The 2nd Marine Unit dissolved yesterday. You know, like sodium dissolves in water. Except with more blood. And corpses.
Anyway, it looks like my return planetside will be delayed. The invaders are within five hundred kilometers of the orbital base. That means they’ll be here in twenty-six minutes, plus or minus several seconds.
Let’s see: two minutes to the emergency armory, nine to don a flight suit in heavy traffic, five to reach the hangar, four to enter a fighter. That gives me six minutes to figure out how to fly it. Why did I sleep through those classes again?
Author’s Note: I decided to repurpose an old, isolated first sentence to write a story about an apprehensive marine who isn’t used to action. What could go wrong? Therein lies the story.)
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