Varrus stayed in the quarantine room of the medical bay through most of his time. He left only for small things like getting equipment or for food and water. He removed his suit and set it aside. Opening a case, he pulled out a syringe that was filled with a purple liquid. He walked over to his helmet and turned on its recording device. Test 137 of chemical FTM-43 will start. Varrus injected himself with the substance inside the syringe and waited for several moments. He then walked over to the door the went out the quarantine room. He opened the door and walked out of the qarautine room and simply waited for the results. He began to cough violently and his skin began to bubble. He quickly moved back into the quarantine room and sealed it off.

Varrus walked back over to the helmet he had recording. Until I look at the data collected by the nanites, I can only make assumptions. From experience, chemical FTM-43 allowed my lungs to mimic the natural atmospheric conditions required in foreign environments...however, it did not allow my body the self reproduce the enzyme on my planrt which our bodies have become reliant on. Due to this, I can't leave my suit unless I make modifications to the qarauntine room. On the bright side, I was not temporarily blinded this time. Regardless of the dosage, if my body cannot produce the enzyme, then all progress in other aspects is worthless. Varrus looked over at his data pad. Better get everyone in here eventually. Medical exams can be a pain but are very important. The waivers I give them and wether they sign them or not may determine their treatment. Varrus sent out a message to the entire crew reeling them they needed to report for medical examination though it didn't need to happen immediately so long as they showed up today.

Should I test another chemical before anyone comes in? I guess so, doubt they will show up anyway if Stryker told them anything about me. He looked into the briefcase and observed several syringes. I feel like this would look really fucking suspicious to other people. Whatever, I'll just put them away for now, don't want to look like a drug addict infront of people. Varrus closed his case and put it away. After putting his suit back on, he left the quarantine room sat down at one of the desks. I'll just look over the data the nanites collected.

Shahan IVa
Five years ago

A map of a few square kilometers of grassland had been projected by hologram from a device on the ground, red dots pinpointing anti-air artillery systems hidden cleverly in stealthy bunkers in the hills. A semicircle of half a dozen enemy positions surrounded a town: Vaanat. Once an old mining town and spaceport, it was a boom town searching for the minerals that powered computer technologies. Samarium, europium, yttrium, and other rare-earth minerals flowed from extensive tunnel systems mined by robots, humans, and alien workers. Now, the insurgency occupied them. Positions were fortified and bunkers were created from which missile systems emerged, shot their payload, and retreated back inside to be reloaded. It was thought that the enemies were printing new missile components to be assembled in factories far below the moon's surface. The prize of Vaanat was its improvised ship-killer: a gimbal-mounted system built from an old asteroid-cracker's mining laser turned upwards. The RKS Rukshona had orbited over this side of the planet only to be split in half by the beam and lost with all hands. It was time for revenge.

Sadaet's team's communications station was set up inside a portable metal building by their outpost. An antenna honed in on the closest insurgent air defense station, picking up scrambled signals as the photonic communications sped between platforms. But things were sparse, and they needed to kick the hornet's nest. Sadaet leaned over the shoulder of a drone operator, sleeves rolled to his elbows in the sweltering heat, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. Nearby, a sturdy robotic strike aircraft fired up its engines and rolled to the edge of its launch pad. Underneath, it carried two hypersonic glide missiles. A partner aircraft carried the same missiles, but with high-yield nuclear warheads. They had to punch their way through the missile shield to get to the ship-cracker.

"Alright, let's get the first one in," Sadaet ordered. Outside the communications post, the first drone lifted off. "Put it on a nuclear attack trajectory."

The drone operator coolly took over the controls, programming it in for what equated to a modern-day dive bombing. The drone would fly until it thought it had distanced itself from the air station before firing off its missiles. This one, however, was designed to be a decoy. Sadaet wanted it to fly in too close, fire its weapons too late. The rebels, figuring that they had made a mistake, would announce that they would be intercepting and destroying this strike craft. All of those communications would be seen by Sadaet.

It took a few minutes of flying before the drone reached the edge of the missile shield. He watched the screen as it banked inwards towards the red dot at the east end of the ring. The rebels popped their launcher of its bunker, revealing itself to the reconnaissance assets positions nearby, and fired. Sadaet's drone launched, not in time. He watched the blips on the map travel towards each other at tremendous speed, right as one of his crewmen shouted: "Got a lock!"

Over the intercom, a rebel's accented voice announced the drone's position and that they were coming under attack. Instantly, Sadaet saw data appear on his commander's screen. The location of the sender and the receiver. What was being said. Telemetry data. It was a poorly-secured system indeed. That's what happened when they used commercial datalink systems that weren't hardened and diversified: everything flowed forth on one channel, encrypted and hidden. The key had been in their pocket the whole time, so Sadaet just needed to find the source. He gave the command to jam it. Instantly, a signal was injected into the stream that scrambled the datalink. A simplistic AI caught a ride from their beam to the enemy data stream, flowing towards the air defense node and its command center. Instantly, the missile on Sadaet's map veered off on a random course and the drone flew away. The friendly missile hit the bunker and wiped the blip from the map.

With an opening, the second drone exploited it. Under control of the strategic nuclear forces and out of Sadaet's hands, he watched as it leisurely headed through the gap. The holographic map displayed, in perfect clarity, as both missiles were let loose. One headed directly towards the ship-killer. The other, for the town. His heart raced, watching the two yellow missiles glide across the hills and over the insurgent battle positions. Less than five minutes later, the ship-killer exploded. The gigantic laser vanished underneath a massive burst of heat and blast, vaporizing. The blast wave carried out a few kilometers over the grassland, its shock going into the ground and tearing up the tunnels. Rebels were buried alive, gasping for air as the fire sucked it all out of their hiding-places. The second one headed to finish them off: the command node was in the town. That one hit a minute later, effortlessly blasting down thousands of people and demolishing the coordination of enemy air defenses.

Sadaet listened over the radio as the nuclear forces announced their successful strikes. He frowned, listening to his commander acknowledge and announce the arrival of a bombardment group from the other side of the planet. "Keep their position surrounded," was the order. They would reach their position within a few hours. Every little blip of life would soon be gone from Vaanat. From the men to the women to the children, from the guilty to the innocent: all life would perish and the ground would turn to glass. It was only a matter of time.

The Revenant
Present day

Sadaet's room aboard the ship was sparse at first, just four bare metal walls with a window he was certain was electronic. A small bathroom with a shower was all his own, which was nice. Already, he had spent some hours setting up his equipment from the hotel. A crew of Helios Station drones had delivered equipment he ordered with the exquisite credit advance given to him by Stryker. His computer station, communications gear, and a table with various electronics and boxes of tools and parts occupied a large section of the wall. A personal drone, his own, sat lifeless on the table waiting to be fixed. On the floor, he had ordered a rug. He liked rugs: if he was walking around barefoot, the metal floor would get cold. He sat down on his bed and ran his hands through his wild hair. He looked up at the corners of his room, wondering where the Alliance had placed the camera. He knew they couldn't be without supervision.

A message on his phone sprang out of the background. He had been linked into the data system by Stryker and had access to the internal comms. It was from the doctor, someone named Varrus. He had been on the ship for hours but had never seen the person. Apparently it was for a medical examination, which Sadaet found a little questionable. Doing physicals? Did the Alliance have medical standards for deniable, black operatives? He laughed it off, before laying down on his bed. His tired eyes closed, feeling the soft warmth embrace of the mattress. He sunk into it, losing himself to sleep. Things went black for him.

Until a flash of light tore through his dreams. A rumble shook him. A fireball rose from pristine grasslands, blowing through buildings and incinerating faceless people. Debris flew through the air, ripping across the fields and swerving right past his head. The man awoke, shooting up from his bed. He felt the heat in the air and smelled... burning. The prairie was on fire. "Fuck!" he shouted. He stopped, hands on his thighs, looking down at the metal floor. He hoped nobody heard him.

"That fuckin' war," he grumbled to himself. "Shithole fuckin' moons." He checked his phone again. The message from Varrus was still marked as unread. He figured that he should probably show up for that. At least making friends with the doctor would yield benefits in the long run.

@BKburke

Tibulass put down a spare set of clothes (conveniently found in a store next to the grocer on Helios) on the bathroom counter before allowing herself to be pulled into the shower. Hushedly, the viking spoke, with her voice sounding through the shower with multiple echoes following behind it. "Eh, I'm not as hungover, but I think I'm a bit more bruised." Without even looking at herself, Tibulass pointed directly to her thigh, specifically one of the blood trails on it. "I still had tons of fun. I just hope I wasn't as rusty as I thought."

After a few minutes, the larger woman stepped out of the shower and toweled off, wrapping it around her tightly before she grabbed another one for her hair. "If you're still feeling like shit, I can take something to your room to eat for breakfast. It'll give you some time to recover." The girl fumbled around with the towel for a few moments before sighing. "Goddammit. I can't figure out how to do this part."

@iTem

Pax shut the door behind him as he turned on the light, illuminating the storage room he had entered and unveiling the sight of a colorful avian creature shoving it's head into a box. The robot's metal frame jolted as he rushed forward to separate the creature from whatever held it's interest, holding it firmly in hand and thwapping it rather lightly on the nose. "No! Bad Girl!" He scowled, bringing the creature closer to his face. "This stuff isn't ours, Nagansa, and I don't want you getting into trouble. You remember what our master would do when you misbehaved, right? The insect bastard..." Pax continued, sighing as he trailed off.

"Listen..." The robot cooed, sitting down on a box and carefully placing his pet upon his metal lap. "We don't know these people yet... I know you want to be free, but I don't trust them... what if they wanted to hurt you, too?" Pax spoke, clenching a hand into a fist as he began to pet Nagansa with his other. "I won't let them if I can help it... so you'll have to stay in here, for now... understand? I'll bring you food and water, and I've even got some yummy Tarberries I stole for you if you're a good girl."

Nagansa stared blankly up at Pax's face-plate, her many eyes trained on his. Suddenly she turned and hopped over to a nearby box, clicking happily and fluttering her wings. Pax emitted another sigh, though this time it seemed happier as well. "Yes, this place must be better than that dingy old cage. And we're going on our first adventure together. So exciting! Tell you what, I'll sneak you out for some exercise every now and then, too. Let you have some fun on planets, where you can..." Pax trailed off again, coming to a dreadful realization.

If Nagansa defecates in this room, then the ruse is sure to be up. There's scarcely any doubt that the other crew members will smell it on this floor - even with the door being shut. Kirukana are renowned for the smell of their feces, and Pax was afraid the crew would be more inclined to think she was a pest rather than a pet.

The avian creature in question, however, seemed none too distressed. She had begun clawing at the box atop which she was perched in an attempt to open it up, stopping only when Pax grabbed her gently and pulled her away. "No, Bad! Paklek, Nagansa! Paklek!" He scolded, thwapping her on the snout again.

The gloved hands around Henry's arm somewhat reminded him of handcuffs, for whatever reason. Each pace he took seemed to further his advance to his deep trance. Though they chose a less populated route, the claustrophobic feeling that smothers you in cities still crushed his body. There was no room for off steps, but loose steps were beyond the officer's care.

"So what's your story?", Henry asked. The officer had no reply. "Oh, come on. We still have time and you've got to be getting bored, we're just walking for fucks' sake."

"Hm. Ya don't deserve to hear it all, but let's just say that I seen things you wouldn't believe, and I done things you wouldn't imagine. When ya serve the law there is no god, no karma, and no room for fate. The things go on 'ere are strange for such a little port, but I built my life here, and I will defend every buried bone, every little stone, with ruthless justice on my side." the officer replied. He seemed irritated.

"Things I wouldn't believe? Sure."

"Yeah. I seen what you done, and countless other criminals on top of that. Yer not hard, yer just a sick coward."

"I killed my wi-"

"Don't ya fuckin' start with that! I read yer case file. Killing a defenseless family? Ya think that's the worst I seen? Mate, at this point yer just a pathetic scumbag, not worth the dirt on my boots. Now shut the fuck up and come quietly"

"You don't tell me to shut up, you lifeless product of the system.", Henry said, hoping to cut deep. He probably did, as the officer kicked the back of Henry's knee in, causing him to fall backwards into the officer's chest, who then wheeled him around and slammed him into a wall.
"Mate, if I'm a product of the system, then you're the waste what comes out to pollute and destroy. Get yer fuckin' head straight! I ain't doin' this job 'cause I love it, I'm doing it because I respect the Alliance, and this system we have in place. It ain't fuckin' perfect, nothin' is, but it's sure better than anythin' I've heard you put forward all day. Now shut the fuck up 'till you run yer own successful system", the officer spat, contempt thick in his voice. "Selfish coward.", he said, punching Henry in the sternum. Winded, Henry doubled over. When he got back up, he felt handcuffs on his wrists and a gag in his mouth. Well, this is degrading.

Within the hour he was at the Revenant, re chained to a post there as the officer contacted the head of this crew to get Henry off his hands. There was nothing to do but wait.

Amy slowly opened her eyes when she heard Grayson's voice. She'd been awake for some time, but she had been listening to his slow, rhythmic breathing. It was soothing, which helped with the hangover she was dealing with at the moment. She was nauseated and had a terrible headache, but she knew that the only effective measure to counter the symptoms was time. Not even water nor food could do the job, not for her.

"Hey you, good morning," she finally whispered, her back still to him as she did not want to compromise the comfortable warmth that Grayson provided underneath the blanket. "I've been awake for some time, but I'm not going to lie, I don't mind putting off breakfast for a while just as long as I can stay here a little longer... What do you say, can you put a lid on your hunger for now?"

Matija was mostly passively smiling at Tibulass throughout their exchange but the hushed talking was highly appreciated. Her brain can’t seem to function right just yet anyway. At least until she felt the cool water fall and trail down her body. She sighed contentedly and allowed herself to wake and recharge before letting the Viking have a bit of her turn. Although the Siren didn’t take long to finish showering, she seemed perfectly content on basking in the water until her friend started struggling with her hair. With a twist, the refreshing stream of water died off and Matija started wringing her hair and wiping herself dry with a towel.

“Don’t know how to do that, huh? C’mere,” she beckoned the larger woman. “Bow down to me,” she instructed and took the towel meant for the redhead’s hair. She was about to wrap the other’s hair but she found the scar slightly worrisome. But since the viking was insistent, she found it better to just follow what she wanted. “Fine. But don’t blame me if it opens up.” Gingerly, the Mecorian wrapped the firey hair with the towel before doing controlled twists that she hopes won’t put too much strain on the healing flesh.

“An’ I’m fine. I cain eat by myself. I need a lot to make up for what we didn’t eat last night.”

Kotze hadn’t slept this well in years. Sure, he was stuffed into a metal coffin filled to the brim with supplies, and poor ventilation to boot, but when he shut his eyes, euphoria washed over him like a blanket. Was it freedom? If so, the emotion was unwarranted; the Agency would hunt him until the heat death of the universe. Corporations didn’t like loose ends. Maybe it was just the adrenaline wearing off that sent him crashing. Either way, the blanket was ripped off him when the cargo box’s door swung open. The agent took pride in making every step count, moving with purpose and grace like a tiger stalking its prey, which made it even more embarrassing when he fell out of the container, flopping on the ground like a fish. Kotze’s gun slipped from his pocket and skidded across the ship’s floor with a harsh rasp; he scrambled for it, but felt himself lifted up by a strong, cold hand. Kotze’s eyes met his captor’s, if you could call them that. A robot, combat model judging from the shotgun muzzle attached to Kotze’s throat. The agent always found robots unnerving, even when they didn’t have guns jammed in his face. The hulking steel figure told him to stay still, and he almost laughed. “Didn’t plan on it, big guy,” Kotze replied mirthlessly.

Stryker was halfway through his coffee when SAL's ping came through, he used the datapad to patch in, his earpiece left back in his room.
"Yeah, what is it? OK"

Stryker silently slipped out of his seat and walked out. He took the elevator down to the cargo bay and as soon as he emerged, he saw why SAL had asked him to come down. Sipping from the mug as he walked across, Stryker observed the stowaway. Early-mid 30's, unassuming enough. Despite that, he signaled to SAL to keep the gun up, at least for the time being.

"So" he said "Who have we here?"

“Newest member of your crew, I think. Kotze. You know, we really need to improve the ship’s security when in dry dock, captain,” the agent replied with a wry smirk. He spoke with the unplaceable accent common among the second generation of space farers, an amalgam of both Terra-based and alien languages. Kotze didn’t really care if the robot pulled the trigger and blasted a fist-sized hole into his throat; he was a marked man, and all the better if the Agency didn’t get the satisfaction. But pirates were known to shanghai stowaways and drunkards all the time. With a little luck, Kotze's ploy might work.

"Oh is that right? Now, I did have a bit to drink last night.... not as much as some others on board. And I did make some new hires, but you, I don't remember, so I'm not so sure. Maybe you're just some station hopper looking for a free ride, a former vent rat trying to finally get away in hope of a better life out among the stars."
He glanced over the stowaway again, his eyes drawn down to Kotze's left hand, a black carbon prosthetic, not something just anyone would have.

"Well, by the look of that prosthetic there, I'm gonna go with option 'C' ex-military at least, maybe a merc or a spook. So, talk fast, who sent you, and why should I hold back from shoving you out the airlock once we breach the station's atmo?"

Kotze’s calm demeanor faltered at the scarred man’s last sentence, but only for a moment. A flash of primal, animalistic fear in dark eyes, though he regained his composure quickly. Kotze threw up his arms in a sort of mock surrender. “You’re close. Listen, I’m just another wanted man trying to get off this station without paying fare for a cab. You know what it’s like.” Kotze had a feeling the mercenary was familiar with the sensation of being hunted. Most people on Helios Station were. Then again, maybe he was the hunter. “Don’t bother trying to collect the reward. The people after me, my former employers, they don’t exactly play nice,” he continued, wondering just how fast this robot could pull the trigger. If he could get the muzzle away from his neck, Kotze might be able to turn the barrel towards his coffee-carrying compatriot. “Besides, judging from your ship’s files, you could use an extra crewman. I can clean, I can cook, I can infiltrate level 4 security clearance militarized zones. You name it, I’ll do it,” Kotze finished with an easy smile, his posture shifting into a more relaxed pose with arms crossed. The simple movement caused the synthetic pain receptors in his shoulder to fire off rapidly, and he winced slightly. Hopefully this piece of shit has a doctor on board.

Considering the only files saved locally were complete bullshit (save for the Alliance-encrypted stuff on closed systems like Stryker's datapad, private terminal and the requisition terminal) it was safe to say this guy didn't know what was really going on. Stryker decided to take a flyer on him.
"Here's what I'm thinking," he began before taking the final sip from his mug. "Tell me your story, the whole thing, truthfully. If it checks out, we'll bring you wherever you're going in exchange for a little bit of work. I'll even throw in a room for you to sleep in and full access to the kitchen."

Pirates usually weren’t this interrogative with new recruits; they just wanted to know your name and what you could do. Something was off about this ship, Kotze just hadn’t put his finger on it. He decided to give the scarred man something akin to the truth. It’d been so long since he said anything like it, the words felt strange on his tongue. “Alright, alright. Kotze Wylk. I’m from Artemis, little backwater colony on the edge of Alliance space, but I wasn’t there long,” he said, taking a shallow breath before continuing. “Illitid slavers raided the terraformer’s base. Killed a lot of people I knew. Guess I was lucky, just getting shackled, but it didn’t feel lucky.” The facade cracked momentarily, the pain of recalling the memory evident in winced eyes. “Worked on their ship for a while, but they got taken out by an Alliance cruiser; the soldiers found me in the wreckage, and of course I signed up to be one of them. Didn’t have what it took to be Alliance, so they gave me the boot, but Zaibatsu Risks Group found me… Intriguing, I guess,” Kotze chuckled. He didn’t bother explaining who or what the Zaibatsu Risks Group was, the name alone apparently enough of a description. The corporation was a well-known private intelligence agency, one of the best (albeit shadiest), with contracts from both Alliance and Federation actors. “So yeah, I worked with them until they terminated my contract about a month ago. Zaibatsu, they like things nice and tidy, so they’re after my ass. I’m just trying to get off the station before their spooks find me,” Kotze finished, shifting uncomfortably, obviously not comfortable with this divulgence of information. His least favorite topic of conversation had always been himself. “Don’t bother checking for a file on me. Zaibatsu made sure I’m a ghost, so you’ll have to take my word for it. Now would you get this gun out of my face?”

Stryker could see it in his eyes, he was telling the truth. Or at least, something close enough to it. He nodded at his robotic companion, but SAL didn't move.

"SAL, you can put it down."
"Captain, I don't think your judgement is sound. The man said it himself, he's a spy, could be up to anything."
"Trust me SAL, it's fine. There's over a dozen of us and one of him. If he tries to stab us in the back, we'll just space him."
"Sorry about him, deep-seated trust issues." he said, looking back at Kotze, noticing for the first time the empty crate SAL had found him in.
"Cargo bay's been closed up all night, you must be starving. How about some breakfast?"

Reluctantly, the robot pulled the shotgun out of Kotze's face and re-holstered it. Stryker extended a hand to both shake Kotze's and help him to his feet.
"Oh, and I'm Stryker, welcome aboard the Revenant."

Kotze smiled at the Stryker, ignoring SAL's comments; he didn't hold much stock in robot's opinions. "Trust issues huh? Sounds like I'll fit right in, captain," he replied, accepting the helping hand with his prosthetic. The black, grooved metal was warm to the touch. "Breakfast sounds great, haven't had a decent meal in weeks," Kotze said as he picked up the duffel bag and pistol. "Just lead the way."

Stryker nodded, and headed over towards the elevator. SAL didn't follow, instead wandering off back towards the engine room. On the way up Stryker wondered if he should just tell the guy all about Project Revenant. If the guy was telling the truth about being excommunicated from the agency, he had lucked into the best possible crew to disappear with. No, he decided, not yet. He'll learn in time.

When the elevator arrived, they stepped out and took a few steps over so Kotze could see the whole common area. He pointed down to the crew quarters hallway on his left.
"I think room 8 is free, 4th door on the right. Restrooms at the very end of the hall. And the kitchen's just here on our right." He headed on in and mentioned to Harrison that they had picked up a passenger, leaving Kotze to decide between getting settled away, or eating first.

Kotze was impressed with how... lived-in the ship seemed. Most space-faring vessels he’d been aboard were either sterile and cold or filthy pirate hovels. It seemed like the crew had been living out of the ship for a while. Must be on a long haul. Kotze was further impressed when Stryker led him to his own room, complete with two bunks; it’d been a while since he had anything of semi-permanence. Hotel rooms and cheap dockside coffins were the best he’d had. Still, he found it unsettling. Surely a ship of this size needed a full crew, yet they weren’t all crammed together like sardines, sharing mattresses in shifts. His wild guess they were desperate for crew might very well be accurate, and he wondered what happened to the last person who occupied the room.

With a grin and almost playful half-salute, Kotze saw the ship’s captain off. The gleeful expression lasted about as long as it took for him to shut his cabin’s door, when he felt an all-too-familiar darkness nipping at his heels like hounds. Kotze tossed the duffel bag onto the simple bunk and sat next to it. He’d operated almost constantly for a month on the edge of anxiety, blood filled to the brim with adrenaline, that he didn’t have time to see the change coming. Kotze’s prosthetic arm fumbled dumbly in his bag for a bottle of Alpharotec when he felt the famine grip of his .45. Kotze delicately pulled the weapon out of his bag and inspected it. Loaded, with one in the chamber. He wondered what would happen if he pressed the gun against his temple and pulled the trigger. Would he die? Or would his implants keep him alive, shuffling his lobotomized body along like a puppet on strings? Kotze threw the gun across the room and left without the Alpharotec. He passed through the kitchen wordlessly, heading up the stairs towards the medbay to mend his dislocated shoulder, barely noticing his surroundings. Maybe you should be looking for a mechanic instead of a doctor. Kotze idly wondered if they’d change their mind and cast him off at the next outpost as he arrived outside the medbay door.

@Xandrya

"For you love, anythin'" he said as he scooted even closer and pressed tightly into her back. He noticed the faint bar smell of booze and smoke in the air, probably clinging to their hair and clothes. Grayson was too comfortable (outside of his self-inflicted illness) for it to bother him. Over time, he noticed that Amy always had it worse the morning after they'd been drinking, so he did whatever needed to be done to make her feel better. He decided that after they got up and showered, Grayson would grab the bed sheets and their clothes to chuck in the laundry.

Idly, he pulled his left arm out from under the pillow and groped around awkwardly over his head until he found the small cut-out and pulled out the remote. Flipping down through the options on the small LED screen, he found what he was looking for, angled the remote towards the window screen and tapped Enter. The screen stayed blank but the faint relaxing whoosh sound of rain started to play.

"That's nice" he said lowly, his throat still dry and sore "Could stay here all day listenin' to this."

@Strange Rodent

Stryker nibbled on a piece of toast, it was still only himself and Harrison in the kitchen, and conversation was light. His datapad, laying on the table beside his plate, suddenly chirped. An access request from someone on the dock, must be the new recruits.

"Mm, leave that there" he said to Harrison pointing at his plate "I'll be right back."
He slipped the datapad into his pocket as he stood and headed to the elevator for another trip down to the cargo bay. He hit the button and the ramp started to lower. A handcuffed and gagged human slowly walked up the ramp, seemingly laboring with every other step. An Alliance officer, carrying a duffel bag, followed him up.

"I thought new recruits were supposed to be delivered unharmed" Stryker said.
"He tripped" the officer said, his name tag read Olbric, though he didn't bother to introduce himself. He tossed the duffel down next to Henry and handed over a small black envelope.
"Cap'n Dawson said to hand you this, 'ere's the scum, he's yer problem now." He slipped the cuffs off and without another word, the officer started to walk back down the ramp.
"Wait" Stryker called out "I thought there were two recruits?"
"Oh yah, other transport tight-beamed us a few hours back, they're runnin' late, gonna catch up to you at some point."

And just like that, Stryker was alone with the new recruit. The bastard hadn't even taken off the gag. Stryker walked over and pried it off before tossing it into the far corner.
"What a dick. Hey man, welcome aboard. I'm Stryker, come on up, we're having breakfast, you can meet the crew and introduce yourself up there. Don't forget your stuff."

Tibulass shrugged off at Matija's worry about the scar that dotted along the right side of her head. "Meh, if it opens I can fix it. Sewing ain't that hard if I can program a robot to do it." Tib smiled softly at the Mecorian for a moment, giggling after the Mecorian spoke about how she needed to eat because she didn't last night. "You did, you just didn't eat food," joked the viking, following up with a soft punch to her leg.

"Ah shit, speaking of last night, I probably ruined Amy's bra and Grayson's briefs. Dunno how much detergent it'll take to get blood out of those." Tibulass thought for a moment before pushing at the air. "Psh... they'll be okay. Just gonna slip them back into their laundry later."

Tibulass brought Matija in for a hug, not letting go for a good moment, before she finally pulled away. "... thanks. It's been a while since I felt... well... genuine shit like that." Tib turned to the counter before putting on a pair of clothes she got last night. It was simple - a bra, a large hoodie (covering her ass), and a pair of leggings, but it would work until Tib could buy some real clothes for her since the jumpsuit was bloody. Shouldn't be too hard.

"Welp, when you're ready we can go." Tib looked towards the Mecorian and waited by the door, another soft smile decorating her face.

@iTem

The gag came off, and the breath heaved back into Henry's body, a thick trail of saliva dripping to the deck. He wiped his mouth, then said "I didn't fall, nice to meet you. I'm Henry.". The words tasted foul in his mouth for whatever reason. He lifted the duffel bag as if it were empty, and followed his new captain into an elevator. "I do like breakfast. Thanks.", he said, extremely late.

The elevator doors opened and Henry looked over the area. "The crew" seemed to be Stryker and one other man, which was surprising considering the size of the ship. He tiptoed the shortest route to seating, then tried to drag it out from under the table, but alas, the legs made a long scraping noise, cutting the sorely quiet air like a knife through soft butter. He winced and lifted it the rest of the way, then took a seat. "Hi, I'm Henry. I hate that sound, you'd think they could've fixed it by now.", he said to the table. He twiddled his thumb.

@Crossfire@ArkmageddonCat

Though Benny was more preoccupied with the exchange between Stryker and his contact, apparently named Sadaet, a scene had unfolded at the bar which had caught their attention. Their two female crewmates were starting to leave the place. That in itself would have been a simple thing, but not when one was having a gigglin g fit while being carried bridal-style. He just stared rather dumbfounded at the spectacle, not quite sure how to feel about it. He did however notice that Stryker had similar thoughts based on the expression Benny was seeing from him in his peripheral vision. Well... that was... unexpected Stryker said.

Eventually a worker at the bar came up to them, saying that the girls had their drinks billed to Stryker. The bounty hunter sighed in resignation before accepting it. Just as Benny was about to voice a complaint about the girls' behavior however, another scene suddenly erupted. A small group of patrons appeared to be picking a fight with the robot bartender. The robot responded rapidly to their threats with some rather brutal violence. Benny felt his adrenaline starting to kick in as his instincts told him to prepare to be swept up in a fight, but Stryker gave a gesture telling him to stay in his seat.

When one of the aggressors pulled out a gun however, the reaction was immediate. both Stryker and Benny dived down to the ground and sought cover. Benny peeked out from behind a sturdy-looking chair but ducked back in quickly when he saw the gun being flailed wildly as a shot rang out and one of the bystanders shouted in pain. Benny kept his head down as people fled, cursing under his breath that he hadn't brought his wrist laser at least. "I told ya we should'a packed more heat!" he shouted angrily at Stryker as people fled screaming from the bar. There was some more shouting, but it appeared the initial scuffle had ended. Benny peeked out once again and saw the robot and someone who appeared to be the bar manager having a stare-down, when the robot suddenly went for the pistol and aimed it at the man. The man had a short few moments spent pleading for his life before the automaton shouted in anger before pulling the trigger and killing the man.

After the the fight settled, Benny looked to Stryker and gestured his head at the door, telling him they should leave before the police show up and start asking questions. The bounty hunter seemed to have other ideas however as e got up and walked towards the killer robot, much to Benny's disbelief. As Stryker walked up cautiously to the tin man, Benny quickly darted to the bar door and peered outside, keeping an eye out for the telltale flashing of police vehicle lights so he could warn Stryker to bail out quickly if needed. The two spent an uncomfortable amount of time speaking about terms, much to Benny's annoyance, but eventually they settled the matter. Stryker then took another delay to wire credits to the bar for their bill, earning another annoyed scowl from Benny before they finally left the area and returned to the safety of the Revenant.



Benny had spent a good portion of the evening in his room trying to sleep, and failing miserably. It wasn't insomnia, it was frustration. He was frustrated that he couldn't make heads or tails of something that he figured he should know a lot about. More specifically, someone: Matija Holmström. He had gotten to know the daring girl over the course of their coma recovery, and shared quite a few details of their life with them that they would not usually share with other co-workers in their line of work. She was probably the closest that Benny had to a "best friend" aboard the Revenant.

But now, they seemed to radiate with a hostility to them and were messing around with one of the crew members that Benny still didn't trust. Brain transferral was an outlandish thing to claim to have done in a ship such as the Revenant, so he didn't fully trust that it was Tibulus in that body. Who knew how much of the previous occupant was left in there?

The frustration was getting to him so badly he had began pacing around his room tossing the thoughts around in his head in the hopes of making sense of the sudden shift in the behavior of his trusted friend. "Aaaarrghhh..." he groaned as he slumped down onto his bed. He leaned up with his back against the wall of the room as he sat on his mattress. He clenched and reopened his fists repeatedly as his body started tensing up, even into the mechanical systems of Skelly. Eventually he grasped on tightly to his bed sheets as he began pounding his back and his head against the wall erratically, almost hoping that the pain and shuddering from the pounding would somehow knock an epiphany into his head. Failing that, the pain at least provided an outlet for his agitation. He hated this. He hated how people could change so quickly and without warning, unlike physics and mathematics with set values and characteristics. He couldn't wrap his head around how people could make sense of such an anomalous variable.

"Why... tha' bloody goddamn fuck... are people so... bleedin'... HARD TA' MAKE SENSE OF?!"



A comically-exaggerated rooster's morning calls emanated from the man's robotic arm. "Uuurrghh..." Benny groaned as he brought his organic arm towards the mechanical one and began tapping at it as it continued the infernal rooster noises. "I'm awake... I'm already awake fer fuck's sake, Skelly..." He moaned as he finally managed to tap the right button on the holographic interface to shut off the alarm. Getting up from bed, he rubbed his bloodshot eyes and yawned, blinking to clear his vision. He had taken so long to sleep last night, and even then it was more of crashing from exhaustion rather than falling asleep. "Couldinnae given me a few more hours, could ya, ya bastart?" he muttered to Skelly, knowing full well he had been the one to set the alarms and had just forgotten to adjust it.

He figured that grabbing something to eat and a strong cup of coffee would do him some good. So he forced himself up from his bunk, and began making his way to the ship's galley to find something to fuel him for the day.

”Yeah, it's pretty annoying.” Harrison spoke to the new member. ”I hope you like bacon and toast, cause that's what you get. Here you go. I'm Harrison, nice to meet you” As he handed Henry a plate of food, he turned on his Focus to check where everyone was. Grayson and Amy, in their room. Matija and Tibulass in the cockpit. Wait, why are they in the cockpit? Stryker in the hull. Yep, today should be a chill day.

@Vampire Stepdad

Varrus sat at his desk in the med bay looking at the data he recorded. I thought looking at it would help more but it doesn't. Perhaps I should start over. He gazed at the door way and had to do a double take when he thought he noticed someone. He stood up from his desk and walked over to the door to open it. Sorry, I was unaware anyone would actually show up. Please, come on in. Kotze would notice a voice in his head that was not his as Varrus spoke. Varrus moved to the side to allow Kotze into the room. Varrus then lead him over to a chair. Have a seat if you'd like. Can I get you anything to drink? I wasn't sure anyone would show up so I'm a little unprepared. Varrus said as he filled to cups of water. He approached Kotze and handed him a cup. My name is Varrus. I'm the new medical officer on board. I joined yesterday so I don't have anyone medical information just yet. That's why I sent out the message to everyone. In most tests, they require you to only wear undergarments but the equipment we have won't make that nesseccary unless there is a issue or injury I need to observe. Before we begin, are there any questions you have? Varrus stood up from his chair and began to prep some of the equipment. Oh I almost forgot. This may sound insensitive but being we are a rather meant for suicide missions, I was wondering if you would sign a waiver to donate you body to science. You don't have to sign but I would be... His facial tentacles twitched a bit. Ecstatic if you did.

The medbay door slid open to reveal a purple Illithid seated in the sterile white room. Kotze involuntarily shivered, but not from the tentacle-faced humanoid's appearance; he'd dealt with them before, and much stranger creatures. It was the room itself, the medical tools, the patient's cold slab where they were expected to lay during an examination. Or autopsy. Even though he'd been under, Kotze still half-remembered the scalpels pressing on his skin, sinking in. A fabricated memory, but still vivid.

Kotze heard a voice in the room, though he knew it was only in his mind. He wasn't too fond of sharing his already-cramped head with a stranger, but there wasn't much he could do save for listen. The Agency had taught him a few countermeasures to avoid... intruders to his thoughts, simple techniques like mindfulness exercises to clear his mind of any sensitive information. The mental firewall was obvious to anyone probing around, but it was better than nothing. Kotze wondered how much of the tech in his brain, all ones and zeroes, interfered with any mind reading. Not much, probably.

"Name's Kotze. Good to meet you Varrus, though I hope I won't be seeing you much," Kotze quipped with a grin as he took a seat, leaning back comfortably. Some psychics he'd met preferred you to speak through your thoughts, but he liked to give them as little excuse as possible to spend time in his head. Still, he'd feel a little silly if someone walked by and heard the one-sided conversation. It seemed as though the doctor was expecting a full physical, some memo Kotze had missed out on, and he felt a twinge of panic. "Woah there doctor, you can put away the rib spreaders and hacksaw, I'm just here to get this shoulder checked out," he said, gesturing to his right arm as he shot upright. It slumped noticeably compared to the other, and a considerable amount of pain was emanating from the socket. His introduction to the crew was uncomfortable enough, and he didn't want to follow that up with a prostate exam. Besides, the last thing he wanted was some stranger poking and prodding all the sensitive tech in him. The thought alone made him glaze over the suicide mission comment. "But if it makes you feel any better, you can do whatever you want if I die. Just make sure to check my pulse first," he added, sipping the water Varrus gave him. He couldn't help but think fucking creep, which he regretted only a little. The doctor's bedside manner was certainly interesting, and Kotze couldn't help but admit he found the alien amusing.

Matija felt herself fluster a bit at the joke but hid it well. Her eyes however followed where the viking pointed and saw what she was sure was her own marks. “Heh. Funny how that happened, eh?” Then Tib talked about blood on bras and briefs and she found herself shrugging. “Dilute some ammonia from the medbay and you’re good to-” then the viking said that she’ll slip them in their respective owners’ clothes later on and the siren shook her head. “Or that,” she laughed as she continued drying herself off.

There was silence for a while and Matija found the break comforting. At least her ears were not straining to scream at her head. But the hug happened and she found herself freezing as she wasn’t quite comfortable with being grabbed and being held in a surprisingly strong hug despite it supposedly being tender. “Y-yeah. Just don’t expect a lot of it. The uh, sex, not the drinking. I like the drinking,” the Mecorian mumbled as she returned the gesture awkwardly.

With Stryker’s shower properly soiled, she walked back to the quarters with Tibulass to dress herself something decent: some hoodie and another pair of cycling shorts, before they made their way to the galley.

The way to the center of gluttony was started with a new person in sight and Harrison’s voice. It was nice but then she saw Stryker and Benny too. Her mood soured as she stood by the supposedly tasteful feast in front of her. “On second thought,” she said casually but loud enough for most occupants to hear, “I’ll take some food to go.”

She stuffed two plates full as much as the crew would allow her and even sneaking a bite with a flavor that she found herself shocked somehow. “For all his faults,” she thought to herself, “he’s still a damn good cook.” she sighed contentedly for a moment before nodding towards Harrison. “Nice food. Thanks,” she says before leaving to get the crashed Juz’ some food.

"Yeah, well, one thing you'll learn pretty quickly around here is the Alliance doesn't care much when it comes to small things like a scraping chair leg." Stryker said to Henry disdainfully "I doubt they'd even give us food if they thought it wasn't essential to completing our mission."

He nibbled on some more toast, conversing lightly until Tib and Matija came in. Stryker smiled, remembering how ridiculous they looked leaving the bar last night. He kept that shit eating grin on his face until Tibulass took a seat a little further down the table. He sat there, waiting for either of them to notice the look on his face, the look that he had something to say. Matija didn't stick around long, just grabbed up some food and took off again. Nevertheless.

For some reason, his gaze seemed to be drawn in Tib's direction, and The longer he looked, the more he began to notice how different she'd become over the last two days. When Stryker and the others had discovered her new form in Med Bay, she was just... Tibulus in a woman's body. Now, just a mere 48 hours or so later, she was still Tib in a woman's body, but she just seemed infinitely more feminine in her body language, speech, and just general attitude. Must have been the hormones setting in. Stryker finished eating and slid back his chair to carry the dishes over to the cleaning station, stopping on the way to pour another half a cup of coffee into his mug.

"Ah. You're right, this isn't really a luxury cruise.", Henry monotonely replied. He was offered some food by Harrison, who was the other man in the room. "Thanks.", he said, his hunger speaking for itself when he devoured his food within a minute.

A lady walked in next, seeming to practically ooze discomfort. She took some several plates of food, and left. Henry tried to look puzzled when he asked, "Uh... It might be a dumb question, but what's got her mad?". He looked at the others to try and speed up their response, and had to do a double take when he noticed a large woman sitting at the table. He was so startled that he basically shouted "When did you get here?!", paused for a second before speaking again, "Oh sorry, I was startled.. He would've sheepishly picked at his food, but there was none left.

"Alright," Tibulass commented as she and Matija went off to go and get Matija some fresh clothes. Giving the girl some privacy, Tibulass grabbed hold of the borrowed clothes from Stryker's bathroom and went over to the laundry, dropping them in there carefully and quietly as to not raise suspicion. When that was done, the viking reunited with Matija and the two went down to go get the food.

Of course, a new kid was there. Seems like the ship always got one or two at every stop, but this one didn't seem like the doctor that sent out requests to give examinations to the crew. More importantly, they seemed a little scared of the viking's large stature and size, shouting at the woman and causing a bit of pain to the hungover ears. They apologized for being startled, at least, showing they had some kind of manners. "It's okay... just keep your fuckin' voice down? Hungover."

Matija left, which she understood. Stryker and Benny were there last night at the scene, and they no doubt caused the girl a bit of anxiety in here. Tib didn't care, personally, she had fun. She'd go and talk to Matija about this shit later. Though, the look on Stryker's face was definitely something annoying. She might've gotten shit-faced last night, but Stryker looked like he actually just ate some shit, and he was enjoying it.

After grabbing some food, Tibulass sat down at the table and pecked at it, a black coffee off to the side. She needed something to help quell the hangover, but she didn't know exactly what would do that. She thought that coffee might, but she was uncertain. Ah well, it was whatever.

After taking a sip of coffee, Tib looked over at Stryker and simply scowled at the man. "Sorry I didn't have time to put on makeup for you." The viking put her mug down before speaking again, continuing with a sarcastic tone in her voice. "Can't look pretty without any of that bullshit, too."

Pax's tall metal frame practically tip-toed up the stairs as he tried to keep quiet, so as to not draw too much attention to himself. He had a mission - get food from the kitchen for Nagansa, hopefully without anyone noticing. Or, well, maybe the one from the bar could... what was his name? Spyder? Yeah, that sounded about right. His name was Spyder, and since he was the whole reason Pax was here he supposed that had to count for something... but... maybe it didn't have to - yet?

Soon enough Pax had made it to the commons area, and adjusted his movement to look a bit more... normal. It wasn't too much further until he would arrive at the kitchen door, and he silently hoped that it would be empty. Pax walked into a chair that hadn't been properly pushed in, almost falling over as he stumbled to regain his balance. The robot placed a hand on his face-plate, sliding the chair back into it's correct position as it screeched all the while. Once again failing to behave normally, Pax gripped his face-plate tightly in probably the closest thing he could feel to embarrassment.

But, still, all was not yet lost. He still hoped that nobody would be in the kitchen, and he could easily grab food for Nagansa. He arrived at the door and it opened in front of him, allowing him to take a few hurried steps inside before realizing... he wasn't as alone as he'd hoped. There were three people he didn't know, but there was also Spyder among them... making some odd face that looked rather painful.

"Uhh... too many people..." Pax vocalized by mistake, taking a few steps back. He struggled to think of an excuse, and in his inability to construct one he simply turned and left, making sure the door closed behind him before skittering off to hide in a corner on the opposite side of the kitchen from which he had originally come.

He huddled down to make himself smaller and dropped his head down low. "That was stupid. Stupid! Robots don't eat, they'll know! They'll know something's up!" Pax muttered to himself, holding his head in his hands and trying to calm himself down. "Maybe they won't find her, maybe it's fine... I can get the food later... I have time... I have time."