Adeola had just had the strangest dream. She was on a mission to check on a mining system by the name of Providence in the outer rim of the Alliance, and it had been emptier than hell. Then, the system's defenses had attacked the ship she was on, and she had to board an escape pod and she got knocked out on the escape pod.
Then, she woke up to some guy yelling. Maybe she had slept in too late, she was supposed to be receiving an assignment soon. Her vision was blurry, and she couldn't orientate herself properly, it seemed like there was something wrong with her bloodflow to her lower body, though, because she couldn't feel her toes. When she could actually see and move properly, she saw some guy cocking his head and looking at her.
"'Scuse me, sweetheart, but would you mind getting the fuck out of my face?" Adeola asked, kind of bitterly. She would probably apologize later, but right now she had a bad crick in her neck and her shoulders hurt, despite her armor, which probably wasn't a good sign.
Wait, armor, but that must mean... she thought, and she was right. She looked around saw she was in fact in an escape pod. She recognized two others, she had met them on the Mahatma very briefly. That means it hadn't been a dream. Before she could really take care of anything, though, Adeola needed to get right side up. She was strapped too tight to reach her katanas on her back, so she grabbed the seat as best she could, and did her best to undo the straps. The belts release, and she fell towards the floor/ceiling of the pod. Though she had the seat to hold onto, he grip slipped, since she didn't have the strength to hold on. She slipped and landed hard on the ground, her blood deprived legs not enjoying the shock much.
Adeola stumbled out of the pod, and looked around. The group was in a barren and destroyed hangar. There was an eerie silence surrounding them. She almost would've prefered her chances on the Mahatma at this point. There was something seriously wrong here. She slumped to her knees, her legs no longer able to support her until they got more blood flow. From all the spinning, though, her stomach was already on edge, and with the addition of the realization that something was horribly wrong, well, she puked. No dramtic dry heaving for five minutes or anything, just once, but once was enough. She felt horrible. Once she regained her composure and wiped the vomit from her mouth, she simply muttered. "We're fucked."