Rays of light permeated the dusty air through thickened windows. Dark corridors barely lit by emergency lights extended in
as far as the eye could see into the thick darkness, the red rotating lights dimly reaching through the black void to
illuminate parts unknown. Deathly silence filled the hallway as if a tomb for an ancient pharoh, yet understurbed.
Dul thumps riverbrated through the hallway, as the dim lights slightly increase from the solar powered generators kicking
in from the nearly abandoned station. Aegis station sat as a remote station for refueling in the Saparitus star system on
the far side of the Milky Way, well out of the way of organized star systems.

Sergeant Jacobs, nicknames "Grim" by some of the few survivours of the station, welded onto the arc reactor of the
shuttle. The station had fallen into disrepair since the war, and the few items still working were jury rigged to keep
the crew alive. Battles all across the station had left few survivors, and when the great war finally ceased,
it had left the station with no coms gear and erased off of many of the star maps of other cultures. Earth was gone,
but it didnt play out as the classic science fiction story of the 21st century. Humanity was the agressors, the alien
races the ones unsuspecting as we agressively waged war on the stars. It was a reverse role, as the many alien races
had not depended so much on conflict as we had imagined. They had grown peaceful in the millions of years of their
existance, and technology on a military teir for them was much less advanced than ours.

Humanity, as a whole, is designed to adapt and conquer the creatures that may destroy them, to never give them a chance.
As we punished the stars, took worlds, mining them dry and expanding further, the galexy took up arms against us. We
eventually moved too far, too fast, and too arrogant to see how we might fail. Unlike humanity if the role were switched
however, the races of the galexy chos NOT to destroy us entirely. The loss of or home world, as well as inability to
colonize more, was or great punishment. If we were to breed, we had to do so with our decreased population, and across
the worlds owned by other governments and alien cultures. Aegis station, at 4 miles long, was once a hub of inter species
trade, that sat barely occupied after riots, gang warfare, and paramilitary forces fought themselves to extinction. The
plaugue on its own killed off nearly the ALL of the rest, with the lack of supplies.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Grim continued welding, his black cropped hair, green eyes, and gaunt face covered by the jet black space suit.
A eagle atop a globe, holding a lightening bolt adorned the side of his shoulder pad; a symbol of the United Earth
Forces. He was a soldier by trade, to a military that no longer existed. The war had not phased him, he was a symbol
of that expansionist, hopeful, yet violent nature that humanity represented when expanding to the stars. He floated in
space around the defunct station, tethered lightly by his oxygen supply hose. The dark blackness of space and the
abandoned mining colony below reflected off of his silver face visor.

When fighting broke out, most of the United Earth Forces Navy had been stationed across the galexy to hold many of the outposts in
deep space. Naturally, the war reached far and wide, and the hulls of these various vessels littered the surrounding area, drifting in
endless expanse of the stars. The daily ruitine of the station involved changing the directory of these empty shells of the past, so
that they wouldnt hit the station, or salvaging them for parts to keep the station able to support what life it had left. The transition
From UEF Marine to an engineer of sorts had not been difficult for Grim. He was naturally a lonesome indevidual and enjoyed keeping his mind
busy with the various tasks than communications with the various inhabitants of the station.

His holo display inside of his helmet cast an eary green glow on his weathered face as he coupled power cables on the craft. The surviving humans
avoided him, as much due to his antisocial behavior as his tenacity with his projects. Many had abandoned the idea of a capable craft flying them out.
The shuttle was Grims project, nearly 50 meters long and made up of makeshift parts of other vehicles. A pack on his back flashed two small flames in
utter silence as he was propelled back to the station. The airlock depressurizing him. As oxygen enterred the dimly lit, metalic tube of the airlock,
Grim would pull off his helmet. Lighting a cigarrate to illuminate the dark circles under his eyes from his growing obsession with the craft to the point
of sleeplessness.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The football field sized hanger echoed as Grim's boots made the destinctive taps across the deck. He turned on a small recorder- playing Plaisir d amour.
The sweet sounds of the morose choir filling the empty hanger and echoing down the empty halls. He inhaled, and let the smoke lazily drift out of his nostrils
to expand into the darkness around him. He began to fall asleep, letting pleasant thoughts of a better time fill his mind with scenes of green trees, clear skies,
and the expanse of the sea in front of him. The wind kissed his cheeks, with the fresh air filling his soul with renewed vigor. The squaks of the gulls keeping him
company his black boots made prints in the sand. He looked down, and noticed he was wearing the black clad uniform of the UEF. Upon looking up he would notice the
lines of fellow troops. The Earth Government monitors broadcasting tales of victory, courage, and sacrifice on foreign fronts. He felt proud, and took a peek at the
eagle adorning his shoulder. His stumache dropped...where was he? He blinked, noticing the tell tale green signs of the holographic display of his visor. The Oxygen
reading was at 25% and blinking. His training kicked in, he breathed slower, tapped his communications outlet. Nothing. Panic began to take hold, as the meter dropped
faster from his increased breathing. The polorized visor finally gave view. He gasped, the burning ships venting atmasphere. He didnt have a tether. He rapidly
tapped his control, only to hear the screams and pleas of fellow soldiers over the coms as the burning hulks of the UEF Navy slowly drifted apart and occasionally
broke apart or came together in the silence of space. Men were burning up in atmasphere, flooding the coms with agony. His meter hit zero, and he began to choke.
Grim woke with a start, falling from his chair. He gasped for air on the ground, inhaling the stale oxygen of the station. His cigaratte had fallen to the floor,
and had left a burn on the steely panels his fingertips grasped so tightly. Sweat dripped from his neck. He angrily rose to his feet, kicking the chair across the
deck. The sound of the clatter echoing down the empty halls. The song had long ended, with only light static emitting from the device. The lights flickered as the
an intercom picked up in the hanger. "Hey, Grim. Top wants to see you in the control room.", the female reported. Grim didnt bother to reply, instead hitting the
button on his I.D. that showed his tag on the station to signify aknowledgement. He brushed a few ashes from the pant leg of his uniform, and made his way out of the
bay, the taps slowly fading out of the hanger.



------------------------------------------------------

The dark dreariness of the halls made way for an almost clenical cleanliness. The white walls, adorned
with a single red stripe to guide the way to the office of management. The metal gradually changed into
permasealed tile and bright flourescent lights, similer to a hospital. Grim had his hands in his pockets,
and walked with a slight gait typical of people who spent long hours in zero gravity situations, back slightly
slumped. His 5 o' clock shadow showed that he neither took the time, nor effort, to look classy as he stopped
outside the door of Aegis Management. Two men, dressed in light khaki uniforms, with old pistol sidearms, stopped him
just outside. "Jesus Grim you could at least have ATTEMPTED to get something more...presentable.", one of the officers
remarked, frowing. Grim rolled his eyes, and brushed past the man into the office. The floors were carpeted lightly in
crimson red, and a single desk sat in the middle. Management, as some would call it, was one of few factions on the
station that retained some power. Raytheon Mining Company held most of the assets on Aegis, as well as the paychecks of
the scavaging teams. Getting on the bad side of the now defunct company generally meant starvation at best for those
that couldnt obtain food on their own.Of course it was no longer a corporation, and was a shadow of its former self,
but liked to maintain the appearance of such to better secure the benefits of the past. The ship graveyard in the back
window outlined a man in his late 50s in a cushioned executive seat. Fine wines and delecacies adorned the shelves to
either side of the office. Things Grim himself had found but a luxury he could not afford on his meagre salery. Taking
those items from the fleet, even when you found them, was a crime highly punishable with the strict economic system of
Aegis.


The seated man, dressed in a luxury black suit, ran a hand through his grizzled gray cropped hair and sighed. The man's
jaw was clinched, and his eyes narrowed at Grim. Grim lit a cigarrate, letting it hand lazily out of the side of his
mouth, and helped himself to a glass of the mans wine. He knew he was in for a chewing out, and had better make the best
of it. As if switched on by the opening of the bottle, the man let go of the torrent. "GRIM! You LOUSY EX U.E.F FUCK!
WHERE ARE THE FUCKING SHIPMENTS! IVE BROUGHT EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU EX MILITARY BASTARDS IN HERE, AND NOT A ONE
CAN TELL ME WHY FOOD SHIPMENTS ARE SLOWING DOWN! THE PEOPLE ARE IN AN UPROAR!". Grim took the time to look around at
the canned foodstuffs and fancy wines on the shelves. Food hadnt been in any sort of shortage. The ship graveyard was
FULL of the stuff in old mess halls and supply lockers. This was Top's typical political game. Grim weakly smiled,
nodded, and narrowed his eyes at Top. He didnt know why he was witholding shipments, nor did he care at this point
in the game. Grim would be damned if he let this man yell at him to put on a show. "YOU WIPE THAT SMUG FUCKING GRIN RI-"
Top never finished his sentence. Grim took one more inhale, put out the cigaratte on the mans fancy oak desk, flicked it
at him, and then turned to leave. Top, Furious that there was an ash stain on the front of his attire, slammed his fist
on a button embedded in his desk. The security hatch opened upwards just as Grim reached the entrence. One of the guards
reached for his shoulder. Grim brought his right arm up, placing it against the bend in the officer's elbow. He wrapped
it around, so that his forearm was around the elbow, and violently jerked up. A sickening snap of the bone, followed by
the scream of the police officer, echoed down the hallway, quickly becoming a sickening choke and girgle as Grims left
punched him in the throat. Grim fluidly grabbed the mans sidearm as he fell, pointing it at the head of the other officer
(Who was still fumbling with the pistol holster strap.) "Woah Woah Woah Woah! Calm down!", the 2nd officer said as he
backed up, bringing his hands away from his pistol and covering his face.

Silence filled the halls, accompanied by a slight trickle of blood that gently touched the edge of Grim's boot. He
pistol whipped the man, sending teeth accompanied by a mist of blood scattering down the hallway. The 2nd officer
crumbled to the floor, sobbing. He could hear Top breathing heavily in the background. He turned to point the pistol
at him. The aging man's eyes widened, and he stepped back slightly. "Calm down grim...not your fualt. My mistake.",
top said in a soothing voice. Grim spat, ejected the magazine from the pistol, and racked the current round out. The
brass clinked off the floor, rolling through a pool of crimson, and leaving a light trail on the floor as it rolled.
He nonchalantly dropped it to the floor as he turned in his heel, returning to his little corner of the universe. Since
the plague, Top's lackeys were remarkably poor trained. There would be no reprisals. Grim had a reputation, and many of
the younge officers knew better than to attempt access to his dark sanctuary in the doomed station. "You'll get yours!",
Top yelled after him. Grim sighed, as the telltale taps of his boots on the tile signaled his departure.


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



Space, empty silent. Endless, vast, dangerous, unforgiving. The lone figure stood out against the near total darkness
of space. Only his shallow breaths in the vaccume sealed space suit. His manuever pack let out light trails of blue flame,
a quick burst of thrust sending him forward into the dark. The hull of the UEF Defiance drifted lazily as it still
dripped oil from the battle nearly 12 years ago. Grim felt the hull slide under his fingers as he managed to find
gripping. The massive warship, nearly two miles in length, was almost untouched - save the atmasphere had vented in most
portions of this ship. Grim drifted into an almost square section, with a human sized bulkhead facing the blast door in a
V Shape, with a computer in the larger portion and the point to the door. He ran his U.E.F I.D into the machine.
"Welcome, Staff Sergeant Vincint Jacobs. Your presence has been logged. Please procede to the debriefing room." The doors
opposite the V Hissed, dispensing a decompression of air, mitigated because Grim was behind the V operating bulkhead.

He made his way into the tight rectagulare decompressio room. The bulkhead closed behind him, as he sat in utter darkness,
and weightlessness. His soft breathing attuning his ears on the inside of his space suit. He felt the area pressurise,
although the lights were inservicable. Two twin flash lights turned on from the two sides of his silver plated
visor, illuminating the chamber. He moved to the door opposite, likely jammed, and pulled a welding tool from his side,
metal, pouch. He began cutting into the door, the white flashes of light illuminating the dark walls and sparks
lazily drifting past his visor. The red glowing circle complete, he grabbed the rings on the roof section for holding
during the decompression process, and kicked in the circle. The large metel chunk flew inwards through the low gravity,
hitting the bulkhead in the distance.

He placed both hands on the side of the impromptu entrance, and managed to get his large suit through. It was built for
this sort of thing. Grims unit, Echo Six, was designed for zero gravity warfare back in the day. UEF Echo Six would
jetpack out of the ship, and attempt to fix enemy frigates and larger vessels with explosives or infiltrate them. Many
had immense respect from fleet back in the day, but that meant little considerring the deaths they all shared. Grim re-
focused. He headed down the corridors, looking for anything usefull, the twin beams of light illuminating the path ahead
in the dreary bowels of the derrilect ship. The creaks and groans of the hull occasionally pierced the silence.

He moved to another key door, this one internal. Grim swiped his key card, and the door opened with an electronic hiss to
the side. Grim stopped. Bodies. Frozen eternally in the deep of space, as they had died. Expressions still paralyzed in
fear and shock. The corpses had ice crystals on them, and floated in the long, narrow, bullet hole filled corridor. Grim
stared. At the far end of this hallway was the electronical storage for the unit. He drifted from bulkhead to bulkhead,
attempting to avoid the black body suited corpses of the UEF soldiers.

He took just a moment to stare into the faces of one of the marines...and was instantly fixed to it. His mind raced.
Burning hulls of ships crossed his memory. The screams... He pushed away from it quickly, and returned to his work,
breathing increased. He keyed another door, which hissed open and revealed a significant stash of electrical equipment.
He was just about to take note, when a large clank resounded through the ship...and almost walking pattern.

He wasnt alone.

He held himself motionless, and turned off his twin side lights to his helmet. Darkness engulfed him, in the room full
of bodies. He pulled his handgun slowly from the magnetic hip holster, something not regulation but he kept on him out of
pure habit. His breathing increased, as the sounds got closer. He aimed his handgun at the entryway, waiting till when
his persuer would be in the door before turning on his lights to fire. The frozen blood that had vacated the bodies of the
other soldiers still permeated the air, so getting a shot would not be easy through the frozen crimson mist even when he
illumiated it. He steadied himself, pistol ready. The footsteps reached the door. Time seemed to stop. He turned on his
lights, illuminating through the pink mist to a humanoid body. He he tried to see the target, and his finger lightly
started to pull the trigger of his pistol. "Jacobs?", the thing said. "You're still alive?!". Grim stopped. He knew that
voice. "no fucking way.", his voice rasped from misuse. "Yeah, its me jacobs. Yurik. From Luna echo six jump school?". He
lowered his pistol slightly. "How?", he rasped. "Ill explain in a bit. But this section of the ship is shut down to
conserve power. Id like to know the same for you. Haha. But lets get you out of here.", the figure turned and drifted
down the corridor. Grim Followed.