Launchpad of the New Orleans, Christmas Eve, 817 A.S.
Anders walks in followed by a skinny young woman named Sierra. With straight,shiny, and black hair running down halfway down her back, and a formal black dress on, she looked rather stunning. Her hands were rough and coarse due to being an Engineer. Unlike Anders, who was in the average black suit, and had his hair messy The Launchpad itself had been overhauled to serve as a temporary area for a Christmas party.
[color=#FFFF33]"Well Sierra," Began Anders, [color=#FFFF33]"This is probably be going to be a night to remember. One of the few times the entire crew will get together for something, and not try to accuse each other of wrong doing. I trust you'll be able to bring help so we can find SOMEWHERE to get this thing repaired. I don't want the hull depressurizing while we are having the party." Anders finished as Sierra started to pace around a table lined with a buffet-class selection of food. She peered through a large window on the starboard side of the ship. "Well, Jason offered to do the lifting for me. All I have to do is tell him what to do." She giggles and sits down on one of ten chairs set around a long dining table. Anders takes a seat next to her as crewmen begin to pour onto the Launchpad. He sighs as he points a finger at a wrecked Guardian in a corner. As Sierra meets his gaze, she sighs and sets her head on his shoulder. The party would soon start.
30 Minutes later...
As suddenly as the Party began, the crew has already filled on dinner. It was time for dessert. Anders and Jason hauled out a table packed with desserts, setting it in place of the table that was once lined with food. The Launchpad has become as busy as the Manhattan streets, with crewmen moving in and out of a steel-plated bulkhead doorway. Anders grabbed himself and Sierra a pair of banana splits, something that was scarce on the ship. He sat down next to her, and sighs.[color=#FFFF33] "I'm scared, Sierra. I don't know where to go. We are alone in this, the New Orleans. Who else is on our side? TF7 has been split, with some members ditching it, some committing suicide, and others just moving back to the regular Secondary Fleet." He wipes at his eyes as he begins to eat his split.[color=#33FFFF] "Come on, lighten up. We have access to the Barrier Gate station. We can get supplies there as long as we want." "As long as we have the credits, you mean? We are running low, we need to figure out how to make money." Anders quickly gets up after finishing and walks out of the Launchpad, toward his quarters, while being trailed by Sierra.
Maintenance Hallway B of the New Orleans, Christmas Eve, 817 A.S.
Anders took a maintenance hallway to get to his quarters near the Bridge, although he didn't know he was being silently followed by Sierra. He took his time entering the code to his room, and which point Sierra caught up with him.
[color=#33FFFF]"Carl, don't beat yourself up over this," She began. "It isn't your fault."He quickly turned around and said,[color=#FFFF33] "Then whose fault is it?! Yours, the crews?!"His voice was full of anger and rage that had boiled up during the months of solitude the ship had. Sierra took a step back, shocked at Carl's anger."I don't know, but it isn't ours." Anders sighed and let Sierra into his room, and locked the door as he closed it.
Bridge of the New Orleans, Christmas Day, 818 A.S.
The entire bridge had become bustling with activity, as gifts were exchanged between the crew members.
Anders sighed, and clicked off a comm message, and paced around the bridge for a while, before retreating to his quarters for the rest of the day.
A Sabre pulls up alongside a mangled wreck that appears to be the remains of a Clinton-Class Liberty Dreadnought. A small debris field floats around the wreck, and the core still leaked after nearly six months of dead silence. The cargo hold of the Sabre depressurizes, and a figure appearing to be wearing a normal space-suit meanders his way over to the main hull of the wreck, carrying a large blue crate.
"A good idea is good until doubt plunges a knife in its back."
The figure made its way through the open halls, as if the wreck was welcoming the visitor. The light from the figure's helmet revealed the steel-blue color that had all but faded to a dull grey, pocket-marked by years of former abuse. A ticking noise similar to a Geiger counter instantly started up wildly as the figure entered what remained of the Bridge. The figure moved towards the main console, and stuck the box onto the adjacent wall of the console. Unraveling hoses and cable, the figure attached the blue crate to the main console. "Easy come, easy go...."
Light came to the bridge as the figure flipped a switch on the blue crate. The figure moved towards the light of a small button on a lower side panel on the main console, and gave it a good kick. Light spurred from a holo screen , and the figure tapped away on the keyboard that had activated. Not even 30 seconds later, then ship went dark once more, as the figure unplugged the remaining cords and cables from the console and stored them onto the crate, and made its way out of the wreck.
