After a excruciatingly long patrol...

[Tealstone]

You stow your gear in your locker, slamming it shut before the folder full of two-week old mission briefs falls out. Shaking your head, instead of taking the stairs, you opt to take the lift down to deck 10 and hang a left at the first junction. The door slides open to a cavernous room segmented by large, opened door ports that slam down in the event of depressurization.

A soft, unrecognizable tune comes from the overhead PA system while a few rookie pilots are playing a card game at a corner table. The bar is currently closed, which doesn't really matter because you're still on-duty... technically. Table games, vidscreens and lounge chairs can be seen throughout the area.

The possibilities to kill time are endless.

[Romulus]

Mitch Hunt peers around the room looking for any of his pilots and is pleased there are none present. He looks at his watch calculating something in his head as he looks to the bulkhead and then overhead. He seems bored as he walks across the room to get a drink from the vending machine and sits down taking out his Data Pad as he does so. Out of habit he checks if his sidearm is secure and feels for his boot knife. He rubs his head and notices that his Marine haircut is grown out almost to the point of being unsat, so he makes a note to get to the station barber after lunch.

The Colonel begins working on calculating routes and jump points as he reviews the most recent threat assessment he received from his former XO who is still on active duty and now commands his own deep space recon unit. He wonders if he'll ever feel a sense of purpose like he did in the Corps working for a corporation. He wonders if getting rich is important to him. A threat alert chirps on his pad and he looks at it longingly, sighs, takes another drink of his water and starts making more notations.