Alumni from the Republic University's Institute of Exploration are known for their daring forays into the most inhospitable biomes in New Eden.

That's what it says on the tin.

Inside the ship is a person who smells vaguely of ozone and adrenaline, electrical burn scars on their skin, and a feral look in their eyes. Someone, probably them, tagged their pod with "No Gods, No Masters" and other slogans of similar sentiment.

You can hear a tinny radio in the background playing some kind of rehash of an ancient song:
hey little gistior, what have you done?
hey little gistior, who's the painted one?
hey little gistior, locked on!
It's a nice day for a nova missile raaaaaain