PART I - "Departure"

OOC: I recommend to everyone that before reading / posting in this thread you first read PART I of the Prologue ("Lost Words").


In the far reaches of space, there is a vast nothingness. Void of all light, sound, and warmth. It is a cold and desolate place. It is in this place that nightmares come to life and the fruits of dark labours begin to spread, clawing and screeching towards the light. Few dare to tread here, for this is a place of chaos and death. The only hope you have of surviving here is merciless brutality and the unbridled will to persevere against all odds. There is no escape. No rescue. In space, no one can hear you scream.



Twelve light-years off the radar, in the depths of the Indus constellation, there is a dying star. This dying star is only part of a doomed trinity. Epsilon Indi is in the beginning stages of becoming a red giant. Its hyrogen supply is deteriorating irreconcilably and, before too long, it will undergo a forced expansion as it burns itself out into oblivion. The two other stars, Indi Minor and Indi Major, have already completed their life cycles. They are now cold and lifeless, slowly orbiting one another as they spin synchronized around their dying brother. Just above the atmosphere of Indi Minor there is a small speck of civilization. It is a secret USCM Space Station. Designation: EI Nexus 1A. All record of it has been wiped from record. Officially, it does not exist.

Thomas O'Connor sat in a soft leather chair, hands folded neatly in his lap. His breath, slow and steady, crystallized into a visible mist as he exhaled. His eyes stared out the large tinted window towards the star below. Even as a corpse it shone brighter than the human eye could bear to look at un-aided. He watched intently as its surface swirled and churned lazily.

"Lieutenant O'Connor?"

He stood up quickly, suddenly back in the moment.

"Yes?"

"Sorry to disturb you, sir."

The girl standing in the doorway couldn't have been more than seventeen. She was covered in grease and metal residue that shone in the starlight. She looked strung out and tired. Then again, everyone on the base did. O'Connor wondered if she'd been born here. If she'd lived here all her life. He relaxed a little, the realization that she was not the person he was dreading to see come in through that door beginning to sink in.

"Not at all."

"Just letting you know that maintenance seems to have identified the trouble with the life support system. We'll have the station back up to heating standards in about half an hour."

He nodded. As she turned to leave, he remembered the question that had been bothering him since he arrived.

"Any word on my men?"

"Sorry sir?"

"They've been sitting out there in transport ships for the last twenty five minutes. You let me board and then told me that the rest had to stay out there until you'd got this problem worked out. Now that you've got the problem solved, can you bring them aboard?"

"Nobody told you, Sir?"

He shook his head, less and less impressed with USCM arrangements by the second.

"They're boarding now. First off the boats is, uhh..." she grabbed a data pad from under her arm and scanned it. "Sergeant Ethan Knight. He's just being cleared through security now. If you want I can try and get one of these for you so you can track their progress?"

"No. Just get back to your job. I'm sure that's more important."

"Yes, Sir."

He watched the door slide shut behind her and sat back down in the chair, rubbing his temple with one hand. So far the mission had been nothing but a pain in the neck and the knowledge that it was only going to get worse didn't make him feel any better. At least Knight would be coming through shortly. He'd be the first familiar face O'Connor had seen in weeks. But he wouldn't be the last.

PLACEHOLDER for Joint Post between:

Thomas O'Connor &
Ethan Knight

Linda was leaning against the solid steel of the wall and nibbled on one of her fingernails. Her palms were sweaty and her guts were clenched with anxiety. She wasn't the first to come to the P144 temporary quarters, evidently. She could hear somebody's voice inside and decided to wait. She wanted to talk to him alone. Do you, now? Why? What are you going to tell him? What do you want to talk about?

She stared at the opposite wall, switching the finger she was nibbling on. It was something she hadn't done in years. But it always surfaced again when she was nervous. As far as she recalled, he had hated it when she did that. Probably because she had started doing that after getting lost in the air ducts. The diameter of the corridor didn't really help settle down her stomach. And the thought of being in space was an ambiguous one, as it was an infinite but also deadly void...

"Come on, get ahold of yourself", she murmured. Her mind was wandering off in every direction when she actually just tried to think of something to talk about with him. But her options were limited. 'Catching up' really was something else when you hadn't talked to each other in ten years for a reason. The small entity in her brain she called 'Hope' tried to convince her that he was over it, that his anger had dissipated and that all she needed to do was break the first, awkward silence. They had been so close for so long. That couldn't possibly be gone altogether, right?

She could hear one of the men inside the room laugh. A good sign.
'Is it?', a voice in her head asked back.
Stopping the nibbling for a second, she blew some warm air into her fists and rubbed them against each other to warm them up a little, watching the mist that was her breath dissipate into thin air, literally.

Why was she here, waiting, anyway? Why wasn't she first? She'd left the ship right after that First Sergeant... She literally ran down the hallways of the station, as soon as the security checks were finally over and somebody had pointed the way she needed to go. But she still wasn't the first, and her bag was sitting next to her on the floor, bearing every little possession of hers that she really deemed valuable. There were few pictures younger than ten years and not a single book from that phase of her life among them. She snorted at herself, at how pathetic that would look to him. Linda gave up everything for this, for the rank displayed on her bicep, for a D and R before her first name; and yet, she valued her past before leaving for Earth so much higher than that.

The screech of the bulkhead startled her and she spun around so fast that a few red strands blocked her sight, which she brushed away in an instant. A First Sergeant was exiting the room. 'Knight' was written on a name tag on his chest. He shot her a look but she looked down and picked up her bag, so he decided to ignore her and went down the hallway while she carefully went through the open door, every step an effort of its own. Gathering her courage with a deep breath of the ice-cold, stale air, she softly knocked on the steel. He turned around and seemed to freeze when their eyes met, and she almost felt electric current all through her body. No... Hope was futile. This truly wasn't a joyful reunion by any stretch of imagination.

Linda set down the bag again and, as she was at a loss about what to say, how to address him after ten years of silence, she did what every soldier did: She saluted.
"Se-Sergeant Linda Shaw reporting... Sir."

A crooked smile started to form on her lips, but it wasn't strong enough to withstand his intense gaze and disappeared just as quickly as it had come into existence.

"Sergeant," he said, cooly, having already decided on the manner in which he would conduct himself in her presence.

He would never admit it, but it had taken hours rehearsing in front of a mirror to get it right. He gave her a quick salute before dropping his hands behind his back, legs shoulder-width apart. Outside, he was the definition of calm; the embodiment of statuesque. Inside, his heart pumped wildly and his brain ran a mile a minute. It was all he could do to make it through the rest of his practiced routine.

"It's good to see you again. First off, I'd like to make it clear that I was not involved in the decision to include you on this mission. However, I'm sure, what with your history and expertise, you will be a valuable asset to the team. I trust you will remain professional, as will I, and that with a bit of effort we can make this entire operation go as smoothly as possible."

Who was he trying to kid? The room reeked with the unmistakable stench of repressed emotion hidden under the awkward veil of propriety.

"You will report tomorrow at 13:00 hours to the Launching Bay where we will board the USS Cortes and begin the long journey to EX10-129. Before then, I expect you and Corporal Cox to run full medical diagnostics on both your squads. Understood?"

It killed him to speak to her like this. It just wasn't right.

And it didn't feel any better hearing it. He was talking so fast, going through everything that could possibly come up at such a high rate that she couldn't get anything in, couldn't make this more personal. Then it hit her: He didn't want to let it get personal. He wanted to go through the mandatory military stuff he couldn't avoid and get rid of her as soon as possible. Linda could barely open her mouth once she had realized that much.

"Um... Yes, sir." She stopped for a moment. Maybe... If they were alone a little longer, if they had time to talk a bit... "Your-" But he cut right in.

"My medical review will be performed by Corporal Cox. Are there any further questions?"

It was so hard to come up with something. He had thought of everything ahead of her, taken care of everything. He wasn't yelling, there was none of the anger she had partially faced when she told him that she was going to leave, but that only made it worse. Finally, she came up with something, something about the mission, about the colony:

"The... briefing, the mission briefing, will it take place aboard the Cortes?"

"Indeed. Expect a call to muster once all personnel are aboard the station. At that point I will be re-distributing the mission briefings you've all already read. They're not likely to be much more informative now than they were then. Tomorrow we transfer to the Cortes where I will be presenting a more thorough briefing."

"Are there any... transmissions? Anything from the squad or... or the colony?"

"You know as well as I do, Sergeant, that I can't divulge such information until after we have boarded the Cortes as none of you are officially committed to this mission until they have received the go ahead both from myself and their medical examinations."

Her mind was blank. She had been inside this room for merely two minutes and he had already shot down every possible reason for her to stay longer and talk to him. The knowledge that, under the hide of protocol, every fiber of his body seemed to scream 'Get out!' at her, while her chest almost burst open under the painful rhythm of her heart, set her intestines on fire. Why had she looked forward to this? He hated her. He had good reason to do so. How could she be so stupid to think that it would just work out, somehow, that breaking up was a good thing?

"Was there anything else?"

She opened her mouth, closed it again... looked at him, opened it again, looked away, closed it again... and finally shook her head, murmuring "No, Sir".

He wanted her out; and she couldn't force herself on him. Painfully slow, she picked up her bag again and gave him a short, but obviously half-hearted salute before turning around and going to the door, where she stopped and faced him again.

"Congratulations on your promotion. I... knew that you would make it far up the ladder. Brave and... charismatic as you are..." She trailed off and felt like she had overstepped a line.

Linda looked down, her eyes searching for an imaginary bugs on the floor, the sensation in her stomach getting worse while part of her refused to leave without addressing what was making this so incredible awkward, half-opening her mouth again to say something.

But suddenly, she had decided and swung around, leaving without another look or word. The woman walked a couple of meters away from the hatch, before slamming her fist into the wall. Red hot pain surged through it and she suppressed a gasp of pain when she pressed it against her body.

It didn't help. Her heart was still aching and the old wound she had tried to fix so desperately was wide open again.



Thomas watched her leave, his pulse still racing with anxiety and turmoil. He knew he could not keep the facade up forever. He also knew he could not deny Linda the chance for closure. To know what happened to their home. She needed it just as much as he did. He only wished there were some other way.

I can't lose you. Not again.


Joint Post by:

Thomas O'Connor &
Linda Shaw

Kurtland Miller grumbled wordlessly and drug his left hand down his face. It was a futile, reflexive action that did nothing to clear the lingering fog of cryosleep.

He lay a moment in the cyrotube, dreading the hangover like aches and disorientation that would last for the next hour or so but knew that getting moving was the only thing that would really help. Simply laying here would only prolong the stiff grogginess. Reluctantly he levered himself upright.

His whole body was stiff as he wrestled into his uniform and tied his boots. His head throbbed as he stood up.

"Coffee."

He padded through the transport to the mess where he got a cup of reconstituted coffee from the dispenser. He sat down heavily and drank, cursing loudly when he burned his lip. For ten minutes Kurt tried to keep his mind blank and body as still as possible while he eased the foul black coffee product into his system.

When the cup was empty he refilled it and dragged himself to the cargo bay. He was beginning to feel a bit better and he might as well start getting ready for the shift off this transport to whatever the Corps had waiting.

Besides he thought while he sipped coffee and entered the cargo bay, they'll probably call formation here anyway.

PLACEHOLDER for Joint Post between:

Kurt Ambrose & Thomas O'Connor

Kurt set his coffee down and looked at the cargo bay. Other than the individual Marines' personal kits the bay was empty.

Company's total lack of finger prints all over this op already. It didn't come as much of a surprise, but it certainly made Kurt's detour to the cargo bay a total waste of effort. He grabbed his kit bag out of the locker, retrieved his cup of coffee and headed for the station.

On the way he ran into Aippersbach from Second Squad and Pavkovic from First chatting outside the mess.

"Ladies, a fine Marine Corps morning to ya's." The greeting was far more cheery than he felt, and, based on the grunted responses, the good natured insincerity wasn't entirely wasted.

Pavkovic flipped him off.

"Now?", he grinned broadly, happy to see the tired scowl at his barb. He saluted with the stainless steel Weyland-Yutani cup equally cheerily and started off but turned back. "Nothing in the cargo bay but our personal gear. Looks like we're supposed to head over to the station."

He'd only made a couple of steps when the muffin hit him in the back of the head. Kurtland turned back around, looked at the mess and then the two women - both of whom stood stock still, doing a terrible job of looking shocked.

"You know, they'll probably take that out of your paycheck..."

He swung his bag over his shoulder and headed off, down the passageway to the station brushing crumbs from his collar as he went.

Getting aboard the station proved more difficult than seemed sensible. It wasn't like there were going to be too many strangers aboard a transport full of Marines that the station was expecting, but rather than try to wheedle and cajole his way past the civilian security operative, Miller produced his ID and orders.

When confirmation that he did, in fact, belong here came back, Miller thanked the guard and asked to be directed to either Sergeant Shaw or First Sergeant Knight.

Technically, he needed to check in with the First Shirt, but Sgt. Shaw was the senior NCO...

Ethan Knight wrote:Ethan looked around the temporary quarters he was "graciously" provided during his brief stay on the station. A single overhead lamp illuminated the bare room. The only thing worth mentioning other then the empty desk, steel chair, and standard twin sized bed, was a tiny tinted window that reminded him of a porthole from an old 20th century sea ship.

"Well this is extravagant," he commented as he dropped his sack on the bed, and placed the personnel files on the desk. Taking a seat in his chair, Ethan looked through the roster that lay on the top of the pile of folders.

"Sergeant Linda Shaw, Corporal Sean Latrofa, Lance Corporal Jennifer Dugalle, Lance Corporal Dawson Meyers, Private FC David Wong, Private Kurtland Miller, Private Edward Bass, and Private Nina Pavkovic," he recited as he reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle of water. "Certainly sounds like an interesting group," he said taking a drink.

"Just a moment Private. Let me find where the First Sergaent is billeted."

The civvie contractor sounded more annoyed by the request than bored and Miller found himself suddenly wishing the station's security contract had been handled by Ajax. Might be worth a note home to suggest we bid this one...

His reverie was interrupted when the civvie spoke again, "Here it is. Suite 719, Up on the Staff NCO deck -"

Miller cut him off. "Yeah. I get it." the contractor was as imperious a prick as Kurtland had ever encountered and his patience was wearing thin. He was tempted to take a parting shot at the civilian as he left, but resisted. No point in stirring up the natives - bastard'd probably report him anyway.

Twenty minutes later, after discovering the station numbers the decks from the center and taking a second to pat himself on the back for not popping off at the security contractor, Kurtland Miller banged on the hatch of the First Sergaent's quarters.

Kind of an odd place to check-in, but it looked as if this was going to be a quick turn. On station just long enough to get on to whatever transport they'd take to whatever mess The Company had made.

Ethan looked over and nodded his head as he shut the lid to his laptop. "Come on in," Ethan said as he stood up and turned his chair to face Miller.

When the First Shirt told him to come in, Miller stepped through crisply, snapped to attention and made his formal report, "Private Kurtland Miller, reporting." He presented his orders in a neat stack.

"At ease," Ethan said as he nodded his head again in recognition and took a seat.

His initial impression of the First Sergaent was that all this formality wasn't the First Sergaent's favorite part of the job. A lot of the older NCO's seemed to feel that way, but they all kept reenlisting in a Marine Corps that was defined by being bound to tradition and ritual. Had been since before the fledgling American Colonies stole the idea from England. Funny how things never changed...colonies stealing ideas from the old "masters".

"Here's how it's going to go Miller," Ethan said as he took a drink of water. "I've read everyone's file from this squad, and as much as I'd like to say I'm impressed by what I read, I can't. That's why I'm giving everyone this little dressing down." Ethan crossed his legs and made a visible showing of looking up at Miller.

"The fact of the matter is, is that we're going into a unknown combat situation, with two squads who haven't had an opportunity to get to know one another or train together. To me, that spells disaster. And honestly, I don't want to die on some shitty ass, backwater, colony. So there are two things. There's me telling you what to do, and then there's you doing it. If we're on the same page with that, then I can more or less guarantee there's a slight chance we'll all get home with our limbs intact. Is that understood?"

The fact of the matter is, it's a company op. And it's going to suck because of it, Shirt. Miller thought as the First Sergeant spoke.

Aloud he said, "Understood, First Sergeant. I'm all in favor of staying in as few pieces as possible."

"Excellent," Ethan said as he stood up and grabbed a thin folder from his desk. "Here's a copy of you're medical file. Take that over to Sergeant Shaw in medical. She's our medic. She'll give you a full medical and a go or no go for the mission. Understood?"

"Aye-aye, First Sergaent."

Ethan nodded his head. "Good, you're dismissed. And try to get some rack time while you can."

Miller executed a textbook about-face and exited the First Sergeant's quarters.

PLACEHOLDER for Joint Post between:

Antoine Rivera &
Linda Shaw

Ethan stared at the screen in front of him as he fought the urge to simply close the laptop and be done with it all. The only light in the room came from the glow of the laptop screen and the stray beams of light from the porthole. After kneading his eyes with the palm of his hands, Ethan started typing:

Jacob,

Given our last conversation, I'm sure this letter is coming as a surprise to you. But given my current situation, I think it's something I need to do.

You might be wondering what situation I'm talking about, but I can't tell you. Yes I'm still in the USCM. No I'm not doing it to spite you or dad's memory. Even though we got the farm back from the corporation, I still couldn't see myself farming for the rest of my life. Not after everything I've done. Everything I've seen. I'm a Marine. Even if I was discharged I wouldn't be able to do it. here's no such thing as an ex-marine. You may be out, but you never lose the attitude. You should know this. You signed the dotted line right next to me.

Command is staying silent about the mission, and all I know about it is what was written on a small 8 1/2 x 12 piece of paper given to me at my previous station. To say the least, it doesn't look good. Remember that situation Torin Prime? I've got a feeling it's going to be worse then that.

I guess what I'm trying to get at, is that this may be the last you hear from me. That is if the USCM doesn't censor this letter at all. I'm sorry for what I said at dad's funeral. I guess I was just so angry at you and dad for trying to force me to leave the Marines when it's a life that I want. We're only human, and we all do irrational things when we're angry.

Give mom all my love. Please don't tell her anything in the letter. She's fragile enough as it is with dad's death. I don't need her to worry about me if it means her health is going to deteriorate. I'd rather her be healthy then worry about me. If all goes well, I'll write to her upon my return

I'm sorry for everything.

Love,

Your Brother

Finding Sgt. Shaw was only marginally easier than finding the First Sergeant. It took another bout with the station's civllian contractors and another tour of the station to locate her, but the second time around Kurtland was a little better prepared for both.

By the time he figured out where Sergeant Shaw was he was tired of lugging around his kit bag and his coffee was gone. At least the cryover was beginning to wear off. He detoured to enlisted billteting, dropped his gear and made a head call. While the bag wasn't particularly heavy, leaving it on the bunk was a symbolic victory over both the station and it's employees and Miller approached scaring up another cup of coffee with a renewed sense of energy and purpose. Unless it had been the head call that improved his mood.

Either way, he found a dispenser and refilled his mug on his way to Shaw's impromptu Medical Bay where he pounded on the hatch with the flat of his hand.

In hindsight, Linda regretted her trip to the 'bar'. She wasn't even remotely drunk and the conversation with Rivera had been way more effective in taking her mind off the Lieutenant, but the horrible taste of the obviously homemade sewage just wouldn't go away and neither would its stench. Linda was pretty sure that she smelled like she had downed a whole bottle and spilled another one over her uniform. That was going to make her medical reviews so much more fun, she was sure...

She went straight to the makeshift med-bay after leaving the recreation room, still carrying her bag around, and barely found the time to take a look around before someone slammed on the door, only slightly startling her.

"Come in."

When the Sergeant called him in, Kurtland Miller stepped through the door crisply and strated to come to attention. His half empty cup of coffee fouled his plan and he quickly sat it down on a nearby counter.

"Private Miller, reporting. First Sergeant Knight sent me down for a medical review."

He offered the Sergeant his data tablet with his service record open. Even though the service record should have all the history she'd need, Miller expected to have to answer a few questions and submit to the usual collection of vital statistics.

Linda tried to give him a serious salute but simply wasn't in the mood for all that protocol crap. She made it as short as possible.

"Sergeant Shaw", she stated while taking the tablet from him, well aware that he could smell where she had spent the time since her meeting with O'Connor. Maybe she could have blamed it on a sanitizer, if it wasn't this pungent.
Doesn't matter. His records were short, at least as far as military history went.

"A mercenary, huh?", she mumbled to herself. It probably wasn't the most accurate term to describe his occupation, especially now that he was apparently a marine in all respects, but to her, it seemed to summarize his history perfectly. After all, it were his medical records she was more interested in.

"Mercenary is an ugly word Sergeant. A little less judgemental than 'Rent-A-Cop' although not quite as accurate." Miller said with a grin. He expected military personnel would remark about his previous employers naturally enough. At least she hadn't accused him of still working for them. Too bad he wasn't still on Ajax's payroll. He could tell the Weyland gig would weigh on him throughout this op.

She had to smirk at the last reviewer's summarizing comment, who was obviously a Company's employee:
"No drugs, no genetic defects or disorders and in a good physical and mental shape."

Now, Linda put the tablet away and looked Miller up and down. It was odd, but this, working 'on' somebody else, doing the very thing that had made her leave for Earth in this first place, was exactly what she needed to occupy herself and keep herself from thinking about Thomas.

"Well, Private... Can you see that large machine over there? The fancy looking one that, had it been switched on, would seem pretty expensive?" She pointed at something that took up at least a quarter of the rooms overall space.

Kurtland followed her gesture, "Yeah, the bio-scanner. What about it?" He turned back to face the Med Tech Sergeant as he spoke.

"This machine is worth several million bucks. And it's completely useless because the station's power is still messed up. This means that we're going to do this the classic way. Undress, please."

Again Miller looked at the machine, "Frakking typical." He looked back at the Sergeant, on the verge of saying something way too cute to work and shut his mouth.

"Aye, Aye Sergeant." He stripped quickly, laying his cammies neatly on the counter as he went.

Linda armed herself with the stethoscope, small flashlight and electronic thermometer she had found in one of the cabinets, put on a pair of sterile gloves and went up to the marine. As far as she knew, the standard examination procedures were still exactly like they had been a few centuries ago.

"Open your mouth and say 'ah', please."

He complied and she lighted down his throat, holding him by his chin.
"Looks good", she murmured and turned his head to put the thermometer into his ear. "Does anything hurt? Nausea, headache... Anything that you think might or might not have been caused by the cryostasis?"

"Nah Sergeant, just the usual cryo-sleep hangover. Thick head, stiff muscles - normal stuff. Coffee and moving are helping. I'll be completely squared-away in the next half hour or so. Head-ache's worse this morning than usual, but otherwise, I'm good to go."

"Hm...", she made, dismissing it as none it seemed to be out of the usual, and looked at the thermometer. "Body temperature's okay."
The doctor put on the stethoscope and put its respective end against the soldier's chest.
"Take deep, slow breaths, please."

Kurtland tried to relax and breathe normally, but it was always strange, trying to breathe normally on command. Just telling him to do it made him think about it too hard. He was terrible a meditation for the same reason - concentrate on your breathing, but breathe normally. Huh?

"I can't meditate either - ever think about how hard it is to 'breathe normally' when you think about breathing?"

"No talking, Private. Breathing only."
She listened closely and moved the metal end around a little, then had him turn around to put it against his back and ordered "Cough" a couple of times until she was satisfied.

"Your heart's a little..." Instead of finishing the sentence, she took him by the wrist and gazed at a rather old looking watch at her own, obviously something from the end of the past millennium.

"Pulse and blood pressure seem slightly elevated but I'm guessing by the smell on your breath and the mug over there that you've been drinking a lot of coffee since you woke up."

"We've all got our bad habits Sergeant...but hey, I gave up smoking. Well, except when I'm drinking." He'd said it before it dawned on him that she smelled of booze. Cheap booze. Fresh, cheap booze.

"Really. I only smoke when I drink - Shit this ain't helping is it. Look Sergeant, it's not my place to say - and I damn sure wasn't."

You're not helping yourself boy-o. Best shut up now. It was a cluster fuck of epic proportions. He'd have been better off with the off color crack when she told him to strip - what bugged him most was he really wasn't trying to be a wise-ass.

He looked at the Sergeant, "Sorry Sergeant..." He was tempted to go on, but listened to his own advise.

Opposed to what he probably thought she would do, Linda... grinned. It didn't reach her eyes, but still, she grinned.

"I was wondering whether you were just being polite or couldn't smell it. The stuff they make on this station is crap. Four shots of it and you smell like a bachelor party."

Without giving him a chance to reply anything, she started applying pressure on a couple of spots on his neck, stomach, arms and legs. She was a bit more forceful than before and that was about the only indication that she was angry.
"Lymph nodes are normal, so no infections. You can put your bottoms back on. I only need a urine and a blood sample and you can go. Here", she handed him a cup and turned around to gather what she needed to draw some blood, giving him an opportunity to take a leak in dignity. Most medics wouldn't have, as long as it were inferior officers.

Miller stepped into the corner and turned his back to the Medical Sergeant and began to fill the sample cup.

"The up-side of all that coffee Sergeant. Not that it tastes any better than the hooch, mind you." He said, turning to look over his shoulder for a second as he did.

He finished quickly, put the lid on and turned back around, buttoning his cammies as he did. Kurtland offered the sample cup to to Sergeant Shaw, "Probably pure Consumer Products Division Coffee Product - you can probably dump it back in the dispenser when you're done and not make it taste any worse."

Kurtland bounced onto the counter top and rolled up his sleeve. The empty banter seemed to push the uncomfortable air aside a little. He watched Sergeant Shaw slide the needle into his vein.

He looked from the slight bulge in his arm to the Sergeant, "How'd you get this gig? I thought most of this kind of stuff was done by contractors."

Linda wasn't really in the mood to talk and his mentioning of her smell, though she was well aware of it, took a good part of the examination's comforting effect on her away because now she had to think about Thomas again. But she understood that he wanted to get rid of the awkwardness of his comments, so she played along.

"I'm a medical officer", she responded, "Doesn't mean that I've attended one of the corps' academies."

"Based on what I've seen, that might not be such a bad thing. Being a product of the Ajax Corporate education system, I'm OK with NOT being an academy grad. Where'd you go?"

"Earth. University of Sydney. A couple of years ago, the military decided that paying for scholarships might be a good way for them to get more talented people to join their ranks as science and medical officers, apparently because they predicted a shortage on qualified personnel. Dunno whether they're still doing it but it earned me a degree and will keep me in the corps for at least another ten years."

"But no officers bars for a college grad? Even the Suck's turning into a company machine." He glanced at the bio-scanner, "Seems to be working just about as well as the rest of thier products too."

He picked up his luke-warm coffee and took a long drink before he raised his cup to the Sergeant, "Yeah, here's to corporate greed."

When Sergeant Shaw had drawn what blood she needed Kurtland rolled down his sleeve. "Anything else? First Shirt said to get some rack-time, but that's about the last thing I need. Anyone found anything worthwhile to do on this scrap-heap?"

"Not sure. I doubt that any of it would work. But I'm sure you'll find something. If anything... You could pray for the people on the colony we're gonna visit. Not that I believe that anyone or anything would listen."
The question, whether the people on the colony were still alive or not, whether her parents were still alive or not, was starting to get to her. For all she knew, all of them could be dead. So, why was Thomas the only one she could think about?

"Been my experience on two colony worlds that prayers are about as effective as consumer complaints. Rest assured, Sergeant, I'll file mine anyway."

"You're dismissed, Private", she said, her thoughts far away.

Aye, aye Sergeant."

Private Miller left quietly, his coffee cup empty but his head filled with thoughts of family on Ajax and classmates scattered through the stars.

Oh yeah, this is going to suck. A lot.

Kurtland was so lost in thought he almost missed the First Shirt coming down the passageway.

"Your turn, huh, First Sergeant?" he called over his shoulder as he rounded the corner headed for the enlisted billet. Someone should have shown up there by now.

PLACEHOLDER for Joint Post between:

Ethan Knight &
Linda Shaw