The New Captain... Again

[kyliegrasan]

[OOC: So here's the skinny: the Esteem's in drydock until after the wedding. They got attacked by Reavers and of the original 500 crew only 1/3 survived. The captain of the Esteem, Conrad Garrett, got killed during the attack and with all other officers gone Kylie got bombed as acting commander of the crew that remained. Also, during the attack a Companion that was under their protection died, so she's in trouble for that as well.]

Kylie walked past the first row of men of the hundred that had gathered on the parade grounds of the base. They all looked less than presentable but that was something the crew and Kylie could care less about. The Reaver attack on the Esteem had left them badly demoralized, and that didn't got any better with the fact they didn't get so much as one day of shore-leave since.

Kylie herself was still badly banged up bad from the fight with Colonel Hogan. She had bruises on her cheek and her right eye was completely bloodrun. And those were just the injuries she couldn't hide: her belly and tighs were black and blue from the stinger grenade Hogan had detonated on her during the killhouse run. She was lucky she could stand up straight, let alone walk.

And now she had to get what remained of the original Esteem crew ready to need yet another captain. The third one so far. She was glad that she finally could get rid of the burden of command. Commanding a small squad was nothing, but being in charge of a hundred was something else.

She set herself in an 'at ease' stand, waiting alongside her brothers and sisters in arms for the new captain to arrive.

[amaia]

Amaia watched over the parade grounds from her place in the passenger seat of the small jeep that had brought her there. She took out a small pda and looked at the screen. On it was a letter from the Alliance brass saying they wanted her at the reception for the new captain - a sentiment Amaia still, for the life of her, couldn't understand.

But she knew why. The Horizon was, for all intents and purposes, a PR nightmare waiting to happen. The fact that the Alliance still had assassins was a gamble that made the brass uneasy. If it came out that the Alliance ran a ship for the sole purpose of breaking the laws they were intended to enforce: to chase criminals on their turf in their own way, there'd be hell to pay.

So they began the reassignments. Amaia, however, was not going quietly into that good night of dress uniforms and posts on giant cruisers. Those that wanted the Horizon to stop operation went high, but her connections managed just a little higher; it wasn't enough to save the crew of the Horizon, but all else being dammed, she still had her ship and her standing orders as they were the first day the Horizon took to the sky.

Amaia pulled out a small tin from her pocket and removed a cigarette - a delicacy from Jiangyin, considering the cocktail of questionably and overtly illegal substances mixed with the tobacco - but the blend gave it an unmistakable flavor, not to mention sharpening the senses and reaction speeds of the user in small doses. She lit one and then offered another to her driver, who politely refused.

"Ma'am, I don't mean any disrespect, but aren't you supposed to be part of the ceremony?" the driver asked a moment later.

"Maybe," she replied, taking a drag off of the cigarette. "But I'm not really dressed to meet an honorable captain, am I?" She tugged at her t-shirt for effect and looked out over the parade ground. She was surprised that Grasan, for all the beating she took, managed to stand in front of her Marines and lead them into the hands of a new commander. Her dedication was admirable. In some sense, she wished she could drag the girl to the Horizon to do real work, and stop real criminals, but that wish was impossible in more ways than one.

"I'm not being...well, ma'am, permission to speak freely?" Amaia gestured approval with her hand as she looked over the surviving crew of the Esteem. "Ma'am, General Shaycrest sent me."

"How is the old pyen juh duh jiou cha wen?" Amaia asked.

"He said you might call him that."

"Is he still busting balls and shoving the perquisite sticks up his marines' asses?"

"The General," the driver started, emphasizing the rank far more than necessary, "said that if you were not going to take part voluntarily, I was to drive you up to the parade ground and kick you out myself."

Amaia shot the driver a look, took a long drag off of her cigarette, and then smirked a little. The driver was a little nervous at the thought of her calling him on his orders, but she wasn't feeling cruel enough to put the poor boy through it. She put the cigarette on the dash of the vehicle before grabbing her coat and stepping out.

"Thank you for the drive, private," she said as she closed the door. She threw her coat on, making sure the pistol in her shoulder holster didn't catch the fabric at her side before walking over nonchalantly. She didn't care where this new captain came from, and she wasn't about to change the methods that worked for her for several years just because some brass-buttoned officer showed up and she was ordered to say hello.

[ethanpike]

Ethan was reading a text file on a handheld computer, as his driver hurriedly navigated the jeep towards the parade grounds. He occasionally muttered sentences, and now and then shook his head thoughtfully. He was practicing his speech, which he had been assured by several admirals and a general was necessary. Ethan was not so sure. 'It's not like I'm accepting some public office - this is a warship, not some spaceliner!' He muttered under his breath. He had been forced to concede the point, but had rebelled against his superiors by refusing to wear his dress uniform (which had, among other things, many heavy medals and decorations which made him look, in his own words, 'like one of those damn...shiny....things!'). Thus, Ethan was dressed in the plain, gray uniform of an Alliance captain. As another little rebellious symbol, Ethan wore a handgun at his side.

Putting his pda away, Ethan grabbed a comb and a small mirror, and hastily combed his short, graying hair into place. Shortly afterwards, the jeep ground to a stop, and Ethan exited it. He stepped out onto the parade ground, and was immediately stricken by not only the lack of numbers of the crew standing in formation, but by the fact that most of them were injured, and seemed hardly able to stand. He had enough presence of mind, however, to conceal how surprised he was, and only a keen observer would have noticed.

He moved to the center of the parade ground, and after a moment of thought, began addressing the crew:

"I'm..the new captain." He began, wincing inwardly at the poor beginning. "My name is Ethan Pike; yes, that Ethan Pike. For those of you who haven't heard of me, let me give you the brief version. I'm the only captain in the history of the Alliance who's been court-martialed twice." He paused, and was pleased to hear a slight chuckle from the assembled troops. "What this may tell you is that I'm not the most orthodox of captains. I'm not a stickler for ceremony, nor am I one of those politician-captains. I get things done, however, and that's why I still have a ship. What all this comes down to is that I don't care whether you call me Captain Pike or Captain, and I don't care about being saluted. I care about doing our jobs, and keeping each one of you alive. You guys have had a rough time of it, and I won't conceal from you that life is not going to be easy aboard my ship, but I'm not going to convene a court-martial because you forgot to shave." Again the troops chuckled, this time slightly louder.

"You men survived a Reaver attack, and I'm sure you all know about Miranda. I'm sure you're angry about your dead comrades.", Ethan continued, his voice getting more serious. "We all know that the Alliance isn't infallible, that everyone makes mistakes. But I think we all know that the Alliance is the only thing keeping the 'Verse together." He paused for emphasis, and ended by saying this:

"I would like to speak to the lieutenant who assumed command during the attack. The rest of you: take the rest of the day off." Ethan turned away, and moved back towards the jeep, sighing with relief. Ethan glanced around again, and saw, off to one side, a woman not in uniform, but with an air of command. He called his driver, and set him over to her.

The driver ran up to the woman (Amaia), and said, "Excuse me, ma'am. Captain Pike would like to speak to you."


[OOC: I figured that a speech was necessary, but was unsure whether there should be anything else, so...yeah.]

[merrit]

Erik nervously looked around. His blue eyes were constantly shifting among the faces in the crowds here. Being around the alliance made him uneasy. Then again the cortex message he had recieved a few hours ago made him more uneasy. He probably could have dressed in something that wasn't as attention grabbing among alliance groups as a browncoat, but he wasn't going to take it off. Ever.

He lit a cigarette and took a nice healthy drag from it. He closed his eyes letting the nicotine calm his nerves. He felt a soft breeze blow against his face and flutter his long brown hair. He took another drag and opened his eyes. He watched as most of the alliance grunts left. Why was he here? Being here was not a smart idea, its like a rat running right in the mouth of a snake. He glanced back down at the message he recieved and read it one more time.

Dear Mr. Saints,
I know you have some shady things within your past and one of them being the death of a certain alliance general. I want to talk to you about them. If we can come to an understanding, I might be able to make those problems go away.

Signed,
Captain Ethan Pike

There was stuff after that but it was really just details on how to get to the ship and how to get close to the ship without being stopped by the guards.

He shuddered a little bit and wondered what this guy could possibly want. What was the alliance playing at, but with the miranda footage getting out he had no doubt that the Alliance would be looking for anyone they could get to use as scape goats. If he had a way to get away from that, he had to at least see.

He quickly moved towards the gray haired man figuring he was the captain since he arrived and gave a speech and whatnot. He continued to puff away on his cigarette leaving a trail of smoke behind him, almost like the stories of trains back on the earth that was.

When he got to the captain there was just two other people around, one looked like she saw the ass end of a beat down and the other something that didn't sit right with Erik. She reminded him of the people that tortured him. He shuddered slightly again. He didn't say anything when he got there he just waited to see what would be said.

[amaia]

"Excuse me, ma'am. Captain Pike would like to speak to you." Amaia looked at the Captain's driver and nodded.

"Of course," she said as smoothly as possible. She started to walk over, but as she did, she caught sight of a third man. The guy reeked of Browncoat survivor, and not the kind she particularly respected. No, the man looked much more like the type who clung to his lost ideals about as tightly as he clung to the bottle of whiskey he nursed every night. Trouble was the least vulgar word she applied to the man's type.

But, he walked like he belonged there, and considering Captain Pike's reaction - or lack therein - to the man, he wasn't much of a threat. Still, as she walked, Amaia pulled out her PDA, feigned looking at it, and then replaced it in her inside pocket, taking the liberty of removing the safety from her pistol in the process.

She walked within a few steps of Captain Pike and stood, crossing her arms in a way that would still allow for a quick draw if needed.

"You asked to see me?" she offered. Her voice bordered on the edge of professionalism and seduction; the kind of haughty, venomous voice that turned heads and was a favorite of many a companion's clientele. Her eyes wandered from the Captain just long enough to acknowledge the Browncoat - a glance that sized him up and tried to look past his exterior, to see what kind of man truly lay there - before giving the Captain her attention. She was, after all, there to see and meet the good officer, although her orders were a bit vague on the impression she was supposed to give him.

[kyliegrasan]

Kylie listened to captain Pike's entire speech, and became somewhat relieved. Finally a captain who also knew how to be human.

When he ordered the crew to take the rest of the day off, she couldn't help but to let out a little smile, even though it made her face sore. The crewmembers themselves were a bit baffled, and some of them looked at Kylie in disbelief. Kylie nodded at them to assure them it was okay, and then they left. Leaving just Kylie with the new captain.

He requested to have a talk with her, but before she could introduce herself as the officer that was in charge during the attack, Amaia appeared. For some reason the captain wanted to talk to her as well.

Kylie owed Amaia a great debt of gratitude for saving her from colonel Hogan by shooting the bastard in the leg. And even though she was dangerous, and a mysterious spook, Kylie sort of hoped she would join the Esteem crew. She knew that if Amaia would've been around during the Reaver attack, it was likely that more crew would have survived that ordeal.

Then, a civilian appeared also. A man with long hair, who definately wasn't Alliance. It was either that, or he was a spook like Amaia. Kylie figured it was highly unlikely that the Alliance would turn to hiring mercenaries and if so, she wouldn't like it one bit if they would fill up the Esteem with hired goons.

She then walked up to her new captain and saluted him, standing at attention. Between all those people, she decided it would be best to introduce herself, and to keep to military regulations for the time being. She figured the captain could always tell her later to ease off.

"Captain Pike sir." Kylie said. "First lieutenant Kylandra Grasan. I was in charge during the Reaver attack, and acted as commander afterwards sir."

[ethanpike]

Ethan was relieved that the speech had finished without mishap. Now I need to play all my cards right, and get everyone on my side. He heard footsteps behind him, and he turned around to see a man with long, straggly brown hair. The man was wearing a browncoat, and obviously was Erik Saints. Ethan nodded courteously to him, and was about to speak, when a female voice said, "You asked to see me?"

Ethan turned back, confused. The woman he had seen from across the grounds was standing before him, her arms crossed somewhat insolently. The intonation and tone of her question were strange, however. Ethan had heard that tone before, though not in that voice. Who speaks in that tone...? Then it hit him. Of course.. That's how Companions speak. Is she a Companion? That would explain a lot, but not the gun at her hip. He mused. Outwardly, however, Ethan maintained his composure. He smiled warmly at the woman, and spoke. "Miss Sang, I believe? How do you do?" He paused for a moment, done with the requisite nothings that had to be spoken.

"I wanted to speak to you about, well, you. The brass told me you would be on my ship, but they refused to let me access your records. Which means, I presume, that your records are so dirty that it makes Whitefall look like a general's medals." Ethan smiled, showing that no offense was meant. "I don't mind that, but since the brass told me nothing of what position you would have aboard my ship, it makes it look like they're using you to watch me. If that's the case, well..." He paused, not sure how to continue. If the brass had sent her to watch him, he didn't know how to phrase the next bit. "If the brass are using you, I'd take it as a favor if you left. If I'm just being paranoid, which I have been known to be on occasion, you're more than welcome aboard my ship. Although, I'd appreciate knowin' a bit more about your past. You see, I figure anyone with a dirty past, and most likely a few enemies is either an idiot, which you don't seem to be, or a damn talented person. If you're talented, I want you - I want the best on my ship."

Smiling once more at Amaia, Ethan turned to the Browncoat and said, "And that brings me to you, Mr. Saints. I guess you got my message, and were wonderin' what exactly I meant by it." Ethan began, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the woman Sang. If she was a spy for the brass, then Ethan was treading on thin ice with what he was about to propose to Saints. "Mr. Saints, I won't beat around the bush. I have friends in Intel, and they tell me there's an agent on your tracks, wanting to nab you for the murder of a general. I know of your rep as a flier; I've heard you're one of the best damn pilots in the 'Verse, and I'd hate to see talent like that go get hung or imprisoned. What I'm proposin' to you is this: You fly the Esteem for me, and I'll get you amnesty for all past offenses. I know we're Alliance and you're a Browncoat, but I'm sure we can come to an amicable arrangement. What do you say?" Ethan questioned.

Just then, the lieutenant he had asked for arrived. Ethan was slightly surprised to see that it was a girl, but he was even more surprised to see her condition. She looked like she'd been run through a shredder and then trampled by horses. But, amazingly, she could walk, and when she saluted, Ethan acknowledged it with a nod, and said: "At ease, Lieutenant. I wanted to speak to you about a couple of things. First off, congratulations. There aren't many lieutenants in the fleet that could not only fight off a Reaver attack, but keep a hundred men alive while doing so. You're an inspiration to us all." Ethan said kindly. His face grew more serious, then, as he said, "That being said, I have to tell you that during my briefing, I was told that a court-martial was recommended for you, since a Companion under the protection of the Alliance had been killed."

Since Ethan didn't want to scare the lieutenant, he hurriedly continued, saying, "I take a different view than my superiors, however. You clearly are above the ordinary, and perhaps worthy of promotion. But since the brass would frown on me promoting someone who let one of their precious companions die, we'll have to wait. But be assured, I reward skill and nerve, both of which you clearly possess in abundance. I'll be watching your career with interest."

[merrit]

Erik felt the woman called Sang sizing him up, trying to figure out if he was a threat. He didn't like it one bit. She was deffinitely one of those people who worked for the alliance that had no qualms with questionable tactics. His eyes hardened on her as he watched her grab her PDA and then put it back. He saw it. It was ever so subtle but she flipped the safety off. Not that anyone would notice unless they had gotten used to looking at and suspecting every one. He subtly moved closer to the beat up girl who appeared to be an officer. Not so much that she'd notice but close enough he could grab her and use her as a shield if the lady went for her gun.

And that brings me to you, Mr. Saints. I guess you got my message, and were wonderin' what exactly I meant by it.[/b]

You're damn right I do he thought to himself but said nothing.

Mr. Saints, I won't beat around the bush. I have friends in Intel, and they tell me there's an agent on your tracks, wanting to nab you for the murder of a general. I know of your rep as a flier; I've heard you're one of the best damn pilots in the 'Verse, and I'd hate to see talent like that go get hung or imprisoned. What I'm proposin' to you is this: You fly the Esteem for me, and I'll get you amnesty for all past offenses. I know we're Alliance and you're a Browncoat, but I'm sure we can come to an amicable arrangement. What do you say?[/b]

Erik's face got noticably paler when he heard that an agent was on his tail. How could there be an agent on his tail? He wasn't to blame for the old man kicking the bucket. Then again the alliance brass probably wouldn't mind killing some former rebel for anything at the moment. He finished his cigarette and then lit another one.

He carefully studied Pike's face as he talked to the girl. This guy was serious, and yet he wanted him to fly an alliance vessel. Granted it would give him access to some information such as BOLO's and a warrants of old friends and could possibly warn them.

"Hmm. Siding up with the very people I was fighting against. People who had family I probably killed. Yeah I don't see any problem with this except that people on board might want to kill me. Well, that and the money."

[amaia]

Amaia listened politely as the captain said his peace - and rightfully so; as his position on this whole thing was less than desirable. Once he finished his explanation, Amaia smiled and gently explained herself:

"Well, Captain, you weren't given my record because it's currently classified for more reasons than one. As far as why I'm here, I'd more say the Alliance brass is looking to have you baby-sit me. They're in the process of decommissioning my current assignment. My guess is that they sent you, the rebellious Alliance captain, to smile and explain yourself and get me feeling all warm and fuzzy and hungry inside for you and your ways." She smirked. "Not that it's working, but I respect their effort."

It wasn't entirely true; Pike was in a fairly unique position - that is, the Alliance tolerated his insubordination and unpredictability because of his skill and effectiveness, or so the stories went. That was something Amaia could get behind, even if their definition of "outside of regulations" varied quite readily.

"As for the brass' obvious goal of joining your crew," Amaia said, before stopping herself for just a moment.

Had it been any other captain, she'd have laughed it off, said that she was too much of an operator for them to handle, and walked off, probably to call the most expensive limo to put on the Alliance's tab to make up for the pointless errand. But Pike seemed honestly different, and might have possible uses for her talents, varied as they were.

But the Esteem was still an Alliance cruiser, and that fact weighed heavily on her. The second she took a commission aboard a proper cruiser was the second that she became a proper lieutenant again, and that was most assuredly going to cause issues, at least with the higher-ups.

It was then that she caught a glimpse of Lieutenant Grasan, standing behind Pike. She looked worse from a few feet away; the injuries sustained from her beating clearly evident with the immediacy of her closeness. But from that battered form, behind those bruised and bloodshot eyes, she saw the officer perk up at the possibility of having Amaia on the crew. It was an odd sentiment - usually people abhorred having her around when they knew she was a spook, and here stood a Captain interested in her abilities and a Lieutenant who seemed honestly interested. Amaia would have been lying if she said there wasn't something about the two that intrigued her, too. As for the Browncoat, well, as long as he knew he was a stone's throw away from death at any given moment, she had confidence that he'd behave. People, she found in her travels, usually didn't step out of line if they were walking on a tightrope.

"Well," she continued, "if the Esteem's on its way to do good things and bring law and order, I can't see much reason I can't contribute. But I should warn you, that my presence on board is at my discretion - it's a luxury I've grown accustomed to. Don't worry, I won't abandon you, but if I feel like the Esteem has become a ship that I'm not capable of operating on, it's best for everyone if I have the ability to leave, and that you can trust me on." She looked at the Captain with a stern focus, indicating her seriousness.

"If these terms are acceptable to you, I will authorize the transmission of my record to you." She paused for effect. "This record, mind you, is classified, and you will be the only one on the ship with access to it, no exceptions. Of course, you can ask me any questions you'd like as well, but understand that the same confidentiality applies to what I tell you, as well, but I would not expect you to work with me when you know nothing of me." She relaxed her pose a little, allowing herself to sink into a less official tone. "I don't mean to sound melodramatic, but I want there to be no confusion between us. Confusion breeds trouble."

[kyliegrasan]

Kylie felt proud of herself when the captain congratulated her on a job well done. Suddenly the fact that a probable court-martial was hanging above her head didn't matter so much anymore. His words inspired her to continue her good work with the Esteem crew, and it seemed that even if she was getting prosecuted this new captain would have her back. She knew there and then that she wouldn't let captain Pike down.

"Thank you for your confidence in me sir." Kylie answered. "I won't fail you."

She then took a place next to captain Pike as the civilian started speaking. This man was a former Browncoat, and Kylie debated on whether or not to keep her hand on her pistol. But to her the captain obviously was someone who knew what he was doing, so if he was going to hire this Browncoat for his ship, he probably had a very good reason. It wasn't like he would be the only supporter of the Independents after all. A lot of the Esteem crew came from Independent families and were drafted into service by the Alliance.

The man reminded Kylie a bit of her brother Rade, who was a convinced Independent and pilot on a Browncoat ship. At least that was the last thing she heard from her father. In order to keep the family together, their father wouldn't tell either Kylie nor Rade which ship they were on.

Kylie was also glad to see that Amaia's recruitment into the Esteem crew was being finalized. A lot more men were going to survive if Amaia led them, Kylie knew that. But on the other hand, she was going to have to learn to play nicely with others if she wanted any of the crew to accept her. Sure, Amaia knew tactics and a thousand ways to kill a person, but Kylie knew the crew personally and knew what made the men and women of the Esteem tick.

For the moment she decided to stick with the captain. Follow him in his doings and lend assistance were needed. There wasn't anything else she could've done after all, the crew may have been dismissed but she wasn't.

[usoa]

Report to the Esteem.

That was the jist of what Doctor Tamar could remember in that brief, but boring meeting. It was possibly an interview, too, but she'd hardly seen the need to elaborate on her skills. Her record spoke for itself. Though, they had appeared mildly concerned the last year or so she'd spent her time working in a morgue. Still, they had said it themselves. They wanted someone professional, who works well under pressure, and can cope with trying situations. Usoa had waved the dramatism off in favour of hurrying the briefing along. She didn't have the time or the patience for military types at times. So why was she being posted to this ship? Why the Esteem of all places? Usoa would've been better off staying in her morgue, or returning to a planetside hospital.

Of course, the fact that those heels were carrying her closer to her destination was more than enough proof there was a reason beyond her own need to broaden her professional horizons. This opportunity had come to her in the form of a vague offer. A job on a ship. A ship in need of new medical staff. The Doctor had been left out on the full details of why it needed new medical staff, but that wasn't her concern right now.

The sight of her coming up to those still gathered would cause the assumption she was a woman of business. Pausing a short way away, she'd put down her luggage-- the driver had offered to carry it for her, but she'd dismissed him sharply. She carried her own weight. Of course, she was polite, and waited for all forms of important conversation to be passed before catching the attentions of those present. Usoa cleared her throat.

"I was told to report to an Ethan Pike. He's the Captain here, I assume?" Her clipped tone sounded with this chilly edge to it. Just a natural trait. She was always considered a frosty woman. It wasn't so harsh as to be offensive, though. It just lingered on the edge of her voice like something she couldn't rightly shake.

And, she'd wait for an answer with the patience of a woman who'd combed through cold corpses for hours on end, looking for that one small piece of evidence to suggest a cause of death. A hand came up to tuck dark strands behind her ear, her analytical gaze passing over the others curiously. She had to wonder why she'd been approached to be recruited. Still, she didn't turn down the offer, either. Hmm.

[ethanpike]

Ethan was feeling uncomfortable, although he was trying hard not to show it. He always hated the manipulating necessary to get all the crew on his side. He realized, however, that unless the crew liked him, he wouldn't get anything done. And especially since this was a mis-matched crew, he had to be extra careful.

Mr. Saints was hard to read. He seemed on the verge of joining, but at the same time Ethan needed him to join of his own will. Someone who joined voluntarily would be less likely to leave. However, time was wasting, so Ethan said to him:

"To be blunt, Mr Saints, I don't think that you have much of a choice. Either you join my crew, and receive amnesty, or you run now, and get caught eventually. You must excuse me for being brutally honest like this, but I need a pilot now. If you are unwilling to join my crew, that's fine, and we can part amicably. But I need closure." Ethan said, his smile gone.

However, Miss Sang was a different matter. She was a mystery, but she seemed to be interested in him, and Ethan was intrigued. But she obviously had talents, and Ethan was glad that she agreed to join his crew. He cared little about the fact that she wanted to be able to leave if necessary. If he played his cards right, the crew would do anything he wanted. But a challenge is good. Ethan held out his hand, and said, "Then we have an accord. Welcome aboard, Miss Sang. I'm glad to have you on my crew, and be assured, I will make full use of your talents, the first time I'm given the chance."

The Lieutenant, Kylandra Grasan, was obviously pleased with her new captain, and Ethan was pleased with her as well. She clearly knew her duty, but also was capable of leading men in battle. She was a valuable asset. And the rest of the crew clearly looked up to her, so having her on his side almost guaranteed Ethan that he would have few problems with the crew.
"Thank you for your confidence, Lieutenant." Ethan replied.

He would have added more, but someone cleared their throat, and Ethan turned to face the newcomer. It was a woman, maybe in her early thirties, although she looked younger. She had a cold air. She asked for Ethan Pike, and Ethan stepped forward slightly. Why don't I know who this is? He asked himself silently. But all he said was, "I am the captain. What can I do for you, miss?"

That was all. Ethan waited for a response, annoyed that he didn't know who this person was, or who had sent her.

[merrit]

Erik's eyes narrowed on the man trying to read him a bit more. The idea to be sittting in the enemy's mouth wasn't tempting at all, but being able to be free of agents hunting him down was quite an attractive offer. What was that old saying? Keep your friends close and keep your enemies closer. Well he wasn't going to get them any closer than what this job offered. He lit another cigarette and took another drag. This was probably the craziest idea he had ever heard, and Erik knew crazy ideas. Hell he fought for the independants.

His eyes went back to Ms. Sang, she worried him. She had the air of death around her. Something you only knew if you'd been around it a lot. She wasn't old enough to be part of the group he wanted to hurt, but they could have easily been her masters. Watching her and figuring out what she could do would offer a lot of help on his other goals.

"It seems we have ourselves an accord on two conditions. One, I'm not wearing that uniform. Ever."

He then pulled out a datapad and wrote something down on it. and handed it to the captain. It was the amount of money he wanted for his services on the ship. It was a lot more than what a standard Alliance pilot made, then again Erik wasn't a standard pilot or Alliance. If anything it was probably a little less than what the captain was making.

"Two, that's the price tag for my services. If that's fine with you, then you've got yourself a pilot.

When the new woman came up and spoke he almost felt a chill run down his spine. She spoke with a cold demeanor that was quite palpable. She was pretty enough in that ice queen unabtainable sense. If she was gonna be part of the crew as he suspected then it was gonna be interesting indeed.

Great we'll have an ice queen, a stone cold killer, and a lieutenant who's still wet behind the ears. Well at least the crew is seeming to be mostly women, that's gotta count for something he thought to himself. He then looked back at the new comer and got another shiver down his spine.

Damn this lady needs to warm up a bit. I mean the black has more heat than her.

[usoa]

Upon finding the man she'd been told to seek out, Usoa dipped her head forwards in a cordial manner. She was still rigidly polite, despite the cool air around her. It was a matter of professionalism. If there was a case where she ever appeared slightly less chill, it was in rare moments in her own personal time. Possibly. Dark granite eyes regarded the Captain a moment before responding. Military types, most of them. The pilot appeared somewhat suspect, but this looked to be a ship that was replacing crewmen. Why, Usoa didn't seem bothered to ask. Funny how the men that approached her didn't seem to explain what had happened to this vessel and the people that served on her.

"Captain." Another brief nod was given as she extended slender digits towards him in good manners. A handshake was always prudent. "Doctor Usoa Tamar. I was given the impression your vessel needed a new chief of medical staff. I am 'reporting for duty' as you would call it."

And if it was the case that they didn't need her services, then Usoa would return to that morgue. It had had it's advantages. Quiet, easy to focus. The dead were easier to deal with than the living. Yet, she wasn't completely socially inept. When the need took her, she enjoyed to travel and seek out new experiences. So this ship was going to be something entirely new to her. Part of Usoa-- not that you could tell-- was brimming with some small excitement. The thrill of the unknown and the challenges that awaited her.

Whether the hand was shook or not, it'd retract back under the coat and bag she was holding. It wasn't known if she'd thrive or wither in this environment. Would she rub people the wrong way with her mannerisms? Most probably. However, she didn't get to be as good as she was without being ruthless and dedicated in the process. So social standing had suffered considerably. Not to mention mostly everything else you'd consider a 'personal life'. That brief stint out to the Border worlds notwithstanding.