Scout force

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The aged commercial transport carrying Ensign Kelly Blake landed roughly on the planet Armstrong in the Antares system, the home of Fleet Base 17, otherwise known as Antares Base. Kelly wondered if the pilot had forgotten how to land during the tediously long voyage. The transport had certainly taken its time getting here, and the spaceport controllers took their time assigning it to a gate. Things happened at a relaxed pace out here in the new worlds. The flight's pace seemed to presage how the rest of his career would go. Eventually, the steward tapped on his door to tell him he could move to the disembarkation deck.

Kelly checked himself in the sparse cabin’s mirror. He felt out of place in his new, standard-issue, blue-black Fleet uniform. He automatically picked at the odd bit of thread that always appears on new uniforms. It was a simpler one than the Fighter Force’s forest green uniform he had previously worn. He would miss his leather flight jacket and the rank epaulettes on his shoulders. The single braid stripe on his sleeve seemed…inadequate. The shoes Fleet personnel wore were flimsy compared to his sturdy calf-length fighter boots, but those were in his past now. The only reminder of his past life would be the gold fighter wings glistening on his chest. General Bugarov could drum him out of the Fighter Force, but he had earned his wings. She couldn’t take them away. He instinctively wiped them with a cloth, although they already shone immaculately.

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