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Just as she squeezed the water out of her hair she heard the distinct sounds of muffled weapon fire below her. It was a distinct sound, and not something completely unusual to hear considering she was on a pirate ship, but it was unusual when it was in the middle of night- or the begging of morning- when there was no enemies in the difference. Either a fight was going on in the gunnery deck or someone was screwing things up.

She closed her eyes and sighed, as she slipped on her undergarments and then a white tank top, black shorts, and her boots. It was typical attire for her- something that was fairly tight on her thin frame and stayed out of her way whenever she was on the move. The gun fire wasn't her business really, after all Allister was responsible for the gun deck so it should be his concern, but then again if someone was hurt it would be her responsibility to heal him.

Sighing as she walked out of the dark washroom and hurrying down the stairs she muttered to herself, "If I have to get blood on me again tonight..."

She stopped as she stepped onto the gunnery deck, where his back to her was Allister cursing under his breath as he inspected a shot gun rack, well at least it didn't look like he was hurt. Eyes narrowed and crossing her arms, she asked calmly, "Allister, what is going on down here? Please tell me no one is hurt, I've done my healing of a careless crew member for the night already."

Up in his room on the second deck, Gash pushed buttons on his old calculator and wrote down notes on a small sheet of paper; he could've used a computer for his work but somehow he just preferred it the ancient way, he kept saying it helped him focus more than when he's sitting in front of a flashing screen. Finally being done planning the next two week's food supply for the ship and fitting it in the ship's budget, the Black Dawn's quartermaster leaned back and ran a hand through his coal hair. "Finally done with that..." He sighed, but his stomach sighed louder. This would probably be an appropriate time for a snack, and he knew just what to treat himself with.

Going down two decks, the six feet two walked in the food stores and went to the shelves where his favourite chocolate bars were usually found. Running through the shelves, pushing some products aside, Gash started to realize there were no more Wünderbars left. "No... No, no, NO! You have GOT to be kidding me! Again?!" His hands moved frantically through the less favoured products, a lot involving oat and raisins. "GAH! Buncha freakin' pigs, I can't believe this! You order a bunch, and I do mean a bunch of Wünderbars to make sure you're not gonna miss any, but guess what? They eat them all and I can't even have one freaking bite!" He shouted to himself, throwing his arms up. Taking a deep breath in his lungs and letting the air out slowly, Gash tried to calm down but gunshots were heard; his chocolate worries were quickly pushed aside for more important things. Turning around, the dark haired human analyzed what the sound could be, and were it could be from too for a short time.

Dashing out of the food stores and making his way downstairs to the gunnery deck, Gash didn't waste any time in the steps and actually almost missed a few, which could have ended with him kissing the floor or wall. He did make his way down in one piece however, and as he arrived he quickly scanned the place with his eyes: no signs of a fight or anything, at least the fact that Red Eye had made her way there first didn't imply injured people. Letting out a sigh of relief nothing bad happened down on the gunnery deck, Stryker caught a bit of Allister and Red Eye's conversation; mostly from Allister's last statement to Red Eye's orders. The quartermaster couldn't help but to snort at the petite doctor's remark. "Wow. You got told alright." He joked at the chief gunner. "So, what happened here anyway?"

Sighing, Red Eye closed her eyes and muttered something under her breath in the Kree's native language- it was to the extent that Allister was an idiot. She crossed her arms and watched as the the quartermaster smirked at her remark to Allister. Sighing she glanced away from the two men, and she thought to herself of how it was so typical of men to misjudge her words however they saw it fit.

Taking a deep breath she verbalized her own opinion, "As quartermaster it is Gash's duty to eavesdrop more or less. He is responsible for helping keep peace on the ship. And about your luck with women, maybe you would have better luck with them if you actually had some standards. No woman cares for men who she can't rely on being faithful."

Rolling her eyes she sat down on the bottom step, her red and blue eyes staring with a fixed gaze at Allister. He might promise to go to bed within the hour, but she didn't trust him. Calmly she plucked one of the petals from her flower arm band and began to twirl it in her fingers. If Allister didn't keep his word about going to sleep in an hour, she had her own ways of ensuring the man kept his word- a single p***k of a sleeping dart would do the trick.

Then again, maybe she wouldn't have to resort to poisons, Gash was here, he was higher rank than her essentially, and especially the gunner. Maybe he would send Allister to bed before another mishap was repeated... or at least maybe the two men would have an entertaining session of teasing each other. She glanced away from the two, yawned, and began to listen to whatever conversation between the two would come as with her free hand she traced invisable chemical equations into her leg.

"Psh." Gash smirked at Allister's comment about him eavesdropping, as if Gash couldn't keep his ears away from conversations that didn't concern him. Of course Ziek preferred peace on the ship between crew members instead of chaos so he did do some "volunteer security": no one asked him to do it, but he still tried to keep things under control whenever he could if he was around. Wanting to reply, the quartermaster opened his mouth but before even one word could slip away from his lips, the white-haired Kree spoke, louder than he thought too. Gash didn't really know Red Eye all that much, it seems they only talked slightly whenever he was injured or sick and seriously needed medical attention; Gash couldn't remember having one extended discussion with the ship's doctor, so the half Kree did surprise him again with her response to Robbie.

"Ouch. Damn..." The 27 years old looked at the mismatched eyed girl with a jaw drop-grin hybrid. He didn't really know what to say, partly because he didn't really want to have the same truth treatment Allister just got. After a few seconds of disbelief, Gash shook his head, cleared his throat and looked back at the gunner. "Erh. Well as the lady said, I do tend to try to keep things calm around here, whether it be my job or not. You never know what might happen, and I kinda don't want bad things to happen onboard... But yeah, no. I heard gunshots and I ran down here to see what was going on, it just so happens that I overheard your and Red talk." The dark haired one replied. "I do, though, agree with what she said about women and all. You just flirt so much... geeze" Gash shrugged and sighed playfully, keeping the teasing going; it didn’t really mattered to Stryker if Allister flirted a lot or not: Robert McAllister was Robert McAllister and that probably wouldn’t change any time soon, not that Gash ever or would ever ask him to. Beside, courting was expected considering at least half of the higher positions were taken by women and all quite the eye catchers, each of them for different reasons.

Fletch was in one of her foul moods again. It honestly was beginning to feel like she was the only freaking engineer on the entire ship. No one did work, no one did what they were asked to, and no one seemed to want to help!

Of course, not up to her standards, at least. Nothing they did was ever good enough for her. She knew she was being a jerk, but who cared? She was the higher officer, she had every right to press them to their limits. Every. Right. Nothing less was acceptable for ship and crew of the Black Dawn's caliber, and, as Fletch prided herself on being part of the fearsome crew, no one got away with any laziness on her watch. She was harsh on them, but she always reminded herself that she could have been doing worse. At least she didn't have a whip down in the engineering rooms.

But this time she had asked for them to make sure they had tightened up the safety lock on the door before they tested any of the new upgrades to the heating methods on the ship. While tightening it, they had somehow loosened one of the heating pipes above it, and half melted the door shut. It had taken her a couple of hours of her own time to get the door to open again, and they hadn't been any help in fixing their own mess. Just the thought of their ricuous antics made her begin clanging her ever trusty wrench against the wall beside her, and growl lowly with frustration. They were lucky only one person had gotten hurt- three fingers had gotten severed from one crewman when they were trying to get the door open without her, and that was fixable by the ships doctor, which, Fletch had to admit, she was thankful for, too. She would have hated for anyone to be permanently hurt, simply because there were more similar to her than anyone else on the ship was.

Cold metal ran along her scalp as her right hand brushed her ever unmanageable red hair back. It had previously been in a ponytail, before she got angry with it, too, and down it went. With a small, helpless groan, she put her wrench in her teeth, and began twisting her hair into a rubber band, already tired of it being out. Waiting until she go to the mess hall wouldn't do, even if the fourth floor was empty of people to witness the tangle of red that night... Day. Whenever.

Until she looked up, hands still working on her hair, and lo and behold, the new navigator. Someone she didn't dislike, but didn't know at all, so didn't quite like him, with good reason and logic. But, he did take her by surprise, and her teeth stopped gripping the now slightly slimy metal of her wrench. It dropped to the ground, the clanks carrying far up and down the near empty corridors. Fletch winced, feeling foolish for having dropped it just because she had been startled. Ponytail finished, the engineer kneeled, snatching up her precious wrench, and then straightened, eyeing the young navigator carefully, though not with any distrust.

"Evening." She said flatly, eyes still sizing him up. She had heard of him, but had not yet seen him, and it seemed a good time to evaluate him. His story itself was, in the least, intruiging, especially when compared with his age.

Captain Feroca had been very much enjoying his book when a voice rumbled through her sumptuous room. She steadied her wineglass, the fine crystal vibrating from the sheer reverberation in Stripe's voice. The female sighed, placing her book down and picking up her glass, draining it before moving over to set it down on the side table where one of the ratings could pick it up and take it down to the kitchens to wash. She touched the black marble sideboard gently, her hand running over the smooth white-veined stone. It had belonged to the last Captain, one of the many gifts he had bestowed on her when she became Feroca the sixth. She turned her hand over, looking at the palm as greenish blue lightning crackled between her fingertips. That had been his greatest gift to her, outside of freeing her from the established existence all minor scions of a Dynastic house were doomed to: a loveless marriage.

She turned away, adjusting her red silk gown so she was decent before walking over to the door. Resting a gentle hand on it, she sighed a little before opening it to reveal her office. Her feet glided across the bare metal, not particularly bothered by the change from rich warm carpet to cold smooth flooring. She sat down on the large leather chair, made for much larger people than her, crossing her legs under the desk as she cleared her throat.

"Come in," said Josie quietly, opening a drawer to pull out a couple of cheap glasses and some cheapish wine. It was not an insult to Stripe, she was just not a fan of sharing the good stuff with anyone. She poured herself a glass, sipping from it a little as she settled back down into the worn black leather. It had been the seat of every Captain before her, although it had been restored a couple of times, especially the one time it was used as a temporary shield when the fourth captain was mutinied against.

The man wanting to see her was an interesting one. He had denied tradition, refusing to move on when she became captain. At first she had been irritated, but eventually she had relented. He was probably the best pilot in the galaxy and a very skilled fighter on top of that. It was a shame he was so tall he struggled in the close quarter fightings on human sized ships -- it was part of the reason he was captured in the first place, alongside his overconfidence in his own abilities. She smiled softly. Although he had certainly humbled himself since that day. The Black Dawn's crew were some of the most skilled fighters around, equal to the Dynastic's best troops outside of their half-legendary kill-teams.