AmongHeroes — Roleplayer Guild

Gavin bade Dr. Park farewell, and joined Abby in the corridor—a decidedly safe distance from the pantry, and the wrath of its keeper. He fell into a contented silence as they began winding their way down the passage, with Abby speaking about microchipping the staff, and the likelihood of finding Antoine in his quarters.

In all honesty, Gavin was only half listening to Abby’s words. His mind was still yet divided between the various scenarios in the case of Sylus Adams, as well as the lingering headiness the brief moment in which Abby had taken his hand inside the pantry had granted him. The latter was a juvenile perception, Gavin was aware enough of that, but nonetheless that singular instance had sowed a seed of emotion he had not felt since his days at university.

There was little doubt that Abby’s taking of his hand had been nothing more than a means to get the lot of them, Dr. Park included, up and out of the kitchen area before Josey returned. The contact itself had been only fleeting, and wholly a movement of function, and not of sensuality.

Or was it? said one half of Gavin’s thoughts with a pleasant coloring of happiness.

The other half scoffed. Are you truly doing this right now? Dissecting the intricacies of your hand being held?

You’ll shut it, the first half retorted, if you know what’s good for you, damn it!

It was only then, amidst his inner turmoil, that a part of Gavin realized he had been walking for some time in silence, with Abby walking somewhat nonplussed beside him as she awaited a reply.

Clearing his throat, his face reddening slightly, Gavin at last regained his full mind. “Oh, um, yes. Please forgive me, I seem to have taken a leave of my own senses for a moment.” He chuckled, as much to emphasize his apology, as to poke fun at himself. “I suppose in this instance, I’m keen to give our man’s quarters a go. Although,” Gavin said with a twinkle in his eye, “we may yet need to visit the vet—she might need to examine me after that little out-of-body experience I just had.”

James Reddick walked into the cafeteria with his chin held slightly aloft, and his stern eyes narrowed. He was dressed in a crisp navy flight suit, with the patch of the Aphelion mission emblazoned upon the left shoulder. In his hand he held a semi-transparent cube, about three inches square. Standing in the doorway, he caught the captain’s eye. His brow drifted upwards before he tossed the cube towards her.

“Well, let’s get this over with Captain.” He said, not looking to see if the woman caught the object. Instead, Reddick turned to the drink station, and began fixing himself a large mug of coffee.

Lena caught the cube with her left hand, and managed to not spill the coffee she held in her right. It took a valiant effort, but she suppressed her initial desire to flail a boisterous “fuck you” back at Reddick. Though the words would have felt wonderful to say, Lena was too professional to allow such an exchange to occur in front of the crew. The last thing the mission needed was for some quarrel amongst the command staff to trickle down to the rest of the ship.

“Excuse me,” Lena said to those around her as she stood. Shuffling around the crew members that had taken their seats, Lena moved next to where Reddick stood. As nonchalantly as she could muster, she leaned towards the man, and lowered her voice.

“Reddick, don’t fucking pull this shit again. You may be the lackey that wields Wey-Yu’s whip, but the Aphelion—along with all her crew—is my prerogative. You show up when instructed.”

The man turned his cool, grey eyes, to Lena. An amused smile barely lifted the corners of his lips. “Certainly, Captain. The shower just took a bit longer than I intended.”

Lena only scowled at the man.

Pushing Reddick from her mind, Lena spun upon her heels and walked to the center of the room. Placing the cube upon the nearest table, she pressed several buttons upon the device, and the semi-transparent skin of the cube began to glow a dull green. As the device booted up, Lena let out a short whistle to get the crew’s attention.

“Alright everyone, listen up please.” She waited a brief moment for the voices to die down, and the eyes of the crew to find her. “You all know why we’re here. Sara’s briefing before we departed should have you up to speed in that regard. But, as to the specifics, that’s what we’re here to discuss.”

As if on cue, the glowing green cube began projecting an image of a slate-grey moon behind where Lena stood. Upon the surface of the floating orb, a large red crosshair had been superimposed, fixed over a point near the moon’s equator. As the projection rotated upon its axis, so too did the crosshair.

“This,” Lena said pointing behind her, “is the moon LV-223. It is one of three moons that orbit the gas giant Calpamos. As you know, it was the final destination for the Prometheus, and thought to be the location of extra-terrestrial activity.”

The projection began to expand, and a more detailed view of LV-223 came into view. Numbers scrolled across the right side of the projection, denoting gas levels, and various chemical compositions.

“We learned from the brief transmission the Prometheus sent upon her arrival that LV-223 possesses an atmosphere very similar to Earth’s: 71% Nitrogen, 21% Oxygen. Where she differs is in the levels of CO2, which are roughly 75 times that of Earth’s.” Lena looked seriously to her crew. “So, be sure to triple-check your suits before you disembark. Just a couple minutes out in that without supplemental oxygen, and you’ll be taking a dirt-nap. Officers, I’m looking at you: take care of your people.”

Turning back to the projection, Lena continued. “But, I’m getting a little ahead of myself. This…” she said, indicating the red cross hair, “…is the location given to us by the distress beacon of the Prometheus’ life boat. It contained no additional data beyond lat-long coordinates, and the signal only pinged for a few hours before it silenced. To put it bluntly, we haven’t had any signs of life from anyone with the Prometheus since that time.”

“Our mission is to determine what happened to the Prometheus, recover any remains of the crew, and to recuperate any data we can that she may have found prior to her destruction. If, and I say that with a giant “if” we find any survivors, then we will shift into a rescue stance.”

“The data,” interjected Reddick, “is what we’re here for. The Prometheus, for whatever reason, suffered some fatal accident. We’re here to not repeat that fate, and to finish what Project Prometheus intended in the first instance. The information on LV-223 is the driving force behind this mission. It is the only means the company has of recuperating any capital from both of these investments.”

Lena looked to the man, and this time, she could not hide the contempt displayed across her face. He stood leaning against the far wall, coffee cup in hand, with a decidedly superior expression on his features.

“Reddick, I’ll handle the briefing.” Lena said flatly. “Wey-Yu will have its pound of flesh, don’t worry. We all are very aware of who footed the bill for this little jaunt, and who is signing the paychecks when we get back. Give it a rest.”

Reddick merely shrugged, as if to say, “have it your way,” before lapsing back into an aloof silence.

Regaining her composure, Lena forged ahead. “Now, since we don’t know what happened to the Prometheus, we’re going in cautiously. When we approach the moon, we’re going to first enter low orbit, and make a few sensor-passes centered around the life boat location. If we find readings within safe parameters, we’ll land near the site, and begin our search.”

Lena looked down to her watch before glancing up to where Natan sat. “We have what? Two hours to planetfall? Something like that. Anyway, I want everyone to use that time to get set. Bridge crew, I want you at your stations following this briefing. As for the rest of you, especially the landing team, I want you to get your gear squared away so if we’re good to land, we can get you out there ASAP.”

Nodding to her crew, Lena placed her hands inside the hip pockets of her bomber jacket. “Well, are there any questions?”

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