Not So Very Long Ago In A Galaxy Much Too Close For Comfort... Slipping out of light speed like a bullet from a gun barrel, a lone, oblong starship shimmered and shuddered into focus as it approached a large, red orb hanging in the darkness of space. Slowly, the emerald vessel descended into an orbiting pattern barely within the atmosphere of the newly discovered planet where it powered off unnecessary systems and hovered in wait for further commands from the sleeping humans inside. Within the small ship, Captain Gavina "White Hawk" Fyfe stirred to life as the effects of the stasis drug wore off. Rotating her head and shoulders in a stretch, her chainmail armour groaned and clanked in protest at the stiff movements. A black veil covered her vision until several blinks scattered the tiny dots and let light into her steely blue pupils. Gloved fingers clumsy with non-use reached down to the leather strip strapped around her waist and worked at the knots which had kept her body tied firmly to the captain's chair on the bridge of the starship Conspirator. Eventually, the leather bindings fell away and she leaned forward to grip the arms of the chair for support. Buttons glowed and symbols flashed on the panel in front of her, displaying rudimentary charts of engine health, life support systems, and food levels. Fyfe grunted. Everything seemed to be in order-- for the most part. It would be some time yet before her crew could be considered fully functional. Stumbling only once as she stood to her feet, Captain Fyfe took a quick jaunt across the short bridge to get the blood flowing freely throughout her body. Arms and legs pumping, her nerves pulsed and throbbed as they reawakened after the decade-long slumber. Her lungs burned and wheezed as she gasped for oxygen. Good, limbs were cooperating and nothing seemed to be damaged internally. She slowed her jog to a casual walk and braced her hands on the arm of her captain's chair to catch her breath. It was time to wake the rest of the crew. Fyfe bent over the control panel on her captain's chair and typed in the code to release her fellow explorers from their sleep. She had been the only one programed to awaken when the ship's light speed cut off, in case of strenuous circumstances, just as she was the only one on the bridge now. All of the other members were locked snugly inside hibernation tubes to preserve their life as long as the ship continued to function. Having begun the revival process, Captain Fyfe turned her attention to the Captain's log tape and recorded a brief update to send back to their sponsors MacDougal & Co. The firm would be thrilled to hear of the uneventful journey here, if they were still around after ten years, just as her entire home world of Celtica would rejoice to know they were the first to arrive on New Camelot. For once, the Celts had staked a new planet before any of the other hungry powerhouses, but just because they had dibs did not mean this would go smoothly. Quite the opposite actually, especially if they discovered gold. Fyfe blew out her breath and drummed her fingers on the chair arm, her blood itching to get things moving. Soon enough they would know if the atmosphere was sustainable for life. Soon enough they would be the first to step foot on this rock. Soon enough. Even now, the groans multiplied throughout the single-level vessel and armour sets clanked as the rest of the knights emerged from their hibernation pods. Her work done for the present, Captain Fyfe straightened, clasped her hands behind her back, and marched with heavy footfalls to the Court where her crew would meet for further instruction.