The bustle of the Bridge could be intimidating to someone setting foot inside for the first time. The proverbial “brain” of the EDF Atlas, it normally carried a very professional and business-like atmosphere. The highest orders of military protocol were often forgone in the name of efficiency and a productive atmosphere and the general feel of the place reflected very much the inner works and attitudes of her commanding officer Captain Elena Ramirez. The woman quietly sipped at a cup of poorly-strained coffee while staring at a large tactical display in the middle of the large room. A number of higher officers phased in an out with their own reports, queries and observations.

Jumping blind into a system with outdated intelligence and no hope for reinforcements, Ramirez was playing it safe. Too close, some might say. For the last three days, almost every pilot with flight experience had been flying extended reconnaissance missions sweeping in deep patrols away from the ship to give the Atlas and her captain and idea of just what was waiting for them in the isolated Karas System. Three days of raised alert for all personnel as well as nonstop shifts for flight and command crews. They’d been working around the clock, barely taking the time to eat or sleep.

“Ms. Grey, I think we’ve done enough. Recall the recon teams and resume a standard CAP.,” the woman spoke before returning to the tactical display and disappearing into her work again.

------------------------------------------------

“Thank God for stims. How long have we been out here?” The burst transmission carried the pilot’s voice through space and into the ears of Lieutenant Commander Aiden “Roamer” Morrow. The two Angel-class fighters continued their reconnaissance sweep, passing their final NavPoint before plotting their return back to their home ship.

“Oh come on now Rabbit,” Aiden said with a smirk inside his flight helmet, “in twenty minutes you’ll be back on the flight deck long enough to shove a protein pack down your gullet and get back in the sky.”

“Knights of the Sky my ass,” Rabbit complained.

“Echo Wing this is Atlas Actual. Please respond, over.” came the voice of Petty Officer Grey, one of the communications officers.

“Atlas Actual, this is Echo One. How kind of you to check in on us from that comfortable little chair up there on the bridge,” Morrow spoke with an easy tone. He tried to play everyone on the cool. After all, there was nothing out in the depths to worry him besides Rabbit.

“Take it that you boys are clean and clear, then?”

“That’s an affirmative, Atlas Actual. Echo Wing reports no joy.”

“Now please tell me I get to come home. I’m sick of this,” Rabbit whined again. A good pilot but not the best temperament for long assignments.

“Rabbit, I was actually toying with the idea of tell you that you needed to double back through your NavPoints and cover your bases, but I’m just not mean enough to put Roamer through listening to you complain any long. Captain Ramirez just gave the word – pack up and come home, all recon wings recalled and normal flight reinstated. Return to base boys.

“Woo-hoo! Hot shower and a cold pillow!” Rabbit’s excitement was anything but hidden, enough so that his Angel actually rocked to the side slightly from Morrow’s view in the cockpit of his own fighter.

“Copy that, Atlas Actual. Just keep the barn doors home and we’ll be home in time for dinner,” Morrow said with his own growing smirk. “Echo Wing out.”

------------------------------------------------

The hissing sound of the cockpit’s atmospheric seal breaking was Morrow’s first taste of any real sound in the work around him other than the mechanical workings of his own fighter and the static-burst transmissions carrying disembodied voices over his comlink. The rush of noise was the usual bustle and clutter of the crowded flight deck of the EDF Atlas with deckhands, technicians, flight crews and various other personnel shuffling about as duty required.

“All wings secured, sir,” the deckhand said while extending a hand to pull Morrow out of the reclined cockpit of the Angel. The young officer swung his leg around until finding the rolling stairs that had been pressed up to the hull of his ship. “Let me guess, no joy again?”

“No joy,” Morrow spoke with a tinge of frustration couched with exhaustion. He knew that the entire active flight crew was in the same or worse shape. Seeing actual combat in Melchoir had been taxing enough, but they’d barely had time to stow away their gear before jumping to Karas and finding themselves flying the exhausting recon flights with no stop. Land, shove a protein pack down and sleep as long as it took to refuel the Angel, then launch again. With the return to standard CAP (Combat Air Patrol), the pilots and flight crews would finally get a chance to relax, return to normal and finally deal with the mission they’d been assigned.

Just down the flight deck, the other wing was returning from their own recon assignment. Tucking his flight helmet beneath his arm, Aiden came to stand near the debarking Angels.

“Blades, I hope you’re adjusting well to being out of the lap of luxury,” he fired with a mocking smirk. Lt. Mackenzie “Blades” Hawkins was someone he’d dualed with in simulators and in real Angels back at Triton Station. Although she was slightly younger, the Alpha had been one of the best pilots at the Station and had been a thorn in the side of Echo Company for years – the same way that the Alphas would have done anything (and tried more than a few times) to get rid of Echo’s Aiden Morrow who’d been plaguing them all other. Friendly rivalries, but now they were all fighting on the same side.

“I mean, I know that we’re not your plush and comfortable flagship, but at least now you get a chance to see how real pilots fly.” As soon as he’d finished teasing the girl, a deckhand handed him a flight roster. He was off rotation for a few hours. Good news.

FORCM Jacob Pierce surveyed the firing range once more before booming in his parades ground voice; "Fire!" As the holographic projections shot up, each marine opened fire down his firing lane. The lanes were labels by letters for easy identification. Pierce watched each lane from the back, watching for any faults that could easily pop up in the new marines firing technique. He saw one fault in lane F. "Lane F! For Gad sake, let your finger off the trigger! Your spraying ammunition all over the place!" The marine in lane F quickly stopped his firing for a second before fixing his mistake, firing in short controlled burst at the holograms that he faced while aiming down the sights.

Pierce gave out a concealed sigh. The marines he was put in command of training were full of faults that could prove deadly on a mission. He looked through the lanes once more, checking for any more faults. Seeing none at the moment, he called a cease fire. "Stand Down!" His voice, well rehearsed in training even the most rebellious marines, was instantly something the marines listened to. The stopped firing, clipped the safety, and placed their weapons on the stand in front of them. They turned around and stood at the ready for Pierces next order, facing him with tired but determined faces.

They had been training for 2 hours by now, and the marines hadn't rested since they had begun. Pierce surveyed the group and nodded. The firearms training was at an end for now. He stood on his small platform, feet shoulder width apart and hands behind his back. "Well done for today. You have yourself a small semi circle on the clock to rest and prepare for the obstacle course. If you have been shown any faults, work on them." The marines stood in the frontal-arrest position and said in unison; "Yes Master Chief!" They started to exit from the range, Pierce waiting till they were out of sight before exiting himself.

---------------------------

"So how was the training then?" Bumper, the teams sniper, said with a raised eyebrow. "Did you finally snap and show them how to really shoot?" Bumper gave a wry smile.

Goose, the teams foreign language speaker, looked at Bumper with disgust. "Not everyone can be a crack shot Bumper. But maybe you can give them some classes on how to be a jack-ass."

"Enough you two." Pierce stood up from his chair. "They are doing as well as any marine. They should be ready for duty in about 2 days."

Bumper nodded. "Thats swell, then maybe they will decide to send us on Karas. I'm getting tired of just sitting here running the course and working in the simulation chamber." He complained.

"Stop your whining Bumper,it's been to long since we got to kick back from the missions." Goose leaned in his chair. "Enjoy it while it lasts."

Pierces team had been complaining about being stuck on the Atlas for a while now. They weren't used to taking it easy. Pierce had requested to be sent to Karas's surface multiple times for reconnaissance missions, but the captain had determined that an aerial reconnaissance be initiated before any ground troops were to land. His team had been reserved a spot on the shuttles down, but until the aerial recon was complete, they were stuck on the Atlas.

"Damn pilots. They get all the good assignments." Bumper rested his feet on the chair in front of him.

"We will be going down soon, don't complain." Pierce waved his hand in a meaningless gesture. "As soon as the aerial recon is finished, the captain said she would summon us to be briefed on our drop down to Karas."

Bumper snarled. "Who knows how long that might be?"

"Sooner then you think." Boxer, the teams weapons specialist, walked in. "I was just down in the hanger, CAP's has returned to standard."

Pierce nodded. "Told you not to complain Bumper."

Bumper smirked. "Shut up."

"We will wait till we are summoned before we get our hopes up." Pierce sat back down on his chair and leaned against the back.

Lucy Caspian's fingers twitched at her side in irritation as Intelligence reports scrolled across the data screen at her desk. It was a subtle sign as to what was going on in the woman's mind but if it could be expressed out loud it would be one of extreme frustration. She had been holed up in intel for three days and all she could do was keep on packaging and delivering the same old news to the Captain. She needed to get something new or she was going to bash her head against the wall.

Frowning she signaled the data screen to turn off before taking a small cube out of its side containing a finished report. Adjusting her skirt as she got up Lucy let her gaze slowly travel around the rest of the room making contact with her subordinates. "Status report on Recon," She said focusing on the portion of the room which was focused on collection and analysis. "Two Angel class fighters piloted by Morrows and Bunny returning but it doesn't look like we've got anything new Commander," one of the Lieutenants replied. Although nothing visibly showed on Lucy's face a few thoughts of frustration crossed her mind, "Alright, thank you Lieutenant," She said nodding her head. It looked like it was about time she had a word with Aiden.

Exiting Intelligence Lucy made her way to the Flight Deck slowly trying to find her way around. She was running on only four hours of sleep but that was the usual for her, the main problem was that she was still gathering her bearings on the Ship. She'd had little to no time to get accustomed to the Atlas since arriving and was still memorizing the names of her Tactical Intel members let alone the rest of the crew. She knew the new Flight Wing Commanders name though considering they were both friends and rivals on Triton. She wondered if he was even aware she was on the ship. The thought brought a smirk to her face as she finally found the Flight Deck, he was in for a shock if he didn't.

Even after five years she could still pick out Aiden in all the business of the Hanger as she made her way over to him. "Long time no see Commander," she said with smirk, "How's the Recon going?"

"How much salt do you plan to put into that pot," Adam called out to his sous chef of two weeks. His eye was on the small container in his hands, one that seemed to be missing several layers of salt. His sous chef, Sergeant Aims, was blushing furiously at the embarrassment of getting caught, or perhaps it was something else entirely. No matter, Chef Alexanders was on the case, as usual. "Sergeant Aims," he called out with a light voice, "a word, if you please." The sergeant placed the container of salt down on the table top behind him, turned the stove off, and walked towards his Chef. "Yes, Chef?" He stared up at him, sweat had apparently soaked his white skull cap.

"Sergeant, what were you doing with all that salt?" his arm snaked around the sergeant's shoulders, which he then used to pull him close to his side, "Well? What were you trying to accomplish by pouring well over three hundred grams of salt into a fifty gallon pot?"

"I," the sergeant began, then winced as Adam put pressure on a pressure point on his right shoulder, "I was starting on boiled potatoes, Chef." It was a lie, of course, because the last hundred pounds of potatoes were locked within the storage container, and he had the only key for it.

"Sergeant," the voice became a light whisper, "What were you doing with all that salt?" The sergeant grimaced as the pressure on his shoulder intensified. "If you do not tell me, I shall have you thrown in the brig, and I seriously do not wish for the paperwork. I doubt you would enjoy the experience, either." With a free hand, he motioned for his second sous chef to come to him. "Sergeant Anna," he said without looking at her, "Call up the MPs, and have them take Sergeant Aims to the brig. Tell them," he paused for a moment, glaring at his sous chef, "Tell them that we have a hoarder in my kitchen." It was apparent that he didn't wish to send Sergeant Aims away, but had to, else the episode would repeat itself again." He pushed Aims into Sergeant Anna's arms, and watched as they exited the kitchen, sighing as they did so. Oh, how I wish things were much more simpler than this, his mind thought solemnly, My life would be much easier now.

Turning back to the kitchen, Adam noticed that his entire staff was watching him, and the door where the sergeants had exited. "Back to work," he roared, watching with some satisfaction that several people of his staff actually jumped at his shout. "We have hungry mouths to feed in the next hour, and I don't wish to be a minute late." He pointed at an individual on the grill, "Corporal Staton, how much time on those fish?" He listened to the corporal shout that it would be about ten more minutes. Nodding, he turned his attention to a red haired woman in the bakery, "Corporal Shana, how much time on the bread?" Another thirty minutes to bake, which made him sigh mentally. Too much to do, and so little time for himself.

Shrugging his shoulders, he turned his attention to the pot, and lifted it up off the burner. Peering inside, his face became blank, as all there was, was the salt and some water. "And here I thought," he shook his head slowly, which dispelled what his thought was. "Just another day in the world we call Atlas, eh people?" He laughed softly, then turned his attention back to the kitchen. "Alright people," he clapped his hands once, commanding their attention, "We have a lot to do, as usual, and as usual, we have a lot of grumbling stomachs to feed." Smiles appeared on a few faces, "So," he clapped his hands once more, "now that the drama has been spent for today, we need to hop to it, and get this food out to the public." The shout of "Yes, Chef" escaped from every mouth from his staff, which made him nod.

Turning back to the pot, he grimaced at the coming work of drying the salt and scraping it out of the pot. Chuckling softly, he reminded himself that he could always make someone else perform this task. Nodding to himself, he tried to decide on which of his staff he was to have them dry and scrape of the salt, while making sure they didn't set fire to the kitchen proper.

Lt. Mackenzie Hawkins removed her helmet as she set foot on the bustling flight deck, holding it by the chin strap as she ruffled her brown hair, trying her best to fix the inevitable helmet-hair she had obtained. She had gradually grown accustomed to spending long periods of time flying for the past little while, but it was still nice to finally get out of the cramped cockpit of the Angel. The return of standard CAP would be a welcome change of pace for everyone she was sure.

"Damn, does it feel great knowing that we can take a break or what?" Joker said, completing his statement with a yawn as he sidled up beside Hawkins. "You know the first thing I'm gonna do? Take a nice, long shower."

"Yeah. God knows you need one, Joker," Mackenzie laughed, wrinkling her nose with mock disgust.

"Shut up, you," the other pilot laughed as well, though he raised his arm and sniffed at his armpit. "Whew," he said pinching his nose. "I do, actually."

"Classy."

"Aren't I always?" Joker grinned. "Anyways, I'm gonna go check out a flight roster and then take that much needed shower. See you later," he said, jogging down the flight deck.

She gave a little wave before concealing a large yawn with her hand. She'd heard yawns were contagious, but she always seemed to catch Joker's without fail.

"Blades, I hope you’re adjusting well to being out of the lap of luxury," said Lt. Commander Aiden "Roamer" Morrow as he approached, a mocking smirk visibly tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I mean, I know that we’re not your plush and comfortable flagship, but at least now you get a chance to see how real pilots fly.”

"Ha-ha. Keep talkin', Roamer," Hawkins grinned back as Aiden glanced through a flight roster, though she was slightly embarrassed that her jaw-cracking yawn had been witnessed. "Just because I served as a personnel shuttle pilot doesn't mean I still can't whoop the ass of every other pilot here. And that might just include yours," she added playfully.

Despite being her superior, Mackenzie often found herself exchanging sarcastic banter with Morrow, whose naturally laid back and calm personality made him comfortable to be around and talk with -- maybe a bit too comfortable sometimes, as she had occasionally been reprimanded for her informality, but she'd always had trouble with commanding authority anyways.

Lt. Cmdr. Aiden “Roamer” Morrow
Flight Deck, EDF Atlas

“We don’t find any creepy crawlies to shoot before long and you just might get your chance,” Morrow shot back to Hawkins before handing the junior officer the flight roster. The same information would be posted in the Briefing Room adjacent to Flight Barracks, but getting exhaustion didn’t lend itself well to patience for any of them.

“Long time no see, Commander,” a voice from behind Morrow spoke, causing him to wheel around quickly and find the matured appearance of Lucy Caspian in the full uniform of a Lieutenant Commander from Intelligence Division. Out of instinct, Aiden offered a salute to his old friend. Even though they were the same rank, Morrow had just received his promotion days before and Intelligence officers were usually given a wide berth of authority.

He hadn’t seen Lucy Caspian in quite some time. On Triton Station the two Echo cadets had been a formidable opponent for anyone challenging for Ender’s Legacy, but their careers had split since the outbreak of the war. Now she was here on the flight deck of Morrow’s own assigned ship. The mildly-tempered look of shock on the pilot’s face was enough to convey the surprise of finding her there.

“Chasing ghosts, Commander,” he finally kicked out as his hand dropped back down to his side. “Rabbit and I hit four NavPoints and didn’t even find a thing. I don’t think Blades and Joker did much better. Looks like we really are all alone out here.”

Opening up his stance, Aiden turned back to Mackenzie Hawkins for a moment and glances between the two women. Blades and Lucy couldn’t be any more different if they tried – Caspian on the fast track for promotions and command whereas Hawkins was a Angel dog just like Morrow and, given her need to speak her mind, was probably going to be working cockpits for the rest of her military career.

"No need for the salute Commander," Lucy said letting out a small laugh at Aidens slightly shocked face, he really had no idea she was on board, had he? She didn't blame him though, what with the state of chaos the place had been since entering the Karras system.

"Damn," She muttered at the lack of information, "Looks like we might have to send the troupes ground-side soon." Intelligence had been hoping for more information from aerial first before starting ground recon but it was starting to seem like a slim chance that anything else was going to turn up soon.

Although it didn't show on Lucy's face she let out a mental sigh. She'd been here six days and she'd already hit a dead end. This had never happened before and it was really beginning to frustrate her. No, she couldn't be deterred like this, it just meant she had to work harder. More sleepless nights she guessed. She was usually running on three hours as it was so it wasn't much difference to her.

Looking over at the woman Aiden had been talking to before she has arrived, Lucy quickly sized her up trying to figure why she seemed so familiar. "Hey, you used to be from Alpha, didn't you?" She said as it dawned on her who it was, vaguely remembering her as the girl from the Alpha team always seemed to have a lot of attitude. "Your last name is Hawkins, right? I'm Lucy Caspian, Intelligences new tactical commander," she said trying to appear as friendly as she could, this was a bit difficult considering the fact she had been playing the stoic faced commander all day but god knows she needed to start seeming more approachable. She barely knew anyone on the ship yet and didn't need anymore word getting around that she was an ice-queen.

"Still no patients, Harper?" Lt. Revell said as she read the medical log. She was a very neat and orderly woman, well disciplined one could say. Her hair was perfectly done and her uniform was just as neat, but she still seemed edgy, or perhaps restless.
"No ma'am." Sgt. Mjr. Harper said as she sat at her desk.
"People are too healthy on this ship." Revell grumbled as she sat down at her own desk and sifted through paper work. "Think I could spread the plague around? It'd give us some work." Revell said after a moment, but after seeing Harper's face she added, "I'm kidding, I'm just tired of nothing to do. I think I'm going to go do some PT or something for a while."
"But we trained just this morning." Harper said, she didn't want to be left here with nothing to do either.
"Yeah, but that was just everyday training." Revell said as she started to leave, "Call me if you need me."
"I don't think I will need to." Harper said as she left.

As she walked down the hall Elaine noticed that it seemed as if everyone else was busy. People were running through the halls, trying to get their work done, but if a doctor didn't have patients, they didn't have work to do. So Revell just moved on, stopping in her quarters for a quick moment to change into her PT gear and then went off to the gym. In the gym, she quickly hopped onto the treadmill alongside another soldier. "Hey," She said with a slight nod as she programmed the machine and started running.
"Hey."
"How far are you running for?"
"I'm aiming for 8 miles, you?"
"I like five miles, it's a good number." Revell said as she looked back ahead of her. She was one for idle conversation, it made life a little more interesting. It helped that she was rather active and could be social if she wanted to. Mostly, she couldn't sit still ever.

((Sorry, this is all I have really. I've always hated introductions.))

Mackenzie looked up from the flight roster as the woman talking briefly with Aiden addressed her.

"Hey, you used to be from Alpha, didn't you?" the woman asked. "Your last name is Hawkins, right? I'm Lucy Caspian, Intelligences new tactical commander."

Lucy was slightly taller than her, and from what she could tell, about the same age. She seemed a little bit on the uptight side, but she was making an effort to be friendly, so Mackenzie decided to return the greeting with a little less sass than she might normally dish out and more respect. Besides, intelligence was a difficult job, more so in the Karras system from what she had heard from others in that section. It probably didn't help that their recon missions continued to be flops as well.

"Yeah, I was an Alpha Dog. I'm Lieutenant Mackenzie Hawkins, aviator extraordinaire," she confirmed, flashing a mischievous grin as she tucked her helmet under her arm and shifted the flight roster into that hand so she could offer her own salute to the woman. "Nice to meet you, Commander." She was slightly shocked that Lucy knew her, but then again, she did deal with Intelligence, so maybe she shouldn't be so surprised.

Pierce stood up and walked toward the door. "I'm heading to the gym."

"Big surprise." Bumper said sarcastically. "You go before every assignment, we don't even know if we're going yet."

Pierce just ignored the comment as he walked out the door. Unlike his team, Pierce went to the gym as much as possible, mostly before a mission was about to be issued. He was already in his PT clothes and the gym wasn't a long walk away. As he came up to the double doors of the gym, he spotted his newest addition to his team. SGT. Luke Mercer, his new Automatic Rifleman. He was dressed in PT clothes and headed to the gym as well. As Mercer spotted pierce he quickly saluted. "Master Chief!"

Pierce hid a sigh and addressed the young man. "At ease." Mercer dropped his hand but kept ant attention. "I said at ease SGT."

Mercer loosened at exhaled. "Thank you chief."

Pierce nodded. Now that the formalities were aside it was easier to talk to the new gunner. "Heading to the gym Mercer?"

Mercer nodded. "Yes chief. thought I would get some training in for when we are finally sent planet side."

Pierce nodded. "Same here, come on, you can spot for me." Pierce said pushing the double doors of the gym open.

"Yes chief." Mercer said following.

Pierce walked up to an empty weight bench, waiting for Mercer to walk over. When he did Pierce pointed to the wall mounted weights. "100 pounds on each side. I'll start low."

Mercer nodded and walked over to the weights picking up a 100 pound on in both hands and walking back to the bench with it. He placed it on one side of the bar and then did the same to the other side. Pierce laid down on the padded rest and placed his hands evenly apart on the bar. "Spot." Mercer walked over and placed his hands around the middle of the bar, helping Pierce lift it off of the rest. Pierce brought it to his chest and nodded, Mercer taking his hands off the bar but keeping them ready in case needed. Pierce took a deep breath and began to push the bar upward. He continued to pump the weight, breathing in when the the bar came to his chest and out when lifting it.

"So when do you think we will be sent planet side chief?" Mercer asked after Pierce had finished his rep. He had done 100 lifts and was sweating all over and his forehead was red.

Pierce sat up on the rest and and turned to Mercer. "Soon Mercer, the flight recon has returned and we have returned to standard CAP." He took a towel off the bench and wiped his brow with it. "We are just waiting for authorization from the captain. Once she gives the go-ahead, we will be on the first shuttle off."

Mercer nodded. "Have you heard the reports from the recon yet chief?"

Pierce shook his head. "Not yet Mercer, not yet." He stood up and took a drink from his water bottle.

By the time the two men came in, Revell and the man had gotten into a rather in depth conversation about exercise habits and so on. She was on her third mile now, and was a little winded and so their conversation paused for a moment while she tried to catch her breath. When she caught her breath again she said, "How long do you think we'll be in this fix?"

"Fix?"

"Yeah, you know, there's nothing out here, no work, no nothing. I'm tired of just sitting around. I know most doctors would say they love when they don't have any patients. Well, I'm not like that. I like to work, maybe not so much where people's lives are in danger, but is a cold too much to ask for? What department do you work for anyway?" She said, her words were very broken between breaths.

"Communications, so I generally have work to do."

"I could only wish." She said as she paused the machine to take a quick water break. Then hear the words "planet side" and "first shuttle off," she came over to the two men. "Hey, sorry to interrupt, but I couldn't help but hear you guys talk about going planet side. You boys infantry?" She asked, mostly curious, after hearing that they'd be the first out, about who their combat medic was. If she knew, she might be able to trade assignments, she was sure Harper could handle working for another doctor for awhile. Elaine just wanted something productive to do, that was all.

Acting Ensign (and how he hated the "Acting" part of the title) Lewis Mason would have liked to have marched smartly up towards Lieutenant Revell and saluted. Unfortunately, the fact that every step he took shot an agonizing wave of pain up along his leg rather mitigated against correct naval protocol. He was reduced to a sort of half-hobble, half-march, covering ground at less than half of his normal pace. Though his uniform was immaculate, his bearing was far less than ideal. However, by gritting his teeth, he was able to ignore the pain in his left ankle enough to at least come properly to attention in front of the lieutenant, and wait deferentially until she deigned to notice him.

It was even harder to maintain a properly respectful position. He assumed that eye-contact would be regarded as disrespectful to a superior, but adopting the normal eyes-down position resulted in him staring right at Lieutenant Revell's breasts. Dipping his gaze lower took it to her groin (which was covered in slightly sweaty, creased PT fatigues, for she had been working out hard), and looking further down shifted his look to her attractive legs. which were pumping furiously as she ran on the machine. Finally, he jerked his head upwards again and focused on a point just above and behind her head. Surely he couldn't go wrong with that. He remembered what a fellow-cadet at Triton Station had told him. He'd met the lieutenant briefly, during a cadet posting. She's a cold bitch. Orders are everything to her. Excellent officer, though, he'd conceded grudgingly. The cadet had neglected to mention just how stunningly beautiful the lieutenant was! Well, poor Cadet Wright was now dead, along with the rest of them. As I should be, too, mused the Acting Ensign. Instead of getting promotion by default.

He continued to stand to attention, fighting back the waves of pain. The night before, when he'd twisted his ankle during a wrestling bout with one of the Marines, he'd thought nothing of it - had even gone on to tie the bout, which, against a marine, was not bad going. He'd reported for his watch on time (as always) and performed his duties to the satisfaction of the his superiors. It had only been when he'd had to move quickly to check an incoming series of figures on a monitor at the other end of the bridge that the injury had, belatedly, made its presence felt. He'd started off at his normal smart pace, felt a sudden twinge, and collapsed in an undignified heap on the deck. The Captain had immediately (and quite understandably) demanded an explanation, and ordered the Ensign to seek out the Doctor immediately. Though he hadn't given specific instructions, Ensign Mason had assumed that, given the situation, he would be required to ask Dr Revell to what she could to get him back on duty as soon as possible. A few days of bunk-rest was not the option it would be if the ship were fully manned.

He stood to attention, hoping the pain would not get any worse.

Lt. Cmdr. Aiden “Roamer” Morrow
EDF Atlas – Flight Deck

A wave of relief seemed to wash over the flight deck as the order was spread for the crew to return to a standard CAP and cease the extensive recon effort. From the tension of the battle at Melchoir to the fear of what could possibly be waiting on the other side of the gate to the exhaustion of desperately trying to find anything in the darkness, the crew had been run ragged up to this point. Morrow knew that it wasn’t just the flight deck and its crew, but that was where the pain was hitting home at this point.

“Blades here is a transfer over from the Endeavor along with a couple of other pilots that shuffled in. They’re getting spread out among our normal Wings and I’m just lucky enough to have gotten and old Alpha Dog,” he said with a smirk. If anyone had heard enough about Morrow’s complaining and trash talking about the Alpha Dogs during his time at Triton, it was Caspian. That was five years ago, though.

“Fact of the matter is that we’re still spinning to get used to all the new faces and assignments,” he said aloud to both of them before leaning in to Caspian with a lower voice. “It’s a mess. I didn’t even recognize a good third of the pilots in the flight briefing this morning.” That was when Morrow’s words were cut off by a klaxon and a voice broadcast throughout the ship.

All Wing Commanders are required to support their flight data and recon report to the Captain immediately to prepare for surface insertion. All surface units are to prepare for duty by 0400.

“Well, looks like duty calls,” Morrow said to the two women as he took a step away.

“Commander,” he acknowledges with a knowing smile to Lucy. Something about having her on the ship was comforting considering that he’d literally gone crazy for a while and then barely escaped with his life last time he saw the woman. There was some catching up to do.

“And Blades, don’t you get too comfortable. I’ve got a pair of new flight boots that says you can’t stay within five points next time we clear the deck for a game,” Aiden called out as he jumped onto one of the ladders leading up from the flight deck.

A tap on the shoulder from the man she'd been chatting with, brought the Ensign to her attention. How long had he been standing there? Revell couldn't help but feel a little guilty for not noticing the poor boy. Quickly she returned the salute and said to the other men, "Excuse me gentlemen, it seems I have work to do." Then she turned to the Ensign again and took a quick moment to assess the situation. The name tag gave her his name, and a trained eye saw the pain behind his bearing, the bead of sweat forming on his brow helped too.

"What seems to be the problem, Ensign Mason?" She asked, because it never helped to assume. Although she appeared quite calm and serious, she was actually quite excited at the prospect of possibly having a patient. It was about time she had something to do. A patient meant treatment, paperwork, check-ups, etc. One patient could keep her at least somewhat busy for a while, so naturally she was excited.

Rosslyn sat alone in the communications room, watching the still green line on the black monitor in front of her. The green line used to wiggle like a frantic snake on the screen when they were close to others, but it was dead now with no contact. Every hour she sent out a new message in the seemingly empty endliness of space, both in English and French reporting who they were and their coordinates. There was a hunch that a French speaking barge vessel was out there in the Karas System yet so far her messages fell on the deaf ears of the stars.
A soft beeping sound broke the silence in the room and Rosslyn peered down at her watch that flashed the time at her in blue. It was now her turn to take break from the mind-numbing silence of the radio room. She removed the heavy head set and straightened her unauthorized green bandana that kept her hair from falling into her eyes. Her replacement, a tall burly man, walked into the room whom she greeted with chipper, "How do you do?"

He glanced at her and gave an annoyed grunt, then sat down at his monitor.
"That's great. Well I'm going now, I'll see you later Jeff." she said with a smile and wave, ignoring his rolling eyes and walking out the door.

Rosslyn went to the cafeteria where she always found time to go before meal. She ritually did this to try to convince one of the lower status chefs or Sargeant Aims to keep the meat on her plate and put something else on instead. This was getting harder since they were out in the middle of nowhere and people were being watched more closely for hoarding. She slid herself over the counter where the food was served at the front of the cafeteria and knocked on the swinging kitchen doors lightly. The lower chefs or Sargeant Aims were usually ready to answer her knock in a heartbeat, but this time there was no immidiate reply and she knocked again.

"My pardon for interrupting your recreation, Ma'am," said Ensign Mason, trying not to show how much pain he was in. "The Captain ordered me to report to you immediately. I did something to my ankle yesterday, and it seemed to suddenly flare up a few minutes ago. Erm - Ma'am, I hoped you'd have some kind of pain killer, I really need to get back to the bridge, and-"

He continued to stand to attention as well as he was able - but it was a losing battle. Suddenly his traitorous ankle gave way entirely, and he collapsed. Surprisingly, he didn't feel any shame as he hit the floor... he'd stood the pain as long as anyone could have expected, he felt, and since the Captain was too old a hand to be fooled by malingerers, he knew Doctor Revell would know he wasn't shamming.

"I apologize, Ma'am," he hissed, through clenched teeth, trying to scramble to his feet. He could feel the blood draining from his face. But he knew he wouldn't black out. He regretted trying to struggle through the day after the injury. If he'd only had the sense to report sick as soon as it had occurred, he wouldn't have exacerbated the situation. By his own stupidity he'd turned what might have been a painful situation into an agonizing one. Still, at least he wouldn't lose consciousness. His brow felt soaking. But at least he-

And then everything was black.

"Get that food onto the buffet line, do you hear me?" Adam howled at several cooks who had decided, only moments ago, that now was a good time for a break. The cooks jumped, saluted, and hustled back into the kitchen, where everyone was dispensing the food into trays. He had face-palmed himself when the last cook returned to their station, resuming their work for the front line. "You can take a break when your dead," he called over his shoulder, causing a few smirks and smiles among his crew. Sighing softly, he ran his hand under his hat, then went in search of a sink with which to wash his hands in. After a brief moment, he reemerged to find that nearly everything was in place, and raised an eyebrow. "You truly do wish to have a break, don't you?" A few heads nodded vigorously, and several of them stared at him, waiting for his response.

"If you want a break," he began, then pointed at the salad station, "then explain to me as to why the salad station has no ice, why the soup station isn't turned on, or why," he stopped as a voice came over the speakers of the ship. All Wing Commanders are required to support their flight data and recon report to the Captain immediately to prepare for surface insertion. All surface units are to prepare for duty by 0400. Chuckling softly, he rolled his shoulders, and cracked his knuckles with a smile. "Looks like we're going top side for a time, people." This cause a good many groans, as well as a few cheers.

"However," a finger was raised, "Only one quarter of us will be heading down with the ship, and I am one of them." Adam could almost hear the cheer within their minds, and continued with, "Sergeant Anna will be staying, and you all know how much she hates slackers." Those closest to him shivered at the thought. Some time ago, Sergeant Anna had found someone slacking off, and threw a cast iron skillet at them. The person was still in a slight coma because of it. The accident was marked off as just that, an accident, and he had reminded them that if she disappears, he'll replace her with someone worse. Smiling at the memory, he continued, "Now then. Get back to work, and I'll sound the lunch bell. I want to get this over with before starting on dinner. Do you get me?" Everyone within the kitchen roared with, "We get you sir!"

He made his escape, into his small office, but it was still an escape, and sat down in his chair. Sighing heavily at the thought of the paperwork that was soon to come, he reached over to his speaker phone, took a deep breath, and flipped the ON switch. "Attention all crew members on board the EDF Atlas," he began, "Lunch will begin within fifteen minutes after I have completed my statement. Today we have," he took out his menu for the day, the same menu they've been using for the past two years, "Fried fish and chips, shredded beef shoulder and au jus with the accompanying roll and green vegetable, as well as the chef's specialty. Today, the specialty is a meat lover's pizza. Our soup and salad bars are well stocked, along with the fruit and beverage isle. That is all." He flipped the off switch quickly, and made sure it was off. The thought of the crew overhearing something private was always weighing heavily on his mind. Shaking his head slowly, he stood up and walked out of his office, ready to greet the madness that awaited him beyond his kitchen.

"I think you need more than a painkiller." She said as he surprised her by suddenly hitting the floor. "Woah, slow down, you don't want to-" She continued as he tried to get up again, but too late, he was out. Personally, she'd never seen anyone faint over a an ankle before, so she instantly thought it was something a little more serious. Quickly, she pulled the man's arm around her shoulder and heaved his weight up off the floor. Revell was amazed at how much easier this was when she had adrenaline pumping through her.

"Here, let me help." The man she'd been talking with said as he took Mason's other arm and pulled it around his shoulder. It was the polite thing to do after.

"Thanks, we need to get him to the medical bay." She said as she felt some of the weight lifted off of her. They started for the door.

"The one on this floor right?"

"Naturally." Elaine said with a nod as they made their way down the hall. When they reached the medical bay, Harper quickly came out to help Revell take the patient to one of the hospital beds. "Thanks for the help, Mr..." She said to the man, breaking off for a name.

"Corporal Hansen, and it was no problem." Hansen said as he left.

"So what's the deal here?" Harper said as Revell came back over to treat the man. They had him up on the bed in the anatomical position, body straight, feet beside each other, head up, arms beside his body and palms up.

"His name is Ensign Mason, he collapsed after reporting to me in the gym with ankle troubles." Revell said as she went and picked up strong smelling salts, she found it was the best way to bring someone around without giving them anything. It was ideal before pulling up medical files and finding out what was wrong. "Harper, bring up his medical file for me while I bring him around," Elaine said as she waved the open jar of salts under Mason's nose.

Finally someone came to the door of the kitchen and a young chef poked his head out of the kitchen.

"Sorry Rosslyn, we're a bit busy back here." the chef whispered to her.
"That's fine, do you think you can get me the fried fish with extra chips for lunch?" Rosslyn asked, "I'll save the fish and give it to you when you come out to eat."

Someone dropped a pan in the background causing the young chef to jump and look back over his shoulder, "I-I don't know Ross. Sargeant Aims just got caught hoarding some salt. I think Sargeant Major Alexander's catching onto us."

"Oh please, sargeant major Alexander's too busy to notice something like this. He prolly thinks it's an isolated incident. C'mon, don't you want some extra meat? More protien makes physical training so much easier."

"Well I'm not taking any chances the sargeant does know.. You don't realize how tough this guy can be on us! I do not want to get on his bad side. You're on your own Ross, sorry."
"Wait, c'mon we can work something out-" Rosslyn tried pleading, but the boy pulled himself back into the kitchen before he could hear her out.

The lunch announcement came over the intercom, the same announcement that had been played for the past two years. She huffed. No! No more! She couldn't stand to hear that announcement anymore with the same menu! If she couldn't work something out behind the scenes completely against the rules to get what she wanted, she'd just have to see if legitely negotiating would work. She swung open the swinging kitchen doors, nearly knocking over one of the kitchen helpers balancing a tray of rolls. Several people slowed or stopped their work as Rosslyn weaved her way through the kitchen towards Adam Alexander's office. She stopped in front of his door and took a deep breath. She raised her white knuckled fist ready to knock when the door to the office opened unexpectedly.

"Oh! Sargeant Major Alexander. Hi, uh.." she lowered her fist, then realized she forgot to salute and did so promptly. "Can I talk to you?" She pushed her glasses back up her nose once she was done saluting and looked up at him.

All Wing Commanders are required to support their flight data and recon report to the Captain immediately to prepare for surface insertion. All surface units are to prepare for duty by 0400.

Pierce heard the announcement and stood off the bench. "Mercer, you heard it, lets get back to our quarters and get ready by 0300 hours." Pierce began to walk toward the gym doors.

"Yes chief." Mercer said following him.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Finally we're getting off this hunk of junk." Bumper said strapping on his vest. "Maybe we will find something the pilots didn't and make them look bad."

"Lets just get the job done." Pirece said adjusting the rest of his gear. Like always, he had finished getting ready first. "We need a new combat medic. Deryl was killed in the battle."

Goose nodded. "I know, his kid just turned two last week as well." He said shaking his head.

Bumper finished adjusting his gear and looked at Boxer. "What will you be bringing this time?"

"Standard weaponry. We aren't sure whats down there so no need to bring anything large." Boxer replied.

"Any idea when we will be called to briefing?" Goose said sitting on his bunk.

"0400 was our scheduled time. Somewhere just before then." Peirce said walking over to Bumper. "As for the medic, we will come to that when we cross it."

Somewhere in the Empty Expanse of Space, Outer edges of the Milky Way Galaxy

"I am dying Alaxel." Came the disembodied voice in the darkness. It was both faint and thunderous, for while it was the voice of someone in the embrace of death, it played directly in Alaxel's mind. From the moment he was old enough to traverse the floor of his nursery, that voice had been a constant in his life. His one and only true companion, for unlike the rest of his people, all that he was could be shared with the owner of that voice.

"Damn it Vlanisana, you are not going to die! We're almost there! We can make it!" screamed Alaxel, both in his mind and vocally as the sound of his voice reverberated back towards him in the darkness of Vlanisana's dead bridge. Unabashed tears and desperate pleading ringed his emotions.

They had been shifting for seventy two hours now, without a single stop to recharge. Normally an unthinkable act, their shared desperation made such haste paramount to both their survival and that of their mission. They were the last ones left from the team that the High Council had selected from the Left Hand to investigate a disturbance in the Local Gate Network of this galaxy. They were supposed to come in, recalibrate the master singularity, and depart from the galaxy without coming into contact with any of the races that might populate it. A routine task, one that they had performed thousands of times all over their assigned Supercluster without a problem.

Until now, when an old enemy resurfaced. They had to reach the High Council, the news had to be spread, and the old wards restored. They could not fail, their whole race, and possibly all of life as they knew it hinged on the balance. But sometimes, the burden is just too heavy for a single set of shoulders to bear.
"Hush little one. You and I have shared a good life together. We both knew it was to end sometimes, such is the way of things. But while it is my time, it is not yours. Much hinges in the balance" came the pained voice of the one he loved above all others. He could feel it as well as he could feel the beating of his own heart.

The near audible silence on the bridge was suddenly shattered by a shirll crick-crack sound, as if a heavy burden had been placed atop a thin sheet of ice and spidery crack were crisscrossing on it's surface. That was exactly what was happening as Vlanisana's hull began to crack under the strain of the continuous shifting they were undergoing. Alaxel could feel every single rupture as if his own skin was shattering in a million places. Figures and numbers were invading his mind. Trajectory vectors, energy levels, along with a request from his neural strata to begin the process of sending his personality core to the nearest habitat personality. He almost laughed through the pain as this forgotten automatic request came to his attention. They were nowhere near Va'nyrian space, and there were no habitats within three galaxies to this one. Death here would absolute for them.

Suddenly a hard tug came at Alaxel's chest as his seat locked itself into an ejection position and a thin membrane began to seal him into a makeshift pod. "NO! I WILL NOT! STOP THIS!" screamed Alaxel, the message only carrying in his mind as the membrane reached his face and began to extend the life support module down his throat. "I'm sorry to do this little one. But I cannot allow you to accompany to my end. Even if all odds are against it, I must hold to the hope that you will survive." replied Vlanisana in a calming voice as Alaxel began to lose his consciousness.

With a jarring motion, Vlanisana opened another distortion field within the one they had been shifting through, propelling them an untold number light-years away instantaneously. A maneuver frowned upon and difficult even in optimal conditions; The final nail in her metaphorical coffin in their current ones.

The Karas System, One AU away from the planet Karas II

A rip in space and time punctuated by a heavy shower of escaping photons marked the point where Vlanisana dropped out of FTL and emerged from the distortion field enveloping her. By this point in time her hull was almost to the point of cracking like an eggshell due to not having the energy left in her jump nodes to maintain the necessary protective distortion field to counter the strain of FTL travel. On top of that, soon the backlash of all of the accumulated Vacuum energy from the millions of light years she just jumped would soon ironically fill her energy nodes past capacity and end in a catastrophic explosion which would end her life.

All of this Alaxel knew, and as he strained to remain conscious, he could feel the energy building up inside his beloved companion. Tears ran freely down his cheek as he uncharacteristically begged some great unseen force to make this stop and save her. Suddenly he felt a great pressure over him as he was jettisoned in his "cocoon" out into space, moving at nearly 40 g's before being enveloped in a distortion field which stopped his momentum. Vlanisana's last gesture, right before her demise.

"Good bye little one. Live and be the pride of our people. I love you." Those where the last words Alaxel heard, whispered into his mind before the one solid connection he had ever felt for all of his life was cut abruptly. The pain of the severing was greater than any physical pain he would withstand, and within seconds his very mind shut off against it, leaving him a hollow shell of the being he was. Then there was nothing but darkness.

Energy levels moved past the threshold of possibility, attempting to reach infinity. With no field to guide it, the energy was free to escape in all directions, and total matter annihilation happened. In a blinding photonic display Vlanisana simply ceased to exist. Neural arrays were fried in a true instant. There was no pain.

Near the site of residual radiation floated Alaxel's "cocoon". With it's occupant unconscious, the cocoon's sub-sentient neural array began to broadcast a distress signal over the Va'nyrian affinity band which blanketed the entire system completely. Hearing no reply, the cocoon decided the best course of action would be to activate it's gamma transmitter and began to send out a simplified distress call into the local space. Coded for it's simplicity, and after determining the nature of the last observed life in the area, the cocoon tailored this message after ones it had heard in the past. "SOS" screamed into the void.

Lucy smiled and saluted back, Mackenzie seemed like a nice enough person and she couldn't help but feel relieved that the woman had given her first name due to the fact that she had previously only vaguely remembered her last. "good to meet you too Lieutenant," she said nodding her head before turning to listen to Morrow.

"Never thought i'd hear you say that," Lucy said letting out a small smirk at his remark, having known Aiden well enough back on Triton she was well aware of his old views on Alphas. It was funny how much rivalries between companies had mattered back then, and how little they did now that they were all on the same team.

Frowning, Lucy was cut off as she was about to comment on his talk of all the new crew members.

"All Wing Commanders are required to support their flight data and recon report to the Captain immediately to prepare for surface insertion. All surface units are to prepare for duty by 0400."

Great, that meant more work for her too. She knew the Captain herself was going to be giving the briefing but she'd have to be present and ready to bring up information as it was all done. Well, at least it was work that wasn't futile.

"Good luck with everything. We'll have to catch up later." Lucy said smiling back then turning to Mackenzie, "Well i've got to go get ready for the briefing, it was nice meeting you," She said nodding her head with a smile, "It's good to have another Triton person around." Exiting the Flight Deck she sighed as the food announcement came on, there went all of her hopes of eating a proper meal.

Cadet Mason was walking into the rec area at Triton station. Inside, he could hear the usual noise made by off-duty cadets. Dirk Zanefic and "Grinner" Gissing playing one of their million games of ping-pong. Adeline Short at the com-games, the console bleeping and screaming, the cadet cursing as she failed to make a level. Robsie Rosenthal chewing the fat with Heath Diggins. Arnie Wright and Traves Elder arguing over the legality of a 3d chess move. Maree Watkins declaiming her poetry aloud to anyone who would listen - and some that wouldn't. He relaxed, his day's duty done, ready to enter into the socialities of the evening.

But something was different about the normally immaculate white deco of the walls. They were black with scorch-marks. Part of the walls were ghostly, opaque, as if they only half existed. His boots crunched over cinders as he walked. And when the auto-door slid open -

There they were.

"Here he comes," booms a hollow voice, the voice of a skeleton. Heath Diggins, the charred flesh hanging from his skeleton, his skull grinning obscenely. "Here's the coward! The one that got away!"
"Come play with us," giggles Adeline Short, her bony pelvis swinging, still with the long blond hair and the cadet cap at a crazy angle, though the rest of her is bone and black flesh.
They cry out to him, mock-tones of welcome, in grinning death-voices. "Here's Mace! Here's the one that escaped." "Not good enough for you, are we, your bunkmates? Not good enough to die with?" "Did you hear? He wouldn't stay to face what the rest of us faced! He was at home, having a great old time, while we-"

"No! No!" He screams. "I was ordered home. Compassionate leave. My brother-"

"Come play with us," they scream. Hollow, skeletal voices, a travesty of the voices they had when alive and unburned. Traves Elder and Robsie Rosenthal hold him, either side, in a vice-like grip, march him towards the flames that have sprung up on the far side of the hall, where the vid-screens should be. Skeletal hands reach to paw at his flesh. "Come and burn, like us all!"

"NO! No! NNNOOOOOO!"

*****

The acrid smell of the salts assault his nostrils. The hazy face of Lieutenant Revell focuses before his terrified eyes. It's the same nearly every sleep. The same dream, but this time it was more vivid.
He knows now why the dream was so string this time. He's read up on what's been happening to him. Conversion Trauma, the medi-texts call it. If his body is totally fit and uninjured, he's fine, as if his conscious brain knows there's nothing wrong. But let him suffer an injury, a sprain, a stomach-ache, a stubbed toe - and he collapses, fiery pain burning through him, as if the ghosts of his dead friends are able to gain egress to his body and mind, and punish him for escaping where they burned. It's why he'd forced down all thoughts of the injury to his ankle. If he allowed himself to accept the minor pain was there... and when the injury had caught up with him, it was the worst attack to his psyche he'd yet experienced.

He continues to scream, though he is awake. He clutches convulsively at Doctor Revell, then comes to full consciousness, gets himself under control. He falls back, exhausted, onto the sheets, already wet with his sweat. Shamefaced, he allows himself to relax, as he comes awake, ashamed of his fear at a mere nightmare. The pain has gone from his ankle - would probably be almost gone anyway, without whatever pain-killer she's probably shot into it. But the fear remains.

And he knows he deserves it, too. He lived, when they died. He should have been there when they burned.

Back in the radio communications room, Jeff had begun to dose off only moments after sitting down in the calm silence of the radio room. He slumped backwards in his chair with his head tilted all the way back, the headphones slipping off his ears. The green line on the screen in front of him wiggled and a soft noise made its way into his headphones. This did not wake the slumbering man. A few seconds later, the line jumped and a screech bleared into the headphones.

"SOS!" the staticy disembodied voice rang into Jeff's ears

Jeff jerked awake, "SOS? Huh?" He sat up and straightened his headset. The green line continued to make waves across the screen with a faint radio wave. He pressed the button on the mic in front of him and spoke,

"This is the EDF Atlas, did we just recieve a distress call? Over."

There was no reply. Could it have been the french barge vessel? Perhaps they didn't have an English speaker aboard and he didn't know a lick of French.. Except Rosslyn. Of all the times the useless girl was gone, wasn't her break over already?

He ran over to the intercom on the other side of the room and cleared his throat before pressing the button.

"Rosslyn Jones, please report back to the Radio Room immediately! Rosslyn Jones! An outside SOS signal has been recieved!"

---

"Merda!" exclaimed Rosslyn stomping her foot and looking up at the intercom then back to Sargeant Major Alexander, "'Scuse my Italian Sargeant Major Alexander, duty calls! But I do have something important to talk to you about. Trust me, it's REALLY important! I'll catch you later!"

She winked at him and bolted out of the kitchen back to the Radio room.

"What is it Jeff?! Someone called? Of all the times for there to be action!" Rosslyn said as soon as she burst into the room.

"I believe it's the French Barge Vessel, le poo..poo..ter.." Jeff stumbled over his pronunciation of the vessel.

"Le Pouteur." Rosslyn corrected him.

"Yeah, whatever. They sent out an SOS. Now do your thing." he ordered pointing to the headset.

Rosslyn took over the mic and headset and began to speak in French to the supposed French Barge Vessel, "Le Pouteur, this is EDF Atlas naval vessel. We have just recieved your distress call. What is your location?"

Revell jumped back, the salts leaping out of the jar and spilling to the floor, as he screamed in what seemed to be hysterics and trying to grab hold of her. This is a lot of trouble over an ankle, She couldn't help but think, as she moved back to put the jar on her desktop. "Alright, Mason, now that you're awake, I'll take a look at that ankle. Then you can explain, or try to explain what just happened here. Which ankle is it?" She asked.

Meanwhile, Harper was looking up his file, and as if reading Revell's mind, looked for any psychological problems. Alright, so really it was only common sense to look up any problems like that. Finding nothing, she came over and whispered in Elaine's ear that there were no psychological problems on record. Revell nodded and Harper went to the other side of the bed to assist if needed. Revell was a little disappointed at finding this out, it meant that either there was a serious problem with his ankle, or there was a serious problem with him.

((Correct me if I have anything wrong.))