The Cour, like most ships, spoke to her. A deep hum here, a little whistle there- all in the language only spoken by sailors. She resisted the urge to smile as she made her way down to the cargo bay. It wasn't a large space by any definition of the word- and now strung with a dozen or so Portable Sleep Pods (which nicely resembled their ancestor the hammock), it would be a cramped fit.

"That'll do." She said with a smirk. Eve sincerely hoped that the Marines weren't expecting a five star hotel. She sighed softly, touching the bulkhead.

"Don't worry Darling- we'll have those land lovers off in no time, and fill your cargo bay with something shiny. I heard that the New London is itching for some tea- perhaps we'll launch them out of the torpedo tubes and fill you up with some rare Earl Grey."

A polite cough came from behind her and she nodded at one of her shipmen. None of the men were ever too shocked to see their Good Cap'n talking to the ship.

"You'll be wanted in the shuttle bay, Ma'am." The man said respectfully, offering her a salute as she walked by.

Captain Evelyn Ghost never bothered with uniforms. On a ship with at most two dozen men, there didn't seem much of a point. So, she stole bits here and there. Her coat had once belonged to a Marine (she didn't remember his name, but she was fairly certain he remembered hers), but was faded to a threadbare rust color. Her belt was of Drulian make- they specialized in black crocodile skin- that wrapped around her waist twice and held both her saber and her pistols. Her pants were black, clean, and tight so that she didn't have to worry about them getting caught on things. Finished with black knee-high boots, she looked fairly dashing, despite the hodgepodge mix.

Moving to the Shuttle bay in record speed, she leaned against a wall and crossed her arms, waiting for the shuttle to dock. The Chief Engineer needed no cues from her, and began the docking process immediately.