The first three days since the Atlas arrived at its new home had been fairly quiet for the Recon and Special Forces Group. While most other sectors of the ship (With the exception of the colonists division and colonial affairs division.) were running in overdrive trying to convert sections of the ship, as well as prepare for the first excursion off the ship. RSFG couldn't start operating until the green light had been given from engineering that the scout vessel had arrived in one piece and not ended up warping or falling apart in the journey.
So here you are, lying on the bunk, staring into the abyss, trying to stop yourself from going stir crazy. The quarters weren't exotic in the slightest, a cross between a military barrack and some kind of space hostel. There was a lone living zone, littered with a couple of sofas and small creature comforts. The coffee machine was by far the most used item however.
Adjacent to the living zone was the office of the RSFG director. The door of which was currently open... and music was blaring out from. But it wasn't any music that anyone would recognise. It wasn't the normal techno-beats that formed the majority of today's music. The lyrics weren't even synthesised, instead they were actually sung by a real person. Not that anyone would be able to identify the song, Mainly because it was a song that originated from the later part of the 1900's.