"Incident at AB-334/Chapter I"@en . "\u201CHey! Wake up!\u201D Zymon sat up, taking in the smell of unwashed seats, rust, and power lines, and rubbed his eyes. After travelling through hyperspace for days, he had found napping to be the best way to kill time. The only person in the dark troop bay of the Ikarus-class transport shuttle he was in, he looked down towards the cockpit. \u201CWe there?\u201D \u201CYou bet. Care to take a look at the highlight of your career, flyboy?\u201D Walking groggily to the cockpit, Zymon bent down as he passed through the low doorway and found himself faced with rows of controls, LCD readouts, and wall pinups, with the pilot casually munching on bubblegum. Through the windscreen, he found himself looking at a scatter of asteroids seemingly extending infinitely in all directions, with the glow of the system\u2019s sun superimposed behind them. System AB-334\u2014so obscure they didn\u2019t even bother to give it a name. Light-years away from any battlefront, and of interest only to the insane or terminally small-minded. Charming place, he thought. \u201CKiss goodbye to any dreams of killin\u2019 Sravvies or DTM boys alongside guys like Curl, pal.\u201D Grinned the pilot as they snaked through the asteroids, with several missile batteries placed on some of them swivelling in their direction. He could now make up ahead a larger asteroid dotted with weapons clusters, buildings, hangar entrances and docking ports, with a long, rectangular structure looking attached to one side. Docked to said structure was a streamlined, vaguely spoon-shaped Elthior-class ship, with much of its hull removed and looking almost as if it was to be decommissioned. Hanging in space in front of the asteroid was a Hound-class patrol ship, a conveyance barely a hundred meters long and armed with a few missile launchers. \u201CGuard Dog to Postal, welcome to AB-334 defence post.\u201D A north Havez drawl came from the comm. Speakers. \u201CDock at port 12 and await reception there.\u201D Complying, the Ikarus approached the station and slowly moved into position over the appropriate docking port. Zymon sat up at the sound of scraping metal as connection was made and the engines finally died down. \u201CWell, kid, time to face the music. Let\u2019s hope whatever bums live here are nice to you.\u201D Said the pilot, adjusting his comms headset, as the airlock door opened. Nervously, Zymon passed through and into a rock-lined corridor lit up with cheap, flickering bulbs and held up with metal beams. The floor was also little more than rock covered by metal plates haphazardly wielded together. Waiting for him was a man in battered combat trousers, a white vest, and dog tags, looking very bored. \u201CYou the new kid?\u201D he asked in a hoarse voice. \u201CUh, yeah. My name\u2019s Zymon Anvar, 15th DarkBird wing, Third Fleet. I\u2019m here...\u201D \u201CYeah, yeah, yeah. Save it for the commander, I don\u2019t give a shavit. Follow me.\u201D They set off down the corridor, occasionally passing people in engineer or pilot overalls, who at best stole them a glance. \u201CWhat\u2019s your name?\u201D asked Zymon as the man lit up a torch as they entered a stretch of corridor that was even more badly lit. \u201CMentez. Julius Mentez.\u201D He grunted, as he finally stopped at two doors and pressed a button to have them open, stepping into a lift. As much as a metal cage on a pulley in a cold rock shaft could be called a lift, thought Zymon as Julius manipulated a control panel and stood as it juddered upwards. \u201CNewbie lesson one: if you start to feel sick here, don\u2019t be alarmed. Art-grav can be a bit screwy in this area.\u201D He said as Zymon suddenly threw up over the side. The lift jerked to a halt and they stepped through into a larger room, better lit than the corridor but still relatively dim, with jazzy music playing faintly in the background. One part of it was taken up by a bar, selling mostly unlabelled bottles, with various individuals sitting around circular tables nearby. A Necasian flag hung on one wall, tattered and faded, and beside it a portrait of Askar Invado, leader of the Necasian Military itself and chief of its crusade to rid the galaxy of violent deluded upstarts like the Srav Federation and Death\u2019s Tongue Militia, as the infofeeds put it, covered in dart holes and with a twirly mustache drawn onto his face. \u201CWelcome to the Longue.\u201D Said Julius stiffly. \u201CEveryone, we got fresh meat!\u201D All eyes turned in his direction. Zymon waved his hand in gretting. \u201CEr, hi.\u201D A long-haired man, much like everyone else, also dressed in trousers and a vest, got up and walked towards him. Unshaven, fifty-something, and with a limp, and the back of his neck covered in tattoos. To Zymon\u2019s surprise, he smiled and reached out a hand. \u201CHey, kid. Welcome to334. I\u2019m commander Claud Bownam. You\u2019re Zymon, from the third fleet?\u201D \u201CUh, yeah.\u201D \u201CMeet the crew.\u201D He gestured at Julius. \u201CI take it you\u2019ve met our deputy squadron commander.\u201D He gestured at the table from where he had come from, with the fairly nondescript, badly shaven typical asteroid boys seated around it. \u201CTyi Nemon, chief engineer. Ben Kominae, gunnery ops. Michie Lombardi, squadron leader. Virgil Danikeen, pilot and resident tough guy. And that...\u201D He gestured at a man partly covered in shadow in the corner, wearing part of a Marine armor set, \u201C...is Gene Sorel, Marine security chief.\u201D \u201CIs this the new kid?\u201D A dark-skinned woman had entered, carrying a battered datapad. \u201CWhat\u2019s a woman doing here?\u201D Zymon found himself saying out loud. She chuckled. \u201CMy name\u2019s Anada Yalia. Technically, I\u2019m a civilian. A psychological advisor. The local therapist, if you will. It\u2019s my job to stop everyone from going mad on this rock.\u201D \u201CSo kid, why not sit down and have some beer? Chat about why you\u2019re here?\u201D said Michie, indicating a free seat. \u201CSo...what do you guys do around here?\u201D asked Zymon as he sat down. \u201CWell, to be frank, this system\u2019s of barely any interest to anyone beyond raiders and pirates looking for someplace to hide.\u201D Said Danikeen, taking a sip of beer. \u201CThat\u2019s why they filled this place with washouts and poldroc failures like us. Sometimes we get a few Srav or Death\u2019s Tongue scout ships looking for something to do, but that\u2019s usually for the missile batteries to take care of. So, we just usually chill, and be thankful we\u2019re not on the front fighting bloodthirsty Sravvies or crazy Death\u2019s Tonguers.\u201D \u201CChill out?\u201D uttered Zymon. \u201COh yeah. We sometimes hang out in the movie room, laugh at the crappy \u2018morale incitement\u2019 videos they ship along with the supply batches. When they remember to ship the supply batches, that is.\u201D Chimed in Tyi. \u201CPlus, Anada\u2019s sometimes provides some...\u2019morale support\u2019 of her own, if you get my drift.\u201D Anada blushed as the men around the table chuckled. \u201COh, and there\u2019s Gando, first name Max. He\u2019s a hammy SpecOps washout with a serious stick up his rear end. Here\u2019s hoping...\u201D \u201CAttention on deck!\u201D A dark-skinned man in a SpecOps armor vest and hat burst in briskly. Zymon knew about the SpecOps legions\u2014best soldiers in the galaxy, invincible in battle, yadda yadda. What one was doing here was anyone\u2019s guest. \u201CStand up, you little pieces of Mynock waste!\u201D he shouted. Lazily, everyone stumbled out of their chairs and stood up. \u201CI\u2019ve been sent down to this little rock to bring some discipline to you space bums, to remind you what you\u2019re fighting for\u2014hell, to remind that there\u2019s still a war on\u2014and you\u2019re just frakkin\u2019 around drinking beer! When I could be out there fighting, I\u2019m stuck out here trying to get you little kriffs to recite the anthem! In fact, let\u2019s do that now! One, two, three!\u201D A high-pitched wail came from one of the tables, screeching to the tune of the Necasian anthem, and was met with roaring laughter. \u201CDo we have a eunuch in this bordello now? Sing, damn you, sing!\u201D Gando groaned in defeat as he was met with more laughter, with the others sitting down and resumed chatting and drinking beer. Looking deflated, he sat down at the bar and ordered something. \u201CHe says he\u2019s been sent to \u2018keep discipline\u2019.\u201D Said Ben cheerily. \u201CKinda frustrated by the fact that as this is technically a fleet joint and he\u2019s army, he\u2019s outranked by most of us. Spends most of the time being corny as hell, yellin\u2019, trying to make us sing the anthem, and generally being a pain in the backside. Typical Specboy, then.\u201D Zymon looked over his shoulder. Gendo was now at the bar, looking like he was sobbing. \u201CSo...none of you guys take this seriously?\u201D he asked. \u201CWhat\u2019s to take seriously?\u201D asked Michie. \u201CWe\u2019re the rejects. No hopes, no prospects. There\u2019s nothing worthwhile in this system beyond rocks and comets. No chance of getting off here until leave, retirement, or until someone wins the war. Half the time command barely remembers this place exists. I don\u2019t know if the Sravvies or Death\u2019s Tonguers know we\u2019re here, and if they do I\u2019m pretty sure they don\u2019t give a kriff.\u201D He downed what remained of his beer. \u201CNow, whaddya want to drink?\u201D"@en . "\u201CHey! Wake up!\u201D Zymon sat up, taking in the smell of unwashed seats, rust, and power lines, and rubbed his eyes. After travelling through hyperspace for days, he had found napping to be the best way to kill time. The only person in the dark troop bay of the Ikarus-class transport shuttle he was in, he looked down towards the cockpit. \u201CWe there?\u201D \u201CYou bet. Care to take a look at the highlight of your career, flyboy?\u201D \u201CGuard Dog to Postal, welcome to AB-334 defence post.\u201D A north Havez drawl came from the comm. Speakers. \u201CDock at port 12 and await reception there.\u201D \u201CUh, yeah.\u201D"@en . . .