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Gene was busy cleaning. Was she doing it to be friendly or was she just avoiding her problems? She knew Anisa would be on her ass as soon as she could, but for what? She had commitments to keep and them being stranded here was messing that up. It wasn't their fault, of course, but the least they could do was show some sympathy for her situation. Her reputation is something she treasures. To others, she may seem like a prostitute, but it is so much more than that. If only they would take the time to understand her and her situation, perhaps they would be more open to her.

Fat chance of that happening.

As if on cue, Anisa quickly came in and hissed out her words. They dripped with venom. She respected the Captain greatly. She was a strong woman, capable and courageous, but she was wrong. She gave ample warning and she couldn't sit there and wait for her to get her approval. She didn't even need her approval. She was paying for the shuttle, she was allowed her freedom. She didn't crash the ship on purpose to make their lives worse.

Before she could speak her mind, Camilla came in and delivered the news no one in the room wanted to hear. Though she was neither for nor against the Alliance, she knew the crew was dead set against them meeting. If they were coming, it wouldn't be for anything good. There will be violence, there will be blood. She sighed, "Might I suggest we put this talk on hiatus and discuss what we are going to do about this new problem? The whole crew should be made aware and we'll need to prepare if we can't get the sip running soon."

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"Quite." agreed Harper, fully backing the eccentric Doctor's assessment of the situation. He looked upon it with a mixture of disgust and honest wonder, contemplating the physics of the total experience from Knochengeiger's point of view. He had only spoken to the man once, but it was more than enough of a character reveal for him to easily remain objective at the misshapen sack of flesh wobbling slightly before them, a hollowed-out corpse stripped of dignity and identifiable gender. If there was any manner of silver lining to the horrorshow in front of the two of them, it was that the intense vacuum did the overwhelming majority of the cleanup for them. Despite the disemboweled dead guy in the room, it was a well polished and tidy lavatory.

"We need to get images of this." suggested Harper, the slightest hint of disbelief creeping into his voice. "For the archives." he hastily added, as if to explain that he wasn't really a creepy bastard that took delight in the horrifying and unusual expiration of others. The past few years had wrought changes in the man, true, but he wouldn't exactly describe himself as creepy, so much as hardened.

This moment in his life would likely be seared into his forebrain, to be stored immaculately for voluntary retrieval or (very likely) involuntary recall at the most inopportune times. Having visual confirmation would come in very handy if he was ever compelled to describe it to another. He was not a poet, nor a great linguistical artist. And this was easily made the Top Five list of the most gruesome deaths to which Harper had been made personally aware, knocking down that incident involving a prisoner dismembered by mining equipment (his blood freezing in short seconds, preventing immediate death) to number six.

When it became apparent that the Yeoman he requested was not rapidly forthcoming, Harper looked back to Jahosafat. "I suppose we should get to it, then. Let's get full images of the scene and transport the remains. You're the only remaining Medic, sir. Where would you prefer him?" In truth, the good Lieutenant wouldn't have minded if the request was to fully disarticulate the body and shove it completely into waste disposal. But he probably had a family, or at least people who wanted to spit on his corpse before respectful interment someplace warm and green.

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Carla smiled and brought her hand up to her mouth at Foy's zero effort attempt to butter her up and persuade her into participating in manual labor. Even for somebody not acquainted with Foy as she was, it would not too difficult to see through his two-dimensional compliment. If somebody didn't know either of the figures, they might interpret this reaction as Carla positively taking the compliments to heart. However, Foy knew Carla well enough to know that compliments did not get one anywhere with her. If it appeared that she was flattered by anything (That didn't come from Genevieve) it was probably part of her cover on an assassination mission.

Still, it was a dance, part of the routine, a game even. Carla was about to tell Foy that she'd be happy to help him carry that package all the way to Diyu, but then Jahosafat left with an order which that took precedence over catty games of counterfeit etiquette and masked intentions. The fake smile disappeared from her face, replaced by a look of cold professionalism and her hands dropped to the armrests.

"Perhaps I'll assist you with moving the box once Jahosafat returns. I have been assigned to security, and he has just instructed us to stay here and keep watch. If you want to leave, go ahead. I doubt anything will change here." Carla crossed her legs and took stock of the room. Yep, looked like any other Alliance ship med bay, plus a dozen newly added boxes or so. In the back of Carla's mind, she felt the familiar itch grow just a degree more irritating than it had been for the last week. She silently hoped that they wouldn't stay in the Black for too long.

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She shook her head slightly, and was slightly grateful that the Captain was too busy to jump into the conversation. Generally, she never called the ship hers unless it was just Gideon around. Letting those words slip occasionally has gotten her a fair bit of scolding and angry outbursts from the Captain. It doesn't happen as often as it did when Daphne first joined the crew, but it still was troubling when it came out. Daphne felt like the ship belonged to her, even though it wasn't actually her ship. She let out a giggle at the thought, since it was slightly amusing to her.

"Well, it handled pretty well. You should know a little about that though, you rode on it several times today too!" she said with a laugh, looking over the console that he was working on. "Hopefully you can get her back in the air soon, who knows how long it will be until Patience and her men come back. I trust ya to fix her up though. You're the one person I can truly count on when to fix her up when this old ship falls apart",

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@BlueSky44 - Gideon chuckled a bit. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, I will get the ol' girl back up in the air in no time," he said as he kept tinkering away underneath the console. The sound of metal on metal clanging every so often as he switched from one tool to another. "That is as long as people don't go shooting her up any more than she already is," he grumbled under his breath as he pulled himself out from under the main control panel and stood up. Dusting his hand off he pushed the chair back into place and turned towards Daphne. "Mind doing the honors of starting her up? Let's see if she is purring or if she is still coughing up a hair ball," he laughed as he motioned with a bow for her to take her place in the drivers seat. "Either way, still have hull breaches to fix among other things but if she'll be nice right now we can at least fly her within atmo for now if shit hits the fan again."

@Morose - Things are getting cleaned up and the guy being held captive quiets down a little. Though there is still the eventual bang. Once Daphne takes a seat up in the bridge and gives Vengeance the start up sequence it will sputter a bit but then come to life. Seems that Gideon is actually doing his job some. "Hey, if you are going to keep me locked up can I at least get some water and food! Gorham I'm hungry!" the boy yells after banging on the door some more. The speech is a bit muffled but he repeats it several times, enough for Dorothy to be able to figure out what he is bitching for.

@Dragoknighte @FantasyChic @Pundii - Atticus stopped what he was doing and slowly stood up as Camilla announced that the Alliance was after them. His brows furrowing in confusion. It didn't surprise him that they would be after them, they always were but this was different. There was something in Camilla's tone that told him this was a newer and greater threat than it was usually. Anisa turned quickly and looked over towards Camilla. "What the hell do you mean?" she hissed and Camilla slowly stepped forward. "Quinn... Quinn is coming..." she let out before moving passed the Captain and into the main dining room, nodding slightly towards Gene before sitting down and placing her head in her hands as she pushed her hair back. "You better fucking explain yourself," Anisa added as she glared towards Camilla. Sighing, Camilla quickly told her she spoke to Quinn and what he had told her.

"You contacted the man?!?"

"No! He called me!"

"And how did he manage that? You been telling him where we are?"

"Captain no! I haven't spoken to him in years! I don't know how he contacted me but he did," she said, trying to defend herself but it was obvious that the Captain was not buying it, her eyes flaring up.

"Okay, let us all take a deep breath. Doesn't matter how he did but that he did. We know they are coming, now, what do we do?"

@Sigil @Dragoknighte- Jahosafat shakes his head a little bit. "Seems that it is up to us two gentlemen to take care of the cleaning here my good sir, as distasteful as it is. Minimal crew and all. I do believe being the only Medic on hand could turn out to be a good thing, the man seemed rather Reaver in his ways. I don't know, there was just something about him that made even my strong backbone shiver," he admitted before excusing himself to go gather a gurney and supplies from the Medical Bay, asking that Harper go down and retrieve cleaning supplies so they could sterilize the place and clean it properly once the majority of the bits and pieces of the former doctor were collected. Stepping into the medical bay he rolled up his sleeves. "Forgive me, I will be some time before I can return. It seems we have had an unfortunate accident. Our former medical lead is in pieces currently. Seems his last bowel movement was a bit more explosive than he had expected."

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Jackson wished he could deny what Anisa was saying, his heart told him that she was wrong, that he could have done something, anything to change the outcome, maybe not of the battle, but over what had happened to his wife. But he knew full well she was right, chances are if he had been there, he'd have been dead by now, in the ground and probably having brought Anisa with him. The reality was that the two of them had survived, and they had to live with it, he had to live with it, no matter how long and how hard the guilt would eat at him, undoubtedly, it would for the rest of his life.

As Anisa sat with him, Jackson sighed, leaning into her as she pulled him closer. No one else in the crew would ever see Jackson like this, they'd be lucky to mention his wife and get out of the conversation without at the very least a black eye and a concussion, Anisa saw everything, not just the hard exterior he put up, but everything on the inside, the pain, the loathing, the misery. He only ever let it out near her, she was the only one he could trust with it, it had always been that way, just her, and the woman he'd once loved. Feeling her lips on his head, he sighed softly as he turned his gaze upward, watching her go as he shook his head, remaining where he was for the time being in silence.

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Gregory watched the screen in silence as Camilla spoke, she was not all the same woman, as Jahosafat had said, that light in her eye, that shine which he had so loved was gone. However, the way she held herself, the way she could be so professional as she spoke to him and the way she spoke to him, even if it was about something as serious as their topic was, she had hardly changed at all, she was still all in all the exact same woman he adored. Then he saw the tears in her eye. It hurt in a kind of way that nothing else ever could, he had dreaded this moment for his entire career following the war, he'd never wanted to be forced into this, and now he would be.

The thoughts ran through his mind, of whether he could actually commit to such an action as he stared at the screen. Hearing her speak again made him think even more, all the time they had been apart didn't matter to him, in that moment, he wanted to give it up and go home, knowing he could not bare to harm her. "I love you, Camilla..." But it was too late, by the time he spoke, the call was cut, Gregory sighing as he leaned back in his seat quietly, left to himself and his silence.

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Dorothy listened carefully, waiting to see if there would be any other outcries. Hearing nothing from within the cell, she quickly went back inside of the medical bay, fetching one of her medical texts. Her cleaning was largely complete, and during these rare moments, it wouldn't hurt to re-read on the various inner-workings of medical practice. Sitting outside of the cell with the textbook, Dorothy flipped to the chapter on poisonous substances, and began to read.

Cū dúsù shì fēicháng wéixiǎn de, dàn zài mǒu xiē yīliáo shíjiàn zhōng kěyǐ yòng yú mǒu xiē yōushì. Běn gōngzuò de mùdì shì liǎojiě zhè zhǒng dúsù de gè zhǒng liúxíng bìng xué, línchuáng hé bìnglǐ shēnglǐxué fāngmiàn, bìng quèrèn qí zuì yǒuxiào de yòngtú.

Turning the page, Dorothy mused on the topic. It was a discussion of the use of botulinum toxin as a medicine, rather than a poison. The date on the article was dreadfully old, but it had been important enough to include in one of her texts. She continued to read on, enjoying the refresher of her knowledge, but equally troubled that she may come across some fact that would not bode well for the Captain. Dorothy hadn't been notified as to whether or not the Captain would need additional assistance--she decided to take that as a sign of Anisa's quick recovery.

"Would you please quit hollering?" Dorothy groaned, hearing the kid start to act up again as the ship sputters to life. She rolled her eyes slightly, imagining that Gideon had just hit the console until it turned on. "I can't hear myself think with that gorrham racket!"

But that hardly seemed to help. The boy was banging on the door, and Dorothy could make out what he was saying--barely. Seemed the kid wanted something to eat. She let out a sigh, half tempted to let him starve, but the bangs were getting to be irritating. It was her only time to read, and here he was, making it impossible for her to concentrate. Putting her book down, Dorothy pondered going into the Med Bay, and simply getting the kid a glass of water. But her occupation got the best of her--he needed actual food--and she decided to head up to the kitchen to fetch something.

Yet as she heard the yelling as she approached the kitchen, Dorothy couldn't help but wince. She should've let the kid tough it out. She did not need to be there when Anisa was pissed.

"Well first," Lionel loudly interjected, "we should gather all the rest of the crew into one place and firmly establish what Miss Powell has learned before we come up with any plans. Don't have the hankerin' to be foolin' around with half-cocked plans based on half-understood information, tryin' to get all our chicks in line while the Alliance is marching their way over to here so they can collect backtaxes on our entrails." Normally in some sort of high stress situation like this, Lionel made it a policy to let the Captain take charge of her crew. However, this was the Alliance specifically coming for this crew, and while they had nothing specifically on him, getting caught with a bunch of wanted men and women was not on his To-Do List.

As far as the Camilla was concerned, he didn't give two shits about the obvious backstory soap drama that was going on right now.If she was really some Alliance spy/sympathizer that wanted to screw over the entire crew, she could have easily done that by sitting pretty and waiting for the government to just fly in and pick them up. The fact that she was even telling them about this kept her off his shit list.

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Though she should smack herself for such thoughts, she was happy the wrath of Anisa was not on her for the time being. Though she liked both Anisa and Camilla, she had to give credit to Camilla for coming through. If anything, it should show her loyalty for warning them that the Alliance was on their way. She wondered if perhaps the Captain was aware of that and was just exhibiting pent up aggression after all these events happened one after another.

"Captain, control your temper. If Camilla was your enemy, I would hardly think it smart to give ample warning to the crew they are after. Especially to you who could probably kill her 20 different ways. Lionel is right, we should all gather and formulate a plan." Though she had no formal ties to the Alliance, she was sure that if push came to shove, she would receive some punishment for serving on this ship. She liked her crew and they inspired loyalty in her. She was willing to help them, whatever the costs.

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@FantasyChic @Dragoknighte @Morose @Pundii - Anisa was about to tear right into both Gene but she stopped herself. It wasn't the time. They had bigger problems on their hands now than just Patience. Closing her eyes for a moment she took a deep breath and then opened then again, her version of counting to ten. Camilla watched as the Captain visually calmed down and let out a breath of her own before she walked over to the table in the dining area and had a seat. Atticus just kind of stood there keeping himself between Anisa and the rest of the crew. With all the yelling he was sure that Jackson would hear it and then it would be a pissed off Captain and Second in Command. This was going to end so badly and he hadn't even finished giving last rites to the fuckers outside yet.

"Okay, good. Everyone is calming down. Now, let's figure out how to get through this. Preferably alive," Atticus said. Anisa crossed her arms over her chest before whistling. Gideon looking up quickly and running out of the Bridge and down into the dining room.

"What's up?" Gideon asked and Anisa pointed to Camilla.

"How fast can you get this boat in the air?"

"I dunno, three or four days, why? Patience already rearing her ugly mug again?" he asked.

"No, we have Alliance on their way to get us."

"Um...right. We'll be up faster than that," Gideon said not caring anymore to why, just knowing he had to get them up in the air as soon as possible.

"How long until they get here?"

"I don't know."

Anisa started grilling Camilla for information but there was no more to get. Camilla had hung up before she was even able to hear Quinn say he loved her, she sure as hell didn't bother to ask how long until he showed up. Rubbing her face Anisa looked over at the crew and then noticed Dorothy coming up.

"You and Atticus, get that little shit below deck sedated. I want you two and Daphne to take his ass and drop him off somewhere away from here. Gene, you and Lionel, please get the rest of the meal cooked up and then get over to Gideon and see if he can teach you two a few things quick enough to help patch this ship up. We don't need long travel, we just have to get one planet over before those Alliance Fuckers and Captain Ahab gets his ass here."

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The esteemed Mr. Coiffeur took to heart Carla's words about duty and assignment, phrased in simple and direct words in a way that left no room for wiggling or misinterpretation. It was said in a manner that was both calm and respectful, ensuring that Foy couldn't even take mock offense at the fact that she could not help at the moment, in an attempt to guilt her into the assist anyway. Not that guilt particularly motivated the lady; at least it never had before. Then again, when they knew each other last, the two of them were assigned to some wetwork or another, merrily if aggressively trading ammunition with people who may or may not have deserved it. At least Foy was merry. It was a crisp autumn afternoon, his moustache was freshly waxed (mid-gunfight, mind you), and he was absolutely destroying soft cover with his Callahan, enjoying a rare cigar all the while.

Then again, it might have been stated once or twice that the Gentleman Barber was a borderline sociopath.

His mind snapped back to the present, where regretfully he was being told NO. It was not a thing of which he was overly fond, but he couldn't seem to get a conversational workaround in play fast enough for it to be effective. Instead, he took a slightly more objective approach. "Absolutely, my dear. Of course you have orders; I should have surmised something comparable, given the peculiarities of the day. But I shall require assistance with this final box nonetheless. If madame would be as kind, I would appreciate your help when you find yourself able. Or a nudge to that Lieutenant, polite or no (at the lady's discretion, of course), to get him back on task. Either way is just dandy by me. I'll be in Cargo, acquainting myself with the supplies and sundries."

Foy affected a polite bow to the veteran Assassin, arms stretched out at his sides. "Excuse me, Ma'am." He flashed a dashing smile and exited the Med Bay, bound for parts Cargoey.

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William Harper, Pilot of the I.A.V. Retribution, First Lieutenant in the Alliance Military, continued to survey the scene in the malfunctioning water closet. It was as if he had looked upon a man pulled inside out and left dead on the crapper. His brain had actually used that analogy, possibly as a coping mechanism to deal with the fact that he was, in fact, looking at exactly that: A man had been pulled inside out and was left dead, and as it turned out, he was on the crapper. This was how the Earth-That-Was performer Elvis went, only with even less dignity. Had such a travesty befallen Harper in the moment of his passing, he would have utterly died of embarrassment. If he hadn't just died, that is.

"Well Doctor Moreau," began Liam, "I had all of one conversation with the man. It was enough. The man actually tried to intimidate me into violating the Captain's orders about early takeoff, citing that he would have to cannibalize parts from the crew in case of a medical emergency. I have no sorrow in his passing."

Jahosafat's suggestion that he retrieve cleaning supplies was taken with a nod and a smart pace down the corridor to the nearest ladder. Division of labor was fine with him. He'd rather be cleaning a minimal of bodily fluids in a room with a water source and (perhaps more importantly) a drain. Of course, finding it in an unfamiliar cargo hold would be a minor challenge, but if it was stacked to regulation, it wouldn't be too bad. Now all he had to do was remember regulations. Eh, he'd get it.

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Carla had had minimal interaction with the now deceased doctor. None of them were pleasant enough for her to see out further such events in the future. Arrogant, self-centered and presumptuous, even for an owner of a Doctorate degree. She also may have caught him saying something about harvesting her organs when he thought he was out of earshot. It took a lot of talent to stick out as an ugly, odiferous wart in the company of (borderline) sociopaths, but that was one area the late doctor had excelled in. All that said, Carla still found herself annoyed that his death meant that she had to sit around in the Med Bay while his remains had to be cleaned up. Couldn't even die in a professional manner.

As far as Foy went, she didn't go so far as to non verbally acknowledge anything he said beyond maintaining eye contact. She'd get around to helping him when she could, no sooner. And she certainly wasn't going to go search out the new pilot for the sole purpose of cajoling him to lift a box with a man who couldn't be arsed to ask himself. The barber would have to content himself with waiting in the Cargo Bay as she had to with the Med Bay.

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Daphne smiled at Gideon and took her place in the pilot's seat. She enjoyed feeling the rumble of the ship's engines as it rumbled and started. Well, at least the part of the ship meant for steering it works, she thought to herself. She ignored the commotions coming from the area behind her, she heard Gideon leave and head towards the dining area. Daphne just was happy that the ship could fly at least somewhat again. She leaned back in the chair, and listened to the voices behind her. After a few shouts, she decided to get over to the dining room.

As the voices got louder, she began to make out what was being said. What? The Alliance? Does this have to do with that box, or is it something different, she thought as she edged closer to the voices. When she walked in, she saw the Captain and most of the crew there. She heard her name mentioned, and heard the Captain's orders. Daphne just nodded her head, not wanting to argue, and now knowing that they were in a big hurry.

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Jackson had sat in silence for a while, for the first time in a long while not having a clear and certain idea of exactly where he should be going and what he should be doing, Anisa had really caught him off guard, and it was taking him some time to get him back on his feet even mentally. However, the yelling had certainly managed to get Jackson's attention, and as it became clear to him just what it was related to, he was on his feet in an instant. Climbing up the ladder, he made a quick stop over at his own bunk. Moving over to his bed, he reached over to the rack behind it and grabbed his shotgun, climbing back up the ladder with it gripped in one hand.

It wasn't often he was brandishing a weapon around the ship, usually it meant they were in dire straits, were about to be, or that Jackson was not in the mood to be fucked around with, on the odd occasion, it meant all three. Stepping down the hall into the kitchen, he rested the shotgun over his shoulder, looking over those present, mostly eyeing Camilla before his gaze turned to Anisa. He opened his mouth for a moment as he looked at Camilla, almost as if he was about to accuse her of something before he recalled Anisa's words, faltering before he just watched her. "What's the deal?"

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The silence enveloped Quinn for a while, the feeling and thought of what he had done being wrong, he had given his targets, the people he had been assigned to capture, specific information that they were coming. By all accounts, he was treasonous, in rebellion, during the first war, he would have shot a man for less. Yet, for at least the time being, he was the only one who knew the weight of his actions, and so for now he alone would consider them. Sighing, he eventually moved to stand, needing air free of the confines of his office as he move toward the door, heading out.

Wandering down the hall, he made his way toward the bridge, hands clasped behind his back as he sighed and approached the display window, peering out as he glanced over at one of the ensigns still on the bridge. "How far out are we?" He asked calmly, in the sort of cool manner that usually meant he was about to execute a prisoner.

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Wong dahn, Dorothy thought to herself, hearing the brief bits of conversation. Although she wasn't sure where the information came from, the end result was fairly clear. The Alliance was coming for them. It would mean the death of her friends, and she and Camilla would face trial for desertion from the Alliance military. Neither event would be pretty. Biting her lip, Dorothy glanced around quickly, looking for Daphne's familiar face.

"Yes ma'am," Dorothy said quickly, taking in the orders. She didn't grab any food or water for the boy, instead heading back down the ladder, away from the chaos of the kitchen. With the ship unable to move, and the Alliance on their tails, every second counted. Seemed it was the little piece of shit's lucky day--he'd be pumped full of drugs and deposited in some random spot on this planet.

How Shi Sung Chung, she thought bitterly, making it inside the medical bay. She grabbed a mild sedative, enough to do the trick, but saved the stronger ones for future emergencies. She never did quite know when she'd be asked to sedate a crew member--the possibility was always there. Assuming that Atticus had been following her the entire time, Dorothy walked towards the cell, listening to see if the boy was hollering and fussing still.

"I'll need you to restrain the boy while I sedate him," Dorothy explained. "Ready when you are, preacher."

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Gene wasn't necessarily happy to be put on kitchen duty while their enemy made its way to their ship, but she wasn't about to question Anisa's orders, especially after what happened. She still felt she had done everything she could, but now was not the time. Perhaps when they rid themselves of the Alliance nuisance is the time for them to talk.

She continued cooking with Lionel. She rarely did anything in the kitchen, but she watched and listened to Lionel tell her what to do, provided he knew what he was doing.

During this, she thought of some things she could do in case the Alliance did come. Perhaps she could use her ties to help them out? She had a few Alliance contacts she could call. Maybe Carla could help? She didn't know much about the woman, but perhaps she could be of some assistance? There were a few others she would have to remember to check on when she had a minute.

After the two finished cooking, she found her way over to Gideon, "Anything I can do to help patch the ship up Gideon? Just tell me what to do and I'll do it."

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Retribution: The Captain was informed they were ore then two days out from Whitefall, even with the hard burn. There was nothing that could be done about that. The ship was being pushed as hard as it could at this point and anything beyond that could put the crew in serious jeopardy of being left dead in the black. Harper and Moreau were able to get the dead doctors remains cleaned up without issue and an engineer was able to fix the toilet. So things went well there. Over the next days Jahosafat kept working on running through the blood samples he had taken from the crew, mapping out the DNA, and studying the similarities and differences he was comparing to blood he had taken from his "samples" still locked in the crates. Carla and Foy were called on from time to time to stand guard as the mad doctor would need them to keep watch while he opened a crate or two to draw more samples and to ensure that their personal Reavers did not wake from their sleep. The Med Bay would stay locked down when Jahosafat was sleeping and no one was allowed to enter because of security reasons. (Usually with at least one guard posted at the door.)

During down time Jahosafat could be found prodding the Captain from time to time about Camilla and updating him on his work (which hadn't shown much at this point but that was good news in his book. It showed thus far that all members of the crew were without the little genetic trait that would have them turn into Reavers. SO death by being eaten was probably not such a bad thing.) When not bugging the Captain or working or sleeping - Jahosafat was easily found in the company of Foy. Trading tales of adventures they had had since they last saw each other or reminiscing about things they had done together. Of course there was much laughing, drinking, and many wrapped candies.

"Lt. Harper, Whitefall is within visual sight now," rang out over the coms.

Vengeance: Things over on the Vengeance have been anything but easy or calm. The sisters were able to drop off the kid that is for sure but they came under fire. It was a hell of a fire fight to get out of there alive and three more of Patience's people went down. Daphne took a bullet graze to her temple and Dorothy had to extract a bullet from her own calf in the end but the girls made it back alive. Repairs with Gideon being the only true person on the ship with the right knowledge have been going slower than wanted but he has been able to train Lionel, Gene, and Atticus on some basic repairs; enough that the three have been able to get the hull of the ship ready for the Black while Gideon sticks to working on the engine. Daphne has been ordered to keep all communications cut off from Camilla at this point unless she is present, and has locks Camilla in her bunk for the duration. Not only because she isn't sure if she can trust the woman but also to make sure that Jackson doesn't snap on her. Camilla's skills might come in handy and the woman needs her shoulder healed as much as possible before the next gun fight.

Anisa has barely slept over these last days. Taking it on herself to go to town with Jackson again to acquire more of what Gideon needs to fix her ship and coming back after yet another firefight with Patience. This one the two came back without any injuries but Patience was not so lucky. Anisa finally snapping and cutting the woman's ear right off before tossing it to the pigs and telling the woman if any other harm came to her crew she would cut out her heart next time they met. It has been quiet since then but it is obvious that Anisa is tiring even if she keeps up a strong presence in front of the crew.

In the Bridge, Daphne will hear a beep on the monitors, when she looks to it she will see an incoming ship out in the black. It's an Alliance Patrol Boat coming in from the Black at full burn.

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Anisa rubbed her eyes, her back curled over slightly as she examined the files that were in the container that the crew had found in the mines. She still couldn't believe what she was reading even though she had read over it a hundred times in the past two days. Tests on people, purposefully trying to create Reavers during the war, trying to control them, attempting to turn them into soldiers... Other tests on how to wipe out entire planets that had pockets of the Resistance. It all seemed to far fetched, to cruel, to unhuman. How could anyone have approved this?

Looking up from her spot as Gideon knocked on the ladder leading down to her room she straightened herself up and slipped the files back into the box before turning and forcing the appearance of a Captain back on her features but the dark circles under her eyes couldn't be hidden. "Come on down," she said as she stood up and straightened out her vest. Gideon slid down the ladder quickly, his hands and clothing covered in grease. "Report."

"She's coming along Cap, I got most things repaired but she still don't want to fire up. Don't worry, I'll get her in the air, it will just probably be another day," he said before Anisa grumbled.

"Get it done. Now!" she snapped and Gideon sighed, just nodding before heading back up the ladder and rushing back to the engine room. Normally he would have pushed her buttons but even his light hearted spirit could tell that the Captain was running on empty, he wasn't going t push her right then. He didn't want to be at the end of trigger finger right then.

Shaking her head Anisa went over to the ladder and climbed up. She was moving a bit better today than the day before, her thigh healing up but it would have been better if she actually would stop moving and get some sleep yet she kept telling herself she would take some rest and put Jackson in charge to take over for her one they were in the black. Until then rest could wait. "I need to be okay," she whispered to herself quietly as she headed over towards the locked door of Camilla's room.

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Camilla wasn't too happy being confined to her quarters but in the end she wasn't going to complain. Sitting on her bunk, her knees drawn up to her chest she rested her arms over them and stared blankly towards the wall across from her. In her hands was a small felt box that had been turned over time and time again, worn from being rubbed too many times. Would they manage to get off the planet before Quinn showed up? Part of her hoped to whatever god Atticus prayed to let them be far away from his planet before he arrived and yet somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind she wanted to be there when he arrived, if only left behind by Crowe. She saw something in his eyes for a split moment, a second of the man she once knew. Was he still in there? Could he still be saved after so long? Could the monster be vanquished so she could see Gregory once again in the light she fell in love with him in?

Sighing she turned her head as she heard the lock for her door undo and the door slip open. Quickly putting the box down under her pillow as she saw Anisa's boots on the stairs, coming down into her private quarters. Was it already time for another interrogation? Probably, it was hard to tell how much time had passed when once was lost in thought and without contact with the rest of the crew. Anisa's feet hit the ground and she stepped out from around the ladder, looking at Camilla stoically. Her jawline was tight as she stared down at Camilla, looking as cold as ever but she could tell that Anisa was running on empty.

"Pick a side," Anisa said quickly in a cold tone as she stood there. Camilla closed her eyes for a moment before she let her feet drop to the floor and stand herself. Turning to face the Captain she took a deep breath, knowing exactly what Anisa was asking, no demanding from her.

"I did, a long time ago."

"And if it comes down to him and this crew?" Camilla knew it was coming, a defining moment of choice. Did she follow her heart and protect the man from her past or did she pick her present and stand by the crew and her captain?

"I'll pull the trigger and end this. I'll make it right," she said without a single moment passing. She had made her choice and she knew what she would have to do in the end. She had had plenty of time to think about it over the years and even more over the last couple of days. Anisa nodded as she reached over and picked up one of Camilla's hand guns. Turning it over in her hand before holding it out to Camilla. The Merc took it, chambering a round a nodding to her Captain before stepping around her and making her way out of her quarters for the first time in days.

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The last couple of days had been a whirlwind of activity for the Preacher. Between learning how and repairing the ship, burying the dead and giving them last rights he had little time to himself. He kept up his usual ways, preaching between blasphemy. The Captain had allowed him down into Camilla's bunk a handful of times to talk to her but the woman never said anything, just sitting there looking as if she had come to a very difficult decision. What her choice was he had yet to determine but as he heard steps coming up from the hallway and seeing Camilla finally emerge from her bunk, followed by Anisa he began to understand just what her choice had been. She was dressed, she was armed, and she looked as if she was about to embark on the most difficult mission of her life.

Spooning another mouthful of horse stew into his mouth he chewed and swallowed hard. The first day the horse hadn't been bad, the second, still okay. Now it was pressing on the maybe it would be better not to eat anymore than to stomach it. Funny how things changed yet he still did eat, giving thanks for the meal as he always did and dealing with it. Though, it did help that he had his flask of liquor to help wash it down. Camilla looked over to him and forced a bit of a smile as Anisa pushed passed the merc to get something for herself to eat. Atticus smiled back and wiped his mouth before putting his spoon down.

"Well bless the lord above, it is good to see you today Camilla. Care for some food?" he asked. Before Camilla could answer the beep that had rung out in the Bridge, echoed through the short corridor connecting the bridge and the dining area. Camilla's head whipped around as Anisa stopped what she was doing and yelled out.

"Daphne, what in the tā mā dì dìyù was that?"

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Oh the world for Jahosafat was brimming with excitement. Every new experiment, ever vial of blood drawn, every restful moment that ticked by was truly a grand adventure for him and his high spirited nature never seemed to fade. Each day that rolled by he seemed like a child on Christmas morning, opening every gift in sight and proclaiming it was for him even if it wasn't. The man's smile never seemed to falter no matter what he was doing or who he was speaking with. His world was bright and dandy and he was a dandy in a bright world.

He kept tabs on how the ships speed was going and how close they were to getting to Whitefall. He wanted to be good and ready when they arrived. That "morning", he had showered and picked out his most dandy of attire. Dressing in all white, silver and gold this day. Looking as dapper as ever s he came in for his morning shave into the Foy'er. He had not touched a blade himself since he had boarded the Retribution. Foy was there and by the gods he was going to let the man work his magic. None could deliver a shave and a wrapped candy the way his old friend could, it was a luxury he had missed even when he was on the richest of core worlds. None had the flair of Fucking Foy. And none had wrapped candies.

"It will be an exciting day I tell you that my dear man. Today we will reach Whitefall and come the banners we will have the most brilliant of times I dare say. Make sure to put on your finest because I hope to introduce you to a stunning woman of breeding and refinement this day. I hope while she still draws breath but either way, it will be a rather exciting day. I hope to stretch my legs and my trigger finger today. Say, do pass me a wrapped candy, something with cinnamon. I need some heat today old chap!" - Yeah, Jahosafat was happy as a pig in shit right then...

The last few days were rather interesting for old Lionel. Interesting as in filled with pain and covered with a thick layer of curses from English, Mandarin and whatever other tidbits of language he had picked up over the last few decades. Having to help fix the hull of a ship while his back was thrown out was not what the business tycoon had envisioned when he first signed up to stay aboard the Vengeance, but thems the breaks. By now he'd more or less recovered, and was in much better spirits compared to yesterday or the day before.

Currently, Lionel was hanging around in the Common Area, taking a break from all the various errands people were having him run when they were too busy doing something important and specialized. He resented being reduced to an errand boy, but given the circumstances of "The Alliance are coming to fuck our assholes raw," he remained rather silent about his indignation. He leaned back in a chair, chewing on the end of a toothpick. The sound of Captain Crowe yelling filtered down from above, but unless such verbal assaults were aimed directly at him, his brain filtered most of its contents out.

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Carla spent the last few days the same way she did almost every trip through the Black: sticking to her own business and being as invisible as possible to the rest of the crew, skeletal as they were. When she was called to guard Jahosafat and his experiments, she dutifully stood guard and vigilantly watched nothing happen outside in the halls. Time not spent guarding was time spent in her room, performing painstakingly thorough maintenance of all her weapons and equipment, performing drills to keep her skills sharp and doing the variety of exercises she had learned work in the limited space of an Alliance ship bedroom.

Finally the day of touchdown had arrived, and Carla was fairly excited to be somewhere with some not recycled air, and if this was part of the big mission Jahosafat came here for, she'd probably get to go out and actually use her skills, a thought that made her blush faintly. Unlike Jahosafat, she didn't walk out dressed in extravagant clothes, just her usual Agency uniform, ironed of all wrinkles, washed to smell of daffodils and looking like it just came off the press.

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"Cinnamon, cinnamon... Aha! Here we are, my dapper sir! Cinnamon. And Cassia, though it is to more pedestrian liking, and... ah, here we are, my ebon compatriot! Capsicum! Yes, the extracts of our noble and most piquant Farradayan Ice Peppers, infused within the deliciousness of crystallized glucose. My good sir, you have a most troubling option, if your desire is heat: Do you choose the tincture of Cinnamon, or the infusion of Capsicum?" Foy looked over the latest bit of professional grooming he had performed for his childhood friend and now working companion, checking for any asymmetry or minor mistakes. Naturally, he found none, but it was just good work ethic that prompted the inspection.

In the end, Foy wound up offering a small handful of both.

The past couple of days were actually quite diverting; living, working, and socializing with his oldest friend in the 'Verse. Catching up was long overdue, even if it was done so while squatting under the shadow of Reaver involvement. With the good Doctor taking over the vast majority of orders given him, he took to what official work presented him with a certain sense of gusto. Not the type of man that responded to orders on a usual basis, really, but he was under contract and Moreau's orders generally contained such pleasantries as "Would you please...?" or "If you would be so kind as to...". The small elements of gentlemanly banter presented with respect and polite demeanor went far with The Esteemed Foy Coiffeur; Gentleman Barber, Entrepreneur, and Cutthroat Mercenary Extraordinaire.

"There you are! You look quite the rakish rapscallion yet again (if I may intone thusly), dearest Jahosafat. Why, were a cotillion afoot, I daresay that you would be verily swimming in young debutantes vying for your more carnal attentions." He chuckled heartily at his own observation, quite content with how the start of his workday was progressing.

Foy sauntered over to his personal caffeination station, pouring a small cup of something particularly dark and potent. Naturally, it reminded him of Jahosafat. "I say, would you care to partake in a demitasse of espresso? It's actual bean, sir." he offered, holding out the cup. Excellent method of starting out the day, especially..."

His words were cut short by the shipwide page for their pilot. They were almost upon Whitefall, which meant that soon, the nature of Foy's work was about to change. "Hmm... I should estimate that we've enough time for coffee, possibly a croissant depending upon how breakneck that Harper fellow handles this grand conveyance, before I must ready myself for a pressing social function." Foy looked to his fellow Farradayan, nodding gravely for a second or two. Their obvious fellowship aside, the two men were professionals that had trust in each other. Such a thing was rare. The more dangerous part of the job was about to begin; a tiny moment of seriousness was in order. But just a tiny moment.

"Now, a topic for coffee dialogue: What manner of tie is most appropriate for meeting this sort of people? Oh, and possibly opening fire upon them, of course. Bolo, cravat or ascot?"

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The call went out, and Harper stood ready to perform his duties to the best of his formidable abilities. Being back on board an Alliance vessel for a couple of days had jogged his memory quite effectively, even to the point of smaller idiosyncrasies common to shipboard personnel such as corridor right of way and the most effective use of a ladder (he didn't bother using rungs while descending anymore). He fell into the routine nicely. The work of a pilot was mostly one of observation and small corrections, based upon any fluctuations in local gravity, looking out for proximity alarms and the like; at least off in the Black. Now that they were approaching their destination, he had the privilege of taking a more active role in maneuvering the I.A.V. Retribution. Though he disliked being a part of an Alliance patrol boat crew, he was damned good at the job. And being honest, he was looking forward to getting behind the controls and really pressing the abilities of this boat. It was a fine piece of machinery.

Harper was at the Bridge in quick time, offering the appropriate salute at the appropriate time, giving just as much pause as was necessary before jumping into the pilot's chair and switching to manual control. The transition was very fluid, only a fraction of a second of system noise as he took full control of the Retribution. A sense of prideful competence washed over the man as he checked all instrumentation and engine levels, just the routine work of a decent pilot. The Captain might be in charge, but in this moment, the ship belonged solely to Harper.

"Systems are normal, Captain. We are approaching at full burn, and are within standard for short range vessels. Would you prefer to make landfall or establish geosynchronous orbit, sir?"

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Over the past few days, Daphne hadn't been doing much around the ship. When she and Dorothy had gone to drop off the boy with Patience and her men, the gunfight they got into was not the best. She was lucky because of the fact that the bullet only grazed her, while her sister had to pull out a bullet from her own leg. When she heard what happened with Patience the next time that Anisa and Jackson went to town made her laugh. She was grateful that they didn't have to deal with Patience anymore. For the most part, she had been up on the Bridge, making sure that everything was working properly. After the Captain gave her orders about Camilla, she didn't ask. By now Daphne had heard about the call between Camilla and her ex. Occasionally, she would help out Gideon if he was up on the Bridge trying to fix something. For the most part though, she kept to herself and kept an eye out for anything that might be coming.

She was sitting on the Bridge, when she heard a beeping sound come from one of the monitors. Looking over, Daphne jumped up from her chair. The Alliance ship was coming at them at full speed, and she started hoping that they could get moving quickly. When she heard Anisa call out from the other room, she ran over and poked her head in the room. "Hope Gideon has got this thing patched up, cause we've got a problem. Alliance Patrol Boat coming in fast!"