On the space frontier. Cliche zombie like disease is becoming a problem. You are one of the few people chosen to solve such problem. Year is 2500 something. You master in physics and biology. And biophysics.
Don has been given a letter from a galactic courier, as communications are not as modernized or applicable on the frontier.
Dear STEPHEN, You have been chosen by galactic parliament to assess a problem that has been gaining a bit of relevence in your part of the galaxy. You have met the adequacies to assess such problem. You have been chosen as leader of the sum of people who will soon be working with you upon your ship. For further questions, consult the sum of people.
And a sincerely from the represenatives of parliament, and a king's stamped on signiture.
Don sighed as he dropped the letter to the ground. Greatly upset by his misfortunes of having to comply with parliament, he returned to his studying.
A little background of Don. He is a native of Earth. He is 19 years old, with a strapping build and height of 6'2''. He excelled in his classes and graduated with a Doctorate in Philosophy in Astrophysics and biology. After the Galactic Rebellion of 2494, he relocated from International Space Station XXIX, out to the frontier in the Keplar region. There in the frontier, he travels in the ship he has built studying and programming innovative "protection suits" for the military. He frequently makes stops to the planet of 22-B for supplies, in which he calls Marathon, because of the gruelling journey from pirates and higher gravitational force.
Don is currently studying how the wings of the Spider Moth of 22-B can create a more protective and lighter suit membrane. But he couldn't concentrate and accidentally ruined his last sample of Spider Moth wings. "Aagh! Damn incinerator! Why must I place my samples so close to you?", Don exclaimed. When he noticed a parliament courier ship anchoring with his own. He unpleasantly allowed two figures to walk into the ship. One was a parliament cargo shipper and the other was a reserved looking girl, looking slightly younger than Don. "What's wrong, Does the Galactic court now think people to be packages?", remarked Don.
"Here is your crew, sir", said the courior.
"Oh right...", remembered Don, "Wait, this is it? This girl? They gave me her to solve this?", a discontented Don said.
"It's all parliament felt necessary, sir", shyly said the courier.
"Leave", Don commanded. And the courior left.
"So what's y
