting skills that were taken into account. Your skills as an engineer and programmer were also looked at, and your lack of an allegiance to any single entity.” ANDI pauses, allowing you to process what he said. ”It appears that was more, but I am unable to access it. I am sorry for not being able to provide more information.

In regards to your other question about taking manual control, I will say that it is possible to do but is not advised. While your abilities as a pilot are in no way in question, you do not have access to all the resources I do. I have flight logs and simulations from nearly every major space battle of the past century from which I can draw data, and have been programmed to examine over one million possible scenarios every second. Additionally, the autopilot feature is meant to allow you to leave the ship and take part in off ship missions at any time.” ANDI pauses for another moment, almost as if considering something. ”If it is of any consolation, I have a number of simulations that I believe are based on your performance in various dogfights and bombing runs.” With that, ANDI is once again silent and you are left in the maintenance room with only the buzz and whirl of hidden machines as company.


Looking around the area, you note that during your initial inspection of the room, you missed a small printer like object in the far corner. You eventually recognize it as a 3D printer/manufacturer for ammunition and small parts. Judging by the variety of weapons in the armory, the printer likely has blueprints for just about any type of physical bullet or projectile you could want. As you’re checking your gun, you can feel ANDI watching you from the dome set into the ceiling in the center of the room. At your question, ANDI is quick to answer.

”While I do not have a lot on this station, I will tell you what I can. I will be broadcasting this to the rest of the crew since it pertains to them also. According to the official COFTA records, the station is a classified military research station. However, our employer provided an additional file with more information on the station. The station seems to be devoted to researching person-to-person neural interaction and communication but three months ago went dark. Buried shipping logs show that approximately four months ago an unknown artifact was delivered to the station. The last roster available shows twenty two names and nothing indicates this might have changed. Additionally, three weeks ago, a COFTA patrol ship docked and never left. Most COFTA patrol ships carry only six to eight patrolmen. Under those conditions, it is possible there are up to thirty people aboard the station, though it is unknown how many, if any, are hostile. However, because the patrol ship never left, our employer would like us to assume the worst. Once we dock at the station I will be able to provide a floor layout and possible additional information.” Silence once again returns to the armory, leaving you to clean and take care of your weapons.

Rain took in the room. Panels, consoles, touch screens as far as the eye could see, all locked out to her. The door in front of her led to the ship's core and to the very annoying AI's core. She tried it, but it was locked. She glanced through the window and couldn't believe her eyes. It didn't take long for her to recognize what the ship was running off of. An antimatter core? She had never seen one, which was not very surprising considering by all rights it shouldn't exist. It was science fiction, but here it was. It was amazing and she absolutely had to get into that room. She would've taken apart the core if it wasn't running the ship and very dangerous to dismantle and very, very expensive. The door wouldn't have been a problem. If she got in there she could even perform some percussive maintenance on ANDI.

She wished. If it wasn't clear, Rain wasn't a fan of AI. In fact, that was an understatement. Tech like that was dangerous. If a machine could really learn for itself, where would it stop? Soon enough it would be 'I'm sorry Rain, I'm afraid I can't do that' and then she'd really have a reason to blast that thing out of the airlock where it belonged. Rouge AI was always a danger- sure, it had its advantages, but why take the risk?

Speaking of, the robot began to answer her questions. He didn't tell her anything she couldn't of guessed. She already knew what she could do and that she was good. One thing did pique her interest, "Er, what exactly is the COFTA? Military, or something else?" She asked the AI. As for her second question she was very disappointed in the answer. If she was sure of one thing it was that she could fly the ship better then a robot, regardless of how many scenarios it could process. An AI lacked ingenuity, instinct, everything that makes a pilot great. Besides, why hire a pilot if you're not going to let her fly the ship? Why hire an engineer and not let her into the core? Rain sighed. For now she'd have to find another way to occupy herself.

She left the maintenance area, coming into the hallway that connected it to freight, the shuttle bay, and the armory. She was going to go look at the shuttle, maybe she would be able to fly that at least, but she noticed the armory door open. She walked in and found the old man examining his guns. There was certainly no lack of that- just about anything you could shoot, explode, use as any sort of weapon seemed to be here. "Well, I don't think we're going to have to worry about munitions." She said to the old man, smiling. She walked over to the printer in the corner. "Very cool. This'll certainly come in handy. You're Ben, right? Old Ben? Do you really want to be called 'old'?"

Jericho crossed his arms once on the bridge, noting that the only other person he was willing to dignify with additional thought right now was this Old Ben fellow. He seemed to be in his sixties, and considering how he held himself and moved, he was likely a seasoned fighter. Which meant he had lived to be rather old in a very, very dangerous profession. That implied either stupid amounts of luck, which Jericho doubted looking at the man, or he was really good. If push came to shove, the bounty hunter mused, he would have to pull some real dirty fighting off to stand a snow balls chance in hell of coming out alive. In short, he was confident he could handle the rest of em, if it came down to it, but Old Ben would be tricky, at best. But, he cleared his mind of those thoughts as this ANDI popped in, the mysterious voice from before identifying itself as such, and the holo display giving a look over the mission, simplifying terms in his mind.

Storm the station, kill anything that is hostile, loot the place for anything related to the research, or was useful period, then put the place to the torch. Jericho smirked at the idea, the words smash and grab came to mind, and it seemed to fit. He couldn't say why, considering nothing of his past was available in his head, but the brief did not take long. The others seemed to scatter with their own questions and work to do in the next few hours, so while ANDI did eventually come over and elaborate on the situation on the space station, Jericho went to his quarters to find his gear. Sure enough, there seemed to be some body armor, which he went about putting on through innate muscle memory, and then he saw something that warmed his heart. A custom tooled, massive handcannon of a revolver. And a bunch of ammo, conveniently labeled as well, which he quickly loaded up and pocketed. He loaded his gun, spinning the chamber with an experienced hand and flicking it shut, loaded with six rather hefty looking anti personelle rounds. The wrist PDA was marked as a tracker, along with a bunch of tiny little chips. Pocketing those and locking the PDA onto his forearm, he pulled the sleeve of his jacket back down. He was fully armed.

Now, that left the obvious question. His past. Jericho figured he might as well see what that crapshoot of an AI, ANDI, had to say. "ANDI, request all available information on Jericho Cross." No nonesense, he had better things to do than play silly buggers with an AI. He would have to go to the armory and see what tools they had available, take stock, and arm up as necessary. He expected trouble, his gut told him to at any rate, and he would be ready. Whether that meant really, really big guns or enough explosives to take out a small planetoid. Time would tell which was more necessary.

“COFTA, or the Cygnus-Orion Free Trade Alliance, is one of the three major alliances in the galaxy. The major, and original, signatories of the alliance are the Humans and the Cygons, however four other races have since joined the alliance. Currently the COFTA considerers all of the Orion-Cygnus Spur to be under their jurisdiction. In the years since it’s founding, the COFTA has become an actual governing body, passing laws for it’s territories, fielding a military and police force, facilitating diplomacy with the other two alliances and even independent races, and promoting trade.



”Mr. Cross my own records are somewhat incomplete as it appears that I was also subject to a memory erase. I will provide everything I can at the moment and the next time we dock in a port with extranet access I will do a full search on your name. From what I can find, you’re a highly skilled gunman and tactical leader. On this team, Mr. Ben is likely the only one to match or excel over you in these areas. However, your abilities as a tracker and hunter appear to have been the deciding factor in your employment on the team. As a bounty hunter, you came highly recommended from several firms.”

---

Oz left the bridge as soon as the others began to trickle out. He looked about aimlessly when he stepped into the corridor.

What now? he asked silently to no one in particular.

No one in particular responded.

He decided that his natural destination should be his quarters. There he went, noticing with some comfort that this room was indeed his own. The room may have been neat at one time, with all of his datapads containing medical textbooks, as well as actual paper written textbooks, packed neatly away in the tall bookshelf in the corner. He imagined his clothes folded in his closet, his bed well-made. He almost laughed. While Ozmond couldn’t remember arranging the room, he had no doubt in his mind that he had not been settled for more than a few minutes before he began to inadvertently tear it apart.

I should probably clean up. He thought as he closed his door and shed the A-MOS and jumpsuit. He sighed and picked up the A-MOS, haphazardly folding it and stowing it in his closet. He wouldn’t need it on ship, so he might as well not dirty it before their first mission. The rest of the mess he neglected, throwing on a simple dress shirt and slacks. He looked in the small mirror sitting atop his dresser. He had hoped that the clothes would make him look more like a doctor. They did not. He looked just as scared and inexperienced as he did before. He almost left his room to investigate the med-bay before stopping mid stride.

My gun.

He likely wouldn’t need it on the ship, but he still liked to have it with him. He frantically looked around the room, somehow throwing it into a greater state of disarray. Finally, he found a small lock box under the bed. He set it atop the mattress and unlocked it with hs fingerprint. It popped open with a satisfying hiss, revealing the weapon that had accompanied him for most of his adult life.

It had been an Archimedes Personal Defense Pistol, Mark III. This was no longer the case. The only remaining piece of the original weapon was the body. The focusing crystal, dampener, heat sinks, and battery, as well as numerous other parts, had all been replaced over the years, creating a Frankenstein’s Monster of a gun. It could fire in three-round-burst, semi-automatic, and beam modes. The size and lethality of its lasers could be changed via dials on the side. While there may have been better guns, certainly ones with modifications made by a medic who had no knowledge of the inner workings of guns aside from the textbook beside him, but there was no gun exactly like his. For Oz, that was enough. He strapped the holster onto his hip and placed the weapon in it.

---

He smiled as he walked into the medbay. The familiar chemical scent of industrial disinfectant burned his nose as he strode around the room. It wasn’t much bigger than his quarters, but it was much more open. Three tables were evenly spaced throughout the middle of the room, one of which had a robotic surgery “arm” hanging from the ceiling above it. Cupboards and cabinets lined the walls, all stark white, with a long counter on one side containing a sink and two computer monitors. He rifled through the cabinets, finding every medication and tool he had hoped to find and infinitely more. Expensive, experimental, antivirals that hadn’t been made public yet, state-of-the-art self-sterilizing surgery tools, and so much more.

His small grin broke into an ear-to-ear, painful smile. The computers had copies of all of his medical textbooks, as well as every one he had ever heard of from across the universe. He pulled out a chair from underneath one of the counter tops and began rifling through the digital textbooks. He looked at the time, and decided he would have to stay the night here. There was so much knowledge at his fingertips, and he’d be an awful healer if he didn’t attempt to sift through all of it to find out whatever he could. Before he really got wrapped up in it, he decided to ask ANDI a question that had been troubling him since he entered his room.

”Hey, ANDI. If we had our memories wiped, and I can’t remember anything about my life, how do I still have all of my medical knowledge and skills? Furthermore, do you think it may be possible to get our memories back? After this whole mission, and what-not.”

“You ask complicated questions Mr. McGregor and I will do my best to answer as fully as possible. I believe it centered around the use of neural nanites to make copies of your memory centers, identify and save those centers relating to skills and abilities, and remove the rest. Additionally, I think a variety of chemicals and supplementary nanites would have been used to repress and bury anything missed. The whole procedure would be extremely time consuming and dangerous. Of course all of this is theoretical and going off of what I can access from the on-board medical database and I was not present when they did the memory erase, so I could quite possibly be wrong. I wish I had a better answer, but I am unable to do any more then make educated guesses. The process to remove my personal memories was much simpler, requiring them to only remove certain memory cores, so I am unable to relate my procedure to yours.

In answer to the second part of your question, retrieving your memories could be possible. Using the method I described, it would theoretically be possible to have saved the removed memories into an organic processor of some sort. A skilled doctor could likely reinsert the memories with the help of the neural nanites if they had access to this organic processor."

Jericho carefully listened to the summery that ANDI provided, what little the AI could with its limited resources, at any rate. Bounty hunter, as the skills that he remembered seemed to indicate. Like he suspected, the only person who was likely going to give him a serious run for his money in the combat field was Old Ben, but apparently he was far more the hunter and tracker than merely additional muscle. Those tracking bugs made far more sense now, as did the ease of keeping the layout of the ship straight from the map. Would take a fast mind to get that straight in a hurry so he could track someone, so being able to do it makes sense. However, he was curious of the rest of hte group's details, so as ANDI finished, he spoke up before heading out, pulling his duster firmly over his shoulders. "Understood. Request, when you can do a full search, compile dossiers on each member of this team, especially me, as well, discreetly mind you. No need to make this known to the others, it'll only create false impressions. History, skills, past affiliations, physical and psychological traumas, anything that I can use to compile a picture of these people. Knowing what I'm working with will make this already mess of a situation go smoother..."

Normally, Jericho felt at least, he might have been able to rely just on interactions and digging alone to get scraps of information that would help him compile a picture of these people, in a broad sense. But, with all their minds wiped, skill sets alone only provided so much of a picture. So, at the first chance he could get, he needed answers. About who he was in the past, and who he was dealing with. Sure, they seemed reasonable enough, but they could be a bunch of war criminals for all he knew. His was not a path to trust, especially when hunting people, he ill could afford letting trust get in the way of sound judgement. At least, that sounded right. But, as he had told the AI, discreet was the name of this game. No need to let on to the others he was planning on compiling as much information as he could, and using it to figure them out. It wouldn't look good, not that he felt that bothered him, but more importantly, it would make organizing them far easier.

Putting those thoughts in the back of his head, he took a few moments to strip down, remembering he still had the one piece stasis suit on underneath his clothes. Stripping that down, he made mental note of the rather unsettling amount of scar tissue he was carrying before redressing himself. Probably consequences of his past, whatever it might have been, and he kept that in mind as he more comfortably redressed himself. Now that was done with, kicking the one piece stasis suit off into the corner, he strode out of his rather spartan quarters. Not much that wasn't utilitarian or necessary was in that room, and it felt right. Some place to rest and sleep, and that was it. Making his way to the armory revealed that Old Ben and Rain had beat him here. Shocking, with enough sarcasm to drown a man, Jericho thought. But he nodded briefly, walking to a table and grabbing a rather asymmetrical looking rifle, and after looking at it for a few moments, deftly began checking the thing over. Seems, somewhere, he had handled something like this before, as he began doing inventory and checking the material condition of weapons and gear that were not already done, or in the process of. A sharp eye could see the antique style of six shooter on his hip, though the size would likely imply it was not just some relic of the past. He made very brief greeting, grunting out their names as he worked. "Rain, Ben."

'I guess that's it then?' Robert said to himself in his head as he watched everyone branch off to do their own little things leaving him in the bridge still. Pondering himself on what he was going to do himself, he paced around the computer screen in front of the bridge as he scoured his brain. 'Three hours until we reach our destination huh? Guessing that leaves us a bunch of time to fiddle around the place then.' He thought as he left the bridge and headed to the room that was labeled as his with hidden intentions from his brainstorming.

Opening the door to his room, it was a relatively clean room but a few discarded articles of paper which read mumbo jumbo to him as he understood but could not piece together why they were in his room. Sighing at them, he picked up the stray sheets and neatly stacked them onto a dresser. Taking in the sight of the rest of his room, it was relatively what you would expect from a bedroom but perhaps too plain for a person who had a room with other mercenaries. The only other piece of furniture that was in his room was a computer station that was pretty high quality as the equipment over there looked pretty expensive and the little platform for Profiler to connect must of taken some special technology to build. He wondered if it would connect to Andi as he had a request to take up with the machine, but wasn't sure how it would take the request as they barely met.

Talking about Profiler, its appearance caught Robert's eye as it scanned around the room as his precious was simply lying there waiting for its owner to come back home like any good pet. 'Pet?' He thought in surprise as the joy he momentarily felt for the machine was... strange to say the least. Picking up the device he remembered that it closely resembled a smartphone, an outdated device and design but easy for carrying and concealing anywhere literally from what he knew, as he smirked again weirdly. Sighing at these reactions which were sudden and unexpected, he turned the device on which accessed the screen of Profiler. Reformalizing himself with Profiler, he shook off the remaining frost of the cryostasis that still remained as he quickly refreshed himself.

With some tapping and shifting through the menus, he gripped the images on his phone as plucked them from the screen as placed it into the room. With the application called 'The Trickster' running, it generated an avatar of a fox as it wandered through the room with its holographic body. Smirking at the cute companion he had in his phone and about his discovery of the properties of his room and what his phone can do within it. He observed the walls to his room after the display with Trickster, noticing that the design on the wall wasn't wallpaper but mechanical setup where he basically had a holographic workshop in his room. He again glossed over his phone and apparently from what he could find after looking over the functions, he could do many things within this room that were surprising for its size which was quite small. Smiling at the new gadgets he had back into his hands, he remembered what he was planning to do when he was brainstorming in the bridge before speaking aloud. "Andi if you don't mind me so rudely asking but may I intrude on your systems for a brief second? If you can uphold secrecy and discretion then it would be preferable for both of us that I would like for you to do me a favor. I would like you to refrain telling any of the other members of the ship anything my concerning my true past and redirected them to obtaining information on this one that I am uploading to you if you'd kindly accept." He said with a light tone as he stuck Profiler into the platform at the computer station which connected to the ship where it would reach Andi. "If you can't hold this secret then I'll will be quick with what I am going to do and you won't have to do it. I'd however, prefer that you'd forget me asking this if you can however." He said with a cheerful tone, checking on Profiler's progress, which he had connected it to the ship as the task he assigned it was done after he was finished messing around with it earlier. The task was quickly finished with how advance the device was, as a simple task like making a fake identity would be easily done as the only source of information to the outside world being Andi. The fake profile he created for himself, was that he was not a scout or even remotely combat capable but a simple computer technician which was hired to perform emergency repairs if needed and had a background in biological science. However his true purpose of being hired was in his knowledge computer science to repair Andi if the situation ever falls that dire.

From what he could remember himself, he was a scout to put it in the simplest term. His job was more complicated than this but it hurt to keep recalling on these memories which kinda hurt and was easier to forget. He didn't want to hurt Andi and if fact, he probably liked ANDI the most out of the rest of his companions as machines such as him were so much more understandable than the infinite possibilities people had within themselves. It would of been rude to simply go behind the machine and intrude his own privacy and duties that were given to the computer, a thoughtful opinion on the rights of machines themselves but another topic to be discussed later. If Andi refused, well that would be shameful... as he really hoped he wouldn't have to do something too extreme. Looking at the screen of Profiler which he had it on, it was the 'Deleted' archive with a screenshot of him holding up an sign with three lines but two of them smudged with the only one saying "Do anything to survive". A pretty strange picture which he cautiously heeded as finding it was suspicious, as it was a few of the images left on the device which hadn't been permanently deleted somehow.

While ANDI doesn’t immediately respond, the hiss over the speaker you hear implies that if he had a head, he’d be nodding in understanding. ”I will do what I can Mr. Cross. The next time I am able to access the Extranet, I will attempt to do full searches on the crew. While I will not bring this up with the others, I must warn you I am unable to actively lie to any of the crew members.” With his confirmation, ANDI shuts his speaker down in your room for the time being.



As your Profiler works to upload the false file, you notice that it seems to be working just a hair slower than normal. To most this would be unnoticeable, but to you, something just seems off. You put this thought to the side for a moment as ANDI answers your questions however.

”Mr. Minsky, I will not go out of my way to inform the others of your background. However, I must warn you that my programming prevents me from actively lying to the other crew members. If I am directly asked a question, such as a yes or no answer, I must answer truthfully. I will do what I can with the file uploaded however. If you were wondering about your Profiler’s light speed dip during the upload, fear not for I was only actively scanning the file causing the dip. Everything should be normal now.

Mr. Minsky, I would also just like to make a general statement that while none of the crew’s equipment and personal effects were modified or adjusted in any way, they all were subject to inspection, and precautions were taken to protect the ship, the crew, and myself should the need arise. Thank you for your time, and I hope you find everything you need. Let me know if I can be of assistance in any way.” As he spoke, ANDI’s voice seemed to take on a slightly deeper and warning tone. Subtle, but something someone with your experience notices.



After a time, ANDI comes on over the speakers. ”We will be arriving shortly at the station. If you will all please make your way up to the Bridge once you are all prepared, I would like to do a final brief. By then we should be docked at the station and I believe I will be able to provide some more information. Thank you.”

During his procedural inspection, the girl had come in and started talking. Rey? Roy? No, Rain, that's it. He shrugged. "People flap their mouths all the time, I've gotten used to ignoring it. In the end, words don't count for much. Call me Old, if it gives you any pleasure, I'll still wipe the grin off of your face when it comes down to it." he winked as he said the last part, trying to let the girl know he was (mostly) joking. Ben didn't get a lot of practise talking to young people, especially not in non-combat situations, so he wasn't entirely sure what the accepted protocol was. He went for one he knew and stuck out his hand. "If we're going to be teammates, we might as well do it properly, right? As you say, my names Ben and I'm the one who goes in first and leaves last."

As soon as Rain answered, ANDI started to speak, telling them all to go to the bridge as soon as they were equipped and ready. No rest for the wicked, I suppose Ben mused, snapping a full clip into Nessie before setting her down on a flat surface. His remaining preparations took only a few moments. He had a tactical harness that doubled up as a breastplate and could be sealed with a helmet in low oxygen situations (though he'd actually lost the helmet itself some years previously) and a pair of fingerless gloves. Low tech perhaps but the less there is, the less there is to go wrong. Trying not to feel too much like a child in a candy store, Ben selected a few of the more attractive items from the armoury (a pair of flashbangs, some tear gas, a taser-baton) and hooked them onto his harness, along with some ammunition.

All set? he thought, looking down at his beweaponed self to try and spot on anything that wasn't there but should be. Things to stun, things to kill, things to confuse, things to stab, all there. All set. Ben rubbed one hand through his beard, closed his eyes and took a moment to breathe. Sure, waking up without memories had been disconcerting and, yes, so had finding a room that seemed to have been 'decorated' by him. But if there's one thing that could concert Ben, it was a mission. Opening his eyes, he almost had to suppress a smile. Let's see what these youngsters have got, shall we?

Nodding to Rain and gathering up Nessie on his way out, Ben strode the bridge, sat down in a seat and glared at the view screen.

As Ben's spoke Rain's smile turned a bit queer for a moment, a suspicious sort of grin, until he gave a wink signifying his sarcasm- or at least she hoped that was the meaning. Rain accepted his hand, shaking it as she should. "If you say so, 'Old' Ben. Well, I think you already know I'm a pilot but it appears the AI is more keen on flying the ship himself- why hire a pilot if you don't want her to fly? Especially a ship as cool as this. This thing cost a real fortune- even with my memories gone I can say for sure I've never flown anything like this." Speaking of the AI, it suddenly chirped up, ordering them to the bridge. "Speak of the devil. Better get going." Ben went about equipping himself in the armory- Rain felt like she should do the same, but she wasn't exactly much of a fighter, and none of the items really interested her. She wasn't really keen to use her own pistol, but she knew if push comes to shove she would have to. She saw Ben pick up a taser baton. It seemed a suitable enough weapon for self-defense, so she grabbed one for herself, hooking it to her belt. Ben started to leave, nodding at her. Rain returned his nod, and suddenly had an idea.

I've hardly looked at my PDA... How could she not think to? It probably contained some useful information. She headed out into the hall, beginning the walk to her room. She pulled the device, and powered it on. As the device slowly whirled to life a holographic projection greeted her, 'standing' on the screen of the PDA. It was a robotic but decidedly womanly visage. "Welcome, Miss Causwell. I have been instructed to reintroduce myself the next time I am powered on. I am Erin, your personal assistant so to speak. You can ask me to find information for you or set tasks for me, and I'll do the best I can to fill out your request." Rain gave the device a quizzical look. "I'm sorry, this doesn't make much sense... are you AI? I didn't think I would... well, make one." The projection shook it's head. "No, I am not Artificial Intelligence. I am a Virtual Intelligence- I can perform many of the same tasks as an AI, although I am ultimately not self aware or capable of independent thinking." Rain gave the projection a nod. For now she tapped the screen, which ushered the projection away, giving way to the device's interface. She didn't see much that seemed immediately useful until she came to a file labeled "WhenIWakeUp.txt". She tapped the icon, opening a simple text document onto the device. It didn't say much. All that was written was, Sometimes it's best not to look for the answers we want. Rain shook her head. I sure am the cryptic one, aren't I? She had her suspicions about what the words meant, but nothing concrete. Maybe she really did want to forget her past.

She spoke to the device one more time, "Erin, we don't have extranet access here do we? The next time you can get a connection find any information you can about myself." She briefly considered asking about the others aboard her ship, but decided against it. After all, was it really healthy for the crew dynamic if they went behind each other's backs for info? Although she didn't doubt at least one of them had already done so. She didn't have anything to hide- hopefully. The robotic secretary confirmed her task then went into standby mode. Rain lipped the PDA back to her belt. It only provided more questions instead of answers- hopefully the robot's search would be fruitful. By the time she was done she had came to the door of a room, heading inside. She walked over to the desk and picked up her toolbox. She had a feeling she'd need it- she couldn't really fight, so she would have to provide quite a bit of utility for the team if she wasn't going to be dead weight. With her belongings in hand she headed to the bridge, ready for the briefing.