"The Chiron." She smiles, pleased that he appreciates something they have in common. "It's a research vessel. I'm a microbiologist, we study infectious diseases... although since the war started, our role has shifted more to keeping the Fleet healthy than pure research."

Not everyone has acclimated to the change, but there is a sparkle of pride in her eyes when she explains. She has enjoyed helping others in a more immediate way.

Classified that information may be, it sounds vaguely familiar to her. Her gaze drifts over towards the Industrial District, its skyline of warehouses jagged and under repair. Something caused a great deal of destruction not too long ago. "That's terrible... what happened to the terrorist? Was he -- ah, or she -- were they caught?"

Her smile returns, wry this time. "At least you still get the messages. I'm more or less out of contact when I'm here."