———— CNGC Fighter Class SSV All Bets are Off, Salvos Orbit, 2533 ————
Boredom. The Specialist Space Vehicle All Bets are Off accommodated least for boredom. It had state of the art re-breather units to recycle air, cutting edge hydrogen power cores for almost infinite energy, an Otter-Ford Faster than Light (FTL) drive and even cryogenics chambers for sleeping over long trips.
The problem was, at least for Lieutenant Riley Moore, none of these things were interesting in the slightest. He sat at a COM terminal deep in the bowels of the SSV All Bets are Off and watched status reports from hundreds of units under the Conglomerate Nations Galactic Command, or CSGC, pour in.
Many had the NAV-6 prefix for Navy ships, like All Bets are Off, while others had prefixes like ARM-7, AIR-8, and SPEC, for the Army, Air Force and Special Forces respectively. Riley was bored, and as he had done many times in the past out of boredom, he accessed one of the radio channels labelled NAVSPECWAR-NIXON and began to listen.
At first only static came through the COM’s speakers, but Riley realised it was a non-transmission channel and switched to the text conversion mode of the COM.
<//CDR KYLAN: NO SIR, WE CAN NOT CONFIRM THEM AS HOSTILES!>
<//ADM FLANK: SOLID COPY NIXON ONE. ARE YOU ABLE TO HOLD YOUR CURRENT POSITION?>
<//CDR KYLAN: SIR, NO SIR! WE ARE UNDER HEAVY FIRE AND I AM REQUESTING AN IMMEDIATE MEDEVAC. REPEAT, WE NEED A MEDEVAC!>
<//ADM FLANK: SOLID COPY NIXON ONE. STALKERS ARE UNAVALABLE AT THIS TIME. HOLD YOUR POSITION AND DO NOT TRY TO LEAVE THE COMPLEX. COPY?>
<//ADM FLANK: NIXON ONE DO YOU COPY?
<//CDR KYLAN OFFLINE.>
<//ADM FLANK: SOLID COPY NIXON ONE. ARE YOU ABLE TO HOLD YOUR CURRENT POSITION?>
<//CDR KYLAN: SIR, NO SIR! WE ARE UNDER HEAVY FIRE AND I AM REQUESTING AN IMMEDIATE MEDEVAC. REPEAT, WE NEED A MEDEVAC!>
<//ADM FLANK: SOLID COPY NIXON ONE. STALKERS ARE UNAVALABLE AT THIS TIME. HOLD YOUR POSITION AND DO NOT TRY TO LEAVE THE COMPLEX. COPY?>
<//ADM FLANK: NIXON ONE DO YOU COPY?
<//CDR KYLAN OFFLINE.>
As the last line of text flashed on the screen Riley tried to process what he had just dropped in on. He scanned the COM information, looking at the transmission data. The signal was coming from Salvos, the planet that SSV All Bets are Off was orbiting, and Admiral Flank was his own CO.
But who the hell was Commander Kylan?
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