The International Space eXploration Commission had a thing for alerts, alarms, and sirens. It seemed like they played them for everything. And they did a good job of it too. The klaxon that currently blared over the troop transport certainly woke up Andrus Ovega and his friend since childhood, Leon Treu. Not that childhood was that far away. The two young men sprung up from their ISXC-chemical-induced sleep to the sound of the call-to-arms as if electrocuted back to life.

There was a small porthole window in the wall of their crammed sleeping quarters. Another ship waited their arrival to the starboard bow.

Before the sleep was whipped from Leon’s eyes, Andrus glared him down. “Leon. Listen close. Whatever they say about me killing my parents, don’t believe a word.”

&ldqu...

Please subscribe to keep reading.