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Atticus looked over towards and chuckled a bit as he gave her a crooked grin. "I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world," he replied without hesitation as he leaned down under the table to retrieve a few more cards. Once he was sure he hand gotten them all he sat back up and leaned back in his seat once again, resting the heels of his boots on the edge of the table and rocking back and forth. He let the cards fold between his fingers slowly.

"In other words, not going to let her get under my gorram skin," he laughed as he continued to shuffle the deck several more times before he just started dealing out cards to himself and Dorothy. It was just five card stud but it was enough for them right then. He usually started it out this way. A simple game of poker between the to of them. Depending on who said what depended on how long they ended up playing. Chances were usually high he would irritate her enough to leave but that wasn't what he was trying to do most of the time, most of the time.

Setting the deck down between them he picked up his card and started to rearranged them. "Any problems down in the infirmary? Everyone okay from the crash? Or are you here to begrudgingly ask me to give someone last rights?" he taunted her as he glanced in her direction from over the top of his hand. They had the oddest of relationships. Depending on how you caught them they could seem like friends or like they were about to bury each other. It was all the flip of a coin.

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Jahosafat watched Foy carefully as he stood in the doorway of the Foy-er, a smooth smile on his lips as he rested on hand down on his pistol; his finger lightly drumming over the fine example of a projectile weapon. His eyes never leaving Foy's as the young man tried to slip out of the room quickly. The doctor stepped in front of him for a moment, as if he intended to use him as a meat shield before letting him pass. It looked to be a show down at the O-K-Barbary.

Soon as the man was gone and Foy started laughing Jahosafat wrapped an arm around his own midsection and let out a belting of heart felt laughter as he doubled over. After a moment, he rested his hands on his knees, gasping for air and holding up a single finger before righting himself and removing his splendid head cover. "I do declare, you have a penchant for the dramatically fabulous. I best believe your dear patron nearly shat himself from the looks of it." Wiping the moistness from the corner of his eye with the back of his knuckle he chuckled a few more times remembering the look on the poor lads face. It was truly a splendid moment and reconnection with his oldest and dearest comrade.

Stepping over he took Foys hand and gave him a right proper shake before tucking his hat beneath his arm and retrieving a piece of Foy's wrapped candies. "Slumming it? I do declare! I just thought it would be best if I was to get a proper shave before you set off world I did. You know these so called gents around here cannot dare hold a candle to the likes of Beardmaster Coiffeur!" He wasn't lying when it came to the compliment he had just given the Ivory to his Ebony but Foy would know well enough that Dr. Moreau wouldn't have stepped foot on such a small Alliance vessel if something grand was not in play.

"Indeed! You speak such truths, something is afoot and what I am here for, well it would send world into such upheaval if they were to be made aware. Granted, doesn't the 'Verse always turn on its axis when the likes of us get together. They tremble my good man. Now, come. Give me a tour of this vessel and I shall fill you in, for you my dear friend will be a major player in this; probably much to the Captain's dismay. But before that, do tell me more about our dear Captain Quinn. I have heard such things from his ex-fiance, I would like to know if she spins scandalous lies or delicious truths," Jahosafat said with a bit of mirth. Had he such a fine example of facial foliage as Foy he would be twirling the end of the hairs right then between his two fingers.

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Jackson let out a sigh as he listened to Genevieve. Even he was aware of how harsh he was on her from time to time, but he hardly ever apologized for it. He more made up for his cruel words in actions, protecting her from some of her more aggressive clients, criminals and the like. As she brought up the possibility of offering her services, Jackson let out a hearty and amused "Ha!" Watching her as he shook his head.

"You'd be right, I would turn you down if you tried." He said plainly, eyes never leaving the woman as he gave her an odd look, as if confused why she would even bother offering. Jackson figured he did understand why some people in his position might take up the offer as a stress reliever of sorts, but Jackson saw nothing but more stress in it. It would cause awkwardness and difficulty between members of the crew, and just generally be something more to concern his thoughts with. And of course, there was the fact he'd probably never live it down.

Letting out another sigh, Jackson shook his head, turning back toward the door and taking a step toward it, glancing back over his shoulder at her. "Well, I only wanted to let you know what was happening, if you need anything feel free to buzz the Captain or me." He shrugged, glancing about her room one more time, he didn't really have a great deal to do now that they were stuck there, but Jackson had little desire to remain with Genevieve, half expecting her to start asking questions he avoided like the plague if he stuck around for too much longer.

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Glancing back down toward the bridge console as he heard the incoming hail, Quinn sighed as he brought it up, paying astute attention to the vid of Admiral Thorton. He gave her a prompt nod, grumbling somewhat under his breath. Quinn was somewhat tired of all the new transfers to his ship, he liked to serve with people he knew - new additions were only a headache. But as long as they did their job, it would be no issue, or so he hoped.

When he turned back around, Knochengeiger had just entered the bridge and was approaching him. The words strung another chord of irritation in the man, yet another delay. They were hardly under way and Quinn was already reaching the point of irritation, he may just have demoted the next person to come in and tell him they were stuck for a while longer for the hell of it at that point. "Then I will expect it in an hour, no more." He commented plainly, the look Quinn gave the Doctor then could've killed a lesser ensign, although even the Captain knew it was not Friedrich's fault.

Quinn offered a sidelong glance to Carla as she spoke toward him, the irritation and impatience in him threatened to snap with a needlessly harsh reply, but he bit it down, making a note to meet here there as soon as he was done dealing with things on the bridge. Quinn turned to the pilot then, giving him a half-nod as he watched the man move off to settle himself, he may have been new but the man hadn't done anything to irritate him so far, that earned him a reprieve from cruel comments.

Quinn let out a frustrated sigh, having been about to leave the bridge when another individual stepped inside and approached him. Quinn gave the man a blank, rather expressionless look as he introduced himself. So this was their newest member. Quinn seemed unamused at the initial smalltalk. "None." He assured the man plainly before listening to the rest of his explanation, reaching up to take the envelope. He did not bother to reply to the man, opening the envelope and peering through it, that was until he heard Camilla's name. The look Quinn gave him them was perhaps worse than the one he'd given Friedrich, as he walked away - Quinn half considered shooting the man in the back for even mentioning her.

It only frustrated the Captain more, the man frustratedly crushing the envelope in his hand as he moved to leave the bridge, only looking back as Williams questioned him again. "An hour, or i'll shoot someone." He snapped, moving out and down the halls toward the conference room, eager to get whatever it was Carla desired out of the way so he could lock himself away from all those he was loathing today.

Lionel stepped out of the shower much clean, but only slightly less furious than when he stepped in. Sure having hot dose of hot water helped cool down his head, and he did let out the majority of his aggression beforehand, but getting flung into a wall and covered with urine and fecal matter weren't something you got over very quickly, 'less you were one of them Quaker types. At the very least, Lionel had stopped his mutterings. He fetched a half-empty bottle of drink from his room and took a liberal chug before making his way to the Dining Hall, where he found Atticus and the Doctor Girl, Daphne playing cards.

"Hand on a Bible, swearin' high on to God Almighty himself, if that engine boy weren't already employed, I'd do it right here an' right now. It'd be a real prestigious offer an' all. Then, when he'd accept it and shake my hand, I'd look the cocksucker dead in the eyes and fire his 屁股," Lionel exclaimed mimicking the Swear Into Oath done in courts, his booze holding hand serving as the one that would be resting on top of the Holy Book. He placed the bottom of the bottle down on the table hard enough to send a slight shockwave through it, just barely a bit less impact than would be considered slamming the thing. He pulled out a chair and sat back in it, his head cradled in his hand. Lionel didn't even really feel like playing cards. He just felt like yelling to people, and these were the first he came across. If he had gone back to the engine room there would be a pretty good chance that he'd kick Gideon's ass himself. And then that would cause problems with Captain Crowe and it'd be a big ole tā mā de jíqún.

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Pulling up his diagnostic tool, Gideon brought up the schematic of the atmosphere scrubber filter and turned the device towards Camilla.

"You'll need to remove the filter." Gideon began to explain as he pointed to the schematic. "It can be a bit tricky, you'll need to take your time and gently remove it. Rushing or pulling too hard will damge the filter and then we'll need a new one. Gideon said with a slight smirk. "Sure the Yao Nu would really appreciate that." Turning around for a second, Gideon rummaged through some of the tools laying nearby before turning back around holding an odd looking device with a small tank and a brush head attached to it.

"Filter scrubber." Gideon said with a smile before Camilla could ask. "Just give the filter a few overs with this and she'll be free of all contaminants in no time. You'll notice a distinct change in colour from its current polluted yellow to a much nicer cream. Would love to get it white again but only way to do that would be to buy new." As the words finished coming out of his mouth, the arrival of a new voice caused Gideon to turn towards the doorway only to be greeted by his favourite pilot.

"The more the merrier Daph!" Gideon exclaimed, her eyes more than welcoming to the delicate female form in the doorway of the engine room. "A lot of the repairs are fairly technical other than what I've already asked Camilla to do, but if you don't mind running a few quick errors around the ship I could use your help in speeding up some of my repairs." Gideon stated before pausing, "That is, unless you've got a hidden talent for HVAC." Dismissing his own joke with a wave of his hand, Gideon continued talking.

"Apparently the heat exchanger is on the fritz, it's venting some pretty nasty steam into the kitchen. Any chance you can go and turn some isolation valves for me so we can use out of the kitchen until repairs are finished?" Gideon asked, tapping the display of his diagnostic device before turning it towards Daphne. "The valves are located here and here" He said, tapping the appropriate locations in the dining room and the hallway. "It's very important that you give the steam another path though, you'll need to open the dump valves to vent the steam outside the ship. It's also very important we don't leave the atmosphere with those open so no matter the Captain's orders, do not move this boat without making sure those are closed." Gideon finished turning to both woman as he rubbed his hands eagerly.

"So what do you say we get down to work?

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Camilla looked over to Gideon and then took the scrubber from him, looking it over for a minute before letting out a rather long breath. "Thing looks like it would be used to clean a toilet," she muttered under her breath. Turning it over a few times in her hand as she listened to him explain she figured it couldn't be any more complicated than cleaning her weapons. That was something she enjoyed doing, she took pride in it. She figured Gideon felt the same way about the ship. Her weapons were her babies, the ship was his; didn't matter whose name was on the title.

"You know, looking at this, I could think of a few others places to put it; uncomfortable places. Like the back of a Volkswagen," she said, smirking to herself before she got to work. She was as careful and methodical with the filter as she was with her own weapons. Glancing up from the cleaning duty as Daphne walked in she gave the girl a bit of a nod before focusing back on what she was doing. That was how it usually was between them. It wasn't that Camilla didn't like Daphne or anything, they just really hadn't ever been in a position to talk. Why start now? Last thing she needed was to screw up the filter and get the Captain all pissed off at her as well.

As she worked to clean the filter her mind wandered, back to a different time. Back to when the only time she got her hands dirty was because it was under order, not because she was volunteering for it. Her face went blank of emotion as she thought back to before she had become a member of the crew of the Vengeance, before she had become a Browncoat; back to when she worked for the Alliance, back to before Quinn had changed so drastically. She remembered the dances they would attend, the grand gala's that were held in the core worlds before they were done with training and even after. She remembered the day he proposed and how she felt she would never be able to feel happier than she had been at that moment. Then she remembered the look in his eyes when everything changed.

Her hand slipped and she shoved the scrubber right through the filter. "Shit!" Pulling the scrubber out of the filter she tossed it to the ground and wiped the back of her hand across her face. "I'll deal with the Captain..." was all she said as she turned on her heel and made her way out of the engine room. She knew Anisa was going to rip her a new one for this but right then she didn't care. She just wasn't going to let Gideon take the blame for this fuck up, this was all on her. Searching around through the ship she didn't find her and figured she was outside grabbing a cigarette; something the captain did when things got a little more frustrating than she would have liked.

Hearing something as she reached the main cargo hold she stopped in her tracks and pulled out her Jericho 941 and undid the safety. Slipping to the side of the back entrance so she was out of sight she hit the com and turned it down low. "Guys, we have a problem, cargo entrance."

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Anisa took a long pull from the cigarette that rested between her lips, turning the last bit before the butt to ash. Flicking it to the ground she put it out under the heel of her boot as she huffed out the last bit of smoke from her lungs and groaned inwardly. Having her ship down like this was not how she wanted to spend the day or any other day for that matter. It put them behind schedule and she had a reputation. Her crew had a reputation and she didn't want anything to tarnish that. Granted she knew those that were awaiting delivery understood and what they had in hidden away on the ship wasn't needed that moment but it would be and she wanted it readily available for the cause as soon as possible.

Figuring she had better go check on the repairs she turned, about to step back into the Vengeance she heard a twig snap. Her hand fell to her Colt 1860 and she spun around, pointing it in the direction of the noise. Her eyes narrowing when she spotted just what had cause the twig to snap. It was Brutus, the low life her and Jackson had had to deal with; Patience's middle man. Seemed some things never changed.

"I wouldn't rightly pull that trigger if I were you," he said in a gravely voice as he stepped forward and several of his men came out from behind corner of the old mine. "Might just have to make me mare up that pretty little face of yours."

"Juh Shi Suh Mo Go Dohng Shee?" she asked as she kept the sight of her pistol aimed right at his head.

"Well Patience, she don't like no one holding up on her moon ya see. So we be here to collect," he said grinning a bit as he chewed on the end of his cigar.

"That woman done been paid plenty and then some." Anisa's free hand fell to her Mars Leg as she drew it and pointed it in the other direction as another stepped out.

"Now now Crowe, you just pay us and we be leaving. No need to get testy."

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Friedrich met the captain's fiery leer with a creased forehead. They were supposed to be a team in dealing with this Cheong Bao Ho Tze logistics Mi Tian Gohn, and now Quinn decides to be part of the problem? But as he observed the others who addressed the captain, he eventually realized that the captain's irritation was the same as his own - a large number of idiots appeared to be doing a small amount of damage each, and it added up.

But as important as it was to launch on time, staying alive after launch was slightly higher in the doctor's priority scale. He took a moment to look the pilot over - a fresh replacement for the man who docked the ship a few weeks ago. His eyes scanned the man's body, then bore into his face, looking for signs of panic or otherwise blind subordination. The man was hard to read, his aura of cold professionalism betraying the slightest hint of urgency. This would definitely require intervention.

"Lieutenant," He said while approaching the man's post, his words sharp and harsh, "We have both received the captain's orders, and it is within your power to comply to the letter. But know that if you lift off before the medical supplies arrive," he tapped the clipboard in his hand for emphasis, "the resulting deficiency will require me to harvest some crew members in order to save others, in case of a disaster."

He paused for emphasis, his eyes still pushing against the pilot's own.

"Nobody wants to make that choice, and at this time the power to avoid this altogether is yours."

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Dorothy raised an eyebrow, not in confusion over the meaning of the words, but over why the Preacher decided to start things already today. "Tell me more about your Earth-That-Was religion and your desperate need for others to believe in it," Dorothy said sharply, watching as Atticus dealt out the cards. Accepting her cards, Dorothy held them with one hand, strumming her fingers against the table with the other. She sat with her back perfectly straight, as if an inspection could happen at any moment. Old habits die hard.

She chuckled a bit, a soft smirk on her lips. "Everything is in functioning order, thank you," Dorothy commented, rearranging her own hand. "And no, the day your last rights can do anything for the dying is the day reavers put on suits and run a firm."

Clenching her hand in distaste, Dorothy attempted to shut out Wickett. Most days, he didn't bother her. He kept to himself and didn't cause too much of a fuss. But if there was anything that Dorothy truly despised, it was drunks. Shouting partnered with a half empty bottle of booze hardly endeared Wickett to her. "Preacher, what's your book got to say about lurn shwei jah jwohn who need to gwon ni tze jee duh shr?" she asked, her temper rising a bit.

Already in a bit of a sad mood from being reminded of her failures with Daphne, Dorothy continued to sour. Gideon was like a little brother to her, and while she didn't mind the crew complaining about his antics, she didn't see the businessman having a right to complain about things. "If you really are this cross about things, perhaps you might want to stay here on Whitefall, away from Gideon?" Dorothy suggested sweetly, before returning her attention to her cards.

She hated whiners. The crackle of the comm, however, caught her attention almost instantly. She looked up towards Preacher, and slowly, put her cards on the table. There was business to do, it seemed.

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Carla was a proficient practitioner of patience. She could lurk for weeks before the sweet moment of a kill. Waiting for a ship to get ready to blast out of atmo was entirely within her power. The woman made a career off of laying still in place. Child's play. The thought occurred to her as her hands curled into tight fists. She clenched her teeth and exhaled. She didn't do anxious. Greg's impatience is contagious.

Carla stood and left the conference room. Quinn would be busy doing his Captain thing. There was time enough. She made her way to her quarters and opened her portable computer. Rapid keystrokes established a secure private connection through a third party on Persephone. She then cycled through her contact list.

All my friends are heathens or dead. Names scrolled by until she selected the contacted labeled GENE. She hit the enter key and let the tone dial out. Gloves were stripped off and she hung her jacket on a hanger while she waited to leave a message.

Genevieve heard her communications station beep shortly after Jackson left. She stood up and strolled over to see who it was from. She assumed it was a client wondering where she was and was pleasantly surprised to see a familiar name pop up. She settled herself down, letting her hair down along her shoulders. She quickly fixed her face before she accepted the call with a warm smile and a watchful eye.

"Hello Carla, long time no talk. I am glad to hear from you."

Carla had rolled up her sleeves and locked the entrance to her quarters when Genevive answered. She turned around and realized how she looked. Hair still wet from the shower, lips stained red, and open collar. She looked a mess and Gene looked like she woke up like that: pristine and serene.

Eyes met through the screen. Carla took a step, tripped, and fell off-screen. Her hands then groped in the dim light for a towel. "Yeah. Long time." She said from the deck while suppressing a groan. Carla found the face towel draped over her bed post. Her scarred arm appeared on-screen briefly before snatching the towel and retreating out of Gene's view. "I'd have reached out sooner but I figured you wanted space." She started to wipe at her face.

Gene paid particular attention to the woman's arm. Albeit brief, she noticed it, but also noticed that Carla didn't want to show it. Another topic for later down the road she thought to herself.

"How could you think that? I enjoy hearing from you. I assume, by the fact you contacted me, that you want to talk, so I am all ears. I am indisposed at the moment so I have a lot of free time right now." Gene would casually lean back in her chair and wait for the woman to begin. She already had her own thoughts about this give and take the two did, but Carla was a tough woman and a dear friend, so she would do her part.

Carla sat up and her face came into the camera's view. "It doesn't have to do with me, priy. People need space. You don't leave like you did just to see the sights." She propped her knee up and rested her arm across it while leaning against the bulkhead.

Carla sighed. She could hear the gears turning in Gene's head. "I was just getting ready for a vacation. Got a list of delays longer than my leg. When you get time you get to thinking and I just thought I'd check up. If you're eating right and not letting some Huen Dahn take advantage of you." Carla's voice had a borrowed frontier ring as natural as breathing.

Carla let the slang into her voice around Gene when alone. The neutral Alliance baritone slid off one night after drinks and the companion had caught it. Carla then laughed it off and swore her to secrecy on her hick roots. Shy, career-driven Alliance girl with a humble background became her story. The best lies had a hint of the truth.

The words Carla spoke hit Gene particularly hard. You don't leave just to see the sights. She was right and the memories came flooding back without much effort. The whole time away, the memory of the man who almost had his way with her, whatever he was planning on doing, and her surprise vacation away from it all. She looked towards her bed, to the small stunner that laid underneath it, a forever memory that she wasn't safe, that she was weak and troubled. Just part of the reason she was on the ship to begin with, because she needed to be better.

She masked whatever worry she had on her face and returned a smile back to Carla, "Your concern is heartwarming. I am fine. I apologize for that absence, but I was long overdue for my own vacation. I am doing well for myself, eating and sleeping. No worries there. What about you though? Are you doing ok?" The concern on her voice wasn't faked either, Gene felt herself worrying about this woman who she has come to know really well. She knew there was more than meets the eye to this situation, but then, both of them would have their secrets.

Carla winced. The sudden concern for her well-being made her want to stop this wave. "I'm fine. Took a break with this war going on. Probably go off the grid until this thing blows over." She sat for a minute and considered the image of the woman on the screen.

"I miss you. I'm happy you're okay." She took a moment for Gene to process and respond with her distant platonic affection. He's gone. You don't have to worry. She thought it out and searched for the words she needed to say.

Gene noted the uncomfortableness she sensed and made a point in the future to make sure she didn't do that again, and find out why. "Well I hope I hear from you more in the future. We should make plans sometime to get together when both our respective schedules line up."

"Yeah. Schedules should line up and all." Carla wanted to tell Gene she was safe. Instead she said, "Yeah, no. Schedules probably won't line up." She cast her eyes downward and let raven locks obscure her face. Quick. Like ripping off a band-aid. She mouthed the words and took a breath.

"I just wanted to tell you that...it's dangerous. Core, border, rim. It don't matter. The 'Verse is bleeding and people will walk over your body if it means a chance at getting ahead. Stop traveling and get somewhere solid. Get somewhere you feel safe. 'Cause feeling safe is the closest you'll get. I got to go." She reached out and ended the transmission. It felt better than letting her leave her again. It felt like she was back in control.

Before Gene could respond in turn, Carla cut off the transmission. Gene sat there, dumbfounded at the bluntness of the woman's words. Though she wasn't what one would call a "light in a dark room" the impact of Carla's words worried Gene. Just what did she mean?

Gene wasn't blind to what was going on in the Verse. However, she felt safe where she was. She had a ship full of people that worked together well, despite the vast differences, was that good enough?

Gene turned off the screen and stood up, letting the words sink in again. She was safe. She was secure. And even if danger reared its ugly head, she was sure she could face it with her new found crew behind her back. No more running. No more hiding.

Carla dressed herself in a fresh blouse and re-donned her jacket. She washed her face, tucked her hair behind her ear, and took a moment in front of the reflection. The woman in the black suit stepped out of her quarters and strolled back to the conference room. She found Quinn inside waiting for her. “Had to make a call.” The doors hissed shut behind her. She took her seat at the table to Quinn's right. “I had thoughts on Whitefall. You got enough info for a brief?” Information was what kept operatives alive. Thing about working for the Alliance was this compartmentalization concept they had. Need to know. All it did was cause unnecessary complications and death. Usually to cover some official's dirty business.

As Gene set outside of her shuttle, her personal comm device beeped. She knew what that meant, there was something going on. She checked it out and heard the message. She didn't know what problem, but it couldn't be good. She went to her bed and grabbed her stunner and her rapier and quickly and quietly made her way towards the cargo area.

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At first glance, this was a typical Alliance crew. Standard patrol vessel, common launch point. Not that there was anything wrong with that, quite the opposite. It looked like the perfect opportunity to fade into the background, eventually get back to a life. Maybe even one worth living. And the ship? That "standard patrol vessel" had one hell of a range for a ship its size, decent speed, and could be crewed with a few choice personnel. Not to mention that it was easily repairable with the most common types of parts available in the majority of the Verse. It was nothing grand, but it was enough.

At least, it would have been enough. Being back in the Alliance military wasn't exactly the most ideal situation, but it sure as hell beat the situation he had left behind. Now, less than a half hour on the ship and Liam was convinced that he was surrounded by the clinically insane. A tight-lipped Captain who was dead set on leaving port ASAP without briefing his pilot (and fellow officer) on the nature of their orders, a bonafide Dandy who apparently arrived just after himself, and the ship's Medical Officer who was particularly insistent that William disobey orders upon pain of using the crew as spare parts for his Traveling Medicine Show.

Now, if the good Captain had orders to stay put on account of supplies, and was superseding orders from above, then that would be problematic. If on the other hand, he was just handed orders to lift off from Persephone posthaste, then the gaunt figure trying to bore holes in Liam's face with his eyes probably had a point. Of course, if he was that adamant about the whole fuzzy ordeal, it would be a simple matter of filing a report with Local before their hour was up and they exit the world.

Lieutenant Harper was not in the mood for drama. Really wasn't. Instead of engaging the Doctor, he pressed the fingers of his right hand onto his temple, rubbing lightly. He squinted his eyes, then smiled at the man and turned his chair back to his console. Shaking his head, Liam fired up two vid screens: One with an interactive map of the ship containing full specs (so as to better acquaint himself with this ship type), and another to pull up his Officer's Log. If the time of departure were really a problem, he wasn't made aware of it yet. In the interest of being thorough, it would not be out of place to log every direct order given to him by superior officers on board the boat. He could start immediately, submitting his log to Central. If this was a pressing issue, chances were good that outgoing logs were being monitored and the situation would be rectified. If it was not, there was no harm in it.

The timestamp on his Log entry was highlighted, and it read, "Retribution Flight Officer's Log, Initial. First direct order received: At the strong insistence of Captain Quinn, we leave Persephone for Whitefall in one hour's time. Performing a pre-flight warmup and diagnostic system check presently. Hoping for a smooth flight."

He submitted the Log entry, and not to be found as a liar, began a diagnostic routine. William's computer trilled quietly along as his attention redirected to the Retribution's specs. Maybe next he'd check the ship's manifest, though that could probably wait until they were in the Black. Meantime, he was the Pilot, so he'd be the Pilot. Routine boat stuff until he got word otherwise, either by the Local Authority, Central, or the Captain.

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"Why Mr. Moreau, am I detecting more than casual curiosity about our dear Captain?" began Foy, leaning against the back of his classical, sturdy barber's chair. He motioned to the seat with an expectant look, silently offering his services. "Haven't much to say on the man, if you simply must pry. I daresay he is a man of some bearing and grace, in his own way, which by my reckoning is positively glacial, sir. He is a touch resentful that a private contractor such as myself is breathing Allied Navy oxygen, instead of a more predictable Ensign or some such."

Foy began stropping his smaller razor, the one he had just used on the Yeoman from moments ago. Working, he continued his monologue to his dear friend Jahosafat. "As you probably well know, the Alliance is generally keen on utilizing their own people. Easier to corral and threaten. That Quinn fellow - he's likely a skosh nervous about the amount of manpower he doesn't have total control of on his little boat. Add to that, the staff (the uh, majority of them, you see) is content with the belief that I merely cut hair and pass out hot lather."

"There is one, though - powerfully talented lady - of the type that wears blue gloves and causes the occasional gentleman to excuse themselves for means of trading out their undershorts for something more unsoiled, who knows precisely what I am. Well, a good some of me, perchance. You should meet her; she is well acquainted with our brave Commanding Officer. Amazingly useful working partner, if one finds the occasion to require a social difficulty solved quickly and quietly. Takes a room on this ship."

Ah, but I do ramble on, now do I not? Perhaps we should take that ship tour now? Afterwards, I have the most excellent flask of Londinium Brandy we may toast with, possibly after we hit the Black, and then you can tell me what you've done with yourself on the recent."

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Atticus looked over towards Lionel as he came in and chuckled a bit at the mans words. “And we urge you, brothers, admonish the idle, encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, be patient with them all.” he said rather nonchalantly. How many bible verses did the man have standing on deck? Only god knew. He couldn't help but looked over towards Dorthy, grinning brightly that he had managed to put yet another verse into the conversation. He prided himself in his ability to quickly pump them out in the middle of the ordinary daily activities, especially when he knew how much they irked the doctor.

Then things changed and the radio crackled. "Fucking Christ," he spat as he showed his hand. He had a full house drawn straight from the deck. There went the bible lesson right then. It was not often that anyone in the ship made a little call like that, especially not when it came from their resident badass. Rising from his place he moved quickly out of the dining room and into his own personal quarters, retrieving his colt and making sure the ammo was fully stocked in it before giving it a little spin and rushing back out.

Making his way out of his room he headed to the entrance to the cargo bay, weapon pointed down towards the ground and looking around carefully. He couldn't see outside of the ship yet but he spotted Camilla standing there near the entrance, hunkered down as if she was waiting for something and didn't want anyone on the other side to see her. Slipping along the wall he made his way over to her and gave her a questioning look. The sounds from outside could be heard, the Captain and another talking and it didn't seem like it was a friendly conversation. Things were about to get ugly.

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Jahosafat grinned broadly towards his old friend. "That you do my good man. The things I have heard about this Captain, well let me just say they are spectacular! My dear sweet Camilla has told me much about the man. Truly an interesting specimen if half of what she states is true and not just the clouded mind of a love scorned filly. I dare say, the change and his decent into what he is now is a tale for the ages. I do want to see how he reacts to the news that I bring. It will be most educational."

The ebony gentleman could not help but chuckle as Foy filled him in on the current staff members and nodded in a appreciation of the information. The more he knew about the crew at hand the better things would be in the end as far as he was concerned. Though, his main focus was the captain himself, but that was more of a personal nature and it was obvious from his previous words that it was such. Moreau was a man of science, he studied how people acted and reacted towards certain situations. Camilla and he had had many a talk over the years and once after a long night of drinking and gambling she had had a bit of an emotional moment. One that Jahosafat had not seen before and she opened up to why she had chosen to slum it instead of staying where the doctor felt she should be.

"Well I dare say they will deal," he stated smugly, before motioning for Foy to lead the way through the ship. "I do hope you have some of those wonderful sugared butter shavings my dear friend, I could use such a sweet indulgence before we get down to work," he said grinning from ear to ear as he was given the grand tour. Things were wrapping up with the ship getting prepared, supplies were coming in on schedule and they looked to be departing within the next fifteen minutes.

Over the com an announcement was made by the Yeoman that had checked in the new arrivals. "Dr. Moreau, could you please report to the main cargo hold," the voice said and it only made the good doctor's look of mischievousness grow even broader. He gave a rather knowing wink to Foy as they made their way down. In the cargo bay where several menacing looking men standing over a large black crate of sorts and refusing to leave until Dr. Moreau had signed for everything and they were sure it was in the hands of the correct person.

"Thank you my good men! You may leave now," he said dismissing them. The men nodded and turned on heels before shuffling out of the ship. The Yeoman seemed to breath a sigh of relief as they exited and he was finally able to lock up the ship tight. Everyone that was supposed to be on the ship was now there and all that were to be shown the exit had been.

"We are clear down here," the Yeoman radioed through the ship. It was time to leave.

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She looked at Gideon, and looked down at the map where he pointed out the valves. She ran the locations for the valves and the instructions through her head several times, murmuring to herself what she was going to do.

"Alright Gideon, I'm on it!" she said with a smile, and headed out of the engine room.

She walked over to the Dining Room, not very far, but she still had to look around for the valves. She ran her eyes along the walls, looking for them. When that didn't work, she walked over to the walls, and started running her eyes and her fingers along, ignoring everyone else in the room. She found the first set of valves, and started thinking of what Gideon had said.

Alright, turn the isolation valves, oh there they are, but make sure to send the steam somewhere else through another set of valves. Which ones did he say they were? Um, hmm... She started looking at the other valves, and thought about what would make the most sense. One set of valves would send the steam out of the ship. She turned the valves, made sure that the steam was going off of the ship, and headed back down the hallway, looking for the other set of valves.

She started scanning the area where Gideon had indicated that there was another group of valves. After a few minutes, she located them. Now that she knew what to look for, and which valve went to where, she easily was able to turn them a lot more quickly than she previously had. Once she was done with the valves, Daphne headed back into the Engine Room.

"Got anything else for me to do Gideon?" she asked, when she heard the comm go off next to her, Camilla's voice coming from the other end. Well, this could cause problems with repairing the ship, making it to take longer. Hopefully there isn't any trouble. She walked towards the hallway once more, wondering what was going to happen next.

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Moving outside of Genevieve's shuttle, Jackson picked his coat back up off the railing and placed it on, letting out a sigh as his eyes looked over the cargo bay, drifting over toward the open ramp, and Anisa who he could just see outside. He didn't need the comm which reached him then, seeing her there with a pair of weapons in her hand was enough to make him think she could have used a hand. He figured the others wouldn't be too far behind, most of the crew rushed to help whenever they were able, or whenever a fight was brewing, particularly.

Moving to the stairs, Jackson reached down and wrapped his fingers neatly around the grip of his gun, he hoped this time not exactly to use it. If he was going to end up in a firefight with Patience's people, he'd have preferred it to wait until they were at least able to high-tail it off-world otherwise. But then again, dealing with Patience just never seemed to go the way that everyone wanted it to. As he came down the stairs, Jackson could hear clearly enough what was going on, Patience was always like this, looking to get more money that wasn't hers. In a better scenario he'd probably have just shot Brutus then and there.

"Well ain't this just a mighty fine shindig?" He asked as he adjusted the grip on his pistol, bringing it up and aiming it toward the head of one of Brutus' thugs as he stepped down the ramp to stand alongside Anisa, figuring just more of the crew would be along shortly as he kept his gaze on Brutus, keeping his target in his view however, ready to pull the trigger at any point. "I'm thinkin' these boys must'a got lost on the way back to Patience, don't y'think, Captain?" He smirked, cocking his weapon as he kept it aimed at the thug's head.

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Letting out something of an irritated sigh as he arrived in the Conference room to find it empty, Quinn moved to the head of the table, pulling back a seat and settling down into it. His hands clasped together in his lap, and for a short while he remained still where he was, in utter silence, before finally he reached over to a comm, requesting a cup of tea from an unfortunate bridge ensign with less important matters. He shooed the man off as he brought Quinn his drink, just a minute or two before Carla wandered in.

Watching Carla as she came in, Quinn let the hardness of his face shift into a more soft demeanour for the first time of the day, taking a sip of his tea before settling the cup down onto the table. Much as Carla had assumed earlier, Quinn was in need of a target, he'd been without something to engage him for far too long, he was getting antsy, jittery even, he needed some sort of release and scaring the wits out of whatever officer happened to wander by with an un-ironed uniform just was not doing it for him any more. He sighed at her question, settling back into his seat as he picked up the tea cup again, taking another much longer drink.

"Need to know." He commented plainly, in a rather eerily 'reading-your-thoughts' moment, setting the cup back down before he'd continue to speak. "Either the Alliance doesn't have specifics, or they won't give it to me, Independent ship on Whitefall - we go there, bomb it to pieces and pick up the remains as usual." He commented in an almost trivial manner, a look on his face as if he was bored by the idea, more than anything.

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"Isn't that a sin?" Dorothy muttered, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, as Atticus swore quite religiously. She watched him head off, probably to go fetch another bible and attempt to hit any intruders with it. Nodding at the businessman, Dorothy rose to her feet, her own piece already on her. It was a habit from the military she couldn't shake. Going without it felt like being naked to her.

Fortunately, it wasn't very far to get from the Dining Room to the Cargo Bay. It was practically a stone's throw away. Making her way down to the lower level, Dorothy kept her gun in her hands, the safety off. While conventional wisdom might have said to keep the doctor away from the line of fire, Dorothy didn't abide by those rules. Anisa was in some serious f’n zse. No one, under any circumstances, was allowed to hurt the Captain if Dorothy had a say in the matter.

She watched as Jackson headed outside, able to pick out their conversation. It was Patience, then. Though, Dorothy didn't really need to hear that to know--it was always Patience when something went amiss on Whitefall. It hardly made any sense to her that people continued to land here, with the way they were treated. Once again ignoring conventional wisdom, Dorothy walked down to the ramp, standing next to Jackson.

Impulse control wasn't one of her many virtues.

"Sorry I'm late," Dorothy apologized, raising her own gun. "These lads must realize this is tze sah ju yi."

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"I should like to extend my sincerest regrets, my dear Dr. Moreau. It is an act of resourceful gymnastics, getting fresh butter aboard an Alliance Patrol Vessel. Unless of course, one brings it one's self. Even then, a gentleman must resort to bribery to secure storage in the galley's freezer. No, perhaps if we manage to set down upon our native Farraday, or a rock with a more civilized epicurean standard, I would be positively giddy to procure some fine, flaxen, Sugared Butter Shavings for ourselves."

The call for his childhood friend sounded through the Retribution's PA system, urging him to report to Cargo. Taken by morbid curiosity and a desire to remain with Jahosafat for the time being, Foy fell into step alongside the similarly well-dressed individual. The walk was short; it was a smaller vessel, after all, but it seemed just a touch longer than usual due to a distinct lack of crew. The fully staffed Retribution was cleared down to essential personnel only since his ebon friend boarded, a topic which he intended to discuss with the good(?) Doctor before too long.

Foy was pleased to see that all requisitioned cargo was stacked, neatly and orderly, onboard. Everything seemed to be in order, nothing out of place, but that one huge, extra crate drew his attention. Not that it was trying very hard not to be noticed; it was mammoth in comparison to the individual boxes around it and surrounded by some of the larger goons that the Alliance could gather from Persephone. The unusual color of black was only slightly off-putting and ever so slightly prophetic. Jahosafat seemed particularly pleased to see the container. Meanwhile, Foy wasn't sure whether to be wary of it, as those Alliance strongmen were who beat a hasty retreat, or merely content that his good friend was happy about its arrival.

For the meantime, he chose the latter. But it, like a couple other things, raised questions. "You know, Josie... it is very excellent to see you again, unexpected as it is. I must confess a growing sense that Providence (or some Admiral, at the very least) has something laying in wait."

It was true, this scenario looked awfully strange for a bread-and-butter run to Whitefall. His presence on board the ship, for anyone who actually knew him, was a serious red flag. Another big one was his old working partner from the Agency, blue gloves and all. Jahosafat, as well. This made three people on board a small ship, now with minimal crew, that could receive outside instruction at any second and make life on this boat very interesting. All the same, friend or no, too direct an inquiry might be hazardous to Foy's health.

"I am beginning to find all of this intrigue quite cumbersome, sir. Whenever you are able, you shall have to explain to me the importance of this box; it is obviously a contrivance that has appreciably piqued your gumption. But that aside, the interim goings on aboard the Retribution remind me of a darker period in recent history. I daresay, I would expect to acquire new orders any hour now - or finally get my full and genuine ones. For the now, sir, I do have items that would alleviate the cravings of your sweet tooth, and that lovely stash of Brandy, if you would care to join me for a snort."

At that moment, the call to secure all personnel came over the PA, temporarily halting Foy's plans for toasting with his fellow Farradayan. "But not the now, it appears. My good sir, we should find a quiet spot and strap in, forthwith! The Grav Boot and the local gravity have the occasion to wrestle with one another when entering or leaving the atmosphere."

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Finally. It was less than the hour provided by the Captain that Lieutenant Harper was advised that they were fully stocked with all supplies requisitioned, medical and other, and were ready for prep for departure. His diagnostic program had trilled to completion a number of minutes ago, leaving a soft but repeating beep to indicate its status. Everything was running well within engineering safety parameters, no difficulties detected elsewhere.

With any luck, the Retribution's Medical Officer would take it as a positive sign, and tuck away his organ harvesting equipment now that they had Med Bay's pantries fully stocked with skin bonding agents and anti-inflamatories. At least, William hoped so.

The shiny and new Flight Officer hailed the Port Controller, awaiting response. He released the docking clamps and began startup procedure, running deftly through the steps with practiced precision, one after the other. Were one to look closely at the man, they would see his lips barely moving, as if reciting what he was doing from memory. His nimble hands fell upon the controls comfortably nonetheless - one may merely conclude that it was the jitters associated with firing up a new ship for the first time. Just following, the Eavesdown Port Authority answered his hail, prompting Liam to respond.

"Received, Control. This is the I.A.V. Retribution, requesting queue for departure offworld. We will be ready in Standard." Request processed, he pulled up the ship's PA, announcing himself to what remained of the crew for the first time. "Attention, Flight Officer Harper speaking. We have been cleared for departure in approximately seven minutes. Secure all personnel in that time, and remain until safely offworld. That is all."

From the helm, William couldn't help but give a partially suppressed smile. It had been a while since he had done this, for the Alliance or any other ship, in quite some time. It amazed him how readily it flooded back to his mind, and how his hands hadn't forgotten a thing over his time... away. He really enjoyed it, the power of flight, the freedom it represented. It was nothing short of irony, given his situation. He would be away from Persephone in a few short minutes. The docking clamps were already loose. His next huge hurdle was about to be overcome. The moment was tense, but hopeful.

Now if they would just let him at those engines...

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Carefully taking what was left of the compression coil apart, Gideon scrounged through his stockpile of spare parts for an inner ring that would be compatible. Without the compression coil, the engine would never properly fire meaning they'd be stuck on this rock forever and that Gideon simply wasn't comfortable with. As he found something he could work with, Gideon froze as the sound of a tearing filter echoed in his ears. Turning around to see the damage, Gideon couldn't help but chuckle at the site of the tough Camilla sitting with a filter halfway up her arm.

"I'd hold off on telling the Captain, I think I can patch that part. It might not be the most optimized but it will do until we can acquire a suitable replacement." Turning back to his compression coil, Gideon was interrupted by the arrival of Daphne as she returned from her task. Looking around, he noticed that Camilla had failed to heed his suggestion that he might be able to fix the filter. She must have left to tell the Captain in order to take any blame away from him once again.

"If you could find Cam..." Gideon began to say to Daphne before the radio he kept in the engine room crackled to life. As Daphne answered the call, Gideon decided it was for the best he continued to work, especially now that he was uninterrupted. Perhaps he could at least have the engines running before sunset. Returning to the compression coil, Gideon began to fit the replacement inner ring and re-initiate the compression sequence. Opening the main reactor, he slid the repaired coil into the engine before turning to his diagnostic tool.

"Should probably give it a test fire."

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Camilla listened closely as Brutus started to explain that Patience wanted payment for landing on her planet, that the crew owed her more than just for the parts they had purchased; which he added Patience felt she had gotten short changed by the exchange, so she wanted that rectified as well. The mercenary knew that the entire thing was a load of horseshit. Patience was a woman of opportunity and wanted to take advantage of the situation. If they needed parts that meant the ship was stuck there for a while and it was the perfect time to try to get more money from them; when they couldn't just up and leave the planet in a cloud of dust.

Seeing Jack come out she shot him a glance and groaned inwardly. What was it with these people and stand offs like it was the O-K Coral at high noon. Yes, let's just walk right out in the middle of everything and hope for the best. Granted if they ever tried to plan anything the plan went to shit really damn quick. Plan A became Plan B, then Plan C; before they knew it they were on Plan Z and just pulling whatever shit out of their asses that they could at the time.

Turning and looking at Atticus she placed her finger to her lips before slipping out of the Cargo Bay, making her way to her room and grabbing her rifle before heading up to the upper air lock of the Vengeance in the Dining room. Pushing open the hatch she glanced around, the sun beating down on her face but there was no one in sight. Grabbing the rungs she climbed up to the top of the ship and lay down over the metal surface, inching her way until the jack-asses who were bothering the Captain came into view. Placing Brutus in her sights she curled her finger around the trigger.

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Atticus leaned back against the wall where Camilla had been standing and nodded at her as she moved off. Whatever she was up to she had a plan, whether that worked or not had yet to been seen. At least not by him, god knew what would happen and he placed his faith in the man upstairs. Looking up he took a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it slip from his nostrils, a small prayer had been said, laced with a lot of fucks and damns of course, but hey god had a sense of humor and understood the meaning behind the words that went through his mind.

He was waiting and then Dorthy just whizzed right by him. "Gorham doctor is going to get herself killed, then who in the fuck is supposed to patch people up? Me and the power of Christ? I ain't no Wong Ba Duhn medicine man," he said under his breath before turning and following suit. Stepping slowly down the ramp as he kept his gun aimed low. Sure he didn't want to have to kill anyone, the bible had some very strong things to say against that, but it was rather fuzzy on the subject of knee caps.

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Anisa kept her expression flat as she looked down Brutus and the rest of his crew. She wasn't about to flinch around these men. That would not end well. The woman wanted to just put a bullet right through the mans skull and be done with it but then it would open up a whole can of worms and she didn't know that the rest of the crew at that time had been alerted to what was going on outside of the ship. Once this was over, there would be a post made that was for sure. They weren't getting caught with their garter around their ankle again. Not on Patience's moon.

Granted that all changed as her second in command came strolling down the walkway and out the back of the ship to join her at her side; she should have expected as much. No mattered what happened Jackie was there by her side come hell or high water. "It does seem that way. I think they took a wrong turn coming out here don't you suspect?" she said as her finger tightened along the trigger, ready to squeeze it at the least little bit of issue. More foot steps coming up behind her followed but she didn't look. She knew when Jack came out that the rest of the crew knew what was up, or at least that they knew something was up.

"Now come on Crowe, just give us some payment and we will be on our way. No need for blood shed," Brutus said with a wicked grin on his lips, his yellow teeth showing from behind his lips.

"Will you invest in a dentist appointment if we do?"

Brutus's eyes narrowed, his lips thinning as he closed them, now suddenly aware of the fact that everyone else was aware that his teeth were shit. Maybe if the man brushed once in a while they wouldn't shit but nothing he could do about it now. He was about to lash out verbally when a snake spooked one of the horses and one of his men fired off a shot that came out of no where and embedded right into Anisa's thigh, dropping her to one knee; squeezing the trigger of her pistol the bullet flew and caught Brutus along his scalp, nothing to kill him but he was stumbling back as all hell broke loose. Bullets flying left and right, this was going to be one hell of a pit stop for the crew.

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"Well then perhaps we need to commandeer us our own little personal freezer. To go out into the black without sugared butter shavings, what are we? Reavers?" he chuckled a bit as he ran his fingers over the top of one of the cases, making sure it was secure and locked up tight; keeping his fingers clear of the thumb print scan and his eyes away from it's retinal partner. Glancing back over towards his old friend he could only smirk lightly.

"Oh my dear man, you have no idea, but you will, I assure you of that. I must be meeting with the Captain once we are in the Black, at that time I would like you to join me. The three of us have mush to discuss in regard to this latest little jaunt," he said with an all too cool smile coming across his features. The man seemed practically giddy over the entire situation, which was rare for him. Jahosafat was always a cheerful man but the look in his eyes would be one that Foy knew all too well, one that usually popped up when he was about to cause a'mess of trouble.

"Quite, now let us be off to get situated, then we can toast, take care of a sweet tooth or two, and then get down to business. What is in store for us my good friend may just go down in the history books," he said with a wink before turning and making his way out of the cargo bay and into a seat waiting for lift off.

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The subtle hints thrown in Finger's direction hit their mark. He narrowed his eyes, fighting against a sudden sneer that threatened to break his cold, almost corpse-like expression. He couldn't leave before seeing what the pilot actually planned to do, so he spent a few minutes looking over his shoulder, or more specifically, at his neck. Those were some nice veins...

When the man initiated the routine diagnostics, the medical officer decided it was high time to proceed with his own. The captain has received the report, there were new orders, and he would have to continue to exert his energy at logistics to increase his chance of actually succeeding in following said orders. A brisk pace took him to the medbay, and he almost collided with his assistant on his way out. There were more orders apparently, a slimming-down of crew for one reason or other. This would have to be dealt with later.

In the following quarter of an hour, all supply deficiencies were miraculously addressed, though Finger still suspected that receiving the "minimal" amount rather than the "recommended" one on some supplies meant that the requisitions bastard is going to have a field day on the black market after the Retribution's liftoff. This was the price to pay for stressing the need for said supplies on numerous occasions. The man may be an asshole, but he wasn't an idiot. Which is even worse.

Once the supplies were catalogued, stored and secured, Finger strapped himself into the folding seat in the wall next to his desk. He used the terminal to bring up the medical records of the remaining crew, to pass the time, and put the abridged version of the pilot's ongoing preparations for launch in the corner of his screen.

Lionel sneered at Dorothy's faux-sweet suggestion. Those sorts of passive-aggressive quips had always pissed him off. What, are you to jī fènbiàn to come out and state your real opinion? Or is it just that you want to preserve your image so badly that you'll resort to shallow non-attacks rather than taking a hard-line stance? But if growing up in a Core Planet, and making your way up through the echelons of society from the bottom did one thing, it gave you thick skin towards such assaults. At corporate or bourgeoisie parties, such insults were more common than after dinner mints.

However, when the comms went off, his face changed from irascible to something sterner, harder. He took his hand off the bottler and shifted his body forward in his chair, but didn't do much else visibly. He didn't head off with Daphne and Gideon to the commotion. He was a terrible shot and having a 50 year old man like him in a firefight would only serve to hinder the crew of the Vengeance. No, he would stay on the ship. If any cocksucker showed up here, they would have to work in his range, up close and personal. When Dorothy left, he got up out of his chair and pulled out his Knife. He moved closer to hear what was going on, but was greeted by a lot of indistinguishable gunfire.

Well looks like it was a smarter idea to stay on the ship than he thought.

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Carla leaned back in her chair and exhaled. The air of frustration in the room began to peak between the captain and assassin. They were prisoners of value supposedly for their skill and proven successes. This made the Alliance jerking them around that much more of a treat. "There's nothing artistic about bombing." She gave Quinn an aside glance to not mention her penchant for fighters or aerial strikes. Efficient and impersonal. She had a natural affinity for and respect of the craft. It was being on the wrong side of a few aerial raids that left the 'bombing' phrase a little sour in her mouth. "About the strawberries--" the P.A. announcement ran through the ship.

Carla bit her lip. Time on board the ship was a face on the water muddled by ripples. It dragged and lulled and slipped by the assassin. "You want to try to make it to the bridge before blast off?" She asked while half-heartedly fiddling with the secure harness attached to her chair. The straps always leave wrinkles. The crew had lovingly nicknamed her Quinn's shadow. Her exact orders were to follow Quinn's instructions and fulfill the mission. Shadowing and keeping Quinn safe were friendship bonuses. She made a game of it and once told Quinn that he was the Alliance's last honest officer and she was his loyal bodyguard. Their integrity and good work the last beacon in a bleak 'Verse. He rarely smiled but the chuckle that rose out of him was downright unsettling. Carla counts it as the funniest joke she's ever told.

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As she made her way through the ship, Genevieve thought about what could be so important as to call everyone over to the Cargo Bay. It sounded urgent, which was why she grabbed her weapons, but Camilla wasn't really known for anything less than that. Heck, she could be asked to help move some things around and make herself useful.

It wasn't until she rounded the corner and noticed that everyone was there that she got the feeling there was more to this than just moving boxes. She got near the crew and was about to ask why they were all summoned when she overheard the conversation happening just a few steps away inside. Seems the Captain was busy making a new friend and the new friend wasn't being very friendly in kind. She gradually grew worried, but she knew that the others were there also. There must be something they could do.

She gave a small nod to the others as she approached and took out her stunner and waited for some type of commanding look or head nod to indicate what they wanted her to do.