The events on Prilisa IV were the big talk around Cirrus at the moment, even after the slave-programmed nekovalkryja were put safely into cold stasis in a secured spaceport. The scientists around the station debated and argued on their mid-day snacks of BioNutri-Snack Bean Gel about the hows and whys, some of them even wanting to study the nekos that the CSS Elite had brought in. The Cirrus Station Security members, on the other hand, either wanted to stay far, far away from the nekos, or get way, way too close for comfort for more nefarious reasons. The entire night and following day of the incident was like this...it was some much-needed life and juicy gossip at the same time.

Cassefin had no time for such things. Her list of To-Do's was far too full to allow time to listen in (or the common term for her type of listening in, also known as spying shamelessly via her wall of monitors); she had to call a Yamataian military contact to schedule of retrieval of those troublesome nekos, work with the administrator of the Prilisa IV spaceport for assessments of damages and possible slavery-transport charges, double-check the profiles of those both leaving and entering the Cirrus in the final phases of the transport shuttle runs, contact her personal medical adviser about her arm, hanging limp in the translucent sling around her chest...

...and plan a dinner for a CSS team that she did not particularly care for.

---

Meanwhile, in the hallway outside of the CSS sleeping quarters, The Squad 35 Savtechs, Mimi and Kess, had assembled all of their team members for the evening at 7:30 sharp, Trade Standard Time...and it was nearing that time. The two Cirrus Savtechs wanted to have everyone assembled bright and early, both to have a headstart on their path to Cassefin Montreal's personal quarters, and to hopefully give Squad 35 to get acquainted with a few new faces that would be joining them.

This evening Kess looked especially downtrodden, more so than her usual pessimism usually allowed. She barely spoke and made direct eye contact even less through her straight, raven hair as her volumetric persona leaned against the wall, flickering slightly every so often.

Mimi, on the other hand, was still very much the same, cheerful, far-to-optimistic as she bounced hither and fro, greeting her squad members as they arrived.

Leading from the front as always, Dream was practically giddy. Moreso than Mimi, even.

After suffering so much on a planet, the recontamination and new radioisotope injections she underwent had practically regenerated her. She was leaf-green, her eye a particularly bright glow-in-the-dark shade of emerald and her hair brighter and shinier than ever. She was dancing and singing in the corridor, waiting for the squad to gather 'round.

"Ta~ta~tataa~♪ Dinner~♪ Dinner~♪ Dinner by starlight~♪ Dinner by moonlight~♪ Dines the orbit with its nodes~♪ Dine the Junkers on their codes~♪ Dine the planets and their rings~♪ Dine the radars with their pings~♪ Dines the beam, dines the stream~♪ And dines Dream with all her team!~♪"

"It's just a meal, dear. Calm down."

Claire sighed inwardly a little bit. She still felt incredibly awkward around here. Having a new post didn't bother her, but the way she got into it did. Thankfully no one seemed to notice or care. In the meantime she would have to amuse herself with her hyperactive captain and the standoffish administrator. Both of which would no doubt keep her entertained for her stay here. The others on the squad she wasn't so sure about. Not that she distrusted them or anything, but they hadn't caught her attention yet.

Looking at Dream dance around in the hallways a bit more, she had to shake her head and smile. "Are you always this happy? Apart from how we met, I mean." She had noted that the spacer wasn't overly friendly back planetside. (Of course, that was pale in comparison to the others.) Then again, it wasn't an ideal situation to make friends in.

Sighing to himself, Deacon slowly made his way out of the showers, shaking off the excess water, before taking a towel to his shaggy pelt. Staring into the mirror, he moved his head from side to side, checking out his features for any sign of injury, and making sure he looked presentable for this dinner.

Which he really didn't want to go to.

After satisfying himself that he would at least pass general inspection, he began to dress in his formal attire, which for the evening was little more than his formal SMoDIN uniform, with his Kohanian longsword on his left hip, while one of his HHGs sat in the holster on his right. The scowl he wore was enough to let most of the rest of those milling around, snapping each other with wet towels know he was not in a mood for their brand of entertainment.

Stepping from the mens shower area, the Kohanian moved to his bed, once again leaping and turning in the air to land on the edge of it without the use of his hands to stabalize. He looked between his sword, and his gun, deciding to go with the katana instead, which he set onto his back by sliding head and right arm through the loop. Satisfied with this, he slipped off his bed and headed out the door, to be greeted by the cheerful Mimi, and the scowling visage of Kess. He wasn't in the mood to mimic either, so he just stood at ease, with hands clasped behind him, stoically staring ahead of himself and trying not to think any more about the failure of Prilisa IV.

Dream spun and tiptoed near Claire, singing "Laugh and the Maker laughs with you, cry and the Maker laughs harder~♪" before stopping besides her.

"Well, not always, but I try to be. I mean, dinner!" She said the word like someone who doesn't really know what dinner is about. "It's a new experience for me! And actually from grumpy Headmaster Real! So I'm curious. And happy! Plus, I'm back in space, no more on a planet!!"

Then she stared long and hard at Claire, as if examining her for some mysterious reason. Her cybernetic eye whirred a bit, lens sliding her into focus, sensor flashing and changing color.

"Speaking of which, I still haven't given you a nickname and a title." She pondered. "Well, Claire is short enough. Warmonger. Warmonger Claire, ok."

"I think the maker understands if you aren't happy 100% of the time though." Claire shook her head as the (slightly ADHD) spacer danced around her. No shortage of color on her at least. "Dinner isn't that special on your own. But who knows? Maybe it's the headmaster's way of asking you out?" Claire tilted her head to the side a bit and grinned at Dream.

"Planets aren't that horrible, dear. You just had a rough time on what I'm assuming was your first. Just depends on how you're raised I suppose. Besides which, Prilisa IV isn't exactly what I'd call a 'shining example'." Claire was starting to get why they were called 'spacers' now. Ah, the differences of cultures.

Claire frowned at her nickname however. "Warmonger? Why am I a warmonger? I don't enjoy war at all. Yeah, I'm a marine, but that doesn't make me bloodthirsty. I don't even like killing really..." She frowned and looked at her feet. That was odd of her though. Not that she wouldn't do it if she had to, but she took no pleasure in doing so.

"It's just a title!" Explained Dream. "I'm a Priestess, my job is to take care of everyone and everything, body, mind and soul. Spacecases are specialized pilots, Datajacks are hackers and crackers, Stargazers plot courses and chart stars, Oremongers drill asteroids and extract metals, Gearheads take care of technical stuff, and so on. You're a Nepleslian soldier, right? Then you're a Warmonger." She didn't say it like it was meant as an insult, but the word still wasn't very right-sounding.

"As for Planets... the Book says: planets are the cradle of life, but one doesn't stay in the cradle forever. We moved out. Changed. We love planets, because they are the source of life and the beloved creations of Terra, but we don't go on them anymore if we can avoid it."

With nothing else to do -- she had no assignments, and Dream was contaminating the shrine so there was nothing to do in there -- Tweak had spent the day in hiding, reading and sketching in her journal. She knew she needed to talk with Deacon, but when she saw him that morning he didn't seem in the best of moods.

Tweak returned to the barracks to grab something to eat and found Dream dancing in the corridor. The neko adjusted her hat, tugging on an ear-flap.

"What's going on?" she asked, looking back and forth between Dream and Claire. Her eyes flicked to Kess for a moment, but refocused on the happy 'Spacer.

Claire turned towards the new voice and managed to stop herself from flinching. Normally she was fairly outgoing, but the circumstances of being here made her feel awkward. Tweak had an unusual appearance like most here, but then again. She didn't think anyone could beat Dream when it came to being odd.

Still, she knew better than to judge her squadmates before she even got to know them first. "We're all getting invited to a dinner with Miss Montreal. I assume you're included.." She frowned a bit as if a troubling thought crossed her mind, but whatever it was, she shook it off. "Anyway, apparently that has our captain prancing about the hallway in excitement..." She spared a glance at Dream. She would have to let go of her notions of 'normal' on this station. "...Or something."

Just accept it. We're all a little screwy here.

Keziah felt like saying that, as she emerged from the barracks wearing her dress uniform. The remnants of the headdress were out of her hair, save for a single polished, flattened spoon that had been wound up carefully. It looked like a coin, tapping gently against the side of her jaw with each movement she made. It was the only part of her that was non-standard-issue.

Everything else screamed military. Screamed proper.

Bright polish to her boots, her nameplate looking almost white in the hallway light. Her belt, carefully and precisely set across her hips, where her beret was hitched instead of a pistol.

She stepped off to the side of the door, and stood close to the wall, at ease. Her eyes didn't meet anyone's, instead focusing on the bulkhead directly across from her, like she could burn a hole through it.