"Syndicate, how long until we reach our destination?"
I am on another new ship provided by Armada. If I was the conspiracy type, I would find it rather odd that Armada was able to keep providing such high-end technology and space crafts, for this "secret" mission.
However, sometimes, the less you know, the better. Regardless of the how or why of it, I have decided to enjoy the conveniences that come with a nice ship along with some good food again.
"Two days, six universal hours, thirty-eight minutes and two-point six seconds."
Right.
Bloody A.I. Does she have to be so specific?
I would have been satisfied with a mere two days. Rolling my eyes I stretch out a long feeling my joints crack before standing up out of my co-pilot chair.
Britt is the better pilot, so even though I am the senior officer, he gets the driver's seat. He's around somewhere. Last I had seen him he had said something about double-checking security settings and reprogramming our automatic defence systems.
After my last little visit to the planet of death, and leaving at gunpoint, I am OK with this idea.
"Thank you Syndicate. How have you been anyways? Want to tell me your rescue story?"
"Umm... Not sure that is appropriate Marshal Zea." Whoa, is the A.I. embarrassed? That's weird.
"It's ok Syndicate. If you are ever bored and feel like sharing, let me know." I can't help the smile.
Technology from Quantum 4 is incredible. I am honestly starting to wonder if Syndicate is a real sentient entity.
Stretching one more time as I stand I look around the ship again.
One thing I still wasn't filled in on yet, and has been driving me crazy, is what had happened to the survivors we had saved from Earth?
No one had bothered to let me know if they had been successfully integrated into new colonies or given a new planet, or what? I feel the need to know. After all, I had invested years of my life trying to save the damnable species. It would be nice to know it hadn't been in vain.
Too long had I been on the damnable planet waiting for Armada to decide the time had been right to come and get us. Many men had died at the hands of Zu'Lar and we had buried far more casualties than I wanted to remember.
Looking around I am reminded how happy I am to be off Mr. Talki'ser's ship.
I keep seeing the image from Ufrik's mind of the insignia on the side of the ship. It isn't quite clear in my mind's eye but something about it nags at me.
I will figure it out soon. I have a gut feeling it will help me find Ufrik later. For now, I need to find out what had happened to all of my men and the humans we had hopefully saved.
I head down the short corridor to the common room finding Britt bent over a plate of food. It smells good. Maybe I will take a quick pit stop before I satisfy my curiosity.
"Hey, Britt. How's the grub?" Ismile at his full cheeks as he tries to swallow far more food than is polite.
"How the stars do they make it taste so good?"
I have the same question. Smiling a little more I walk over to the hydrating station. What do I pick? Screw supper do they have dessert?
"Zea?" Britt's voice holds a cautious warning, "You know you'll regret just eating dessert. You will wake up starving in the middle of the night, grumpier than my grandma on her birthday."
YOU ARE READING
The Way It Is
Science FictionI am not from this planet. Hell, I am technically not from this galaxy. However, that doesn't change the fact I am here now, and my job is to save what I can on this forsaken planet and what's left of its inhabitants. The problem is that not everyo...