Unlike most of the crew, Halcyon did not leave the ship often.  And given her nature, leaving the ship on a frontier world was tantamount to suicide.  She walked quietly out of the engine rooms where, despite discomfort and noise she had slept quite soundly (largely hidden by the equipment and half-dismantled systems that their resident tech-bunny could not entirely put away).  As the rest of the crew made their way offboard she went to the commons to wash and put away the dishes Adam had given her, then to her small cabin where she cleaned herself and her clothing.<br/><br/>When she slipped out of her room and into the commons once more she was wearing exactly the same thing as she had been, once more clean, and a slightly more complex utility belt, one with all of the accouterments intact....including a small but serviceable laser pen capable of putting a hole through someone if needed.  Though she usually used it to open up panels normally sealed shut.<br/><br/>As the others left she mad her way to the cockpit, and settled into the communication officer's chair, though it was one not normally filled as the same controls could be accessed through the pilot and co-pilot's boards.  She sat there for several minutes, looking at the panels and keypads, half cobbled together by the clever sensor systems expert and the benevolent tech junkie.  However, she wouldn't use them....she never did.<br/><br/>Small, delicate hands reached out and splayed themselves over the control panels, and the usually dead monitor screens in the communication cradle lit up, fractal patterns and impossible to track numeric and symbol lines erupting across the screen as she accessed them....