Dawn awoke with a start, her body covered only with a filthy tank-top, a thin sheet and sweat. The dream had come back again, it always came back… She sighed and looked over at the clock next to her cot. Her room was tiny, room for a bed, a table and chair, and a place to stuff her clothes. She didn’t need more than that really; she didn’t have much in the way of possessions that needed space.<br/><br/>With a heavy sigh she swung her legs over the edge of her bed and reached for the metal cup that sat on the table, at the same time grabbing the dirt-stained bottle of whiskey that stood silently next to it and quickly poured herself a quick one. Dawn knocked it back with the finesse of a pro, or just someone who spent far too much time staring at the bottom of a bottle.<br/><br/>She glanced again at the clock and shrugged, her shift wasn’t on for a couple hours, but screw it. She wasn’t going to get back to sleep and nobody enjoyed being stuck on the bridge watching the half dead gauges and staring at distant stars. She pulled the dirty tank top off, tossed on the back of the chair and slipped into an olive green number sleeveless t-shirt that if it couldn’t be called well laundered, at least didn’t have any obvious stains and didn’t smell like it had spent the night passed out in the back-street of some slum-town spaceport. She stood up and slipped into the same baggy matching pants she’d worn the day prior before lacing on a pair of black combat boots. She wasn’t reg, but who or what was on this piece of flying junk? As far as she could tell, the whole thing was held together by some well placed string and maybe a few ounces of glue, and if the whole thing should come apart, well, no big loss.<br/><br/>She started for the door, then stopped and turned, reaching for the coat that lay in a heap on the floor. She pulled a small silver flask from the inside pocket, shook it quickly to hear the slosh of the fiery liquid that soothed her memory and grinned to herself before stuffing that in her pocket. On her way out the door, she yanked the pistol and its holster off the wall in stride and headed for the common room.<br/><br/>She shoved open the door, her eyes scanning the room quickly as she stepped inside, almost overlooking little Halcyon under the table but for the glint of the light off her ‘toy.’ “Morning Hacly.” She said to the girl, barely paying the girl much attention. The kid was a tinkerer, didn’t speak much if at all, and was just… odd. Dawn didn’t care much for tinkerers or talkers, she was more of an action girl herself, but the kid seemed all right. She at least was quiet, and that to Dawn made up for a lot. She grabbed a metallic mug off the table, looked inside to see a little brownish liquid which she dumped into the sink, half-heartedly hoping it wasn’t clogged up again. Of all the things on the ship that needed to be kept in shape, the coffee maker was the most important in her mind. You’d go crazy without it she figured, pouring herself a healthy cup of the too-strong liquid that had probably sat there since the previous evening and now was no doubt terrible to taste in its scorched glory. “See ya later kid, don’t blow anything up, ‘kay?” she announced, raising the cup in a salute as she left the little galley.<br/><br/>The way to the bridge was easy and unoccupied, which was fortunate. With all the junk and panels opened in the hallways, a crowd would be unmanageable. She stopped in the doorway of the bridge and glanced over at the occupied chair. Looked like Adam was up on watch, “Morning,” she announced, breaking the silence. “Hope I didn’t scare you. Look, I couldn’t sleep so I can take over watch if you like.”<br/><br/>She could have been Adam’s complete opposite. She wasn’t even close to being in a regulation outfit. Her shortish blonde hair was a mess having been slept in and only matted down slightly by her fingers. Everything about her screamed sloppy and careless, much like the ship which she had been hired to pilot. Perhaps unlike the ship, the outward appearance simply hid her true strengths. She was a skilled pilot, very skilled, even more so if she was flying something that didn’t handle like a drunken elephant in a tropical storm.<br/><br/>She looked over at Risa and Warren who also seemed to be lurking about, “Anything exciting go on?”<br/><br/>