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located in The Galaxy, a part of ACV Decistor, one of the many universes on RPG.

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Smoke spat in irregular bursts from one of the fighter's right side thrusters as 1st Lt. Cabrice Venner guided it towards his designated docking bay. Every now and then the craft jolted fiercely but years of training and razor-sharp reflexes prevented it causing much in the way of problems. It had been the most brutal assault in recorded history and the Captain of the Decistor's Fighter Pilots was just coming down from his adrenaline rush. It had left him exhausted, drained physically and emotionally. He had witnessed good pilots, good people, dying en masse for a united cause. It left him with a mingled feeling of pride, loss and unimaginable hate for his enemies. Few knew it but Lt. Venner cared deeply for each and every one of his team and today he had seen many of them obliterated and scattered to the stars in the line of duty. It took it's toll but he never let it show, never wavered in appearance and never admitted the hurt he felt.

"You are cleared for landing Liutenant, bring her in steady. Maintenance and medics are waiting for you."

The voice over his intercom snapped the stern man away from his thoughts, returned him to the officer with a facade of steel in a nanosecond. He pressed a button, correcting another jolt with one hand as he did.

"Tell them to clear out, the medics are needed elsewhere and repairs can wait until we get home." There was no arguing with his tone.

So, no more than 30 seconds later, he landed his fighter and stepped out into the pandemonium that was the hangar. People sprinted every which way, carrying equipment, documents and even other human beings. A rogue medic ran over to him and attempted to examine him.

"Sir, let me look at-" He was cut abruptly short.

"There's plenty to look at everywhere else son. Go do your job." It was then, as the final remnants of battle fury ebbed out of his veins, that he felt a warm trickle down the right side of his face. After watching the medic scurry away with a hurried salute he pressed his hand to the location of the sensation and looked at it. There was blood on his fingers, quite a lot of it. He traced the trail up and located a gash just below his hairline which he had been previously oblivious to. Mind working far above the level of efficiency he felt, Venner remembered taking the hit near the end of the battle. An engine had taken the brunt of the round but the shudder it caused had whipped his head forward into the path of an exploding monitor. A minor wound and certainly not his worst. He would attend to the injury himself in time.


Reports flowed thick and fast and no one seemed to know the exact number of casualties but one thing was clear: Many lives had been lost, including a substantial chunk of his pilots. A few emergency landings had been made and Venner studied the debris littering the floor of the hangar as he heard the Captain's announcement. He was moved by the words, as he imagined every man and woman aboard would be, but he appeared emotionless as he listened and chose instead to set about doing his own job. He needed a definite list of pilot casualties, so he grabbed a passing engineer and sent him to find the information. Next, he needed to check on his pilots. The destination was clear with all the chaos, he headed in the direction of the infirmary.

On his way there the ship jumped, not even causing him to break stride as he walked. Having been through this process enough times by now he hardly even noticed when the Decistor began to warp space-time around itself, it was just another way of travelling and one which had long since lost it's overwhelming wonder.


When Lt. Venner reached the infirmary he proceeded not directly to those being treated but instead to the medical staff who could help him get through this task as swiftly as possible. He still had to start his report of the battle for the Captain.