When Jericho was young she read thousands and thousands of comics- she couldn't tell you what she read first, or why but she never could stop.

When Araceli was small she would look up into the sky and imagine far off planets. She kept looking every night but never once wished to leave.

As a child, Honey wasn't satisfied with the world, she wanted more, she wanted to see it all. Honey wanted to see whatever the universe would let her (and some things she's have to push and shove to find).

Baset has always been interested by the way things worked, the way things can be pieced together and pulled apart and she'd do anything to be able to do that her whole life.

If Jericho Wash was to tell you her life story she’d probably start with the first time she read a comic and twist a tale (though a not very interesting one) of her path from there to her opening Jericho’s Comics.

The real story doesn’t start there. It’s starts a few months before the opening, on her 23^rd birthday.

…

Jericho walked out of the bar giggling, the streetlights glittering above her. It was cold and dark but she chose to walk home to clear her mind from the drinks her sister bought her, a few birthday champagne glasses didn’t hurt but they made her a bit giddy.

The bar was close to her apartment but closer if she took the back roads and Jericho was confident that she knew them well enough to navigate her way back. She didn’t expect any trouble; she lived in a nice neighbourhood.

Turning down an alley she heard a crash of bins hit together, unsure she looked around only to see Sawyer the local stray cat wander to her feet. She sighed and crouched to pat him, “Oh Sawyer you scared me” she whispered pushing her pale red hair behind her ear.

As it always seems to go in these situations, she heard another crash- this time a set of bins next to her seemed to push forward, “Hello? Who’s there?” she asked as though she was the first girl in a horror film. Behind the bins she heard a groan and she lifted Sawyer into her arms before walking closer, close enough to see her.

Behind the bins was a girl – a woman- propped up, she sat leaning against a graffiti skull spanning the wall. The woman looked out of place, more so than just the fact that she was passed out behind the bins, her short black hair was mussed- and not fashionably more like she was worrying her hands through it. Her skin was dark ebony, accented by the pastel markings spanning her arms, a mix between tattoos and paint. Beyond just her physical appearance her actual dress set her out as different, her shoulders were covered buy armour plating, her torso covered in scalemaille the colour of flames, a skirt of leather and armoured boots made her look like something from a movie- she looked otherworldly.

Jericho let out a long sigh but figured she should check if this chick was alive, swapping Sawyer from both hands to one she reached out to press her fingers to the woman’s neck (that’s how it’s done on TV right?) finding no pulse she started to worry, her birthday is not the day to find a dead body! “No, no, no, no, no! This isn’t happening! You’re not dead! I won’t let this be a thing!” she whisper-yelled to the woman, shaking her slightly, and then she heard a groan.

Yes! A groan means she isn’t dead, well a groan should mean she isn't dead. Jericho shook her again and the woman’s eyes fluttered open then closed again. “Oh no please don’t be dead, I just met you and you’re really pretty and it’s my birthday and could you please not be dead?” Jericho pleaded as the woman’s eyes fluttered open again

Jericho heard a soft mumbling from the woman before bright, golden eyes looked up at her, "Tell me where I am." it was a demand, that much was quite obvious, but the woman's voice was soft and warm, "Um, you're in an alley in Glebe? Can you tell me what your name is?" Jericho answered, though it felt less like an answer and more like unsure questioning. 

The woman sat up fully, "If I tell you my name will you tell me more about where I am?" she bargined, Jericho sighed, "I guess? Like I mean it's fine if you don't tell me it's just that you were passed out in an alley and I was kinda worried about head trauma and checking if you knew your own name seemed a safe option?"

Honey slouched down in her chair, pulling at her split ends and pulling her hair apart. Their current mission was a simple glance around which meant for a very boring bridge shift, which luckily for her, was near done.

A bell sounded on deck, a soft alarm and Honey rose to her feet, "Once again, it's been a pleasure to spend this shift eith you all, I'll see you all back for the next alpha shift." with a mock salute (or possibly a real one) she walked to the lifts.

In the engine room of the vessel Recovery, Baset Ginene Alexandrova (or if you couldn’t stand the mouthful- Gin) was pulling things apart and putting them back together as she often did when there was nothing important to do. As she fiddled a voice sounded, “Well, Gin, if you’re not busy I was wondering if you’d care to get lunch? I’m on break.”

Gin lifted her head from her work to grin at her captain, “Oh Honey, you know I’d love to get lunch- if you give me 10 minutes. I’m in the middle of something and I promised my captain I wouldn’t let us fall out of the sky.” Honey smiled back at her engineer and laughed, “You know what I say Gin, who cares about the captain? Besides if we fell from the sky it’d be interesting.” Even as she said it Honey was already walking out the doors to let Gin complete her work.

Gin and Honey had been serving on the Recovery for three weeks before they first spoke outside of a mission, sitting together out of convenience in the mess hall. It was three months before they had their first date (Honey took her the observation deck and got her drunk, but they had fun). Three months one week before they first kissed (it was a mission, Honey had done something that could get them killed and she turned to Gin, grinned a megawatt grin, leaned in and whispered against her lips “I’m sorry if you die but I’m not sorry for bringing you” before kissing her).  They had been serving now for four years.

Gin liked to joke that Honey didn’t only need her to keep the ship in the air but to keep her flying. Honey could barely last a day with out Gin and Gin felt the same. They were two sides to the coin; together they kept the Recovery flying.

The mission for Recovery very barely about recovery- it only makes sense as recovery of information, (which is still confusing because, I suppose, to recover information you must first have the information and then lose it) but it’s good for publicity- well it would if the fact that Recovery existed was public knowledge.

Recovery was an exploration ship; the mission was simply to figure out what’s out there and to find new technology. All those serving aboard the Recovery were the highest in their field from about the world (if they passed the background check- Honey only just scratched past)