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Narrator:Nighttime on one of Mahuitalotu's many beaches comes complete with campfire, camaraderie, and controlled substances.
Narrator:These vacationing mercenaries haven't a care in this or any other world, including the one over which their absent Captain is seeing to the repair and refitting of what will eventually be their new ride.
Narrator:The night is clear, both moons have set, and the stars are blazing in blue-white contrast to the glowing fire. but why am I bothering telling you all this? There are pictures, after all.
Narrator:Private First Class Alan Monk and Ensign Michelle Diego-Garcia are out for a swim. IN anticipation of some rank-inappropriate fraternization, wink-wink.
Monk:I'll race you back.
Michelle:Hah. I'll be waiting for you on the beach, Monk
Narrator:The sea water is deep, but calm, and on this terraformed paradise, it's as safe as houses.
Monk:Whoa, "Chelle! Was that y- AUGH!
Narrator:In this case, the houses in question are probably crack-houses full of intoxicated people with weapons.