I enter the Captain's room from the lounge. The lounge is the ship's central location. Almost all areas of the ship connect directly to it. The ship's layout is clever, efficient, and a decent size for a two-person ship.

We will be landing soon, so I decide to take out the new mini handheld Sica had included in my new gear.

A lot changes in eight years. The handheld is super tiny compared to my old one and needs a better name than handheld.

The new ones can also be placed on your forearm, and as soon as it touches your skin, it wraps itself around your arm.

It is maybe four and a half inches wide and three inches long. Perfect for a pocket if needed. Highly durable, flexible and waterproof. It can also replace a communicator.

Granted, communicators are essential when on a mission, and thus this nifty new handheld will never completely replace them.

The new communicators are small earbuds that onlookers can barely see. Perfect for when you need to be discrete. Armada has a bad habit of using outdated technology, so these are fantastic improvements.

I have heard of implants that do everything your handheld and communicator do together. Yet, we are lucky that Armada splurged to provide its military personnel with Universal Language Translator chips. So I will take what I can get.

The best part about the upgraded gadgets is the voice command option. They are coded to only respond to their holder's voice and or unique DNA signature. The voice commands are a convenient feature when occupied with combat.

"Marshal Zea, we are about to enter the planet's atmosphere. Would you like to be in the cockpit when we land?"

"Uh, ya, why not. Thanks, Syndicate."

Leaving my bag of goodies in my room, I make my way through the lounge to the short hallway leading to the cockpit. Ufrik is already there. To my surprise, he has automatically taken the co-pilot seat.

I had honestly expected more of a pissing match with him. After leaving him in the lounge not long ago, it feels too soon to be in his company again, so I am glad he chose wisely.

"Syndicate, how long until we reach our destination?"

I don't even feel the change from open space to the planet's atmosphere. This ship is incredible! We zip down towards the clouds and are skimming over the planet's surface about twenty-five thousand feet above it.

"Approaching destination in five-point two minutes." The ship flies at a blurring speed, and I once again am grateful for the A.I.

I don't even have to pay attention to the ship's displays. But I look at them anyway.

Most of the ship's life support and internal functions run off of solar power. The entire ship's surface is coated in some sort of solar energy harvesting material. The ship's warp drive engine is the exception, needing dark matter, harvested in deep space, to fuel it.

The tech for our warp engines was a gift from the Krog to all space travellers when the universe was still pretty much in its infancy. But all day-to-day functions can happen anywhere we can collect UV rays. It's brilliant!

With most of the ship's functions being solar-powered, we barely use any fuel. It is amazing. The ship could technically run indefinitely if we weren't travelling through dark space. This is fantastic news, considering we have no idea how long it will take to locate the frozen Human.

We had been given the general location, but it just happens to span over two thousand square metres. With all this technology, you would think Armada could have narrowed it down further. And technically, they can. However, they are afraid that their competition will notice their scans.

Sica hinted that information being transmitted through space was a lot easier to high jack than you'd think. So they decided the actual location would have to be found the old-fashioned way -by looking. Novel idea.

Ufrik's voice sounds in the silence of the cockpit, startling me.

"So, what should I expect when we land?"

It is a real question—no bullshit or jovial charade to mask his genuine concern. I am not sure how I feel about this change in his demeanour.

I feel my brow furrow in some unsaid inner conflict with his sincerity but answer his question regardless.

"Heat. Hot as Sarn in its dry season. Windy, and by the looks of where we are about to land, as barren and dead as a Zu'Lar's absent soul."

"You really, really hate them, don't you."

I turn to him then. His sincerity is unnerving, and I can't meet his intense gold eyes for long. I look back to the cockpit's view screens.

An image of a Zu'Lar officer emerging from thin air in my backyard clouds my vision. Ariatha and I had been weeding the garden for Mother. The memory I haven't let myself think of in years hits me hard.

I hear my father shout something. Then out of nowhere, he charges the invader. I could have sworn he had been on the other side of the house, all the way out by the cattle shed, but all of a sudden, he is beside us and charging full tilt to tackle the Zu'Lar. I don't understand how it happens. 

I don't have time to think about it. Another Zu'Lar appears beside me. He reaches out to grab Ariatha, but once again, my father magically appears beside us, but this time he never gets a chance to attack.

The new Zu'Lar invader shoots my father's head clean off before he even lifts a foot. I kneel there, hand still clasping the last weed I had pulled, staring open-mouthed as my father's headless body slowly falls sideways to thud in the dirt.

I register my mother's horrified scream over Ariatha's wailing. What starts as a scream of terror turns into a war cry full of rage.

I feel more than see my mother hurl a kitchen knife at the Zu'Lar's head. My mother has strength and skill I am apparently not aware of. The blade finds its home in the Zu'Lar's left eye.

He screams a high pitch scream I would never have associated with a male, as his hand instinctively comes up to touch the blade protruding from his eye socket.

Before he gets his wits back and pulls the bloody knife out, I finally snap out of my shocked state. I jump up, and without thinking, plunge the long sharp gardening tool I am holding between his ribs, piercing his heart perfectly. I hold onto his right shoulder, making sure he can't back away until I feel his knees give out.

I stare into his remaining eye, feeling no remorse as I watch the light of his K'ia leave his body. My father had been training us in combat, almost as long as mother had been teaching us to cook. It was more reflex than planning that had led me to stab him in the heart.

I feel something pop open inside me as I watch him die. My fear and anger opening some hidden door inside me, unlocking an intense power I cannot control.

The last thing I see my mother do is reach for me, running towards me, arms open. I can't hear what she screams over the roar of energy pounding in my head, but I see her mouth form the words, "No Zea! Stop!".

She moves in what seems like ultra-slow motion as she tries desperately to reach me, worry etched over her beautiful face. And then fear. Then fear morphs into a look of sheer terror, right before...

"Zea? Marshal Zea?! We have landed."

Fuck. I suck in a shaky breath banishing the vision.

Giving myself a mental shake, I turn to Ufrik and see worry crease his forehead as he examines my face.

Damn. I must have gapped out for a few minutes. I take another deep breath through my nose to steady my nerves and look at the view screens in earnest this time.

A very lonely, crumbling, dusty skeleton of a city is before us. Shadows from the setting sun cast an eerie feeling of doom over the dead city as brown sand swirls aimlessly between buildings.

In a way, it is beautiful. Maybe it's because my heart, right at this moment, feels a little like the city looks. But it calls to me.

"It's already almost sundown here, by the looks of it. I have been up a long time already. Perhaps we survey our immediate surroundings and then call it a night? Start fresh at dawn?"

Oh, man. Now I am being thrown a bone. If he didn't make so much sense, I would be offended. But he is right. It will be dark soon, and we will make more progress rested and in daylight.

"Ya, that sounds good. Syndicate, and I will set up security measures. Then I will call it a day. Be ready at first light." I rub my face with my hands, and then something occurs to me, "I am told you have experience in this sort of thing. I hope you have a plan because unless it involves planning an attack or an invasion, I am afraid I can't offer much input."

I am used to having the location of my objective given to me, and I just had to use my head to plan the best way to achieve or obtain it with the smallest amount of casualties. Hunting and pecking for something that I have no clue as to where it could be is kind of daunting.

I am not embarrassed to admit this is out of my comfort zone. I am not sure why I was sent. I have been told I have proven myself reliable, resourceful and dependable.

It is more than likely, though, I am highly expendable but resourceful. Makes me one handy minion.

They made it clear they have high hopes that I will make sure this mission is a success, but I doubt they will lose sleep if I don't make it.

"That's why I'm here, Zea. Don't you worry that pretty head of yours. Your amazing new partner has this completely under control." Ufrik winks at me, gracing me with a dashing cocky grin.

And just like that, we are back to the bullshit. I shake my head and sigh.

Although he is entertaining, so maybe it isn't so bad. I half-smile at him despite my misgivings. I am getting soft. Have to be. I really shouldn't like this guy.

I turn to the displays in front of me and call out over my shoulder as he leaves.

"You better deliver, Ufrik. I don't carry dead weight with me. I would hate to have to leave you, to whatever fate this planet of death would have in store for you." And just for shits, I look over my shoulder and copy his wink.

I am only half-joking, but it is best to keep things light. He pauses for a moment, uncertainty warring on his unfortunately handsome face.

"Noted. Goodnight, Zea."

I hope he isn't all talk. Sica promised me two years of paid leave. I am going to take it. I can't wait. I hope his plan is kick ass because I want to finally leave here for good. Six of this planet's sun rotations have been more than enough for me.

"OK, Syndicate, tell me how super awesome your surveillance equipment is! I need to go and pretend to sleep soon."

"If you require assistance falling asleep, Marshal Zea, I can have a prescription ready for you in the Med Centre before you retire to your room?"

Well then. Things are looking up. I may get to sleep after all, and I won't need to fight through a hangover in the morning.

I love this ship. Or is it Syndicate?

"You, my friend, are wonderful. Yes, Syndicate, I definitely will need that prescription. Thank you."

I just thanked software, and I mean it with all my heart. I shake my head but can't help the smile. This is becoming my weirdest mission yet.

I turn my focus to the task at hand and then happily collect my meds, thanking Syndicate once again as I look forward to the first decent night's sleep in days.