More than two thousand years ago, there lived a man by the name of Galen Holt. He was a man with a vision. He saw the state of the Galaxy, the state of his world, and he was sickened by the corruption, the greed and selfishness, the constant warfare, the inefficiency of the Galactic government. He himself had been born into power and privilege, and he had turned this into a vast personal fortune. He believed that as greed and corruption were a part of life, a part of the system, he and others who thought like him would have to separate themselves from that system, separate themselves from the Galaxy.



And so construction began upon "The Ship". It would have no other name, and by the time it was complete, it would be far and away the largest civilian vessel ever built, more than nine kilometers in length, and would have the most efficient fusion generators ever designed, along with a hyperdrive centuries ahead of its time. Its vast stern would hold sublight engines that could accelerate it to a higher velocity than even the Victory-class Star Destroyer that would come two thousand years later. Every component was designed to be both durable and easy to repair, for the man who designed it, one of Holt's disciples, knew that it might be thousands of years before the end they foresaw came to pass.



What Holt and his followers believed was that in order for a species to live a planet-bound life they would doom that planet to eventually be consumed either in war, through greed, or simply through the need to sustain its population. Eventually this process would destroy every intelligent species in the Galaxy, leaving only the people of their movement to establish a new Galactic Order based on the sinless life they had lived aboard The Ship.

To eliminate sins, Holt declared, they would need to eliminate the cause of all sins. Nobody aboard The Ship would own private property, or any form of currency. All goods aboard The Ship would be divided as needed. Those brought aboard would have their aptitude tested, and would be assigned to the job for which they were best suited. While this might create some unhappiness, after a few generations, this would eventually go away as generations of ship-born were raised in the society, taught that to better oneself in order to better serve the interests of the society was the greatest good.

Holt's oldest grandson, a medical doctor and a fervent believer in the vision of his father and grandfather, foresaw genetic diversity problems, and he created a massive medical computer system which would analyze blood samples and match mates with the greatest chance of producing a healthy child. To prevent overpopulation, few women would have more than two children, the older the female, the younger male. Only in times of extensive population decline would any woman be asked to have more than two children. Only in times of extensive population growth would any woman be asked to have fewer than two children.

On the first day of the first year of The Ship Calendar sixty-two years after the building first began, the nine-kilometer long ship, populated by 50,000 sentients, mostly humans, set out to travel among the stars, never to make permanent harbor again. Holt would die a few months later, at the age of 121, the first part of his vision at long last fulfilled.





The small six year-old girl looked up into the face of the strange woman. She had introduced herself as Craftmaster Lessa. She was a Craftmaster. That meant she was to be listened to. The young girl ran a hand through her shoulder length brown hair and her blue eyes darted back and forth, taking in her surroundings. Children ranging from her age to about the age of ten worked in separate rooms all around, some in small groups with what the girl assumed were other Craftmasters, some individually working with vid-screens.

She looked back to the strange woman and gave a shy smile. The strange woman smiled back. "Good, Si'ella. There's nothing to be nervous about. This is where you'll be coming to learn the basics of serving The Ship for the next several years. Before you know it, you'll learn what you will be doing to help." Si'ella smiled. She wanted to help. That she was old enough to start was exciting.

The woman, she looked to be only about seventy, her hair just beginning to go grey. "I will be your guide for your first two weeks here. If you have any questions, you can ask me."

Si'ella nodded. "What did you do before you came here?" she asked.



Lessa took a breath and thought back, a wistful smile creasing her face. "I am a Forgemaster. I used to build parts for The Ship, but now I teach children like yourself the basics of my craft. We all serve The Ship by teaching the younger generation the basics of our craft." Si'ella nodded sagely. There were enough Forgemasters that there would be little production lost, and the system had been established by Holt. He had foreseen all of this.

Lessa extended a hand. "Come Si'ella. Your first class will be on Hydroponic Farming. Your mother is a Master Computerist, I hear. But you never know. Her mother was an Artmaster, one of the best."




At the age of six, children begin to learn the basics of every one of the crafts aboard The Ship, to eventually build towards the Master level in each of those crafts. They spend eight hours a day studying, four days a week. The three days off will always include their rest day (the day of the week on which they were born), as this will be their rest day when they are adults and take up their full responsibility to The Ship.

This tends to be the time when children have their first formal contact with children outside their residential area, and it can sometimes be frightening, seeing new faces for the first time. For this reason, guides are assigned to each child for the first few weeks of their learning. Usually a guide will have twenty or thirty children each year, no more than two at a time. Some guides will be Craftmasters who teach at the school, but most will be older children going through their final years of learning. Usually an effort is made to find a Craftmaster to guide a child with a partial Bricru surname.


Si'ella regarded her father closely. It was rare for him to visit, but he was always interesting when he came around. He was much older than her mother, he was in his sixties, while her mother was still only in her mid-twenties. He wore a fancy blue uniform that told her that he was important. He was a part of the "Bricru" family. They were important people, doing the jobs that did not require more than a few people to do, such as "plotting courses" among the stars, and actually piloting The Ship. Her father did not insist on being addressed as "My Lord", but those with any respect for tradition did so anyway, moving out of his way to allow him to pass.

His uniform included a red sash, that denoted him as one of the ten highest ranking officers aboard The Ship. If he continued in his dedicated service for another ten or twenty years, he might well wear the Gold sash.

"Si'ella!" he boomed. "How is my only daughter?" She smiled as he ruffled her short hair and bent down to kiss her on the forehead. She giggled and stepped back. "You've grown!" he said. "You're seven now!"



Si'ella smiled. "Seven and a half," she said proudly, prompting another booming laugh from her father. "Of course," he said. "Seven and a half. How is learning going?" Si'ella smiled proudly at him. "We learned to build a model sub-light engine in machinist class, and I was the fastest in my class to build one that worked." She paused. "Ronin built one faster than me, but his blew up when he turned it on." She looked up at her father. "Everyone was okay though. They made us stand back and turn it on by remote."

A broad smile split her father's bearded face and he ruffled her hair again, prompting another giggle from her. "I did say when you were born that you had the look of a machinist!" Si'ella's mother gave a silvery laugh from somewhere behind Si'ella who turned. Her father stood up. "Larelia!" he said, crossing the small room in a single stride and giving her a kiss. Si'ella looked away. It was embarrassing that her genetic parents displayed affection towards each other. If any of her friends knew, the teasing would be unbearable. 




One of the unforeseen developments aboard The Ship came about a few centuries into the endless voyage, in the evolution of an Aristocratic class, known as the Bricru, which is a corruption of "Bridge Crew". Unlike most of the rest of the Crew, the Bricru don't work six days a week with the one rest day. Most work only a few days a week, and usually for a six hour shift, rather than a 12-hour shift. There are nine members of the Bricru who wear a red sash, based on their age, which they refer to as "seniority". The Captain of The Ship (the most senior) wears a gold sash. Other than those small decorations there are no required uniforms.

The members of the Bricru have few special privileges beyond working less strenuously than the rest of the Crew. The women still have the required number of children, and the men are just as likely as anyone to be selected to be fathers as any other males. But the members of the Bricru family have the right to retain private possessions beyond those few allowed the rest of the Crew (the Crew are allowed to own clothes and a personally fitted skin suit. Those in the Volunteer Security Force are allowed weapons) and are also assigned permanent quarters with locks.

However, this is not to say that the Aristocratic class act as many other aristocracies throughout history have acted. They are, for the most part, ambivalent, if not actively benevolent towards those of a lower status than they, not believing themselves particularly superior to the others, despite the relative criticality of their jobs.

In the event of a serious breach of discipline, the ten highest-ranking members of the Command Crew are convened for a Court Martial, with the Captain serving as arbiter, but not casting a vote. No matter how many senior members are present, (recusal can and does occur in some cases) five are required for a guilty verdict, except in the rare case that fewer than five do not recuse themselves. In this event, a unanimous guilty verdict is required. Any time a Court Martial is convened, the only possible sentence is death, as it is for crimes such as treason against The Ship, rape, murder, mutiny, or other, similarly serious crimes.



Those with the hyphenated Bricru surname are eligible for elevation to the Bricru in the event that someone with a similar skill set of the same sex and approximate age among the Bricru were to die. In this case, their mother's name is dropped. In Si'Ella's case, she would cease to be Si'ella Fenn-Bricru and become Si'ella Bricru. Any children she had from that point forward would be members of the Bricru aristocracy, though any she had before would not, though if young, they would be permitted to live with her.



Any member of the Bricru convicted of any crime, no matter how small, is sentenced to death, as his or her position of power and visibility means that he must be an example to all those aboard The Ship. However, a member of the Bricru has the Right of Exile. He may appeal to the Senior members of the Bricru family to exile him from The Ship instead of having him killed, and if they give their unanimous consent, he is confined to his quarters until the next time The Ship puts in for supplies, and he is left behind.


Si'ella placed her tongue between her teeth, biting down lightly as she concentrated, the tool moving ever so slightly as she turned it. This was the most delicate part.... The tiny screw turned, and Si'ella sighed with relief as the circuit board settled into position without cracking. This time. She replaced the cover on the portable computer and smiled, handing it to her mother. "Try it now," she said. Larelia Fenn took the portable computer and hit the powerup key, the screen coming to life much more quickly this time.

Taking this as a hopeful sign, Larelia's fingers flew across the keys, and then, hesitating ever so slightly, executed the compile command. After a brief moment of hesitation, the program began to resolve itself, causing Larelia to smile. "Good job Si'ella!" she said, causing Si'ella to give a small smile. Her mother might be a Master Computerist, but when it came to fixing her equipment, she was hopeless. Though a year away from her selection, everyone of Si'ella's instructors, classmates, and both her parents knew that Si'ella was bound to be a Machinist. Her competency scores were excellent in most areas, but her scores in Machine Competency were some of the best ever seen for someone her age. Despite her youth, some were already drawing comparisons between Si'ella and Lorvelia, the prime Machinist of her day more than five centuries before, a fact which made Si'ella blush.



Whatever the reason, Si'ella simply had a "gift" when it came to machines, and she moved with extraordinary grace in zero-gravity, even when she wore the more cumbersome heavy repair suits. She added to this the fact that she didn't get space sick or disoriented in zero gravity, both of which were significant advantages. Finally, she spent much of her spare time reviewing original building schematics and updated repair schematics for The Ship. She seemingly knew where every piece was supposed to be, and where every piece was, which gave her an ability to creatively solve theoretical mechanical problems in unforeseen ways, on occasion even outperforming her instructors, much to their mingled displeasure and pride. Yes, Si'ella would be a boon to The Ship when it came time for her selection.


Aptitude tests are routinely administered, once every six months from the age of eight to the age of ten, to determine where children's talents most likely lie, and to determine in what areas (if any) the child needs additional schooling. These tests were designed by educational experts under Holt's instruction to measure aptitude in every possible area. Based on the weighted score averages (more recent tests getting more weight) and assumed trends, it is a simple matter to determine at the age of ten, what focus the child should take. Engineering, ship's services, computer programming, professional security, hydroponics, or any of the many, many full-time jobs that need to be completed to ensure the safe and efficient running of The Ship.

The day after the tenth birthday of any child (their actual tenth birthday being one of their assigned days of rest, given the 350-day Calendar of The Ship) they are given their area of focus. Classes for them will now segregate into their area of specialty, and they will be placed with students ten and eleven years old for three days a week, and work the other three days under the supervision of someone of Journeyman rank or higher in the children's eventual profession.


Ten year-old Si'ella briefly looked at the slip of paper she had been handed, nodding with the satisfaction of someone who was having a certainty confirmed. She looked up as Maresa, a fellow classmate and friend walked her direction. As the two of them shared the exact same date of birth, it had been a rare event, the assignment of double orders. "Machinist," Si'ella said with a smile.

Maresa returned the smile. "Duh," she said. "Hydroponics for me," she said. Si'ella nodded. She had had a suspicion, especially after Maresa's idea the previous year about soil composition had resulted in a projected .02% increase in crop yields, and a corresponding 0.009% increase in carbon dioxide recycling capacity. "Machinist is rough," Maresa said. "My mother says that my genetic father was a machinist, and that he died in an accident before I was born." Si'ella nodded gravely. The position of machinist was widely acknowledged as one of the most dangerous and difficult jobs aboard The Ship, but it was also one of the—if not the—most critical jobs. She looked back at the flimsi ordering her to report to Classroom 12-Alpha-Tango the next morning at 0700 hours for orientation.




A child continues in the three days of learning, three days of working, one day of rest routine for two full years, until the day after their twelfth birthday when they officially become adults and begin working six days a week, twelve hours a day. Their rest day is still the day of the seven-day week on which they were born.

Machinists only work ten hours a day, but work out strenuously for two hours each of their work days, owing to the need to stay in shape and avoid musculoskeletal degeneration from prolonged exposure to zero-gravity, the environment in which many of the required repairs to The Ship take place.

Living, working out, and sleeping in higher than standard gravity is a common practice among the Crew of The Ship. While this has the effect of slowing their growth, it also allows them to build up far more efficient muscular and cardiovascular systems. It is for this reason that they tend to be somewhat shorter than a "normal" human, but that they also are deceptively strong. This also contributes to a life expectancy seen in those few who have abandoned The Ship and settled at one standard gravity in excess of 110 years even without significant medical care.


Si'ella wiped a hand across her brow, pushing the hair clinging to her sweaty face out of her eyes as she continued to jog on the treadmill, set to a moderate incline. She still had about fifteen minutes to go on the running portion of her workout. Every joint in her body seemed to ache in time with her run. Some of these were the normal aches and pains of a growing thirteen year-old body, and the rest were from her workout, which she had recently stepped up to a more ferocious level.

She had also increased the setting on the plating of the room to 1.35 gravities a little bit beyond the 1.3 gravity level she preferred to keep her quarters at, so she felt a little bit heavier than was normal. That was fine, it helped her build up muscle strength without actually bulking up much more. Despite her thin frame and her delicate appearance, she was surprisingly strong.

When the timer went off she stopped the treadmill and, picking out her favorite spot on the floor began to do crunches and pushups, ensuring that she did at least five more of each than she had the previous day. By the time she had finished with that, she had just over half an hour before she had to report for duty, and she spent it doing some gymnastics routines. At 1.35 gravities, the routines were far more difficult than they were at 1.3 gravities, and several times, performing flips that were habitual, she came within millimeters of falling hard, but she got through two routines. When the timer went off she headed towards the showers, pausing momentarily to dial the gravity back down to the gym's standard of 1.05 gravities.


Average human norms of modesty and polite conduct don't apply much aboard The Ship. Obsession with the naked body is one thing that the Crew members don't seem to have. While most of them wear clothing in all public areas, there are some who choose not to, and this is no more remarked upon than someone wearing a cap or not would be in most human societies.

At the age of 12, a member of the Crew is considered an adult with all the rights and privileges that go along with it, though Crew members will not be added to the genetic pool (making them eligible to be parents) until after their "planetwalk", sort of a coming-of-age ceremony begun by members of the Crew at some point before their 19th birthday, and always completed by their 21st birthday.

Because there is little to do aboard ship beyond further learning in your area of expertise, two forms of entertainment divert most of the Crew during their rest days, drinking, and recreation. The Ship always has a large supply of alcoholic beverages, and by the time they're fifteen, most members of the Crew have developed an impressive tolerance to alcohol, which would be considered shocking to most human cultures.

Then there is "recreation", which is the term used for sex by most members of the Crew. Because they developed a 100% effective method of birth control and any sexually transmitted diseases have also been eliminated, there is little harm (in the eyes of the Crew anyway) with using sex to blow off a little steam and make life more pleasant. Almost all Crew members will recreate with a large number of partners in the course of their lives and monogamy is seen as unusual, and some of the more conservative members of the Crew have asked the Bricru to ban it, though it is another case of choices that the Bricru feel they have no right to interfere with.

Because of the fact that sex is seen as an action to be undertaken to relax rather than reproduce, there is no concept of sexuality aboard The Ship. Who someone chooses to recreate with is their business, and if the two or more happen to be of the same gender, this is neither unusual nor of note. Most, if not all, of the Crew will sleep with members of their own sex as well as members of the opposite sex with no idea that this might be seen as unusual by other cultures. When a group of newcomers with conservative societal or religious viewpoints join the Crew, sometimes they will attempt to explain sexuality and sexual morality to members of the Crew. These have met with very limited success.

On the flip side, monogamy, marriage, and romantic love are seen as backwards and primitive by most Crew members. While there is a great deal of loyalty between Crew members, this is a filial love, a "dispassionate, virtuous love" as described by the ancient Cerean Philosopher Do Roma. Romantic attachment is seen as distracting, sometimes to the point of endangering The Ship, and so it is officially discouraged for Crew members to form romantic attachments.

Monogamy and marriage meanwhile, simply serve to tie one down. Since sex on The Ship is used for relaxation rather than reproduction (except when a genetic pairing has been selected by the computer) swearing to be faithful to one person is akin to declaring oneself so bad in bed that he or she can only satisfy someone who is equally bad. And if there is one sin the Crew can be accused of, it is that of pride, both in their genetic "superiority" and in many of their daily activities.




Si'ella blinked sleep away from her eyes as her alarm went off, conscious of Maresa's warm body stirring beside her. She pushed away a little tingle of guilt, for this was the third time in the past week the two of them had woken up together, which was perhaps a little too much. Still, she reflected as she pushed herself out of the bed they had shared, she had been told it wasn't unusual for young adults at fifteen to experiment with romantic attachment, sometimes even with monogamy. She watched Maresa as she climbed out of bed and wondered if she was feeling any of the same guilt. She couldn't read the gaze Maresa sent her way, which was good at least. It meant they weren't that close yet.

"I have to go exercise," Si'ella said, as she picked up her clothes and began to tug them on.

Maresa gave a little smile. "I have to get to work," she said, heading out the door. Si'ella gave a little smile of her own. She wasn't honestly sure why she bothered with clothing.... She supposed it was her upbringing. Her mother wore clothing when out in public, so Si'ella did too, while Maresa almost never bothered with it. Of course, almost no one in hydroponics did, given the way the place was heated. The few times Si'ella had been there for repairs, the place had been sweltering, and even worse, humid. Dry heat, zero gravity, Si'ella could handle. Hot and wet... that was unpleasant. She smirked. Most of the time, anyway.


Though the majority of The Ship's residents never learn how to fight, there is need for a small security force aboard The Ship, mostly used to monitor any visitors aboard The Ship on the rare occasions when it puts into port. The security force also serves to protect The Ship from pirate attacks, though such occasions are unusual, as there are far softer targets with much more of value aboard them than The Ship.



However, once in a while, an opportunistic pirate will get it in her head that The Ship would be a great prize to take, and its lack of significant armament makes it a tempting target for pirates seeking a capital ship. What The Shipboard Defense Force lacks in numbers however, it makes up for with toughness.




Si'ella ducked down as the sharp retort of slugthrower weapons sounded around her, and the distinctive ping that bullets made as they ricocheted off the inner hull followed. She gritted her teeth as someone in her security team screamed in pain. She spared a glance. It was Jerek Larr, but it didn't look like a serious injury. She flipped on her comm with a sharp shake of her head. "Kyla, now would be a good time for you to flank these pirates," she said, sparing a brief glance from out of her cover. The three-eyed Lugaar spotted her instantly and their quick reflexes brought their weapons in line, and she ducked back as the weapons spat metal at her, chewing a bit more of the corner out.



If anyone was foolhardy enough to attack The Ship it would be the Lugaar, greyish reptilians with spiked heads. Four legs, two arms, and a razor-sharp tail, plus incredibly quick reflexes and surprising speed made them dangerous, and the grey armor made them very difficult to kill with regular slugthrower ammunition, which was, unfortunately, all that Si'ella and her squad had. But they needed to hold the intersection long enough for Lyra to get down the hallway to get behind the Lugaar.

But with Droma dying on the deck, and Larr out of commission, Si'ella's squad was down to only four, and their return fire was growing sporadic as the Lugaar were advancing on their position. "Kyla! Now!" Si'ella shouted again, before Kyla's answer finally crackled over her comm. "Thirty seconds Si'ella!" she said.



Si'ella poked the muzzle of her shotgun around the corner, pumping it off without looking. She was rewarded with a roar from one of the Lugaar. She had at least annoyed it. "I dunno if we have thirty seconds in us, Lyra!"



"You can't let them take that intersection!" Lyra yelled and Si'ella severed the link, scowling. Well, there was nothing for it, but to do the unexpected. So Si'ella poked her head out, fired once at the closest Lugaar, and, rather than pull her head back, used her arm to throw herself out away from cover into the middle of the passageway. Perhaps it was the insanity of such a maneuver, or its unexpectedness, but even the Lugaar were slow to respond, and Si'ella fired another shot before tossing the spent shotgun aside and drawing out her pistol. The Lugaar's weapons tracked towards her as she emptied her pistol uselessly into the head and chest area of an already injured Luugar.

But then a grenade went off in the center of the pirate group, and Si'ella threw herself backwards, rolling to protect her head and neck as several other explosions tore into the pirates. She felt hot air wash across her back, and a burning sensation at her waist just below the flak jacket she wore, as well as several impacts on the jacket itself.



Then, mercifully, silence. She peeked, the bloody remains of the pirates were strewn about the deck, and Kyla was running towards her. "Good timing," Si'ella commented drily as Kyla helped her to her feet. She reached for her side, and her hand came away bloody.



Kyla glanced at the wound, her blue eyes surveying it before glancing up into Si'ella's. She brushed blonde hair back into the "ponytail" Kyla had worn ever since returning from her planetwalk a few years earlier, and Amara mirrored her, pushing strands of her green-dyed hair back away from where it had stuck to her forehead. "It's not bad," she said. "Nothing a quick-heal patch and a rest day won't cure." Si'ella gave a small nod. She still had one day of work to complete before her rest-day came around, but as Kyla had said, it was a minor injury, and thankfully, it was unlikely to impede her ability to work.


The "planetwalk", usually undertaken when an adult of the Crew is between the ages of 16 and 20, is a ritual whereby the young adults of The Ship can witness the corruption of the Galaxy first-hand, by living in it. It is at this stage that some are killed, some leave The Ship forever, but most have their faith in the vision of the Crew and The Ship reinforced, and return to The Ship, more strongly convinced than ever that the Galaxy is corrupt and that eventually, the species inhabiting it will destroy themselves and each other.

When The Ship stops for supplies, it usually leaves a few young adults behind who then live in the regular galaxy for any period of time, usually from six months to two years, before returning to The Ship, if they so desire. If they are gone more than three years, (few of those that die are ever confirmed as dead) they are erased from The Ship's registry, though in the 2000 years The Ship has been flying through the void, a handful have returned after more than three years away.




Si'ella hoisted the backpack on her back, conscious of the weight of the shotgun in its holster along her back and the vibro-knife at her side. She had been wary of taking even a single weapon along, but her father had finally convinced her that it was better to be "safe than sorry", though what exactly that phrase meant she had no idea. Her backpack contained several changes of clothes, and some goods with which to barter. She also had a plastic rectangle called a "Cred It Chip", though what in the world it did, she had no idea. Her father had told her that she could give it to people, they would look at it, and then give her things, and return the rectangle to her. Apparently it had some kind of value, though why they wouldn't want to keep it if it was valuable, she didn't understand.

She couldn't understand either why people wouldn't just give her stuff for free, if all they wanted was to look at a plastic rectangle with some numbers on it and a black strip along the back. She shook her head and sighed. Eighteen years she'd lived on The Ship. She was used to the way things were.... She wasn't comfortable with new things. That was the point of planetwalk. But all the people around her at the bustling spaceport.... All of them going somewhere and coming from someplace else.... There was none of the well-organized chaos of Shipboard life. Everyone was concerned with themselves, not with any grand purpose the way they were on The Ship. She turned around as the countergravity of the shuttle that had dropped her off engaged, and watched as it rapidly diminished to a pinprick of light and disappeared. She shook her head and hefted the backpack on her back, taking a deep breath.



It was going to be an adventure.

Wanderlust

As part of her Planetwalk, Si'ella wants to experience new things, see new sights, and keep moving. The Galaxy is a big place, and her own little sliver of it happens to be quite isolated. She's very curious about what things are like on planets, on space stations, and aboard starships that are not permanent places of residence. She wants to experience it all.

Duty: Support
Value: 17

Si'ella is dedicated to helping her crew however she can, particularly with mechanical issues, but in combat and in other situations where she feels she can be of assistance. She will invariably put the good of the crew ahead of her own.

Obligation: Criminal
Value: 5

Si'ella is wanted on more than one planet for cases of petty theft and for stowing away aboard vehicles. She doesn't see these as crimes and is likely unaware of these outstanding warrents.

Si'ella is much shorter than the average female at only 157 centimeters in height, and quite slender. Her most noticeable feature is likely her hair, which is worn about shoulder length and dyed a blue green color. She has blue grey eyes and an innocent-looking face, almost always wearing a smile, except when she is intensely concentrating. When she's concentrating hard on an issue, her eyes tend to focus only on the problem, and she will catch her tongue between her teeth, occasionally tucking her hair back behind an ear while she considers her next course of action.

She'll often be found wearing a mechanic's jumpsuit or her skinsuit, but when she wears regular clothes, they tend to be fairly unremarkable, if perhaps a little more colorful than modern fashion would dictate. She always has the tools of her trade on her person, either on her utility belt, on her jumpsuit, or in her modular backpack. She carries a number of weapons, including a few home made grenades, but the most noticeable one is the huge shotgun slung over her back that is very nearly as long as she is tall. She is conscious that intimidation isn't her strongest suit, and more than one foe has found the sight of the small girl with the big gun comical. Very few have found it so after she has squeezed the trigger.

She walks carefully, seemingly able to navigate teeming crowds without ever bumping into anyone, and she's comfortable in just about any level of gravity, including its complete absence, since work in zero-gravity was an almost daily part of her life for years. Even when there's nothing happening she tends to stretch or exercise, rather than remaining entirely still, though she will give you her full attention.

PERSONALITY: Si'ella could be a case study all on her own. What are generally considered human norms are unknown or non-existent to her. She will consistently put the good of the team or crew or state ahead of her own good, without complaint or hesitation. She is jumpy if she goes too long without getting a chance to work, or at the very least, read up on technology. She will happily put herself in dangerous situations if it will help her friends, and seems unconcerned with her own well-being. Concepts like modesty and personal property are mostly foreign to her, as she is used to an open society where privacy is not an option, and where all resources are shared among all members of the crew. As far as she's concerned she doesn't own any of her gear, it is merely carried by her, for free use by any member of her crew, but by the same token, their gear is all open for her to use as well.

Her lack of familiarity with currency may get her into trouble, as currency has no tangible value to her. When her people need to make exchanges, they will exchange goods they manufacture that are of no use to them for goods that they need and cannot easily manufacture. So she understands the concept of state property, and value exchanges, at least in so far as a barter economy goes, but why she should care for numbers or electronic bits on a card or in an electronic storage system is beyond her.

She approves of order and finds autocracy to be the most efficient and logical form of government, although she believes in the concept of noblesse obligé, or the responsibility of those in a position of power to care for and protect those who are not in power. The Bricru leadership aboard The Ship of which she is a semi-peripheral part (for more information, refer to her background) has always been benevolent towards the Crew of The Ship, and Si'ella hates to see a leader fail his people.

Si'ella is very forward and highly sociable. She's always willing to share a drink and a story from her time aboard The Ship, and many of her anecdotes could be considered highly entertaining. She's also always willing to listen to the stories of others, as the traditions and customs of the "dirt eaters" as she occasionally calls them are as strange to her as her traditions and customs are to them.

Nothing can seemingly dampen her spirits, and it's very difficult to make her angry, as she has a very "in the moment" view of her life. One of the realities of her job aboard The Ship is that on any given day she could die a gruesome death without any warning at all through no fault of her own, so there's no reason not to enjoy every moment of your life for as long as you have it. (Provided you don't harm your crew or the state in the process of enjoying your life.) Given her particular view of what will happen to the rest of the Galaxy, it would be difficult to label her as an optimist, but in the short run, she does tend to trust that things will work out in her favor, and the favor of her crew.