To Greener Pastures (Open)

It never took long for wanderlust to strike Ramen. Although she had been named Commander, in truth she had spent more time away from the planet than actually active on it. She supposed that was an ordinary set of circumstances for someone in her position, though usually they would have spent that time off conquering new planets or dealing with issues on outlying colonies, not on the host of personal missions Ramen herself had been going on. The strike on Arcose was the sole military action she had carried out thus far, and it hadn't exactly ended well. Achieving a military victory didn't mean much if you didn't seize the moment, and to her discredit, she had turned around rather than make any serious effort to cripple the planet's ability to support the Trade Fleet. Maybe she had made the right decision, but it was clear she wasn't the kind of Commander that could really do much on her own in this awkward interlude between hostilities. It wasn't peace-time, but it was close enough.

This time, she wasn't just going to strike off of the planet in secret. Rather, she submitted details of her new mission through the proper channels: those of an appropriate standing in the Saiyan Kingdom would learn of her destination, as well as her rather vague purpose. Her quarters were neat and tidy as usual, with only one oddity: she was leaving her usual armour behind, laying atop her bed folded and washed. It would be there for her when she returned in a couple weeks or so, but this particular task she had to complete as an Earthling. And so when she arrived at her spacepod that morning, the guards at the landing bay found her garbed in something a little unfamiliar, at least to them: a leather vest, a tank top, jeans and black combat boots. Like she was striking out onto the roads of South City again.

"I'll be available by scouter," she informed one of the guards. "But in the event that communications are jammed, make sure you route all military decisions through Nashua, as you would for me. If Vegeta is attacked, she's my choice as interim commander, unless the Queen dictates otherwise. Naturally, if that happens, I'll try to get back in time... but space travel is long, and attacks can begin and end so quickly."

She managed a weak smile before giving the guard a little pat on the shoulder to send him away. Her pod was lowered down to the center of the bay, and the on-hand engineers began to run through some standard pre-flight checks. In the meantime, she waited off to the side, arms crossed and eyes lidded. She still wasn't a fan of travel, but hangars like this sort've reminded her of workshops back home. Something interesting could always turn up, even here.