Gender: Female
Age: 26 Years
Birthday: 17th April 795A.S
Birthplace: District 2, Riverside Station, California
Place Of Residence: Hephaestion Training Centre, Planet Curacao, Cortez
Affiliation: Orbital Spa and Cruise
Known Craft:

• None.

Height: 169cm
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Blue
Distinguishing Marks: A burn, scar faded by the years, rests on her left palm - a keepsake from an early childhood spent in the belly of a station.

Much to her chagrin, Melanie retains some relics of her former life in the armed forces. She walks with the measured stride of a military officer, white panels of her security uniform pressed, if not carefully, then at least regularly. Pale from a life spent predominantly in habitats and vac-suits, attempts to tan on her new home on Curacao have only managed to drag her skin a few shades closer to lobster red than she would have liked. She's quick to see the humor in a potentially-fatal situation, and often sports a disbelieving smile at the sheer absurdity of it all.

A few shades too moral for her own good, and with a keen sense of vengeance to match, Melanie would have been at home among any police force in the colonies. As is often the case; however, circumstance wedged that particular door shut some time ago. Regardless, Melanie sees herself as a protector and guardian, even as the house she once fought for turned its back on her. Quick to stand up for the downtrodden and manipulated, Tyler's stubbornness has got her into trouble more times than she cares to recall.

Revenge may not necessarily be a healthy motivation, but Melanie finds it in abundance. The speed with which she'll stand by a comrade is matched only by the speed at which she'll tear into anyone acting against them, bringing biting sarcasm to match the cough of a starship's weapons. Tyler recognizes little authority higher then her own moral compass.

Born just prior to the outbreak of the Nomad War, Melanie spent her early years weaving through a station's corridors. Curiosity and that infectious sense of adventure that is found only in small children lead her to explore the maintenance corridors, crawling through air extractors on her hands and knees. Unlike many of the children that venture into the twisted tubes and passageways that ring a station, Melanie's exploits passed, save a burn sustained when she accidentally gripped a temperature control unit, without major incident. When the station came under attack in the 801A.S Battle of Mojave a six year old Melanie's family were among those who escaped in hastily-requisitioned shuttles, resettling on Los Angeles.

Imbued with a passion for flight that resolutely failed to fade over the years, Melanie resolved to work for LA's atmospheric airlines. Flying experience was expensive to come by; however, and the few scholarship programs were quickly snapped up by the well-connected. After a depressing half-year of failed applications and submissions, Melanie attended a Defense Force information evening. A recruiting officer not too much older then her outlined the possibilities, the option to fly entirely at the state's expense, if she were good enough. She lodged an application for the Air Force the very next day.

Melanie served as a pilot and officer in Liberty's planetary Air Force for a little over five years. When the Air Force asked for volunteers to serve alongside the Navy in Bretonia, she was quick to sign on aboard LNS Ravenswood, an Atlantis-class carrier stationed in Leeds. She remained with the Air Force for a total of two years after initial training, including a brief stint as commander of the Ravenswood task force when contact with high command was lost due to enemy action.

When the Air Force made the decision to withdraw from both Leeds and an active role in space combat, Melanie accepted a transfer to the 8th Battlecruiser Division of the Secondary Fleet, along with a significant portion of the Air Force personnel that had served aboard Ravenswood. During that time, a series of rumors began to reach her ears, reports of a Gallic warship flying under Navy colors, and an alien vessel reportedly manipulating command-level officers. When Tyler's inquiries resulted in stonewalling by her superiors, any appeal the Navy had once held for her faded. After a year aboard LNS Furious, she applied for, and received, an early release from her return of service obligation in order to return to Bretonia; discharging with the final rank of Lieutenant.

Shortly before departure, she applied as a security pilot to with Orbital Spa and Cruise, hoping to continue supporting the Bretonian resistance, if only in an unofficial capacity. While security work was a far cry from her duties with the Navy, Tyler was glad to be free of the suffocating bureaucracy and deception that she saw twisting its way through the institution. As of 821A.S she remains a pilot with Spa and Cruise.