Authors Note: I complerely forgot to mention something about Maria I thought I had explained a while back. She has short red hair. Because she\'s a bombshell, and seriously, who wouldn\'t want a redheaded politician on their crew. Redheaded girls always get their way. Everyone knows that.
Chapter Five: Back to the Ship!
The shuttle roared down to the ground, spewing snow everywhere with it\'s flaming engines. It touched down, and the bay doors opened up. We all clambered into it. Jackson first, of course. It was always a hassle to try and get him squeezed just right in the shuttles.
This time, Maria and I opted out of just holding the stable bars up top, instead clicking these fancy little buttons on the wall. Two of eight seats rose from the ground, having been left undeployed in the option of giving more space. But I was tired. And Maria, I assumed, was too. We both took our seats, backs to Jackson, and facing the shuttle door. I looked to my right. I saw Maria curled over, holding her knees. Her faceplate had been retracted. But her Tartaran face kept anything rolling around in her head private and contained. Deriving information from a Tartaran\'s facial expression was hard as the dickens, if they didn\'t want it to be known.
\"Everything alright?\" I asked, my voice still riding over the comms system.
She nodded. \"Of course, Andrew. Tired. And I just don\'t like EV\'s.\"
\"No-one does.\" Jackson grumbled, munching on his cigar. \"I\'ve lost a lot of good men to EV\'s.\"
\"What does the DFN do if a planet starts getting infected with the EV?\" I asked.
\"Matters.\" Jackson responded, \"We talkin\' a civilized planet, or dinky ass border worlds?\"
\"Civilian planet.\" I asked.
\"I was involved in one of those operations. Block off the major cities. Use fire. Lots of fire. Till the constructs come out.\"
Constructs, I thought to myself. Constructs were nothing less than biological tanks. \"Then what do you do?\"
\"Send in the tanks. Lots and lots of tanks. More than you can imagine.\"
\"And if that doesn\'t work?\"
\"Nuke it from orbit \'til their ain\'t a breathin\' thing left surfaceside.\"
Maria looked up in surprise. Even after two months, she hadn\'t gotten used to the rawness of this particular DFMC Sergeant. She was used to Tartaran space: So heavily (and flawlessly) defended it was virtually free of any external issues. EV\'s, nuclear holocausts, revolutions and revolts, the whole nine yards. Tartaran\'s had solved all those issues within their own structure a long time ago. She was thirty-one years old, six years older than me (but that was a young adult to a Tartaran, who had average life spans of nearly two hundred years). But in all those years, only in the past two had she left Tartaran territory to become a Tartaran Ambassador. And as Jackson had put it, \"Welcome to real life, Princess.\". Even still, she handled it surprisingly well.
\"What about border worlds?\"
\"If it don\'t have resources, we get as many civilian off world and then go straight to the nukes.\"
Maria looked flabbergasted. \"That\'s... horrid! The Tartaran Empire would never do that!\"
Jackson tossed her a look that would have made any less-stubborn and iron-willed person royally crap themselves. Luckily, Maria was anything but that. \"That\'s because they don\'t have too, Princess. The Tartaran keep to themselves, they don\'t have problems.\" His tone on that last word was rather nasty. \"Lifes great if you\'re a Tartaran in Tartaran space, but for the rest of us? Life aint sugar and cupcakes. The DFN ain\'t perfect, but by damn they do their best. For everyone.\"
Jackson had always harbored a special kind of hatred towards Tartarans. Jeremiah and Maria always got along, their respective nations both having similar goals, and both being sub-humans, albeit the Tartaran\'s were philosophical and invested in beauty and perfection and the Lazarus were technological and known to strip planets of resources in mere months. The DFMC (not the DFN, as a whole), however, despised the Tartaran Empire: Being deployed across thousands of the most ravenous, dangerous planets in a non-stop war against the Vagyr, EV\'s, pirates and mercenaries gave them a special kind of cultural hatred towards the Tartaran, who they believed \'should come out of their territory and get a taste of real life\'.
I remember telling Jackson a while back that life in Tartaran space was so fantastic just because they defended it so well. He laughed, \'Well that\'s fan--tastic, but I\'ve spent my last twenty years protecting except my self.\" He then proceeded to down his shot of whiskey and storm out of the Cantina. I, however, have grown to greatly respect the Tartaran Empire. Having focused on beauty and perfection for thousands of years since their departure from Earth to the planet Tartarus, they have become the absolute pinnacle of human evolution. Immune to nearly every disease, universally tall and beautiful, and are able to read a persons emotions and goals through the tiniest of physiological alterations and variables. They also have one of the most stable (albeit exclusive to Tartarans) and the most well defended government in the galaxy. But that didn\'t really matter to Jackson.
Anyways, back on the Shuttle, we were now nearing the ISS Washington. Once you leave atmosphere, everything grows deathly silent, the only sound coming from the whine of the engines reverbrating through the metal of the craft. Once we entered the ISS Washington\'s lower hangar, however, the world roared back to life. Shouting over the intercom to the squad waiting for us, the hiss of decontamination gear ready to hose us down. I smiled. It was good to be back on ship.
The shuttle bay doors opened. A squad of shock-troopers stood ready with a hefty amount of decontamination equipment. A machine that resembled a demented old-earth car wash, a set of massive portable showers, something that spewed out a thick spray of some kind of sour-smelling gas, and some of the most devilish power washers you have ever seen.
The troopers with power washer commited themselves to cleaning out Jacksons now-empty power armor, having opened itself up so he could (grudgingly) go into the shower to get hosed down. Maria dissappeared into her shower, and I into mine. I stripped out of my armor, and handed it the shock-trooper waiting for me at the open end of the shower (the lack of privacy wasn\'t much of a big deal, since EV contamination was such a massive risk), and I heard the big washer roar to life as they fed our armor through it. The showers kicked on, and I squeeled a bit when the cold water hit my back. I heard a laugh from Jackson.
\"Captain doesn\'t like cold showers, huh?\" He mocked. Maria stayed silent,but I couldn\'t help but imagine she was smiling. I can have a massive, shielded ship able to pump out shells the size of people, but I can\'t expect hot water in my de-con showers. I love technology. I thought to myself. I took the soap the shock trooper handed me, nodded in thanks, and scrubbed every inch I could.
Half an hour later, Maria and I were sitting in the Cantina, wearing our standard uniforms yet again. We were discussing what had happened, talking about the EV\'s.
\"My question is what a containment craft was even doing in atmosphere there.\"
Maria sighed. \"Chances are there\'s something around here that we shouldn\'t know about. But probably will anyways.\"
\"If someone is hiding something, how do you expect to find out?\"
\"Gave the little piece of computer I ripped from the craft to Jeremiah. He\'s going to tear that thing inside out for information.\"
\"What about our contract? Don\'t they want it?\"
Maria laughed. \"Oh cmon, Andrew. You know he\'ll put it back together. I said Jeremiah, not Jackson. How long has it been since you slept?\"
\"I, uh, well. Hmmm.\"
\"Too long, obviously. I\'ll make sure Jeremiah doesn\'t get too distracted. You go get some sleep. We should be back at Zanzibar by the time you wake up.\"
I nodded. She was right; I needed sleep more than anything right now. I got up, taking my glass of bourbon with me, and headed over to the elevator.
\"What floor?\" It asked me.
\"Captains quarters.\" I responded.
The elevator shot upwards, above the bridge, and stopped. It opened to reveal a big, expansive room. A fishtank rested in the wall to my left, and my office tables to my right. However, most importantly, was the massive bed that beckoned me to pass out. And who was I to deny it\'s siren song? I placed my half finished bourbon on the table at the foot of the bed, and promptly fell asleep on my glorious, fluffy little island of paradise. Sleep took over me in moments.
