Marcus' eyes slowly peeled open, the darkness gradually parting to reveal a room that was lit only by a dim red light blooming up from the floor. He was laid in the crew quarters, a roof over his head, surrounded by bunks of sleeping Commandos who snored the eternal night of space away in their cots. Before long, he had eased himself into an upright position, the dull ache of fatigue that panged through his body dissipating as he did so. Rubbing his temples, Marcus felt the rough flesh of his birthmark scrape against the skin of his fingertip, its touch as rough and unforgiving as sandpaper.

As the darkness of the room crept in, the soldier was contemplating going back to sleep, when all of a sudden, a repeated beeping noise began to sound throughout the room, high-pitched and shrieky. Marcus immediately felt a spike of alertness stab into him, his eyes widening as the alarm filled the room and the red glow on the floor steadily grew in brightness, illuminating the crew quarters in a crimson haze.

Moans and grumbles filled the air, bodies shifting posture, as a familiar voice suddenly blared over the alarm.

"Attention all hands, this is Captain Baker speaking. We are approaching the Sirtha Prime starbase, estimated arriving in ten minutes. All hands report immediately to docking stations. Repeat, all hands report immediately to docking stations."

With a static click, the Captain's message ended, only half-heard by a gathering of drowsy soldiers whose faces were wracked with despair as they reluctantly climbed out of bed. Marcus sympathised, and was tired himself, but was glad to see that his company's discipline held true.

"Urgh, there already?" A familiar voice sounded from above him. Craning his neck upwards, Marcus saw Ferro's bulbous head lean over the bedside, groggy and bleary eyed like he was in the midst of a hangover. As usual, Ferro had claimed the top bunk, but Marcus didn't mind.

After all, being Tartarusan, the stubby bastard was less likely to hit his head on the ceiling.

"Afraid so, L.J." Major Winter replied, swinging his legs over the side of his cot and getting to his feet. He was dressed in nothing but a white vest top and boxers, his feet bare against the cold steel floor of the ship. Walking across the room, he approached Jennifer, who was sat upright in bed, rubbing her half-shut eyes.

"Up and at 'em, Captain Sakong." Marcus grabbed his second-in-command's well-muscled arm and shook her until she was fully awake. As her body swayed, Jennifer glared up at him. Her expression made it clear that she'd much rather be asleep, her features resigned and drained.

"Alright, big man, I'm up" she said drowsily. "Bring me my slippers and some breakfast in bed, will you?"

Marcus chuckled. As usual, even when half-asleep and grumpy, Jennifer Sakong found some way to be sarcastic.

The black-haired woman cast her covers aside and got to her feet as Marcus turned away. Meanwhile, Ferro hopped down from his bunk, refusing to use the ladder as he landed with a hefty thud. All around him, other members of the company rose up and started pulling on their space suits.

Technically he wasn't supposed to be in here. Captain Baker had given Marcus his own private quarters when he arrived aboard, but the Horusan barely ever set foot inside. While he appreciated the Captain's generosity, and accepted to not seem obstinate, Marcus preferred the company of his troops. Of those he had fought and bled with for almost five years.

One thing he had always held true to his heart; no officer was above his men.

Grabbing his naval uniform from nearby, Marcus began pulling it up his legs. However, as he lifted the plated suit over his waist and towards his broad shoulders, a musky stench began to waft from its interior, worming up into his nostrils and making them twitch.

"Ugh, jeez" he murmured under his breath. Shaking his head, he knelt down and reached under the bed, his forearm sliding across the cold steel floor. Almost instantly, he felt a hard plastic cylinder touch his fingers, which he gripped and pulled out. I was a stick of roll-on deodorant, which he quickly applied under his arms while the top half of his uniform hung around his waist.

One of the definitive downsides of space travel; wearing the same suit for months on end.

After dousing himself in the sweet-smelling liquid, Marcus held it out to Ferro. "Might want to get cleaned up, Sergeant."

Ferro shook his head. "No point. The whole place stinks like a midden anyway. It'd just be waste."

Jennifer raised an eyebrow. "Eloquent as ever, Ferro."

The short, squat man smirked and made a cynical attempt at a florid bow. "Tartarusan charm, ma'am," he said, before fastening his suit around his neck and making for the door.

Marcus held out the hygiene product once again. "Clean yourself up, Ferro. That's an order."

Looking up, Ferro rolled his eyes like dice before taking the deodorant, unfastening his attire and rolling it half-heartedly over his pits. Marcus stood and waited, even while the rest of the company got ready and prepared to leave.

"Orders, sir?" Lieutenant Leon Tenari spoke up.

Marcus looked at him and gave him an order. "Head to the armoury and grab your gear, men. Jennifer, Ferro and I will meet you there, Captain."

His fellow Horusan nodded, and the room quickly cleared, all but a few murmured conversations amidst the troops heard. Marcus saw Lieutenant Ichiro, Doctor Nilsen, and other recognisable faces hurry through the door and turn a sharp corner down to the ship's armoury.

Their faces were grim and pale, gazes held low as they walked, with none of the lively banter and conversation that they usually had.

As they left, Ferro slapped the deodorant back into Marcus' palm, sighing a heavy and dissonant sigh as he reached around his waist and pulled his gear back on. "Happy now, Horus boy?" he asked.

"Very." Marcus replied.

Once they were fully-clothed, the three of them left their quarters, walking out into the corridor and making their way towards the armoury to meet with the rest of the company. However, they soon came to a halt at the nearest window, embedded in the walls of one of the Sorrento's many passageways, and couldn't help but look outside.

And as they did, their gazes fell upon a world with a grey-green atmosphere tinted red by the light of its star. Both the planet and its moon were covered in the glimmering lights of cities, reaching from its swampy coastlines to the vast grey deserts of its inlands.

Sirtha Prime.

"Still no less of a shithole than the last time we saw it." Ferro remarked.

Marcus and Jennifer both looked at their Tartarusan NCO when he made that glib statement. While Marcus couldn't deny that the planet below still bore the wounds that always came with war, they now had a role in healing those wounds... and preventing more from being cut into the galaxy.

"Hopefully that'll change soon after today," Major Winter said optimistically.

"Mhm." Jennifer supported Marcus' statement, looking first at him and then back at Sirtha Prime. "Hopefully the opening of this embassy will be the first step towards better overall relations with the Xan-Klar."

Marcus was about to reply to Jennifer when Ferro's mouth pulled into a sneer and released a loud, indignant scoff.

"I fuckin' doubt it."

Hearing that made a sense of grim dread boil up within Marcus' body. Looking at Ferro, Marcus saw the short man's deep sunken eyes glowering, his facial features twisted into murky, venomous growl.

Normally, Marcus had to berate Ferro about this sort of thing. But he wasn't going to now.

"Ferro..."

Marcus began to speak, but his NCO cut him off.

"We risked all our lives to bring an entire fuckin' war to an end, and they decide to bring us back here so we can talk with some crazed alien cunts who probably ain't gonna listen to us anyway?" Ferro turned his thick neck and round head, meeting Marcus' gaze with an unflinching and venomous glare. "Am I the only one who sees a problem with all this?"

"I know you're not happy to be here, Ferro..." Marcus tried to assuage him. "None of us are. But for once, we're not here to kill. We're here to save lives, not end them."

Ferro still looked unconvinced, his expression as he continued to eye Marcus one of complete apathy.

"Marcus is right, Ferro." Jennifer spoke up, stepping to Marcus' side as she did so. "If this goes well, we might stop another war from starting." The Earthborn woman spoke calmly, but with a certain harshness born from military life. "And besides, if what Idriah told us is true, the Xan-Klar Empire might not be as warlike as we think."

Hearing this, Ferro bared his teeth, his sunken eyes reflecting a look of confusion. "Well, look who's defending the enslavers!" he said sarcastically. "I thought you hated the Xan-Klar."

Jenn narrowed her eyes. "I don't. I only hate what they do to the Sirthon. There's no defence for slavery." As she spoke, she gestured to Sirtha Prime. "But if we work with the Xan-Klar diplomatically, we may get a chance to convince them to change their ways."

"But who's to say that'll even fuckin' happen?" Ferro barked a question at Jennifer.

"Is that any excuse not to try?" Jennifer retorted.

The reply she got was a deafening silence. Ferro's gaze remained locked, sunken-in eyes still burdened with the smouldering anger of being forced to return to the place where the war was supposed to end. And when the Tartarusan did speak, it was a low, half-mumbled statement that he made as he started trudging down the hallway towards the armoury.

"See you two in the hangar."

And with that, Ferro vanished from sight, Marcus and Jennifer watching him walk away with forlorn looks on their faces. However, Jennifer's sky-blue eyes still burned with a strong fervour - an unrelenting passion and drive to serve her country and carry out her orders until the last.

Marcus, meanwhile, found his fervour waning, the fire in his heart flickering . He wanted to trust in the Union's officials, and trusted in himself to carry out his mission to ensure that the opening of this embassy went smoothly.

However, Ferro's words had planted a seed of doubt inside the Major's mind.

The Tartarusan wasn't unjust to be cynical about working with the Xan-Klar. In all previous attempts at diplomacy, the Empire had proven belligerent at best and downright hostile at worst. They had only reluctantly agreed to divide Sirtha Prime between themselves and the Galactic League, and had only done so following a healthy tribute of resources. Ships that strayed too far into Imperial territory never returned, and the Xan-Klar-held parts of Sirtha Prime were forbidden to individuals of any other species.

Also, the past wouldn't leave his thoughts alone, its long and ragged nails scratching at his hopes, trying to chip them away. War was something that never left you, and it was plain to see that what Marcus' soldiers had seen had racked them to the core. No-one wanted to return to Sirtha Prime, and yet here they were.

Marcus turned to look at Jennifer, and she turned to look at him. As they met gazes, Jenn's expression immediately changed, her features softening into a look of concern.

"Are you okay?" she asked him.

Marcus looked at his second-in-command and tried to force a brief smile. However, he failed, and was about to walk away when he felt something through the fabric of his uniform. It was a gentle sensation, pressing softly against the skin of his right forearm. Glancing down, he saw that Jenn had placed her hand against his arm, her fingers holding it in a reassuring manner.

"You know you can talk to me if you need to."

A sigh escaped major Winter's lips. "I know, Jenn. I've just got a lot on my mind at the moment." he said quietly.

"I know. But you also know what we say on Earth - A problem shared is a problem halved."

Marcus felt a slight warmth begin to burn inside him, and the corners of his mouth slowly turned upwards.

As ever, Jennifer was there for him and for everyone. The heart of their team.

The two smiled at each other for a second, before Marcus placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm fine, Jenn. I've just got a lot on my mind." he explained. "But we had best get moving."

"Agreed." Jennifer back-channelled him. "You coming to the armoury?"

"Not yet." Marcus replied. "I have to get some files from my desk. I'll meet you there in a bit." he said. "And Jenn... thanks."

Captain Sakong beamed at him, resolute even against what they had to face. "Anytime." she said, repeating what she had said to him so often before.

In that moment, they parted their ways. Marcus' spirits were lifted thanks to Jennifer, but he was still not at ease.

The debate between him, Jenn and Ferro still lingered in his mind, and he empathised with both of his comrades. Jennifer grew up on Earth, the planet where the Union was birthed from over four hundred years ago. She had seen the best of humanity, a culture and history-rich place where governmental decisions and actions could be trusted and carried out with ease. As such, Jennifer had faith in her government's decisions - including trying to work with the Xan-Klar.

Ferro, meanwhile, was unlucky enough to be born on the infamous penal colony of Tartarus. There, the Union's presence was non-existent, and all you had for neighbours were murderers, pirates or hard-bitten prison guards. It was a place where all you could rely on was yourself, and where the word 'hope' was a bad joke at best.

Neither Marcus nor Jenn had taken a life before they joined the army...

Ferro had killed three men by the time he was sixteen.

The Tartarusan's grim outlook was borne from the world he was born to. A product of his environment.

Everyone was affected and shaped by their surroundings, moulded like clay and cast like molten steel - malleable to the core. And no matter what happened afterwards or where they went, their pasts would never truly leave them.

The ghosts would always hang overhead, just as this ship hung over Sirtha Prime. In orbit, out of reach, yet always there. A looming shadow that would return, and change them for better or worse...