<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/NXdPODS.jpg?1)   </div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 16pt;"><strong>ERN-251</strong></span><br/>Android Huntress (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=1127704)<br/>AC: 17|Teamwork Feat: Spirit of the Corps|Aspect: Perception +4<br/>. . . . .</span><br/><br/>ERN-251 blinked and exhaled, releasing the controls as the ship settled down on its landing gear.  She felt the faint tremor through the plating as the engines stuttered and died, then waited while the repulsors powered up to see how the meat responded.  They usually displayed positive emotions at this sort of thing; most of her own experiences with planetfall involved gunfire, blood and death, so her default reaction - paranoia and aggression - were, she'd been subtly informed, incorrect.  That didn't stop her from taking the time to carefully inspect the landing site for radiation, disease, creatures or curseworks.  Nanites and processing routines focused on sensory perception and her visor faded nearly completely as she murmured the words to slip through different spectums: visual, darkvision, magical.  She released her harness and shifted uncomfortably.  No hostile natives or improvised explosive runes presented themselves for annihilation.<br/><br/>Maud didn't share her indecision; he was on his feet already, stomping to the back of the boat.  His comment was...helpful, if unwelcome.  Apparently the social expectation was to plan and talk.  Her brow furrowed slightly; not a scowl, but the faintest hint of dissatisfaction without the sense of disobedience.  An old, ingrained reaction the ERNs had learned quickly.  When ERN-251 spoke, however, it was with all the confidence of her new life.<strong>"I don't wish to speak with you."</strong>She rose and followed Maud through doors that cycled open at her approach.<br/><br/>It was more logical this way.  She had little to add to the discussion and trusted the others to develop the proper plan of action.  In the meanwhile she would prepare to carry it out.<br/><br/>ERN-251 already wore most of the gear she would need: her tight fitting armored bodysuit featured several latching points occupied by her combat knife, canteen and the lackluster pistol she'd been using ever since she sacrificed her rifle to escape an ambush on Paxalis Station by squirming through access vents.  Her field generators adorned each wrist while the nano-matrix currently formed a dull grey carbon-crystal ring around her left bicep, ready for use.<br/><br/>She took a moment to bind the raven-black length of her hair with three cloth ties.  The rapidly growing strands had become unwieldy some time ago and now reached nearly to the floor; a ridiculous vice ERN-251 cultivated not for any sense of vanity - the mere thought of encouraging physical interaction with meat was nauseating - but as a badge of independence.  Shaving was regulation on Santos III; the first day off the planet ERN-10529 had suddenly declared she would never cut it again.  A week later the younger unit was a red mist spattering ERN-251 as they protected a decoy.   Taking on the vow herself had felt appropriate in a way she didn't like to examine.<br/><br/>Another almost-scowl at her own distraction.  She lifted her pack into place and collected her sword, a massive length of diamond-edged steel with a custom fitted nylon grip.  Unlike her rifle, ERN-251 had made a point of obtaining a quality replacement for her sword.  She ignored the heavy chest of excavation tools for now; it would be too unwieldy to carry while exploring and could be retrieved later if it was required.<br/><br/>Returning just behind Maud, ERN-251 resumed her surveillance.  Echoing the bugbear's question was redundant and would delay a reponse, so she simply leveled a silent, blank stare at the others as greeting.