Name: Ashlan Morris<br/>Age: 25<br/>Occupation: Soldier for Hire<br/>Background: Some people don't get the luxury of a stable childhood, stationary like, and Ashlan certainly falls into this category. Orphaned at five she was taken in by the Black Eagles, one of the galaxy's premiere mercenary companies, her, and several other young orphans. As such, her education came from the Black Eagles themselves, bringing with it a variety of skills, from basic mechanics and electronics skills, to more than a passing ability with hand to hand combat and firearms.<br/><br/>--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/><br/>Someone was beating a heavy staccato against the back of her skull...from the inside, a steady throb that refused to recede. Worse than any morning after hang over, worse than any concussion, and her eyes slit open, tiny little cracks that revealed blurred...gold? No no no, that wasn't right,  the Black Eagles were named for their snips, which were...well, black, gray maybe, but certainly not gold. A groan then, slipping from her lips as she blinked away the cobwebs, or tried to, a hand moving to rub a temple. "What the hell?" There had been a party, celebrating the successful completion of a contract, so someone, she supposed, must be playing a prank. There was a long standing tradition of never being the first one to pass out, it made for a game and a running wager...so maybe, well she might have been the first, there were certainly little bits and pieces of the night she didn't remember. But no, Rog and Der, they'd both been slumped in the corner, so she hadn't been the first...another low groan as she pushed herself upright, lifting a hand to run it back through her short cropped, disheveled, spiked black hair. And then it occurred to her...that if she didn't recognize her surroundings, that could mean a couple of different things, and more than a few of those things weren't anything good, so she automatically began patting herself down, checking to see how much of her gear she still had on her...which wasn't much. The light armor, her BDUs. A moment, okay, more than a moment, spent taking stock of her surroundings, crew quarters by the look of it, standard, bunk, foot locker, pretty basic, okay no surprises there then.  No indicator lights...no panel lights, so computer systems looked to be down, but she was alive, so that meant that life support systems were up, meaning that the ship had power. Okay then. Now she knew where she stood...sort of. But virtually every ship worth its salt in space had a com system, and...there it was. Shiny little panel on the wall, which she strode to, and keyed it up, "Hello? Anyone out there? I mean, I'm just guessing that there has to be life on this tin can that's not me. Course, I don't even know if this com system is working right now. Hello?"