Stretching just a little, Kahaan stowed his go bag in the compartment above his acceleration seat. There wasn’t a lot in it, toiletries and a single change of clothes, and a couple of personal effects. The rest of his gear was either already aboard Ares 8 or stowed in the various pockets of his uniform.  It was better to travel light, after all - cubic meters and reaction mass were expensive, after all.<br/><br/>“Oh, shit!  K-Doc!  Glad to see you man!  I feel better already.”<br/><br/>He turned to greet the speaker. Corporal Jenkins, one of the junior non-coms he’d served with while hunting pirates. “Glad to hear it,” he said, pulling up a diagnostic on his AR goggles as he shook the man’s hand. “Always nice to see a familiar face.”  The report from the vitals implant showed a slightly elevated pulse rate and heightened brain activity.  “Need a hit of scopolamine for the transit?”<br/><br/>“Yeah.”  Jenkins looked sheepish. “I hate to ask, but...”<br/><br/>“Nah,” Kahaan assured him, producing a small patch. “Delta-vee matching is rough on a lot of people.”  Peeling the back off, he slapped the patch on the Corporal’s neck. “Grab a seat and hang on. It should kick in by the time we start maneuvering.”<br/><br/>Waving off the Corporal’s thanks, he grabbed his seat and strapped in. Jenkins was a good man, motion sickness or no.  With the harness secure, he listened carefully to the new LT’s comments and  canines his vitals. Accelerated pulse, slightly accelerated breathing. A touch of nervousness, most likely. Stood to reason. He’d heard Cartwright was competent enough for a new officer, but this was his first independent mission. He shrugged at that. How bad could a little recon op out past the heliopause really be?<br/><br/>The suit was another matter. He didn’t know her at all, and she either didn’t have the standard medical monitoring implants or she’d set them for maximum privacy. All he had to go by was appearances, and those appearances said ‘sexy ice queen’.<br/><br/>The engines rumbled, then seemed to quiet as the shuttle umbilical detached. “So,” he said, addressing the pretty blonde across the aisle (Eris Moon, the AR glasses informed him), “what are<i>you</i>in for?”