No rest for the wicked

"All crewmen report to the forward bridge. All crewmen report to the forward bridge."
Claymore opened his eyes. He groaned and swore
"God damn it." he winced has he got up. "What now?" he decided not to put on exosuit. He just threw on his black leather trenchcoat over his naked torso and his leggings. He hastily put on his combat boots.
"This better be good..." he mumbled under his breath as he placed one of his hand guns on his left pocket and a small bottle of Odian Firewater in the other. He was going to need a few good swings before the day was over.

The tetrameth high was long gone and in it's place an itching headache was building in his head. It made him want to reach out into his brain through his eye, to scratch at it hardheartedly.
His mouth was dry and he was sweating. He took several swings of the Firewater as he made his way to the bridge making a mental note of where his stuff was stored. He was actually thinking of crashing down there. More secluded. All he needed was a tarp to make a hammock. And he could always shot some womp rats.
Maybe a nice piece of ass to keep him company and help him heal those ribs.

He had seen only one woman so far and she did not look like the kind that partook of his vices or was looking for a tumble in some dirty and dark cargo hold.
~Maybe you should ask her.~ his inner voice told him and he had to stop himself from laughing. Fucking painkillers had not kick in yet. Well nothing really did when one was coming down from tetrameth.

He approached the bridge just as the Captain was turning back after talking to two women.
Claymore perked up almost immediately.
~Now we're talking. Not a total sausage fest after all.~

His optical piece automatically scanned them as he always did as a default when meeting someone for the first time.
First the short haired one.
#Artificial Humanoid - Utopian Series-7 Domestic Companion#
His interest waned. He had never developed a taste for Artificials. I mean he done a few but only if the real thing was not available.

He turned his eyes to the second woman.
#Modified Human - Age 25-35#
Now that was a sweet piece of ass right there and he was sure that one did enjoy some rough tumbling. She had that look about her. Something struck him for a heartbeat as if he had seen her before. He could not place her but he would definitely search his memory banks later. He never forgot a face. Special one like that.

He walked into the bridge. The Captain was speaking.
"Mr. Donva," he began in sterner tones than he had with the other members of the crew, "plot a course for the Ulthar system, more specifically its one habitable planet, which shares its name."

He turned his eye to the pilot.
#Yassengoro -Age 250+#
He closed his eyes and rubbed them. A stream of data about the race and the Confederacy popped up but he blinked it away. More bedtime reading.
~A freaking telepath. Great.~
And a Yassengoro at that. He had engaged in combat with his kind before, during his Vega Envoy days. He would need to upload the latest version of the Shriek. That was going to be fun. He took a swing of the bottle and drank deeply. He put it back in his right pocket.

"Reporting as requested Captain." he told the man and moved into the bridge.

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