Snippet #1277520

Beyond the reinforced silicate glass of the little window beside Lara's bunk, the bulk of the SGS Manitoba loomed out of the blackness. From far away, it looked beautiful- the unshielded light of the system's star flamed off the titanium hull, brighter and more spectacularly than any of the specks of light that dusted its backdrop. As they came closer, it began to acquire a well-used ugliness that was peculiar to human-built space vessels. Here a part of the hull had been replaced, the new shell slightly less scuffed than the rest, there one of the docking lights flickered on and off to the tune of a faulty connection. Closer still and she could see tiny people passing back and forth past the observation windows. What had appeared to be serene and perfect from a distance was in fact hectic and dog-eared now it could be better examined.

Once Lara was aware of this, she lost interest in the view from the porthole. Turning to look sceptically at her sleeping area, she double-checked its appearance. The bed was pristine, the sheets folded with precision and the rough felt blanket turned over and tucked neatly into the end of the mattress. The floor and side-table was as spotless as an operating theatre. One of her two bags was packed. The first held her civilian clothes (the few that she had brought with her), toiletries and her uniform. The second was due to hold her surgical tools, sterilising equipment and vitals monitors which were arranged in order on her bed, ready to be packed. Undoubtedly SG would expect to provide her with such items from their own store but Lara would be declining. She knew this equipment, knew how it worked, knew it was the best money could buy, at least back on Earth. All of these things meant it was far more valuable to her in the field than some communal standard-issue device dished out unthinkingly by headquarters to all their medics. Smoothing down her skirt (unsurprisingly, after the first day on-ship none of the men had dared to comment on her civilian dress), she set to work.

She was in the middle of placing each of these items into her bag (in a precise order, with each in their own compartment) when she was interrupted by the proclamation that an officer was on deck.

With a brief glance of exasperation towards the ceiling, Lara stood up and turned to salute with only just enough rapidity not to be called out by whichever officer had decided to make such an ill-timed appearance. Adhering to rank was something she viewed as necessary but tiresome. Of course, it was needed for the proper functioning of any kind of paramilitary organisation but for the effective practice of medicine... It tended to get in the way.

From the stripes on his shoulder, Lara realised that the man who had entered the barracks must be Cpt. Schaeffer, the leader of her squadron and commanding officer of Team Nine. Turning her dark eyes to face the front, she waited for the order to stand down.