In the sterile, brightly lit recruitment office, Jack Nereus shifted nervously in his uncomfortable chair. The air carried a faint scent of metal and industrial disinfectant, a stark contrast to the nauseating mix of patriotic messages and images of glorious battles playing on multiple screens around the room.

"Nakayama?" a nasal, disinterested voice called out, piercing the silence for a moment.

A short, young woman got up from the other side of the room. Despite her small stature, her presence immediately filled the room. She carried herself with obvious confidence and mechanical precision. Commissioned officer, maybe? No, she wouldn't be in an enlistment office. Private sector? She couldn't have been older than 25. Jack had made a game of figuring out every other recruit walking up to the desk. Most of them were easy enough, young colonists like himself looking for adventure, spacers in need of a paycheck, a few coddled Earth kids rebelling against their parents. The usual suspects. She was the first that he couldn't quite place.

"Nereus?" the shrill voice interrupted his thoughts once again.

Jack walked up to the recruitment desk, his legs slightly trembling. Up until this point, he felt confident in his decision to join the fleet, but Daedalus Station unnerved him. The makeshift hospitals in every plaza, the young soldiers with dead looks in their eyes. And that damn omnipresent smell, like someone was trying to cover up something really nasty. He always knew he was signing up for something dangerous, but he never expected it to be this dreary.

"Colonial name, right?" the clerk addressed him without looking up from his terminal.

"Yes, sir. Magellan Gamma, born and raised!" Jack tried to instill a bit of pride in his voice, but his nervousness sabotaged him.

"Says here you went to Solartech Engineering Academy, dropped out final semester. Ever worked on a ship?"

"Not in a technical capacity, no. I spent a few months on the Excalibur, uh, a cargo transport; I was the galley attendant," the young recruit stumbled over his words.

"Good enough," the bored clerk lunged from his relaxed position to type at his terminal with surprising speed. "You're going to the Bismarck. Auxiliary Technician. You report tomorrow morning at 04:00 local time. Secondary Docking Bay 62, know where that is?"

Jack nodded his head as the worker handed him a handful of documents. Paper. Quaint. The fleet was often mocked for their love of redundancies and analog idiosyncrasies, particularly among the ranks of the far more sleek and shiny corporate PMCs, but Jack figured there must have been some sort of wisdom in the way they did things.

"Take these to the office on the left, next to the bathroom. They're gonna give you your badge and ID card. Oh, um, and welcome to the United Earth Interstellar Fleet."

The clerk at the second office, somehow even more disinterested than the first, took the stack of papers from his hand with almost robotic precision and disappeared into the depths of her office. Several seconds later, she returned and handed him a glossy metal plate, about the size of Jack's palm.

"That's your official Fleet ID; don't lose it." Without as much as making eye contact, she extended a credit probe and signaled towards Jack's wristpad. "500 creds. That's half your first paycheck. Take it and run, and you're officially liable for desertion."

Jack walked away from the office as he inspected his new ID. He was in the Interstellar Fleet! With a badge and everything. Back when he was a kid, he had always dreamed of joining the Fleet, albeit as a captain, or perhaps one of those Assault Corps guys in mech suits. But Auxiliary Technician didn't sound half bad.

"Hey, rust scrubber!" Jack turned around. It was the young woman who was at the recruitment clerk before him, the one he couldn't quite figure out. "You got the Bismarck, right?" Jack gave a quick nod.

"I'm Eve; guess we're gonna be shipmates." She spoke with a friendly and familiar tone, but Jack could sense that it was artificial, as if she was playing a part. "I'm a tech too! Well, I was, on my first tour anyway; guess they were impressed with my work, now I'm gonna be a big fancy engine operations supervisor. Whatever that means."

"So, what's a rust scrubber?" Jack asked, somewhat flustered.

"Oh, that's just what you're gonna be doing most of the time. They give you these cool titles so you feel like you're not just wasting time, but really, there's not a lot to do on these babysitting ships. You're mostly there to make sure all the other recruits don't realize they signed up to serve on a hundred-year-old construction freighter." Eve let out a small laugh. It felt sincere enough, but Jack couldn't shake the feeling that she was hiding something.

"I take it you know the Bismarck, then?" Jack wondered incredulously.

"I know the type. These kinds of ships aren't meant to see action. They're officially patrol vessels, but really, they just fly around empty space while they teach you how to actually do your job. You spend a few months on one of these, and if they figure you're either too dumb or too smart, they keep you there."

"That's your plan, I take it?"

"Hell no!" Eve's tone suddenly shifted to a far more serious one. "I didn't sign up for a second tour because I really like sleeping in bunk beds and getting paid spare change. I don't know why they sent me to patrol, but I don't plan on sticking around."

Just as quickly as it had disappeared, the young woman's cheery demeanor returned.

"So, you got a place to crash till tomorrow?" Eve asked casually.

Jack blushed, and he could notice Eve's face strained in an attempt to suppress her laughter.

"I didn't mean it like that, rust scrubber. You're not gonna find any empty rooms on this station, not unless that ID badge says 'officer' on it. Me and my mates have a table over at the Nebula Saloon. Trust me, it's better than sleeping on a bench at the Arboretum." She casually swiped her wristpad by his arm as she walked away, with a short buzz indicating that she had shared her contact info.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

After taking in the meager sights of Daedalus Station for a few hours, Jack decided to take Eve up on her offer. Compared to the Daedalus Cantina, the station's other popular establishment, the Nebula Saloon had a lot more personality. It was styled in a faux American Old West fashion, complete with swinging doors and a hologram of a gun-toting cowboy greeting potential customers. The inside was fully covered in imitation wood and smelled of cheap booze and sawdust—an unpleasant odor under most circumstances but a welcome reprieve from the artificiality of the rest of the station. As he walked in, he noticed the speakers playing a piano tune that sounded oddly familiar, though he couldn't quite place it.

"Hey, sailor!" Eve greeted him from the back of the saloon in her characteristic cheery tone.

She was seated at a table with four others: two men, a woman, and a Zargon of indeterminate gender. It was the first time that Jack had ever seen an alien in person, and, as much as he hated to admit it, the sight unnerved him. He had seen photos and videos before, of course, but they couldn't quite convey the feeling of being in the presence of a truly alien creature. It was bright orange, a shade he had never seen before in another living being. From a distance, its features looked remarkably human, aside from the large bald head, but up close, he could realize that the proportions were very different. The eyes were slightly larger than a human's, and entirely black; the nose was a barely visible bump, with two vertical slits on either side, and the mouth was both too narrow and too low, almost on the chin.

"This is Captain Rollk. He's not from around here!" Eve interjected, presumably in an attempt to stop his dumbfounded staring. "And these are Alfred, Louise, and Anil. I served with them back on the Tramelay. They're all shipping tomorrow as well. Louise is on the Bismarck with us; Alfred and Anil are on the Harrison."

Jack went around introducing himself and shaking everyone's hand. The Zargon appeared friendly enough, but he was ice-cold to the touch. Jack felt a slight chill while shaking his hand. He reticently sat down opposite Captain Rollk. Trying to keep himself from staring, instead, he focused on Eve's human friends. Alfred and Louise looked around Eve's age, though they lacked her exuberance. Anil seemed slightly older, or perhaps time had been less gentle to him. His eyes were fixated on an indeterminate spot somewhere in the distance.

"I know, you're wondering how come I know a Zargon captain?" Eve spoke up, once again interrupting Jack's thoughts. "I used to work for him, if you'd believe it! First human on a Zargon vessel."

"You're not the first," Captain Rollk spoke in surprisingly fluent, albeit somewhat stilted English. "There was a man, Slobodan Khalil, 50 Earth rotations in the past. He was a smuggler, captured by a patrol vessel. Disease came upon the vessel; most crew were incapacitated. Far out in deep space, with nowhere to rest, few supplies. Slobodan was released from his cell, taught to work on Zargon ships. He helped fly the ship to the nearest friendly port, was called a hero."

"Did they let him go?" Louise spoke up with genuine curiosity.

"He was to be assigned to work in the mines. He was assigned to work on a ship instead. He served dutifully for the rest of his days."

"A credit to our species!" Eve raised a glass of beer in a mock toast. "I suppose that still makes me the first human to serve on a Zargon ship willingly. Unless you've got another charming anecdote to share with us?"

"You are also the first to charter a Zargon transport from 27 jumps away in order to complete a 4 jump trip. To my knowledge," Rollk spoke with obvious sarcasm, though his delivery didn't betray it as such.

"So, Jack, what made you join the fleet?" Anil spoke for the first time. His voice was softer and quieter than Jack expected, almost drowned out by the noise of the bar.

"I've got a friend, Adam. We grew up together, went to school together. Said we'd do everything together. He signed up to fight. So here I am." Jack flashed a wide grin as he spoke.

"So, where is your friend?" Anil asked, barely above a whisper.

"Boot Camp, I think. He's Assault Corps. They wouldn't let me sign up, said I was too short and thin. They sent me here instead." Jack felt a pang of remorse as soon as the words left his mouth. Back on Magellan, he would have been endlessly teased for it, but no one at the table seemed to care.

"Makes two of us, I guess," Eve spoke with a tinge of regret.

"Trust me, Assault Corps is not all it's made out to be," Alfred loudly proclaimed between sips of beer. "Most of the time you're just sitting around polishing your weapon. The rest of the time, you're sitting around, polishing your gun."

"You're Assault Corps?" Jack questioned him incredulously.

"We were. Anil and me. Now we're just ship rats like you. No offense. They won't let you do back-to-back tours in Assault. Supposed to be bad for your nerves. Whatever," Alfred spoke in an ever-increasing crescendo of volume.

"So, you ever kill anyone?" Jack continued his interrogation.

"Nope. Just lizards," Alfred flashed a toothy grin.

Anil spoke up, this time at an audible volume: "It's not a good thing to talk about, Jack. Not here. Killing is serious business. Whether we're talking about Kharlath or Humans. They'll try to train this out of you, but don't forget, being allowed to take a life is a privilege we are entrusted with. It is a duty. Not a subject of drunken conversation."

"I don't know about that," Alfred interrupted him. "Really, I think killing is a lot like sex. Everyone makes a big deal out of your first time, like it's some big milestone that's supposed to change you in some way, but then it just sort of happens, and you don't feel any different. It just becomes another normal part of your life."

"Killing is just another part of your life, huh, Alfie?" Louise mocked him jovially. "What are you, a serial killer now?"

"Well, if he kills as often as he has sex, we're not really in any danger," Eve joined in, laughing passionately.

As the rest of the table laughed away, Jack focused his attention on Anil. He couldn't help but wonder if his question had offended him, though he didn't seem to give any outward indication of it. Anil was very different from Alfred and Louise. A bit more serious, and far more mature. He was somewhat puzzled by their friendship, but even more puzzled by Eve. Was she the glue holding this odd group together? Despite her seemingly gregarious nature, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that it was all surface level, that she didn't really belong. At a table with five humans and an alien, somehow, she still seemed the most out of place.

"Hey, rust scrubber! Wanna do some shots?" Eve interrupted Jack's thoughts. She waved down a waitress carrying a large tray, full of multicolored drinks of dubious quality.

"As they partied the night away, Jack's thoughts drifted further and further away from the enigma that was his new shipmate. He didn't quite trust her, but he enjoyed her presence, and that was alright for now. He let himself get captured by the atmosphere of the Saloon, almost forgetting that he was in space entirely. The wide, open plains and bright star-lit sky visible in the fake windows were supposed to represent ancient Earth, but they reminded him of home, of Magellan. It had only been mere weeks since he left, but he already missed it. He missed being outside; he missed the faint smell of trampled grass; he even missed the insects. He had spent time in space before, but not like this. The reality that he had signed up for 16 months in a metal bucket, out in the infinite empty void, was starting to set in. And just as he had let himself forget for a moment, it all came back to him. Jack was about to get up from the table when a sudden loud noise interrupted him. It was an alarm. In a moment, all the lights had come on, and the music had turned itself off. Everyone in the bar was stopped dead in their tracks, as if frozen in place. Apart from the incessant blaring of the alarm, always at 5-second intervals, the Nebula Saloon was eerily quiet. Finally, a voice spoke up from behind the bar, with barely restrained desperation:

"The Station is under attack! The Kharlath are here!"