PMC Space Station
SG Navy, 2nd Fleet
"This is SGV Maurateng, identification code X5930FDHG394, requesting permission to dock."
"SGV Maurateng, your identification code checks out. Permission granted. Proceed to docking bay 43."
"Roger that. Proceeding to docking bay 43."
The enormous space ship moved, as slowly as a giant whale at sea, through the pitch black darkness of space. Using only the core engines, the ship successfully maneuvered around the even more enormous space station, until it reached docking bay 43. The thought of a ship the size of the Maurateng docking on a space station as ludicrous - the sheer weight would have made her fall through the floor. However, the docking bays were exempt from the artificial gravity induced in the rest of the space station, and so, when the Maurateng was in position, she was locked down while still suspended in the void of space. Soon, the huge gates to the docking bay closed behind her, and a cylindrical tube was extended from the high walls that made up the Manitoba Space station's interior, locking hull with the Maurateng and providing a gangway for the passengers to board the station on.
In the passenger quarters of the Maurateng - and since she was a cruiser, designed mainly to carry the weight of SG's many legions of mercenaries, her passenger quarters made up almost 80 percent of her size - activity was bustling. Any man that had ever served in the military knew of the stress and pressure that hung in the air as the legionnaires were hurriedly packing their gear into bags in preparation for disembarking the ship. The next few days would be full of similar drills, as they would make themselves only moderately comfortable on SGS Manitoba, where they would be stationed only for a few days before being deployed to Guinam.
A voice in the speaker systems, an artificial intelligence that had become known to the soldiers on-board as Gilliam, during the last few days, monotonely drilled them on:
"SGV Maurateng have now docked at SGS Manitoba. Please check your locker for forgotten effects. Lost personal effects shall not be replaced, returned or reimbursed. Please be advised, the cost of any lost equipment will be deducted from your salary. Please make sure your barracks have been properly cleaned. Please make sure the bathrooms are properly cleaned. Please make sure to pick up all apparel and/or uniform details from cleaning. Apparel and/or uniform details forgotten at the cleaning bay will not be returned. The cost of replacement apparel will be deducted from your paycheck. All passengers are to be reminded, no pets are allowed on-board the SGV Maurateng. Please be advised, you have only four hours left before scheduled disembarking from SGV Maurateng."
Many of the soldiers shot the infernal speaker systems that transmitted the artificial intelligence's instructions hateful glares. One soldier even grabbed a kevlar helmet and tossed at one of the speaker in the ceiling, wrecking it permanently. A wave of cheers, applause, and laughters coursed through the corridors of Barrack Area 0448.
*****
Jonathan Schaeffer chewed on a bubblegum as he calmly packed what little personal equipment he had not turned in back on Camp Rome in Galzburg, Mars, into a small olive green military duffel bag. He, like many of the other soldiers on-board, wore civilian clothes currently, as he was not on duty. The rest of his small cabin had already been cleaned out. In a corner a used mop was placed, with which he had cleaned the floor meticulously. Military regs stated that any man who didn't clean his quarters after moving out was destined for an hour and a half of pure hell in being chewed out by his commanding officer. But Schaeffer had cleaned his quarters carefully, and the only thing left to do was to clean out his locker.
He tossed a couple of T-shirts into the bag, and began to pick up the minor effects that were now left in the almost empty locker. They were a wallet, a metal wristwatch, a passport, and a pair of sunglasses. Putting all of them in his pockets, he picked up his uniform jacket and tossed it over his shoulder along with his bag, as he stepped out of the quarters, closing the door behind him. He pulled the keycard over the lock, and a buzzing sound told him it was now locked. After this, he walked down the corridor towards Barrack 0448-34, which was where his squad were stationed.
Of course, Schaeffer was in command of an entire SRC squadron. But "an entire SRC squadron" consisted of, all in all, no more than eight four man squads at most, though it often depended on the specific units how many members the squadrons had. In Schaeffer's case, however, due to combat casualties from their latest mission, four original squads were reduced to two today. Eight men. That was one hell of a freightening squadron, he thought to himself with a shake of his head. Headquarters had promised reinforcements, but of course, reinforcements were always in short supply in the PMC business. And so Jonathan Schaeffer would have to make do with the eight soldiers he had, though admittedly, they were probably the best damn soldiers that the SRC had ever seen.
He stopped by Barrack 0448-34, where his two squads were bunked during their stay on the Maurateng, and knocked on the door as he stepped inside.
One of the soldiers, spotting him in the doorway, shouted:
"Officer on deck! Attention!"