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Mother Confessor:

Feeling as though I had just fallen asleep, I am roused harshly.

“Get up cherry”, Sergeant Nimix growls at my sleeping frame. Having a bit of hard time getting up, she decides to move the process along.

“I said get up cherry”, she growls, this time tilting the bunk so that I slide off it. Clumsily I stagger awake, as the bunk clangs loudly back in place on the metal floor. My blurry eyes adjust to the darkness of the early morning hour in the barrack. Looking around, surprised that no one was disturbed by the Sergeant’s method of getting me off my bunk.

“Move it cherry”, Sergeant Nimix barks, “Got a long hard day for you, after breakfast!”

“Yes, Sergeant”, I muster aggressively, working my fingers like mad lacing up my boots. Following her out of the barrack, buttoning up my BDU shirt as I lock step with the Sergeant. In the silence, our boots echo off the walls as we depart.

Marckus:

Tossing and turning all night, not catching a wink of sleep. Pacing my quarters, with anticipation of our approach to the Saturn system. Been many years since I laid eyes on the large gas giant that looks like it was carved from some exotic stone. The rings outlying tens of thousands of kilometers from the surface, like an astral halo.

I wonder if the science facility on the small proxy moon of a moon is even still in operation. Would be nice to have thought of that beforehand. Suppose we all shall be thoroughly surprised once, we come to that hurdle. The space station farther inside orbit somewhere near Enceladus may still be alive in the solar berth. Possible, yet it is a bloody relic of a spaceport. Hopefully it has not been picked clean by scavengers. Only having the pleasure of feeling my boots on the exotic mineral mosaic floors twice in all my years of service, it does offer some of the best views this side of Terra. Letting the good memories work their way into my mind as I contemplate the nature of the science facility.

Breaking my incessant pacing with a stop at the desk, I place an order for a pot of coffee, toast and fruit. With that in fruition, I continue my musings. Picking up my pacing again. Trying to solve the riddles in my mind on the situation at hand. Hoping that both are intact despite the Confederation tromping off and randomly screwing things up. Half of me wanting this brief stop to be unhindered. The other wants to get in a good skirmish. I laugh at the thought of having a bout with the Confederation. Watching from the command deck of the bridge as their scouting ships are picked off, and left adrift in the endless midnight ocean. However, I should like to save munitions for a real fight, and not waste a single round on a squad of gnats. All I really desire is a quick get in get out. Short and sweet, not sparing a second to be lost on pointless endeavor.