The mood was subdued when we got back to the sanctuary of our room. Robinson moved over to Schmidt's section of the couch and began neatly packing up the few possessions that the man had owned. A hairbrush. One August 1965 copy of Penthouse, which hadn't been purchased for the articles going by the stains on its cover. A couple of sets of civies, not that there had ever been anywhere to wear them in the jungles of Vietnam. It wasn't much of a legacy for a man to leave behind. None of his family would even know he'd died. We couldn't even draft a letter to his folks to inform them of his death.

Robinson placed the items one by one into an orderly pile in the corner respectfully. The items were seated next to a few things which had formerly belonged to Hodges. Robinson squatted in front of them, eyes downcast. I was starting to feel some sympathy for the man as he mourned his friend. I should have known better. As soon as Sarge looked away, he snuck a small plastic bag out of the pile and into his waiting pocket. 

I didn't see the contents, but my expectation was recreational drugs. A friend with weed was a friend indeed and all that.

Still, he hadn't continued our earlier argument, so I wasn't about to cause him trouble. Everyone dealt with stress differently. 

It was nearly an hour later that our handler appeared in the room's center. He gazed down upon us, dispassionately before speaking.

"Greetings, Squad 304. Your team's performance on the training mission was highly irregular. The mission has, however, been adjudicated as irregular but successful. Please follow the mission guidelines more closely in the future. A surgical strike was expected, and your complete eradication of the enemy forces was unexpected. Praise the emperor for his kind and lenient judgment in this case." The image paused expectantly.

Fuck the emperor, I thought sullenly. If the emperor and I ever met, I expected we'd be having a frank and earnest discussion about his military's recruitment policies. That conversation was likely to be short, and to the point, my part probably completed purely through hand gestures.

Our response however, was the same as disenfranchised people the world over. We buckled down and did what was expected.

"Praise the emperor." We muttered halfheartedly. Children forced to attend math camp have shown more enthusiasm than our squad.

If the purple-skinned alien noticed our displeasure, he didn't show it. His presentation continued without a noticeable reaction. "For tomorrow's mission, you will be expected to deploy defensively and hold a region for twenty hours. If the entire squad is exterminated before that period ends, then the mission will be deemed a failure." He paused before continuing. I presumed to let that sink in. "Further details on the mission can be found using your consoles. You will deploy at oh-eight hundred tomorrow. Sustenance will now be provided."

With that, a door in the wall opened, and the now-familiar culinary robots rolled into the room. As the others fell upon the food hungrily, our instructor's hologram faded from view. 

I stepped past the food trolley and into the corridor beyond the door. A cough sounded from behind me. I didn't look back. There was no need, I already knew Sarge would be glaring meaningfully at me.

What was I doing? This was only going to cause us trouble. I acknowledged that, but continued moving forward down the hall. The hassle would be worth it if I found out more about what was going on here.

My boots clanged noisily on the polished white metal floor, and I twitched around nervously, expecting security officers to emerge and apprehend me any moment. I stopped at the first doorway I came to. Although, calling it a doorway wasn't really correct. The indent into the wall resembled a door. The grooves at the edges lead into the wall, showing it could slide back to give entry. There was, however, no handle with which it could be opened. I ran my fingers over its cold, smooth surface but couldn't find any hidden compartments. It was frustrating and perplexing.  

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Further down the corridor, a television screen was embedded in the wall. A large diagram displayed a map of some sort. It resembled a cut-away view of a large vessel, and a large yellow square flashed expectantly. I presumed this indicated my current position, apparently somewhere in the bowels of the ship. Hieroglyphs were displayed to the right of the diagram. As I squinted at them, they moved, swimming as they morphed in shape, eventually settling into English words. Apparently, my nanobots could provide translations. I could get used to this.

Above the diagram was a name.

FTV Furnace - Providing the fire to mold the Federations' future warriors.

Then to the left of the map was a terse description of our area.

Alien Combat Candidates

Current Occupancy: 104

Responsibility: Lieutenant Ba'ack

'Alien Combat Candidates' didn't sound like we'd been recruited for the elite military. Still, it didn't give me the heebie-jeebies and an expectation that they were doing anal probes while we slept. I reminded myself I was reading descriptions translated from an alien language. I didn't need to look for trouble by jumping to conclusions. Trouble always seemed to have a knack of finding me.

Tapping another of the vessel's compartments brought up similarly terse descriptions for each.

Crew Quarters, Command Deck, Engine Room, Armory, Infirmary, Canteen.

All the usual sort of areas you'd expect to see on the spaceship that I suspected this was.

The engine room and command deck confirmed that this was a vessel of some kind. Its purpose and intent were still vague. 

Intent on investigating the map thoroughly, I continued checking compartments. So engrossed was I that I jumped as a gentle swish sounded behind me. Turning, I saw the waiter robots from our quarters emerge and roll down the corridor. 

Shit. 

I shifted my weight and prepared to sprint for the doorway to re-enter our quarters, but it was already too late. The door had closed instantly behind the waiters as they left. I was stuck in this empty corridor.

The trolley stopped abruptly six inches in front of me, and a small red light appeared on the front of the cart. Flashing angrily. 

I knew how it felt.

"Unexpected obstruction detected."

Well, at least it hadn't merely run me down. That would have been an embarrassing end to a somewhat mediocre life. The cart had been picked pretty much clean by my squadmates, but I reached out and grabbed the solitary remaining sausage roll.

After all, no one thinks well on an empty stomach.

Proof of this statement occurred nearly immediately. The red light flashed once more.

"Assistance has been requested. The estimated time of arrival is three minutes."

Shit! 

Adrenaline surged through my veins as panic flooded my mind. Every inch of me wanted to run. To get away from whoever or whatever had been called. Resisting those urges, I struggled to think through my options logically. 

The doors wouldn't open, so running would likely leave me stuck in a different corridor, an obvious intruder. 

I concentrated on slowing my breathing. There must be a better option available.

The light on the cart pulsed patiently, counting down the seconds to my doom. Examining it more closely, I realized that the cart was hollow. Drapes on the side hid empty trays. I pulled at them frantically, placing them on the floor of the cart. Then I climbed on board.

As the drapes fell back into place, heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor.

I held still, trying hard not to breathe.

The footsteps stopped and a conversation began. 

“It’s a T-34, they’re always malfunctioning. These bloody things are useless, I didn’t even know they were still in use. ” 

“They aren’t really, it’s only running food to the cannon fodder. What’s the error?” 

“Unexpected obstruction. There’s obviously nothing here though, must have been a sensor malfunction.”

“Come on then. Hit the reset and let's get back to the game. Or are you just trying to avoid me beating you again?”

“Fuck you man.”

A quiet beep sounded and then the trolley moved forward smoothly once more. The rasping voices receded as I rolled away from the security detail.  Hidden under the canopy I remained silent and still.

I still had to figure out a way back to the others, but it seemed I’d bought myself a little time.