<strong>Fleet Comms Specialist Rosemary Gullins, Fleet liason.</strong><br/><br/>Rosie had never known such frantic activity. Worse she was horribly out of shape, and struggled to keep up as the company made its way through the ship's corridors.<br/><br/>She found the hangar, found her platoon and found the company CP squad. She hefted the big subspace communicator pack that the navy said was unjamable but everyone knew was just as jamable as every other type of communicator ever invented. The damn thing was heavy and she wished to god she's not been so stupid as to volunteer for this. But then, she reasoned, it had been too easy. There were very few survivors of the Young's crew and as she looked around the hangar deck she could see all of them, all in infantry uniforms. They hadn't all requested a transfer. Gullins wondered, guiltily, whether her request had given someone the idea to transfer all the survivors, but she doubted it. It was probably just a happy accident that she had asked before they had told her.<br/><br/>She made her way aboard the command shuttle, glad it looked at least reasonably like a space ship, and spotted a familiar face. No one wanted to sit by the PD, but space was rapidly running out, so Rosie slid into the empty slot ot one side of Kara.She realised that the PD was lost in her own little world and nufdged her. "Scuse me, Citizen, but you wouldn't happen to have any water would you?"