Rachel accepted the weapon and stowed it in her duffel bag. She had worn it at all times on the Saxon as a sign of authority, that if the crew of savages that kept that ship functioning took a step out of line they would have a barrel and a bullet to explain themselves to, that was the type of ship her old Captain ran, the crew of the Rango were different, they seemed...normal, almost like a family. Later, when she floated up the main corridor of the ship towards the galley, they felt almost taken without the cannons familiar weight on her thigh. She assured herself that they were good people and that brandishing it in front of the crew once more would be an insult. She wanted them to feel at ease around her not on edge. As she floated into the room again she noticed she was the last one there. the conversation died for a moment as she floated towards the only spare stool, one next to Mirev. The two women made eye contact, “Doc, sorry mi, for earlier. It was wrong, was thinking straight mi,” she floated awkwardly for a moment, the words hanging in the silence like an awkward cloud. To Rachel’s relief, Mirev smiled and touched her middle and index fingers on the opposite side of her chest twice, the belter gesture for thank you. Rachel did the same and pulled herself into the stool and buckled in. “I heard before milowda talking about Martian Marines? Built like mountains dem, but one look at a rockhopper send dem packing eh?” The talked late into the night, Rachel even fucking back to her cabin to retrieve a canister of joints she had stashed for after the burn, turns out date had other plans, but now was the next best thing. The sweet smoke drifting through the galley, the crew telling stories of their adventures between puffs and swigs of some sort of engine cleaner Malik called “tehkeela”, by the time the crew finally headed off to their cabins Rachel gratefully accepted an aspirin from Afza, though a little more cautiously this time. As they floated into their cabin and zipped them self’s up in their couches, she heard Afza from the other side of the small compartment wishing her a good night. With a yawn Rachel said the same, drifting off to sleep with a smile on her face. - - - The following morning, Rachel was once again alone in the bridge tapping away at the terminal in front of her. They were making excellent time, the slingshot, at the expense of a few stitches, had netted them a massive boost in velocity and they were currently due back at New Providence Station within the next sixty hours. Due to the constraints of their mission and the lack of deceleration burn, she had requested assistance from one of the Providence Rescue Fleets Icarus Class Rescue Corvettes to rendezvous within them in the next several hours and through the use of their outboard ship recovery clamps, latch onto the hull of the Rango and slow it down using the Icarus’ robust drives. To any outside observer it’d look like a routine engine check for the corvette, no one would notice the small rockhopper cradled within it unless they were right there watching. It was the perfect manoeuvre, it would look like the Rango never left port and the crew would be treated to one of the pinnacles of belter built engineering first hand. She compiled the report and left it on the Captains terminal for him to review, then unbuckled herself and headed for the galley for some coffee.