A shudder ran through the airlock as it slid open just a fraction, the pressure levelled between the two ships. A slight amount of mist slipped through the gap, slithering across the floor before the metal doors opened entirely, dumping a whole new layer of cold white fog out of the airlock chamber.
Within, only one figure stood, clad in black, porcelain-esque armor plates that joined smoothly over the underlying flight suit, obviously custom designed for the person. Their face remained hidden behind a matching black mask which gave no indication of the wearer, hiding their face entirely.
The figure stepped forward, her swagger almost definately female. Behind her, the airlock seemed to hold from closing, staying open for another ten seconds before it finally shut. She looked at the three figures ahead of her, remaining silent, arms folded. After a moment, she scuffed a foot on the floor.
"So..." she started, her voice seeming strangely familiar underneath the helmet. "You're the infamous Eva McDowell. And you must be Bret..." Tilting to the side to look behind them, she made a small 'huh' sound. "So where's V-1103? I thought she's the reason I was sent down here in the first place."
A million dollars isn't cool. You know what is cool? A basilisk.
