---

"A breathable atmosphere." he repeated simply, as though casting aside every other detail as extraneous. He'd already guessed she was old, no point stressing that. No mission would take him near the unlivable equator to begin with— not important. Vegetation would naturally lead to the detail he had focused on, so it in essence was relegated to the realm of an explanation rather than an important finding. He understood its scientific merit— exobiologists held alien flora and fauna as the Holy Grail of discoveries in their fields, but Konstantin had grown into a much simpler creature than they. Seas, if not oceans. Lakes and Rivers. Liquid water would regulate temperature, provide a cycle of both humidity and air currents, predictable patterns of wind between the airmasses that hung over them. Closer to the mark.

But breathable.

In some manner, Earthlike. He began to steeple his fingers in front of him, furrowing his brow as his eyes took on a new and intense light. His plain affectations were replaced by a bombardment of muttered conclusions, as if the pilot was attacking the questions in his mind as they came.

"Putting aside the obvious necessary similarity in composition, that means a similar barometry, if our lungs could process it. The same regarding density. Maybe closer to the top of a mountain or the depths of a canyon than sea level, but all told, human respiratory systems have a definite range of what constitutes proper breathability. So long as there are no curveballs on the fluid dynamics, that means lift generation isn't unthinkable. Did the probe get readings on airborne dust, by chance? Any sort of particulate that would jam a turbofan?"

He was already confident his Orbital could truck through most skies one might expect to encounter, but if traditional engines were capable of working, that opened a whole slew of possibilities.

Okay. So the Colony Module was what it said on the tin, but how was the ship carrying it? That had to be a sizable piece of equipment. Or, pieces of equipment. What she wouldn't have given to see the ship from the outside when it launched.

That line of thought could wait, though. Whoops. Lots of questions. Okay.

"Well, there wasn't really anyone to stop me." Artemie began to explain, directing her answer to Holden with a slightly sheepish smile. "I thought about it, and I suppose I could have gotten in trouble if anyone noticed. But I mean, I didn't expect them to. And as far as I know they didn't. If they did what were they going to do? Come get me? It would have taken years just to hear their lecture."

"Anyway, my computer couldn't really display a lot of the data. It was really meant to be opened on science stations, obviously, so I could only take a peek at maybe half of what was there. But it could handle satellite images fine, and there were a lot of those. Um..." She refocused on Volana, Zakherin, and Konstantin, repeating their names in her head to fix them more firmly in her mind. Her voice was getting stronger as she spoke, some life returning to her features and mannerisms. "I'm afraid the majority isn't very lush, Colonel, but from what I saw it should be reasonably familiar. The areas near water looked fairly temperate, but to tell you the truth meteorology isn't exactly my specialty. But definitely alive. There is vegetation of some sort along all of the major sources of liquid water that I saw."

"As for dust... I'm sure that data was there, but it wasn't anything I could open. The official briefing should fill us all in on the rest, right?"

“-ain speaking. I repeat, all crew proceed from cryostasis chambers to ready stations. Pandora will reach orbit in one hour. Follow the post-hibernation routine and proceed to your station by then. I repeat…”

With a harsh start, the young man who had chosen to be called Fox jolted back into the land of the living and out of cryosleep. Pushing himself up and out of the cryopod, Fox made it about half a step before almost face-planting into the deck as his still not quite awake legs gave out from underneath him. One hand waving a technician away with an irritated grunt, Fox half pushed, half dragged himself back to his feet before determinedly staggering towards the showers. With long practiced efficiency, first developed out of cruel necessity and later refined by regimented training, the young man quickly showered, dressed and geared up before making his way to the mess hall; this time on steadier legs.

Absentmindedly grabbing a MRE, Fox moved to join the other pilots, casually plopping himself down in an open seat. Briefly fiddling with his PDA, Fox tosses it down on the table and starts signing.

"Morning. Haven't missed the party, have I?"

The PDA translates, speaking in a soft, artificial tenor. Digging into his MRE, Fox offers a slight nod towards Konstantin. Though not many of them had an extensive opportunity to get to know each other before setting sail, the two had developed something of an immediate rapport after learning of each other's experience as expendable conscripted pirate chaff.

---

"It would have taken years just to hear their lecture..?" That was a strange thing to say. But now that he was thinking about it, this whole thing was strange. This was a woman who hadn't met the other pilots during the initial stages of the program. How could she have been a late addition on an expedition like this? There aren't exactly any ports housing potential candidates in deep space... are there? Couldn't be. And judging by what she said... the year 241? The year 229? It didn't add up.

"Now hold on." The man said, leaning in, more than a little bit confused. "The Pandora launched from Jupiter in 249 SA. We've all been in the ice for fifteen years since then, barring the skeleton crew keeping the ship running." Holden rubbed his chin, perplexed. Against his better judgement, he follows up on his statement.

"...Just when were you frozen, miss?" The man asked, half-expecting her to evade the question entirely. There might've been some red tape and confidential business blocking this info out, but at this point, Holden was simply far too curious to let it slide just like that. So much so, in fact, that he barely registers Fox joining them at the table. He acknowledges the man with a curt nod, but most of his attention is on Artemie.

Adam could hardly breathe, the cockpit was shaking violently and his Starstrike's optics were only showing the blue skies of Earth. as hard as he tried, he couldn't lift his arms, couldn't budge the controls even as he was deafened by the screaming of the wind's protest as his Orbital tore through the atmosphere. He couldn't see the smoke from the Queen any more, so he must have drifted away from it. he needed to move, but his body was limp, and the heat was bleeding into the cockpit pretty badly now. His skin felt like it was on fire.

-up
Pull up? he was trying to! He was- in a cryo pod. Adam gasped as his brain shook off some of the cold. that single breath pushed him farther from his dream as the frigid air in the cryo bay granted him the wonderful sensation of inhaling razor-sharp blades of ice, stinging his parched throat. he pushed himself up and out of the angled cryo pod, only for every square inch of his body to protest hard enough to make him grit his teeth. Whatever parts of him that weren't experiencing that all-too-familiar pins-and-needles sensation were achingly, painfully cold. It was all he could do to keep from shivering-

"...proceed from cryostasis chambers to ready stations. Pandora will reach orbit in one hour. Follow the post-hibernation routine and proceed to your station by then. I repeat, This is your Captain speaking..."
Routine. He could do that. The gears in his head were turning again, and training was still fresh in his mind- Wait, does it count as fresh if it's been frozen for fifteen years? He was already soaking in the warmth of the running water as he chuckled at his own stupid joke... The water felt good, washing away the grungy cryo film clinging to him like a soaked shirt. He couldn't just stand in the warmth forever though, and he quickly scrubbed himself down, the movement and warmth chasing away the numbness of a fifteen year freezer-nap. In moments he was clean again, though he had yet to shake the chill from his bones, he had to move on.

He trudged on through the open doorway and into the locker room. He was at the rear of the pack and a fair few lockers were left swinging open. he returned to his, nudged a locker door out of the way and opened his own. Inside there was just his flight suit. No pictures, no trinkets or memories. In the back of his mind he felt... sad? disappointed? He couldn't tell. As the flight suit went on, he shook off that indescribable feeling. He went through all the checks step by step. gloves, boots, legs, belt, sleeves. flex and look for slipping. nothing.

The thickness of the suit was already warming his body up when he entered the Mess. The faint smells of a dozen different mass-manufactured meals wafted about, and he absentmindedly pulled one out of the cardboard box nearest to him. A thought buzzed at the back of his mind, but more pressingly, there was a table with plenty of open seating still. And that one guy is even taller than I am. I won't stick out nearly as much! jackpot! He could pick out their voices over the low din of the rest of the mess if he tried-

"Morning. Haven't missed the party, have I?"
Voice-to-Text?
"...Just when were you frozen, miss?"

He quietly set his tray on the table and took his seat before opening his MRE, dumping the main course in it's sleeve and activating the thermal pack to get it heating. He poured the off-tasting cheese-sludge between the two overlarge cracker-sheets for something to gnaw on while he waited. He looked down the table to the only other person in a nonstandard pilot suit, a woman with purple hair.
"Wait, you got the deepfreeze early? Are you part of the science crew?" asking never hurt.

A thought hovered at the back of his mind, nagging at him that something was off as he quietly munched on his substandard appetizer.
MREs...

---

For his part, Konstantin took in Artemie's words with a slow, steady nod. No data on dust honestly was something he should have expected, especially once you considered the limited scope of what the freezerburnt woman could actually access and parse through whatever personal terminal she'd used. Unless it was thick enough to cloak the surface entirely, you'd need more than a satellite image to catch it. Even spectrographs might not tell the full picture.

To be honest, waiting for the briefing was what would tell him what he needed to know in the first place— for his purposes, at least, he was not fated to deal with engines nearly so much as reactors powering his cockpit of choice. Aircraft in the colony module? A bit of a stretch, one he'd let that dream of his convince him to try reaching for, if only in this capacity.

A pleasant, modulated tenor caught his attention next as Fox, a fellow survivor of conscription via piracy, seated himself. How interesting it was that there seemed to be a significant subset of those that had seen their fellow man at its vilest, cruelest, and most unforgivable within the crew running security for what was supposedly a peaceful expedition. Soldiers were a necessity, that much was obvious. You did not leave home without some measure of personal safety— but perhaps he wondered if it were the difference between a guard dog and a beaten wolf.

...We're all professionals. Your head is still in cryo, Kon. There's no reason to not trust anyone to avoid the same mistakes as you.

Returning the nod, Konstantin replied without much in the way of frills, gesturing with a free hand to Artemie.

"Not yet. Just breaking our fast and discussing what we know of the destination. So far, it amounts to 'vegetation on the waterfront, breathable air, and the equator will cook you'. Very exciting."

---

The small area which she had staked out in the mess was becoming substantially more trafficked as more and more pilots made their way out of cryo. Volana shifted her seat over to the side in an attempt to make more room for the two that just arrived. Both were easily recognizable, though the past few minutes had been quite the mental exercise as Volana repeatedly attempted to recall introductions that took place years ago for her brain, even if it felt like mere hours for her mind. The disconnect between the two was a unique, and overall pretty strange experience.

The first of which wasn't much taller than she was, dark hair sharp features, though the electronic voice which emanated from the PDA jogged her memory before the rest. Fox, right.

She never did get the chance to ask if that was moniker, or if it was his real name. Though Volana was willing to bet that getting an answer out of the man wasn't going to be a straightforward process. She'd ask Konstantin, he might know. Or at least, he seemed to know Fox better, or at least they got along well enough.

Second, well the Martian wasn't as difficult. Volana could have sworn that she had seen his face even before this whole expedition, maybe in a movie? She honestly wouldn't entirely rule it out, Gilford looked like he belonged in an action flick about the accomplishments she had heard about him rather than having been the man to pull them off himself.

Volana smiled in greeting to the two of them, before adding to Konstantin's explanation, "Turns out, there are beaches, though I do not think we will have much downtime for them."

While his reply didn't do much in the way of displaying it, Konstantin was right. It was very exciting. The few of them assembled here would be the very first humans to set foot in another solar system, ever. The realization, or perhaps more the realization sinking in completely, made her heart flutter.

Very exciting.

"Oh."

Artemie blinked and her smile faltered, the topic she'd been unconsciously evading pinned down. There wasn't any reason not to explain but to explain brought it into sharp focus; most of the people sitting around the table hadn't even been old enough to enlist the first time she went under.

"Technician, actually," She answered absently to the newest arrival, noting his appearance (and his appearance) while she tried to decide what to say. He had the look of a Martian, as funny as that was. She was probably better suited for life on his home and he on hers, but she knew that was a distraction from the topic at hand. "Sorry, I don't mean to be evasive. There's nothing secret about it."

"I went under in 234 SA. Middle of the year. CAPEI was supposed to have received the probe's data back by that year. It hadn't been. I don't know if anyone is up to date on how the probe was supposed to work but it dropped a signal booster halfway here to make sure the data could make it back. They figured out the booster wasn't working." The Lunite shrugged and toyed with the wrapper for her MRE absentmindedly. She had finished the meal itself already but the packaging kept her hands busy. Keeping them busy hadn't occurred to her consciously but a little voice said she wouldn't know what to do with them otherwise. "And at that range you can't use a remote controlled platform, and you can't program a robot with enough diagnostic knowledge and intuition to go out there and fix it. Or just ship out a replacement, because there'd be no way to troubleshoot signal relay."

"Not a lot of pilots are cross certified as Orbital pilots and engineers. As repair technicians for Orbitals, sure, that happens a lot. But not the sort of skills you'd need to fix a specialized piece of hardware like this. I am, so I volunteered. I worked with CAPEI and Isurugi on the rapid development of the Voyager, I launched from a ship near Pluto, and..."

Artemie made a coasting gesture.

"Out into interstellar space. I reached the relay in late 240, early 241. I was awake for ten hours fixing it and running diagnostics. And then I went under again to wait for orders. In 244 they sent me back an option to start burning for Sol again, orrrr settle in and wait for the expedition to collect me in twelve years."

Fascinating. Stel was listening in on the other pilots a few tables away as they chatted. Artemie's story was very interesting, though the rest was somewhat less so. Sure, it was interesting to hear that the planet they were sent to had life, and it suddenly hit Stel that she'd never seen a natural planet before, but she was raised on a rock and expected to be landing on a rock. Heck, there was still some debate on whether or not her home even was a planet, so she was possibly going to see her first planet ever, certainly the first with non-recycled water. She lived a life on a planet that got all its resources from other planets or harvested directly from the Kuiper Belt. But it wasn't that thought of beautiful life that got her heart racing, it was the thought of the potentially dangerous alien life on it. That thought only strengthened her resolve to figure out her more personal ultimatum.

After all, she was only on the Pandora because of her Orbital. So it was that Orbital that filled most of her mind. If she had stayed home she would have had all the time she needed to learn its quirks, but now it was a rush to figure out Michael's in's and out's, literally and figuratively. She was no real pilot after all, she was just lucky. She couldn't stand next to war vets or people raised in Orbitals or a freakin' interplanetary hero! (If she was remembering meeting them correctly) She was barely a functional engineer! So in her mind, she had two choices; become a fantastic pilot to match her orbital, or perhaps more likely, find a way to use her engineering skill to remove Michael's hard-lock so a better person could pilot it.

---

Holden gave the newcomer a respectful nod as Adam took a seat. Everyone knew who this guy was- Adam Gilford is a legend, even among Saturnites. After all, in spite of all the pandering towards the Mars Military, Red Atlas was a fairly distinguished group. It was also a pretty good action movie, though seeing as fifteen years or so years have passed, Castle wouldn't be surprised if sequels were out by now. As the woman spoke up, however, he redirected his attention to her.

Holden was completely silent as Artemie began to explain her origins. It was incredible, really. To go so deep into the blackness alone and on a task that would take so long, that by the time you were done, an entire generation or two of people could've been born... and after you're done, you decide to go on another mission right afterward.

If she was under since 234 SA, and the current year was 264 SA... she must've been in the ice for roughly twice as long as the rest of the pilots were.

"Damn." Holden said, at a loss of things to say. "Must've been tough... surprised you didn't go back-- the Van-Winkle Laws would've provided for you for a long time."

Anyone who went into the deep freeze knew about the stories. A military gunship on the far reaches of space takes too much damage and can't send a distress signal. They decide that the best course of action is to go into the ice and hope someone finds them. The next time they wake up? It was a couple of hundred years later, and technology had advanced so far that their training was essentially rendered obsolete. They couldn't get jobs anymore, and the measly pension they got didn't amount for much.

The Van-Winkle Laws were an attempt to compensate for that. It stated that any long periods of time spent by working personnel in Cryostasis would count towards Active Time Served-- unless they were considered MIA, in which case only a tenth of time is counted. In either case, you're compensated with wages for however long you were under, in addition to normal pay. Being a worker who spent most of their time in cryo was a lucrative and well-paying job, mostly.

...but even in spite of these laws, money was never quite an acceptable trade for all that time. Truly, it seemed that time moved on; with or without you.

"...Then again, I guess if you're on this mission, you're not in it for money, hm?" Holden nodded in approval. It might've been presumptuous of him to assume, but he couldn't help but feel a great deal of respect for the woman. After all, anyone capable of that much can be counted on to do what was necessary.

If no one else was around, Adam would have been bashing his head into the nearest wall. Of course a lot of the people here would have left behind actual lives. He would be in a minority of personnel that had very little tying them down. I had to open my big mouth. The Technician woman had a distracted look about her, fiddling with her empty MRE as if she wanted to focus on something, anything else. They'd flown into a minefield without even noticing.

"Damn... Must've been tough... surprised you didn't go back-- the Van-Winkle Laws would've provided for you for a long time."
no no no no, shit don't take it there.

He shrugged as he wracked his brain for a response with less of his foot firmly planted in their collective mouth. I heard mention of beaches. joke about not bringing by bathing suit? No, that could come off as insensitive or indifferent, and with a thirty year gap no one's will have a home to go back to... Ask her about back home? No, I'd probably make her feel worse trying to be a shrink. He was out of time and he was drawing a blank.

"...Then again, I guess if you're on this mission, you're not in it for money, hm?"
Perfect! Thank you Castle!

"Excited to be one of the first to set foot on the new planet?" He put on his best encouraging smile for her, and everyone else at the table to a lesser degree. "Think they'll name a region after you?" He tended to his MRE, propping the sleeve up and ripping open one of the snacks. He muttered under his breath. "A granola bar with coconut and dried pineapple? Who comes up with this shit? Stuck with MREs-" The fog cleared from his head and the thought that had been nagging at him slammed into his consciousness harder than a freighter hitting the Siberian tundra.

Adam's expression changed from jovial to guarded as he slowly swept his head from one side to the other, his eyes dancing over every individual in the mess hall. Everyone here is in a flight suit. Pilots. His eyes locked onto the empty kitchen area, unmanned and spotless. His hand constricted on reflex, keying an imaginary radio as he whispered a question to no one in particular. "Why did they only wake us up?" He didn't know why, but his heart was hammering in his chest. He turned back to the Technician, his smile reduced relaxed to a grin.

"I guess I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Adam Gilford, and it's nice to meet you."

As Zakharin finished the instant coffee more of the pilots trickled into the mess hall. The old marine greeted them as they came to the table. Fishing out the leather case in his breast pocket as he listens to Artemie's story. He agreed with Holden's assessment that the Lunite must be here for a desire to explore the unknown. Taking out one of the cigars from the package he took a moment to glance around the

“If we're lucky we will all get some place named after us.” He said cutting the cigar.

He took a quick glance over to Adam. The old marine noticed the way the Martian was looking around the room. He figured that Adam was getting upon the same train of thought he was on. As quickly as it appeared the younger man covered it up with a grin. Zakharin made a mental note to talk to the Martian about it when the opportunity presented itself as he open his lighter.

---

Artemie's explanation raised as many questions as it answered, though she held her tongue for now. Volana had a feeling that the myriad of questions beginning to bubble to the surface of her mind would be addressed either during the briefing, or more directly, once they reached the surface of the planet proper. That, and she had no desire to overwhelm the other pilot, especially now that she knew just how long Artemie Isra had actually been frozen for. If she had felt disoriented when coming out of a fifteen year stint in the tube, Volana could only imagine what sort of cobwebs Artemie was shaking out of her mind at the moment.

Speaking of the briefing...

"Perhaps we should bring that up during the briefing, yes?" Volana suggested at Brusilov's mention of getting naming honors, the slight lilting cadence of her accent indicating the half-serious mirth in which she put forth the idea. The Cytherean pilot stacked the packages of her MRE together before standing. "I am going to head to the hangar, maybe I find out more information if I arrive early."

Volana made her way towards the door of the mess, disposing of the remains of her MREs as she went.

"If anyone would like to join me."

As the other pilots discussed the state of the planet and queried their "new" squad member, Fox simply sat back, ate his MRE and listened. Letting his head bob along to the flow of the conversation, the young man took the opportunity to silently size up his squad mates. Behind the impassive mask of his face, Fox caught Adam's nervous glance around the otherwise empty mess hall.

...Of course we're the first ones up. If things go sideways, we need to be ready. Why does everyone seem to forget that the mechs we pilot originated from an alien war machine? And here we are, light-years from "home" on the first interstellar colony ship, makes perfect sense to me that the Higher Ups would want to be prepared for a hostile first contact...

Not letting himself shake his head in irritation, Fox allows himself a slight smile as the Cytherean pilot made mention of heading to the hanger early.

"An excellent idea. Give me a moment and I'll join you."

His PDA chirps for him as he signs one-handedly, his other quickly shoving the rest of his MRE into his face.

"Not in the slightest."

"Not that it'll hurt going back to all that money if I ever make it back to the Moon." Artemie's grin came back with a slightly knowing tilt. He was right; after a minimum of forty five years on ice before getting home there'd be a hefty paycheck waiting for her. Enough to go on 'vacation' for decades if she really wanted. Not to mention the seniority she was accruing. But it wasn't the point and Holden had hit the nail on the head. "I've wanted to make this trip my whole life. What was ten more years in cryo in comparison?"

She shrugged a little, pushing herself carefully to her feet and nodding at Adam's introduction.

"It's nice to meet you, Adam. I think Volana's right about getting to the hangar. If we don't hurry, they might name things after other people."

---

That first reply from her surprised him a little. It meant she had little to no attachment back to wherever her home was... though he supposed that he should've expected a response like that. If you went into the ice on the regular, you probably didn't have much waiting for you back home anyway-- and she's been in the ice longer than anyone else he's ever known. Holden merely nodded at her second response with a satisfied look.

"Fair enough." Holden smiled. "It's good to have you with us then, Miss Isra."

As Adam went to speak to Artemie, Holden looked to Zakharin, Jacira, and Fox. The prospect of having a place named after himself certainly sounded interesting to Castle, but the recognition wasn't why he was here. Jacira mentioned heading to the hangar bay, to which the man nodded.

"It's about that time." Castle rose from his seat on the bench, glancing at his watch. It looked like they had enough time to walk to the hangar with time to spare, though it would be nice to be punctual. He also noted that the date read fifteen years ahead from the time he went into Cryosleep. Holden took a small satisfaction in the fact that his timepiece remains reliable, and picks up the remnants of his meal. "Let's get moving."

The man followed shortly behind the others, disposing the remains of his MRE into the waste heap, before stacking his tray on top of the others.

"Yeah we should be making our way over there."

He looked up to the clock mounted on the wall seeing they had time but not enough for what he wanted to do. The old marine return the cigar to his pocket figuring he did not have the time to properly enjoy it. And he figured it would be unbecoming of him to miss the briefing to just because he wanted a smoke. Zakhain made a note to try and smoke it after the briefing. His limbs creaked as he stood up to join his compatriots to head to the hanger. Zakharin dropped his leftovers into the waste heap before joining the group.

GM IC:

"Welcome to Proxima Centauri, ladies and gentlemen."

The Captain spoke into his pickup, adjusting the brim of his hat. Across the bridge officers and ratings tended to their duties, coaxing the Pandora's mammoth hull to lower and lower speeds as they slipped into a geosynchronous orbit above the planet. Unlike the scientists and pilots waking up within her hull the Pyxis' essential crew were showing the wear of the journey. Even in rotations all of them had cumulatively lived a few years of the journey and their satisfaction reflected it.

He savored the moment for a moment, nodding his own satisfaction, continued.

"We are, all of us, further from Earth than any human being has ever been in orbit around a planet no human has ever set foot on inside a system no other soul has ever seen with their own eyes. There can be no overstating it. Each and every one of us has earned a place in the history books already. Humanity's first real stride into the stars." He leaned back in his chair, fixing his eyes on the view outside the ship. "I know such an usual mission has required an unusual crew. An unusual craft. Unusual standards. We're aboard a United Nations ship integrated into a civilian craft, carrying pilots detached from military service and civilians both. Every department feels that mix. Some of you haven't had long at all to settle into your crews, and it may feel strange after so much time. Some of you feel like you left minutes ago. Some of you years."

"All of you can feel the pride in this moment."

"But," His voice dropped, growing serious. "None of you can let it disarm you."

The planet below appeared on every nonessential screen aboard, the first glimpse they would all see of the world they had traveled so far to explore.



"Proxima Centauri b, operationally designated Kitezh until further notice. Breathable atmosphere, livable temperatures on most of the surface and extant lifeforms. This is what we've come for. Our first recon team touches down in less than an hour. First survey team will be taking one of the dropshops to the surface under Orbital escort. Combat conditions assumed, people, until I say otherwise. Helmets stay on, no one touches anything without the team leader's say so, and no one relaxes until they're off the clock."

"Report to your department heads, people, and as of now all pilots are to report to the hangar. Commanding Officer Orbital Operations will handle any additional information."



"Glad to be aboard, Mr. Cross." Artemie said cheerfully, following the others towards the hangar and listening attentively to the briefing. Nothing she hadn't really expected, so far.

Adam sighed and looked over the pilots he had sat with. Most of them seemed anxious to hurry up and wait, even though they had a fair bit of time left before they had to be at their posts. He was only halfway through his MRE and plenty of others were already finished. Just my luck, I got woke up last, didn't I? He snatched up the granola bar he hadn't yet opened and stuffed it into a pocket on his suit's chest before he lifted his tray to his mouth and simply shoveled the rest of the "chili" into his mouth. Better at least try to keep up. Kinda wish these people knew how to enjoy downtime instead of letting the excitement get to them though.

"The brass never spill the beans early in my experience, but it can't hurt to get there early." Adam pushed himself up out of his seat and scooped up his helmet in one hand, his tray in the other. Following behind Castle, he disposed of his meal and immediately began checking over his helmet as he walked out into the halls. As he fiddled with his suit, the announcement system kicked on and his attention was torn from his suit check to the odd screen recessed into the hallway walls every few meters. "First time for everything, I guess" he muttered under his breath. His eyes tracked the display of the planet even as he halfway paid attention to where he was going, relying on the other pilots for direction. The planetary display was almost mesmerizing, but the captain's words cut through the buzz of his thoughts. Assumed combat condition on a brand new planet. An orbital drop into assumed combat conditions with limited intel. Paul would be freaking out if he were hearing this... Adam realized he was white-knuckling his helmet and loosened his grip before turning it over in his hands to continue his suit check. He needed the distraction, because a lot of scary shit way out of his paygrade was now lurking just outside his peripherals.

Don't think about it, just do it. Just like they drill into you in training. Adam slipped his helmet on and watched the HUD flick on as his suit completed it's atmospheric seal with a hiss.

"You really think they know what's happening here?" she asked rhetorically, in response to Adam's musings.

The brass. It was funny, the things that military men sought in their superiors. She supposed that such a rigid environment, armored as it was in the simplicity of orders and higher callings, felt a bit like a theocracy. You served your life in service of gods, and then you got to die feeling meaningful. It wasn't such a bad gig. But Pandora's captain didn't seem like much of a god at all. Maybe when you gathered all the brass in one place they looked a little more divine. But to look at the captain, in his oversized coat and quaint officer's cap, he hardly had the presence of an oracle. He could have at least glowed a little or something.

"I guess, maybe," Gypsy Alexandros responded to herself, punctuating her ambivalence with a shrug. She swallowed and got a faint, savory aftertaste of chocolate from her food. One of the other pilots had broken ranks early to go check on the state of the hangar. It would probably be smart for her to do the same.

Her gaze fell back to the planet, spinning on the nearest screen, and though her mask was inscrutable the face of distaste she made underneath was anything but. The sight of the planet in its current state saddened her. Uneven browns and swathes of sepia had left the surface of Proxima Centauri b looking like an unleavened pizza crust - some parts crispy to the point of crackling, some parts still doughy and raw. Her mouth tightened again, and she took a deep breath to compose herself.

She would be fine by the time she reached the hangar.

---

"Heyyy, it's Ziggy Stardust!"

The potent combination of a cheerful greeting and an affectionately mocking nickname brought a wan smile to Gypsy's face. Her hands were in her pockets as she approached her Orbital and its support staff, but her head mechanic had stepped forward with an arm raised cheerfully over his tanned face, beaming like a sun beneath close-cropped blonde hair. Gypsy, with her begrudging little grin, drew a hand from her pocket and high fived the mechanic up top. Together, the two blondes stared up at the fey-looking Orbital they were charged with.

"How'dja sleep?" asked Nat Cole, as he wrapped both arms behind his head and looked the Atrox Fortuna up and down with a whistle. With his pierced midriff on full display, his bright tan, and an irreverent disposition, it was hard to imagine what such a gentle kid, lacking in decorum, was doing onboard an expedition like this. The answer, as with most things to do with the more secretive corporate presences onboard, could be taken at face value as 'cash.' Nat was the child of two Jawaid & Jawaid executives who had done much of the overclocking work on the Atrox Fortuna, closely in collaboration with Chiron Works. He had also been a misfit, suffering from anxiety, dysmorphia, and a host of other insecurities that required a lighter touch than throwing cash at psychiatry. Instead, his parents had thrown cash at the Atrox Fortuna, funding further improvements on Chiron Works' design as long as their problem child was taken on as a mechanical designer and tech. He had been working alongside Gypsy Alexandros for eighteen three years. In that time, Nat had transitioned and matured in ways that made him unrecognizable in ways beyond the physical. His gigawatt smile remained the same, though, and right now it was a spotlight, casting extra sheen upon the lush scarlets of the Orbital.

"Slept?" Gypsy asked. "Oh, yeah. 'Slept.' Did you?"

"Mhm." Nat hummed to himself. "You see the planet?"

"Looks like hell. But we knew it might."

"Mhm." Nat hummed to himself. "Well, you're in luck. 70% through pre-flight check, and Gypsy Soul seems ready to rock. She's even feeling a little talkative. I don't blame her. I had the weirdest dreams all the way--"

"Talkative."

"Mhm." Nat hummed to himself. "She won't shut up, actually. I'm glad you're here, she might calm down a little."

"What about combat?"

"Mmmmm." Nat stopped humming. "Well, she's definitely ready for that, too. 'Jawaid & Jawaid--"

"'--we'll work if we're paid,' Gypsy finished, wry smile on one end of her face.

Nat giggled and began to hum again. "I don't think they're after combat this soon, though. At least not from what we gathered back in Sol."

"You don't think? I do."

"Hmmm. I guess. But if they wanted to shoot up aliens you think they would have kept the Ozzies around. Although I guess two hundred and sixty four years is a long time to wait to shoot--"

"Oh. You meant them. Yeah, you're probably right."

"Yeah. What, did you mean them?"

"Mhm." Gypsy hummed, too. Her eyes were looking the Atrox Fortuna up and down. Nat giggled, a little nervously, and ran his fingers through the back of his golden hair.

"Well, try chatting first," the head mechanic advised, punching his pilot and surrogate sister on the shoulder affectionately. "We came all this way, it would really suck if she didn't get to talk."

'Now it shall be said of Jacob and Israel;
What hath God wrought?'
Pre-flight checks are now complete.
Anemoi-001 is now alive.

The two blondes turned to face each other. Their stares connected for a long, long second - a second that stretched into untold more.

"I guess that's my cue," Gypsy Alexandros said calmly, breaking the stare. She put her hand back into her jacket and walked towards her Orbital. The mechanic, brows furrowing a little in anticipation, stayed put as he watched her go.