Temple Run

Perhaps command will deign to inform us lowly grunts the purpose of this expedition at long last, [sarcasm] the perpetually armored mechanic thought to himself as he made sure that his tool kit was firmly attached to his belt.

Stepping out of his shared tent, Tark made his way to the main command tent, fiddling with a piece of scrap to keep his hands busy.

Kikli is standing attentively in the front of the group due to his size, munching on a ration pack while considering the countless lifeforms here that are just waiting to be catalouged.

Feeling the presence of an as of yet unmet co-grunt, Tark turned to his left before looking down at the member of the odd looking species. He had never seen anything quite like it, though granted his experience was limited to other ganks and certain districts of Nar Shadaa.

"What are you, co-worker?" [confused curiosity] Tark asked, his voice more emotionless than a droid's and just as mechanical.

Turning towards the synthetic voice, Kikli's eyes go slightly wide in pleasant surprise as he dashes toward Tark and lets out a clearly rehearsed sentence. Kikli T'emm, Chadra-Fan Archaeologist at your service.

Kikli begins to smile and his speech becomes much more natural, his somewhat high pitched voice speaking at a quick rate. Are you a Gank? I never worked with one before, I figured it would be like with a droid, well perhaps that's an oversimplification, but there are similarities right?

A tall Duros with light blue skin approaches the rapidly growing group and waves toward Kikli. He smiles brightly as he addresses the group. Hello there! Haven't I seen you across the hall?

Zom continues immediately, but speaks in a slow, relaxed tone. Oh, sorry. The name's Zom. I'm one of the geologists they brought in. So does this mean we're finally heading out into the field?

Seeing the new faces, Kikli immediately turns his attention to their questions. Hello hello, I'm Kikli T'emm, Archaeologist. I haven't the slightest clue what they are planning, hope its something neat though.

The day started like any other, a long, drawn-out dawn as pitch-black night slowly faded to monotonous grey day. The thick blanket of fog enveloping Nulander III seemed to make everything about the planet slow, sluggish, as if the very processes of nature couldn't quite be bothered to get out of bed. And nor, indeed, could a lot of the people in attendance.

Kaiten was aware of the purpose for her assignment to this mission. The ISB seemed to assume there was something in Csilla's atmosphere that gave every one of its inhabitants a fanatical urge to prostrate themselves before the nearest Imperial official, hence their assignment of the tenuously-aligned former-security officer as the apparent watchdog of the expedition. But awareness of that purpose didn't necessarily give her any more urge to carry it out. She wasn't an archaeologist, her mother had made it quite clear that any knowledge that didn't contribute to the security of the Hegemony was irrelevant, and as far as she could tell the scholars were not in fact secretly plotting violent insurrection. She'd had that pegged from day one.

Hence why most of what she'd been doing for the past few days was sleeping.

But this morning was different. Something was actually happening, the expedition's coordinator had called them in. When the alarm rang on her chrono she was up quickly, crossing to the hastily-constructed washblock to attempt to rinse off some of the filth of the muggy night, already aware a muggier day was to follow. She pulled on her jacket, cinched up her gun belt, and headed off to see what was what.

The inside of the prefab block serving as the 'command centre' of the enterprise was almost empty when she arrived, the persistent habit of arriving early forced in by her career leaving her stood around rather awkwardly. But soon others filtered in, beings of all shapes, sizes and descriptions, a confusing mix of individuals. She was hardly awkward in such settings, but as a relative newcomer, and like all Chiss something of an outsider in this context, she hovered on the edge of the idle chatter that filled the room until she noted one group that seemed to have coalesced on the grounds of being as unattached to any other as she was.

"Well I imagine if we're all here then they've got us doing something good," she said, addressing the plucky Chadra-Fan, and by extension his companions. "If they've got us all together just to announce a revised policy on washroom use I may have to stage a mutiny."

During the meeting Kikli places his full attention on the debriefing, particularly interested in this gas's use and allegedly deadly natives.

Responding to his teammates he says, I've been in a couple of firefights, quite thrilling once you feel the adrenaline! First time I shot someone was when half the crew on a voyage turned rogue, hope this expedition goes smoother, we lost alot of good data. While recounting his experience Kikli pulls out his datapad in an effort to see if he has any knowledge about the Natives.

Kikli's taps get progressively faster.

"For clarification, I am being taken from regular maintenance to apply percussive maintenance to hostile organics so as to reduce the probability of squishy meatbags requiring bodybags, correct?" [sarcasm]