One eye stared into the mirror at the eye-patch, the face of the man who wore it, the over 30 year of a hard life around the galaxy, the past 14 in the service of the Galactic Committie. All those years, all the glory and death joy and hate, blood and more blood, all represented in the black eye-patch the man in the mirror wore. Something he cursed his empty eye-socket other times he enjoyed the veteran-look it gave him. For Thomas was a veteran indeed. 

"14 years now, 1 year to go." He said quietly to himself as he sat lonely in his living-quarters, a medium-sized room with a two-person bed, a closet closed and locked, a computer used for various purposes, and a wall covered with pictures; pictures of his home, family, a 20-year old himself with no eye-patch, his life. The computer emitted a kind of music from Earth, dating back to Thomas' ancestors home from thousands of years ago, what was called Celtic music. It calmed him, and in the times his empty eye-socket hurt like that day many years ago, and just the normal anger of his lost years he needed all the comfort he could get.

Then the intercom sparked to life, and Captain Hunt's voice ordered all members to the briefing room. This meant only one thing; a new mission. Thomas got out of the bed and pulled on his uniform the blue uniform for the galactic forces that he preferred to wear unlike most others on the ship. The information he could quickly read from his computer told him that the planet they orbited were covered in ice except patches of red in the white terrain. Not too unusual, but unusual indeed. 

Thomas marched through the corridors of the ship and ended up in the briefing room where he heard Rane joke about the mess their last mission had caused. "You caused that mess Rane, and you're lucky he convinced them NOT to transfer you to Pluto." Thomas fired back directly at Rane, looking at him with his one eye with a stare that could made most people shiver. He had little respect for Rane other than his combat skills, and his joke-cracking towards Captain Hurt was a no-go in his eyes. Thomas turned towards Jason and saluted, before taking a seat opposite of him. "Lava, Captain. The red patches might be pools of lava, so life underneath the ice is a possibility." 

They were a strange combination of people, these Marauders, Thomas just as strange as his fellow crew-members. His gaze passed from his captain to Rane, to the young women who had somehow ended up with them, to the mercenary, the armoury-officer and pilot with that old-school tank hat, the person trapped inside a protective suit, before his eye landed at last at their doctor, Rae, human-looking but with her white/grey skin and colourful hair and other parts. With all that sticking out of her, he sometimes how she managed to get dressed. They were indeed a stragne group, but they were Marauders, the best of the worst! 

"I've recieved no contact with the planet, so I'm unsure if any modern civilization exists there. Simple recon-mission then?"