Specialist Travis McComb finished inputting the data on the individual crystals of Be-Esunium and looked around the crater.
The people brave enough to have returned were a mixed bunch. Some looked relatively healthy, but most seemed malnourished or sickly. All wore clothing that looked like it had been ripped and patched multiple times.
When he'd explained to Junior that he would need to accompany the payload back to the G5493, Junior had been less than thrilled. He knew that breaking the next bit of news, that Junior would be branded a deserter and a traitor if he didn't travel to Earth Prime with this troops, would be difficult.
Checking his data terminal, McComb saw that it was time to meet his new commanding officer in Impact proper, as ordered, at a place called The Rusty Tankard. The town was small. Even though all the buildings looked alike, Junior had said McComb couldn't miss it.
The rest of the troops had been ordered to load the cargo on the shuttle and wait for them to return, though McComb suspected that Junior didn't really plan on joining them. He'd have to make sure that Junior did, for the good of these people that had worked so very hard just to survive in this inhospitable place.
McComb walked up to the rim of the crater and down the narrow foot path towards Impact. On either side, massive mountains of garbage were piled in precarious looking heaps. He spied a group of children playing on top of one of the piles. How they didn't lose an unsurvivable number to junk avalanches or simple tetanus was miraculous.
As the scattered buildings of Impact came into view, McComb could imagine the history of the community.
The initial prisoners, refugees really, had arrived unprepared for what awaited them. They had gathered cargo containers and fashioned them into dwellings. They had build roads, such as the were, and a water purification system. They had built a hospital, schools, set up a government.
And they had built a bar.
The Rusty Tankard sat behind a flickering neon sign on one side of the main road through Impact. As far as the cargo container architecture went, this building was (as the name suggested) more rusty than most.
It was crowded, even in the weird tan light of the EcoHope 11 dawn. McComb scanned the crowd, which looked to be mainly comprised of laborers, and spotted Junior and his friends at a booth in the back. They waved him over and he slid into the booth next to Junior's friend, Dank.
He greeted them and began to try to order through the interface on his Data Terminal before remembering that there would probably be no automated service droids to respond to and signals sent from him. He set the device down as a blonde girl, no older than Junior or Dank, walked up and said something McComb could not understand. She seemed to be speaking an entirely different language.
His obviously confused look was returned by the girl, who tired repeating the same phrase, then again, slower and more loudly:
"Waatchu gonnahav shoogah?"
The inflection rose at the end. He knew he was expected to respond. He just didn't understand the question.
His blank and panicked look was met with a dismissive head shake from Junior who turned to the girl and said, "He'll have a beer, Lizzy, thanks."
As the girl scurried off, Junior turned back to McComb and plastered a friendly smile across his youthful face.
"How does a person go about ending military service in the Earth Prime Protection Force?" he asked, with a glance at Dank for confirmation. He'd done some research and knew what to ask.
Chapter Twenty Six Interlude
File: Datanet Core Server Gamma Beta Sixty Three, Galactic Military Protocol, Era: Modern -0, Systems Tests, Index Earth Prime Protection Force, Data source EPPF Press Corps
Re-assignments are relatively uncommon among Earth Prime Protection Force personnel, but sometimes an officer or enlisted trooper requests a change of pace or even a return to civilian life. In these events, re-assignments are processed according to the order in which they are received.
As there is no dedicated resource to process these requests due to their infrequency, the current oldest request was placed over fifty Earth Prime years ago. If the submitter of that request is still in active service, this request should be processed the next time reviews are made, depending on the current level of activity of senior command.
Lizzy returned with a beer and McComb started his explanation of military protocols as soon as she had left to take care of the other patrons.
"Officers don't just resign their commissions, Sir," he took a long drink of the dark, frothy beverage in front of him. It burned his throat and set his eyes watering immediately.
"You have to request a re-assignment and you really don't want to do that."
"Why not?"
McComb sighed, "You can fill out all the forms you like, but the only real re-assignment anyone ever gets is death."
Trixie May gasped, "What are you saying? Junior can just stay here. You've got your rocks. You can all just go."
"If Junior doesn't follow strict military protocol someone from senior command will get the idea to kill him, if they haven't already," McComb explained, "The easiest way for them to do that is to initiate a planetary bombardment centered here, on Impact, to wipe it off the face of the planet. Then they will bombard the outlying areas, just to make sure. The Earth Prime Protection Force is nothing if not thorough." He took another, longer drink from his mug and was left with a thin foamy mustache across his upper lip.
"So how long is Junior in for?" Dank asked.
"You take about it like it is an incarceration!" McComb set down his mug a little too hard and sprayed the surface of the table with the liquid, "The prison is here!" He spread his arms to take in everything around them, "Literally! Junior, you've inherited an ancestral title, whatever Stevens didn't specifically leave to some family member and, most importantly, a ticket off this rock."
Junior looked from McComb to Dank and Trixie May, "I ain't leavin' everyone and everything I've ever known. I can't."
"You don't have to leave everything," McComb began, "If you like, you can join the shuttle run, make an appearance, and then come back to gather your things. I can spend a day or a day and a half stowing and indexing and stalling while you say your good-byes."
It was a good offer, and Junior knew it. He nodded.
"Thank you, Sir," McComb stood up before adding, "I plan for the shuttle run to begin in about two hours. You can ride up, meet your crew, and I'll personally return you to Impact to finish things here."
Without another word, he turned on his heels and walked out the front door.
The three sat in silence for a while, slowly sipping at their warming mugs of beer, unsure of what to say.
Junior finished his drink and stood.
"Good luck," said Dank.
"Come back soon," Trixie May added.
Junior nodded once, turned, and walked into the dark.
