Zephyr; wasn?t much there. At least, to Brent?s knowledge there wasn?t. Because, unfortunately for this pilot, his time on the planet was spent mostly in prison. What a time that was, marching around to the guards orders, getting horrible meals that looked as though they?d already been chewed, cruddy, little cots that were too small for the rather large man, and a whole building?s worth of sneering faces who couldn?t wait to see what happened to him, or anyone else for that matter.

Brent was the new kid on the block, the guy who just moved in down the street, the new neighbor, fresh meat. And his fellow inmates took this the wrong way. The first couple of days were the usual sneer fests, the more experienced prisoners walking up and trying to intimidate him, telling him this and that, trying to scare the relatively young pilot out of his wits.

?Rules, there?s rules here, fella, and y?gotta learn t?follow ?em,? said one particularly, ugly man who just looked like his face had been plowed over by a tractor.

?Rules?? asked Brent. ?Y?do know, the reason you?re all here in the first place, is ?cause y?didn?t follow any ?rules?, don?t ya??

?Follow differen? rules here,? came the hideous man?s reply.

?Ah?so y?sold out, lost your manhood, and started followin? the rules that you so avidly broke when y?were outta this place??

That prompted a fist to the face, but Brent, had been in more than his fair share of brawls, fist fights, and drunken encounters, and was prepared. He knew when he was pissing someone off after all. Ducking back, the metal tray that held his slop of a meal was lifted up, and with a loud ?fwack!? the man?s fist slammed into that instead.

The still sitting Brent elbowed him hard in the gut, causing him to double over, then grabbed the back of his head as he bent down, and slammed it onto the edge of the table. Grunting something about losing his meal, as cruddy as it was, he went to finish his drink, and then stood as the guards came to ?subdue? the prisoners and him.

He never really knew how she did it, Pol. How she found him, and got him out of that place. All he remembered was one day, after a good long while in that hell hole of a place, the guards came, unlocked his cell, and led him out.

He hadn?t been outside of the compound in quite some time; he figured he was being shipped off to Dyton, to some prison on a core world, or being bought out. He leaned toward Dyton of course; it seemed like the most logical course of action.

In the end, however, it turned out to be the latter of the three, something he never really quite understood. He remembered being lead out of the prison, and good while away from there. He remembered walking, a lot of walking, then he remembered the ship.

The ship however, wasn?t the thing that stuck out the most, no; it was the woman in front of the ship. He remembered Pol Finch, when he first met her, standing outside and waiting. He grinned to himself as he looked her up and down in what might have been a lewd manner, but then checked that nice and quick. He owed her, and criminal he may have been, he still had some idea of honor.

Welcome to the Nighthawke, Brent.

Pop pop pop rip tear pop pop tear rip!

That was the sound he heard in his dreams as he was whisked from that park into the Southern Glen. It was a dark dream, one where he could hear, but not see. The rattling and tearing sounds were a familiar sound, gun shots and ripping clothing. Both things that brought Sui Cobb great joy.

Upon waking and realizing he was no where near where he had passed out, Sui started to recon the area. One sun, blue sky, green grass. It looked like just about any other rock that he'd landed on before. Maybe a bit more lush in it's vegetation, but still, pretty ordinary.

Being a man who was accustomed to protein bars and reconstituted water on board ship, he saw the fruit bearing trees and the lake as a cornucopia of tasty treats. Fish! Fresh apples! They were all for his taking. And as he settled down on a rock to eat his lunch, the strangest thing happened.

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

The extremely large shadow blocked out the sun, and Sui dove for cover. Sera was brought to the ready as he peeked out from behind the boulder. Sui couldn't believe what he was seeing. There, at the lake's edge, a magnificent blue dragon perched. It was there for it's morning dip and the little, by the dragon's standards, human was nothing to be concerned with.

Sui holstered Sera when it seemed that the dragon was ignoring him. The lunch was forgotten as he approached the dragon slowly. He was in awe, only in fairy tales did dragons exist, yet here was one, sure as the sun shone in the sky.

"Uh, hello?" Why he thought it'd understand him, was beyond Sui's comprehension. Maybe it was the stories that were told. But he attempted anyway. The dragon, it turned out, was quite friendly to humans and soon they struck up a conversation. She gave him directions to the middle of town and wished him well on his way.

So Sui set out to the middle of town, find a place to stay and figure out what his next step would be. He knew nobody, the town was a strange place that seemed to change on a whim. It was fascinating to him and he was sure the Alliance had no part in developing this world.

About a week into his foray into this wild and fascinating land, he came across a poster in the town square. It advertised that a Captain Pol was in search of a crew for her ship, the Nighthawke, a Stardrone cargo ship. And it was in a place he knew.

So he gathered his things in a duffle bag and set out for the Southern Glen. He found the ship easy enough. Hard to miss something that big. But the captain was no where to be found. He sat upon a rock and began doing what Sui does to fill time. He started sharpening his knives.

When the captain did show up, she was not alone. Of course, Sui did not know who they were, so they were greeted in typical Sui Cobb fashion. Gun held at the ready, just in case. After a short debate between the three, guns were reholstered and they began to discuss Sui's possible future with the NightHawke.

With squinted dark eyes, he watched the as the duo discussed him like some sandwich they might have for lunch. He rolled his eyes and they landed on somebody he knew well. Sui drew his pistol and a single fluid movement had him putting a bullet right between the man's eyes at 100 meters. The gun was holstered and he brought his blade and whetstone back out. Sitting down, he started to whistle.

Needless to say, the gunfire drew the attention of the duo that were discussing. Impressed by his sharpshooting abilities, he was hired on the spot.

The unmistakable spice and sweet of cinnamon bark wafted beneath the troubled, breathy musings of a very tired, and very vexed Cecelia Baker. Tilting up what was left of her tea before tossing the cup into a nearby waste bin, the woman threw her olive toned arms up into the air with frustration.

"Unacceptable, unbelievable, unconceivable!" This stream of declarations were followed up with a very human, hurmph of a growl, and a nearby pebble lodged between the cobbles of the market place's road paid the price. The little rock gave under Cece's boot, and sailed a tumbling path down the length of the road, disappearing into some dark nook. 'Oh look, another undoubtably fruitless bulletin... Gee, I can't wait' Sarcasm was a thick sound even in her mental musings, but the cook refrained from rolling her eyes and managed the few more steps towards the littered quad-board of postings.

"No, no.. Trash. Fools... Garbage, filth. No..." Quick hands sifted through this old bit of paper or that, numerous pages with ripped of paper toggles, and then something flashy. Ho-hum, what was this?

"Nighthawke huh?" Instructions and specifics were quickly noted down in some secure little mental lock-away that was Cecelia's mind, and away the temperamental cooky went, a faint smile tugging at her ripe red lips.

With a little luck, a little clever, unobtrusive maneuvering, and a little divine timing, Cece noticed she'd walked in on what seemed to be a distraught woman mulling over a pile of regurgitated slop. 'Ugh... What in the hell is that? Poor fools, they'll die of food poisoning before a quick pistol or a boot knife gets'em.' The mental musing was accompanied by a very physical wince and a quick rap of knuckles to the doorway to alert the dark head of curls to her presence.

"Good evening t'you, Ma'am, but you don't happen to know who owns this parked piece of metal, do you?" White, white teeth spread out in a big, warm smile; but that didn't deter from the amused snick of her brows towards Pol's current cuisine.

After a brisk, but pleasant tete-a-tete and some shrewd work with what the Captian's galley stock had to offer (which wasn't much, to the pitch of her skills were all the more impressive), Cecelia Baker had made her mark to stay aboard the Nighthawke.

The Stars End Bar and Grill was packed, as usual, filling up with nameless faces all intent on doing one of many things - which usually included drinking, fighting, and/or crime of some sort. The staff were kept on their toes, back and forth with trays and orders, and occasionally messages for the owners of the bar itself.

One merry little redhead was busy waiting on the tables close to the stage, when a yell went up at the bar and the evening's brawling began. Aidyn spared the heaving sprawl of limbs one weary glance and got back to her waitressing, bypassing the fight to hand her orders in at the kitchen, only to be hailed by a regular.

"Hey, Aidie, betcha dint think ya'd be workin' tables 'ere this long, didja?"

She smiled cheerily at the old space captain while she filled her tray with drinks for the various customers enjoying the floor show.

"Ya right, I didn't," she agreed with a grin. "Still, gotta make do with whatcha got, right?"

The old gruff laughed, slapping his thigh in his drunken manner.

"Hear tell ya used t'be a medic," he called to her. "Thumpin' good'un, too."

Aidyn shook her head with a chuckle.

"Still am a medic, Abner," she told him, sharing a smile with one of the bar staff. "Ain't much call for a ship's medic planetside, is all."

Old Abner caught her arm as she made to move past, pulling her down so he could speak into her ear.

"S'an old Stardrone, parked up other side o'RhyDin city," he rasped conspiratorially. "Word is they're lookin' fer a medic an' such. You getcha self back inna the black, girl, 'fore life trumps ya."

He stuffed a handful of paper into her pocket, slapped her backside and sent her on her way. Truth to tell, she didn't think much of it. Old Abner was known for his drunken tales of life on the seas and in the stars. He was a good tipper, though. Chances were there were credits in that bundle of paper he'd given her.

Still, it wasn't until the dawn was nearing that she got a chance to look at her odd tip. No credits, no money, just a ratty piece of paper that seemed to have been out in the weather longer than was good for it. Holding it up to the light, Aidyn could just make out what was written there.

"Wanted - Crew f ... Stardrone freighter ship, Nighthawke. ... mechanic fami ... with the engine workings for thi ... arship. Also ... medic, possibly ... heavy ... not all jobs will be legal at all ... Pay negotiable, accomodation and feeding provided. Contact Captain Finch for ..."

A grounded Stardrone in need of a medic, huh? Weren't many as would take on a job without knowing the crew and such. But Aidyn missed the black, and she hardly ever had trouble getting along with folk. Could be worth the risk. Besides, what kinda life was it for a trained nurse, standard grade two, working tables at a seedy old bar, listening to stories of the black? She should be out there, doing what she was trained for.

Notice handed in, Aidyn packed up what few belongings she had, and legged it from the SEB, making her way across the city to where the Nighthawke sat like a sodden lump of grey amid brilliant greenery. She grinned to herself, hoicking her bag higher on her shoulder as she made her way down to the ship.

A quick word with the huge merc standing - well, slumping - on guard at the ramp, a demonstration of her abilities to the tiny woman who introduced herself as Cap'n Pol, and Aidyn Butler, nurse standard grade two, was hired. She looked around her new infirmary with a touch of pride.

"Shiny."

Christopher Alain Hendricks was in a seriously bad way.

He was on his own with Persephone far behind him, just as he had intended. That seemed shiny when he was making his grand plans for the future, but in practice seemed to be a hair trickier than he would have thought. He had caught a ride on a ship headed out beyond the outer rim. After a few days in the black, during which time he kept to his own room, they finally made landfall at the Stars End Spaceport on a world Chris had a hard time pronouncing. There were drinks a plenty that night, with the result being a tiny misunderstanding concerning the innocence of the young woman who had been flying with them. No one had seen fit to mention that she was the captain's daughter. When the ship left, it did so without Chris.

The place they had dropped him seemed strangely primitive in terms of its technology and had the oddest assortment of folk he had ever seen. He kept his eyes on the sky but the few ships he caught a glimpse of were unlike anything he had ever seen in the 'verse. When he approached the captain of one looking for work, he was shown an engine that was completely foreign to him. He had no doubt that he could have it all figured out given a little time and some room to play, but the captain wasn't looking for a mechanic who needed to learn from scratch. It was a big ship though, and they could always use an extra hand or two for some of the more menial tasks. It wasn't glamorous, but he would take the three weeks in the black and be thankful for it.

The silly boy actually thought his luck was starting to turn.

Chris happened to be near a window as the big ship was taking off. And it was out that window that he happened to see a Stardrone class ship as it was making a shaky landing. Even from a distance he could tell the bird was in bad shape. He had given up his faith when he left the Abbey, but he found himself praying now that she'd still be there when he got back.

__________________________________________________ ___________________________

Maybe his luck had changed. Maybe someone had heard his prayer. Either way, she was still docked when next he landed. A quick word with the captain had him escorted into the engine room. "Fei fei de pi yan... what have ya done to her?" His hands had run along different bits of metal and wires that were hanging loose, his head shaking in wonderment. He had never seen so much patchwork done to a single engine. Those who had been onboard were damn lucky to be alive. "I'll get her back in the air, better'n new even. But I'm gonna do it the right way. No more of.... this." His hands had gestured around. "I'm hopin' ya got yerself a few credits, cause I can tell ya yer gonna need a new grav dampener and at least two of the main power lines runnin' from yer fuel cells are completely shot."

He had already started to pull apart the engine without ever actually being offered the job. He looked to the captain just before sliding under the main engine block. She seemed to be torn between excitement and wariness. He was sure he wasn't the first to say he could get the job done. "Ya get me what this ol' girl needs, and I promise I'll have her dancin' in the black in a week, two tops." And without another word he disappeared under the engine and went to work.