Spaceship

A smirk creeped across Lucas' face slowly as he watched another group of recruits walk to their dorms. He took the cigarette from his lips and flicked the ash to the ground, then placed it back. "You think they'll last?" he asked an engineer next to him.

"Not a fuckin' week."

The air was cold, stiff, and smelled of sweat and smoke. It was unpleasant, but it was the norm, and Lucas was used to it. He was probably responsible for the majority of the stench anyway. Lucas had higher hopes for the recruits than the man he was smoking with. They didn't seem so bad - the last batch were all rapists and murderers. This batch didn't look like the sort; though, the years have taught him to fully comprehend that looks deceive. Regardless, something about them... It was different. They were livelier than the normal crowds.

In truth, Lucas was one of only a few veterans. He'd been on the very first intake the Crucible had. The very first, they called themselves, the original crew. The veterans all held their rotations with pride. Another year, another rotation, and Lucas was coming up on his and the Crucible's 17th rotation. How long's he been doing this? How old is he? He didn't know anymore. He didn't care. His 17 shifts had taught him to pick out the good from the bad, though, and this shift seemed mostly good. They were keepers. He was sure of it.

The lights dimmed and the familiar "chugugugugugu" reverberated again, followed by a long low frequency hum as the lights returned. Lucas couldn't help but let out a snicker as the recruits reacted, not knowing what the sound is. It's familiar to anyone who spends their days on a large space-faring vessel, the reactors have to discharge occasionally, but these recruits obviously haven't spent time in space. "You're right, not a fuckin week," Lucas added before stomping out his cigarette. The janitors didn't care if he left it lying around, the ships in the UFN weren't known for their cleanliness.

"Bet we get boarded, right? We'll be out in the fringe, yeah, and some pirates'll roll up and bust in through the airlocks. See the'll have a bunch'a them miniguns and they'll take the recruits as slaves," the engineer Lucas was smoking with began. "They'll take 'em back to some colony and we'll be forced to go on our way and tell the UFN what happens when we venture so far into the fringe, yeah? Bet that's what'll happen this time. Then the vets'll come in and save the day!"

"Man shut up," Lucas retorted. "The Crucible's never been boarded, not on past rotations, not on this one. Besides, I aint a hero, and neither are you. We just fix pipes 'n shit when they break," Lucas coughed and leaned against a pipe on the wall. "We break half of 'em anyway by standing around leaning on them all day, after all," he let out with a sigh as the faces of recruits blurred by.

Enzo looked on at all the frightened and fresh faced recruits. He could tell they had never been in space before and knew they all had their work cut out for them. He was different though. Enzo was a space baby. He was no stranger to space or space ships. In fact, he had an inkling he could probably give any of the vets a run for their money up here. This was his home turf after all.

"Get out of my fuck'n way, space meat!"

A large imposing brute of a recruit looks to barrel Enzo over. Even being way out here, these recruits still managed to find a way to act tough. Too bad that what the brute doesn't know is that gravity on the ship isn't perfectly preset to Earth standard. It's nearly impossible to get that level of precision with artificial gravity generators, which is why space dwellers preferred the manually rotating method over the power sucking, and often malfunctioning, grav-gens that the UFN were so keen to use.

The brute takes one forceful step towards Enzo, and Enzo easily sidesteps him. When he can't feel the full weight of his body stepping down on his foot, the brute goes barreling forward into a group of -- now pissed off -- delinquents. They jump him and begin to wail on the brute.

Enzo doesn't let the confrontation phase him. They're all rank amateurs and could go jump out of the airlock for all he cares. What he needs to find is some capable guys he can rely on.

He follows the crowd to the dorm rooms, passing by Lucas and the other fellow Engineer. They seem passibly capable--

"...we just fix pipes 'n shit when they break"

--scratch that. They're retards.

It looks like finding comrades he can trust will be harder than he thought.

Gwen follows the tightly-packed crowd as they slowly work their way to the dorms. A million different thoughts raced in her head, but she could do nothing but move along with the flow of not-so-fragrant bodies.
The brief orientation went more or less how she expected. The captain was rude and terrifying, while the first mate was overwhelmingly optimistic. She wondered if the captain was really true to his word about shoving people out the airlock. She figured that he probably was.
"Get out of my fuck'n way, space meat!" She heard a loud voice in front of her. She watched as a big, mean-looking recruit tried to push another man out of his way. The man sidestepped him, and the brute went tumbling into a group of other recruits, who proceeded to beat on him.
Gwen rolled her eyes in disgust and steered clear of them. What an intelligent bunch of losers she'd be stuck with for a whole year. Oh boy, what fun awaits. She wondered if she could find anybody above the level of sheer stupidity on this ship. She glanced around, but the prospects weren't great. Then her eyes fell on the man who sidestepped the brute. He didn't look like anything special, but she could tell he was thinking about something. At least that was a start. She figured he must have been in space for a while, not reacting to the sudden chugugugugu noise or the difference in gravity. Gradually she made her way up to him. "So what brings you to this festering Hellhole that's brimming with stench and idiocy?" No point in beating around the bush.

"So what brings you to this festering Hellhole that's brimming with stench and idiocy?"

Enzo knew, even before he turned, that the girl behind him would be beautiful -- and she was. Her long brunette hair accentuated her beautiful face, almost impeccably so. Her slim figure showed some signs of malnutrition, but the tones of her muscles and having curves in all the right places hid it well. What was exceptionally striking to Enzo, was that this girl was clearly having an off day and she was still a solid 8. He can only imagine how great she'd look on a good day.

Of course, just because a girl's beautiful doesn't mean you let your guard down. Enzo was too familiar with dead men who fell to the wily tricks of a pretty gal. He didn't hold it against women, though. They were born in this 'verse at a massive disadvantage. They needed to do whatever it took to get the upper hand. That's just how life out in the void works.

"Got caught doing something I shouldn't have, I suppose." His curt response seemed to bother the girl -- whose name he still didn't know -- but he didn't care. He wasn't going to get any more in-depth than that. Information could always be used against you.

"So, did you need something from me? Unless you're looking to get laid, I doubt I can be much help to you." It was his turn to do some digging.

"Got caught doing something I shouldn't have, I suppose.", he replied.

Gwen raised an eyebrow at his reply, clearly annoyed by the lack of information he gave. "The same could probably be said for every man on this forsaken vessel. But I guess I understand. A man's crime is his own, and his own to keep or display. No matter." Even though her words would suggest that she had dropped the question, she was still upset that he had not told her outright. She was now severely interested in what secrets this space-man possessed. He didn't seem too threatening, but she knew also that looks could be deceiving. And while she herself was a 'criminal', she yearned to know what it was that also gave him this title.

"So, did you need something from me? Unless you're looking to get laid, I doubt I can be much help to you.", he then said. Normally, a vulgar comment like this would have made her feel angry or offended, but right now was not a good day and she didn't have the effort to deal with that shit. So instead she reverted to sarcasm. "You know? That is exactly what I was looking for! Being surrounded by rude, sweaty men and the smell of body odor and despair really turns me on. But, unfortunately, I find I'm all booked up. I'm flattered, really, but no." She then put all the sarcasm aside and went straight to the point.
"I was actually trying to find someone on this ship with a smidgen of intelligence or decency, but apparently I was mistaken in looking here. Like most men, I see that most of the thinking is done below the belt instead of in your brain."

Lucas observed in silence as recruits fought, argued, pushed and shoved and conversed. The usual rabble, violent and stupid, but what could he do? No point in bothering, no point in caring - he was just an observer, and intended to stay as one. He brought a new cigarette to his lips and lit it, as his last had went out, then drew a large breath of smoke in. "You think they'll shit themselves when they see their first xeno?" he inquired to the engineer he stood with. The engineers name was unimportant, he may as well have been one of the faces blurring by for all Lucas cared.

"Bet so. Bet they think they're like us, too. Human like, arms and legs and two eyes - fuckin' naive children man. You gotta be naive or stupid to get yourself on a reformation ship. No offence, man - you volunteered, ey?"

"Yeah. Volunteered. Nice way to put it when your family gets murdered and your inheritance destroyed."

"I didn't mean-"

"I know you didn't, man. Chill. I'm just messin'," Lucas inhaled and exhaled another large puff of smoke. It was quickly sucked up into the ventilation ducts. Lucas continued, "Bet they'll see some five legged bugger and run for the shuttle soon's we get deployed to some planet to scope it out."

The man next to him chuckled, and nodded, then spoke "Check out the lover's quarrel over there," before pointing to Enzo and Gwen. Lucas looked over, then smirked. "Guy looks pretty comfortable here. Looks like he'll fit in. Don't know about the girl, though."

"I was actually trying to find someone on this ship with a smidgen of intelligence or decency, but apparently I was mistaken in looking here. Like most men, I see that most of the thinking is done below the belt instead of in your brain."

Enzo looked the girl over. To most observers, it would look like he was checking her out, but he was just reassessing her worth. A girl who knew the worth of having companions on this ship, and more than that, knew enough to approach him out of this rabble had enough intuition and smarts to possibly make it out of this journey alive -- which means she could prove useful to him.

The girl was no longer just a pretty face to Enzo, she was a potential asset.

"Okay, I'll bite. So what? You lookin' to team up or somethin'? I know what value I add, but what about you? How do you help me? I mean, beside being a pretty face." If she wanted to get straight to the point, he wasn't going to beat around the bush either.

As Enzo waited for an answer from the girl, he noticed two pairs of unwanted eyes on his back. The two engineers from earlier were watching him with increased interest.

Perhaps it was the way they stared at him, like he was a trapped animal at a zoo and they were the spectators, but Enzo didn't like it one bit. It pissed him the fuck off.

Making direct eye contact with Lucas, Enzo did the dumbest thing he could have done at the moment, shout out across to his superiors.

"Hey, shit heads, don't you have 'pipes n shit' to fix? If you guys are truly vets here, why don't you go make yourselves useful and scram."

Enzo wasn't sure what the consequences of disrespecting your superiors was here, but he knew on his former ship, shit like that would get him thrown out the airlock. He let his emotions slip. A mistake. A big one. He hadn't thought being here had affected him so much, but clearly he was just as sleep deprived, agitated, and anxious as everyone else.

He couldn't take back his words, though, and damn it if he were to die lying down like a dog. He was all in on his insubordination. All he could do now was hope for a miracle.

"Okay, I'll bite. So what? You lookin' to team up or somethin'? I know what value I add, but what about you? How do you help me? I mean, beside being a pretty face."

Gwen was a little taken aback by his response. She hadn't really expected him to take her seriously, and yet here he was. She knew that having someone around with experience like him would definitely be beneficial, but what could she give? He asked what her value was, and for the moment she didn't know what to say. What good was a pickpocket and a petty thief on a reformation ship? "Well, a pretty face surprisingly has many good uses. I'm smart, too. At least by the standards of this bunch. I'm... clever with my hands, I guess you could say. Also-" Before she could finish, the man turned around to two engineers that were apparently watching them and yelled out to them.

"Hey, shit heads, don't you have 'pipes n shit' to fix? If you guys are truly vets here, why don't you go make yourselves useful and scram.", he shouted across the room.

Gwen stared at him, slightly in shock. She hadn't even noticed the two men watching them, but apparently he had. She wasn't sure what punishment he could get, but she knew it probably wouldn't be pleasant.
"Well, for another thing, I don't do stupid and impulsive things like that. Especially not on the first day. Are you trying to dig yourself an early grave?", she asked him. Perhaps he was as dimwitted as she had thought. But then again, it was turning out to be a rough day, everyone was more irritated than usual. She looked around and waited to see what would unfold, and whether or not her possible comrade would be pushed out of an airlock. She hoped not, for he really didn't seem like too bad a guy, and would be especially handy in learning the ropes of space travel.

"Hey, shit heads, don't you have 'pipes n shit' to fix? If you guys are truly vets here, why don't you go make yourselves useful and scram."

Lucas drew in the last bit of the cigarette, flicked it to the floor, and stomped it out. 'Yeah, these guys won't last a week,' he thought. He looked over at the engineer next to him and shook his head, signalling to let it go. The guy next to him was hot headed, but Lucas wasn't the fighting type, nor did he care. Chances were he'd only ever see these people in the mess hall.

He felt obliged, in a sense, to at least try and keep them out of trouble. Now that he was drawn in, at least. Lucas sighed, and shouted back calmly, "Hey, word of advice: Do yourself a favor and don't make enemies on the ship on your first day. You'll have enough people at your throats for shit you didn't do, don't make it more."

Regardless of whether or not the two of them had been shouting across the room, nobody was really paying attention. The new recruits in the room had still been either fighting, or conversing with equal amounts of vulgarity as Enzo had displayed.

Off to the side of the room stood a man of monstrous proportions. He towered over everyone else in the room, even a pair of several of them might not have stood in equal measure.
He was dressed in a black long coat worn under a heavy breastplate. Several grenades were attached to the plate, along with a large rifle, billy club, and an almost archaic bayonet that doubled as a sword belted to his waist. His helmet was burnished black and the tinted lenses set over the eyes were a black mirror that reflected the room he was currently scanning.

Sergeant Markus Creed was all but in name, the man in charge of this section of the ship in terms of the patrolling soldiers and law enforcement. Very little made it past his notice, and much of the illicit things that were seemingly unnoticed were often simply allowed since being effectively trapped aboard a ship was a nightmare without some form of entertainment other than what their curt captain allowed. Markus himself was the ship's reigning arm wrestling champion, so he was lenient, as well as stern.

His attention was caught as a large, brutish man, by normal comparison, began yelling at another recruit over a spot to sit down.
Markus knew those types, willing to fight over anything just to prove they were stronger, and therefore better, but Markus also knew the difference between strength and simple aggression. He despised the large man instantly, and was mildly impressed when the smaller one dodged aside and made it away from the area before the melee went on in full.
His men moved to subdue the quarrel in an instant, but the Sergeant held them back with a motion of his hand and watched as a dozen or so recruits began pounding into one another.
After a minute or so, seeing that none of them would cease of their own accord, Markus went into the maelstrom himself, drawing his club as he went.
The first of those he came across was a thin man in the same worn garb most of the rest of the recruits wore. He was snarling and trying to tear the shirt from a woman who was screaming and trying to fight him off. Attention fixed on his prey, the man took no notice of Markus until he swung his club and shattered the man's arm. Now it was his turn to scream as he fell back holding his ruined hand.
Meanwhile the Sergeant shoved another man out of the raving throng, struck one woman in the solar plexus, stunning her, and simply stepped over one poor sod that had hit the floor.

Finally coming to the center of the storm, Markus pushed another frothing recruit off of the large, yet smaller, man that had started the commotion. The large man himself, whose name tag read, "Ericson", whirled, fist connecting with the solid breastplate the Sergeant wore. One broken knuckle and a headbutt later, he was staggering back, into the arms of the soldiers who were now pulling other people apart and cuffing those that wouldn't cease.

"Get those that are wounded to the medbay, and the big one... And that skinny bastard patched up and take them to the brig. Solitary for them both.", he commanded, his deep voice like a shattering mountain booming through the room. "Give them half rations for the next two weeks, and I want the names of everyone else involved and their rations cut by a third for the next week."

The skull-like visage of his onyx helm turned towards the man and woman that had more easily dodged out of the fight and pointed towards them.
"The same goes for the girl and the man over there.", he added with a dark finality.

OOC: Ignore this.

"Get those that are wounded to the medbay, and the big one... And that skinny bastard patched up and take them to the brig. Solitary for them both. Give them half rations for the next two weeks, and I want the names of everyone else involved and their rations cut by a third for the next week."

Hearing the words of the sergeant changed Lucas' demeanor noticeably, "The same goes for the girl and the man over there."

Life aboard the Crucible was tough, even more-so as a recruit. Step out of line, and get punched back in. He observed as the ship's recruits were either cuffed and escorted away for a quick scare, or slowly slinking away to try and avoid what was coming. There wasn't much to be seen, or said - it happened every time a new shift started. Lucas began to walk away, his footsteps echoing down the long metal corridors as the area grew silent.

He glanced at his PDA to check the time. The recruits were supposed to drop their belongings off at their bunks and head to the meeting hall again for a proper orientation. Lucas didn't know how long Creed and the other soldiers would take with the recruits, but he figured it wouldn't be more than an hour - and in all honesty, an hours wait was more than acceptable to watch the recruits get lectured a bit more by the first mate. Lucas could tell they absolutely adored him in their own pitiful way.

The meeting room, which was stuffed with some fifty uncomfortable metal chairs, had a fairly low ceiling that barely gave room for those standing on the upper balcony if they were taller than six feet, but that was the only place Lucas could go without getting in the way. It was only accessible through the maintenance shafts, as it was built with the intention that it would be used to only service the various monitors and equipment mounted to the roof, but plenty of people went their to observe the recruits - and so had Lucas. He stood leaning against the metal pipe railing with about ten others as recruits slowly shuffled in and took their seats.