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In orbit above Surandan, a pair of Caballero Shuttles waited, acting as relays for the away team and their own Caballero, shuffling the comms from the planets surface to the Hymn itself which remained stationary in space several hundred thousand kilometers away.

Inside one of the shuttles were a number of individuals, that number being exactly four. The Pilot, Copilot, and two combat medics, whom were stationed on the ship in case things went wrong and the squad's normal medic, Mortego, could not handle the casualties.

And so, Olive Tetra and Marcus May got the joyous duty of waiting in the 15x10 meter cargo hold of the shuttle, with the options of either sitting on the fold-down bench seats, or messing with one of the gurneys or sets of medical equipment that had been loaded into the craft.

The Copilot, Likewise bored and tired of staring at the nav screen, turned to the two Medics. "So, What brings you here?" he asked, rhetorically, knowing full well that both had been ordered onto the shuttle in case of an emergency.

To be, or not to be,

Dr. Marcus May sat directly in front of Olive, not terribly interested in her. He had a bag full of medical items by his side with a large + on the side, in addition to his spare clothes hastily stuffed into his duffelbag. He was breathing slowly as the shuttle made its course towards the Hymn, considering every option that could be presented to him.

That is the question.

It took him a moment to respond to the co-pilot, regaining his bearings, "Just doing my job, that's all," He replied solemnly, taking off his glasses, breathing on them and giving them a wipe before putting them back on.

He then resumed riding his train of thought, continuing to recite a choice soliloquy from Hamlet in his mind's ear, Whether it's nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing, end them...

"We hardly ever get shot at...It's not that dangerous of a job, A medic. Even a combat medic isn't very risky. I just wish I wasn't the one chosen to sit out here when there were so many others who probably would have liked this more then me. Ya know?"

Olive looked to the man who sat across from her, He was old, pudgy and not the least bit interesting. The guy seemed pretty square. Even for Olive who was nothing if not intellectual.

"I didn't sign up for this to sit out here being useless. "

The blond crossed her legs and put a hand up to her hair. Her blond locks were tied up into a bun at the base of her neck, but it was starting to come undone. Carelessly she ran her finger's though her hair and undid the hard work she had done that morning, taking the little hair tie out of it's place and freeing her hair to fall around her shoulders.

Olive jumped when the pilot made an unexpected noise and movement. She had thought he was completely asleep. The startle made her heart race her her cheeks flush. The girl crossed her arms over her chest and glanced down at the floor, avoiding eye contact.

"I've been in the field...Once."

Her voice was quieter and clearly nervous. She didn't like to be told what was what. Unfortunately it was clear that this pilot guy had been doing his job a lot longer then she had been doing hers. Olive glanced back up at him and shrugged.

"And it wasn't that bad."

That was really all she could say. Olive had only gone in on the back end of one battle, she just did the last minute bandaging of sill pretty much okay soldiers. It wasn't very intense and she seemed to handle it really well.

Oliver blushed, a deep pink color radiating across her pale cheeks. She crossed her arms and bit her bottom lip, avoiding the pilot's eyes and hopefully ... Avoiding his criticism. She wasn't very secure about her knowledge and experience, but she wouldn't let that get her down! It's not like she could ask for help. Hell, the guy sitting right across from her was one of the best doctors they had. She was standing on the shoulder's of giants.

"I'm- I'm Tough. I know what's what and how to handle myself. So... Shut up."

Even with bright pink cheeks and shaking hands, Olive tried her best to look strong and tough. This amounted to her locking her jaw and squeezing her spidery fingers closed into unconvincing fists. She was dead, that much was clear. The girl wasn't going to make it twenty minutes. So much for saving the day.

While the conversation was going on, Marcus paid no attention to what was being said, since it didn't concern him too much. Instead, he decided to pull his duffel bag towards him, open it and start fishing through it.

He eventually procured a flask of alcohol and took a swig, wiping his mouth and leaving it by his side. He then proceeded to glance at Olive. Her nervousness was somewhat amusing, but it failed to register on Dr. May's interests.

Out of camaraderie, he decided to hold the flask in the pilot's direction, giving a light shake to indicate that there was plenty to go around.

Olive gave the pilot a warm, truly gratefully little smile. He was looking out for her, which was really kind. The old man had less in common with her then he did a hat rack so, his words were twice as nice to hear.

"Thanks sir. That's really nice of you."

When the flask was pulled out and passed around she couldn't help but think that it was not the smartest of things to be doing... They were basically on call, what if something happened and they were all drunk? But The little blond said nothing, she didn't want to tell them anything that would make them judge her any more then they already were. The console behind the younger pilot beeped, making Olive jump every so slightly, she hadn't expected it and that sound meant action right? She listened carefully and watched the younger man closely.

"So what's happening?"

Fred sighed heavily as he sat in the pilot’s seat of the second Caballero shuttle sitting in orbit. He looked across the control panels of the shuttle, making note of their distinct difference from those of a Scimitar. The biggest difference being that he had a copilot to work with. The basics were there, but other than a few dials and readout screens there weren’t many similarities.
“You look bored,” said the copilot, who happened to have a subtle British accent.
“Only slightly,” Fred responded. “Just tryin’ to get used to the change of pace between this and my typical flying experiences.”
“Why is a fighter pilot like you wanting to pilot a shuttle anyway?” asked the copilot. “If you are wanting excitement on a regular basis then you might want to stick with your fighter.”
“Eh, I figured a little cross training with flying other ships would be good for me and my resume’. That, and my squadron and I have reached a low point in our current training, so we were given a day or two for respite. This mission needed some volunteers, it is not a high risk mission, so I figured this would be a perfect opportunity to learn how to pilot a shuttle.” Fred rambled on mostly for the sake of fending off the invasive silence that came about when neither of the only two inhabitants of the shuttle spoke.
“Sounds like fun, but I still don’t know why you would want to pilot a shuttle. We shuttle pilots are the typically the ones who want to instead fly a fighter. To each his own I suppose.” The copilot said in a rather flat tone.
Fred couldn’t think of a response so he stayed silent, and the copilot did the same. The silence set in once more. Fred looked around the cockpit as he tried to refocus his attention. For the sake of not wasting power, the shuttle only had the control panel lit up as well as a single lit on the ceiling of the cockpit. This meant that everything else was cast in heavy shadow, or just plain dark. Fred stared through the heavy hatch that sat ajar at the rear of the cockpit into the dense darkness of the hold on the other side.
“Eerie, isn’t it?” asked the copilot as he saw Fred staring off into the darkness. “It is easy to get paranoid in an empty shuttle. It is good to keep your mind occupied, otherwise it begins to wander. The next thing you know you start hear eerie noises coming from back there. It can get really bad on long flights when the other pilot is resting.” He then flipped on the light for the hold, revealing an obviously empty hold. “It is always a little exciting doing that in the off-chance that there really is something back there.” The copilot began to chuckle a little.
Fred rolled his eyes a little. “It is only intimidating if you are naïve enough to buy into silly things like horror movies. The only thing that could possibly be back there that would also be frightening would be a Drathonian Smasher. Now those are frightening to face in close quarters.” Fred said in response.
“And how would you know that?” the copilot asked.
“I was a Marine Brawler for a few years before making the switch to being a pilot,” Fred replied. “I am just as deadly on the ground as I am in the sky.” The Irishman made sure to add an edge to his last comment. Wanting an excuse to end the conversation with the Englishman, he pulled up the comm for the other shuttle.
“Caballero shuttle #2 to Caballero shuttle #1, this is Captain Fred Haverthorn, how’re you holding up on your end?” Fred asked in a nonchalant tone.