Frankie could feel the nerves in the air as pod after pod came down to join him on New Earths surface. The reactions were as varied as the people who emerged and the specific skills they brought to the group. One vibrant redhead looked as if even death was better than being cooped up in a pod for any longer, as she sprung from the door to welcome whatever would take her. Another, a regal looking young man, had the exact opposite reaction as he held a square to his face to keep himself and the questionable air separate. Both brought smirks to his face as he checked their names off of his list: Yaxley, a Canadian woman who was made to trade her tennis racket for a sniper rifle, and the apparent future of their new nation in all of his glory, the Crown Prince of Denmark. There were varying other reactions in between, such as the blonde woman who made her rounds kissing any one and everyone she came across with a "thank fuck" on her Aussie tongue, and their new welsh engineer whose nose was so deep in a log book that Frankie questioned if the poor man had even realised they'd landed. He, especially, looked as if he could use the air.
50 in total had been brought down and marked off on their list, 25 men and 25 women who had been chosen to take on this challenge with them. Many of them leaving friends and families back on the ships they'd come down from. They were all healthy, skilled and, most importantly, fertile. In considering who they were going to send, they had been sure to stick to only those who had not yet started young familes, and those who showed no questionable mutations in their genetics. 25 lines would start off this civilisation, and if all was successful, they could see another wave of people come down to the surface when the next batch of youths become the age of majority and excel in a necessary trade. This was it. This was the start of everything they'd worked for.
Frankie gave Gideon an encouraging smile once the wave of people were showing signs of getting settled, his eyes lingering on a comical little thing already half buried inside a container of ammunition, before the familiar chest of his girlfriend closed his field of vision and threw her arms around his neck for attention. It'd only been a couple weeks, by this planets cycle, but she clung to him as if it had been months. The next look he gave the man beside him was an apologetic one, before disappearing with the latina to their tent to abuse the fact that her lungs had yet to adjust.
With the setting of the sun then came the meeting. It was easy to tell that a number of people had zero interest of being there, but the only way to quiet the alarm on their tablets was to check in. Ultimately, it wasn't too painful. Frankie introduced himself properly for those from other ships who may not have known him, giving a random fact about himself to break the ice before going through the rounds. Rules were set out, expectations discussed. It didn't take long, and everyone was made to sign their understanding of these things on their tablets before the meeting became less dry...in both material and beverages. It was only right to start things off properly, even if the commander himself did not drink.