The big man’s fist cracked the obsidian surface of the console in front of him, and half his staff shrank away in fear as he snarled in annoyance.

The rest were more used to him, it seemed, and didn’t do more than jump a little, but it was enough for Jehan to calm himself and turn back to his work. He grumbled as he wiped the complaints from his screen. Let someone else handle that idiocy.

“Reassign Fourth Squad to the promenade in Calisma,” he said, glancing over at one of his staff. “Make sure that they are careful to announce their arrival. I don’t want them killed by our allies.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you all right, Nero?”

He looked around to see Tanner approaching. “Shouldn’t you be busy?”

“I have no fleet to command, and the alien ship has left orbit…to fight for us,” the small man completed, his tone bitter.

“Welcome to my hell, Tanner.”

“Why, I wonder, does it feel like we are paying the price for millennia of peace?” the admiral asked, mostly rhetorically.

Nero just snorted.

“You don’t agree?”

“I’m from the outer colonies,” Nero responded. “My people left the inner systems because we couldn’t handle the ‘peace.’ I’m probably not the best person to ask.”

Tanner nodded. “I understand that…This is why you are in charge of our ground forces…”

“Ground forces!” Nero snapped, his voice laced with disgust. “Is that what you call them? Tanner, my friend, they are no more ‘ground forces’ than your ships were a ‘navy.’ They are, at best, police playacting at being soldiers. If the Drasin were parking their ships illegally—or perhaps, stealing trinkets on the street—then they might know what to do. They aren’t soldiers, Tanner. No matter how well you dress them up.”

“I think you are letting your frustration get the best of you, Nero,” Tanner told him mildly. “And it is bothering your staff.”

Nero looked around and grimaced.

Tanner had a point. If nothing else, he should keep his mouth shut in front of the others. There was no reason for them to lose hope, as he had.

Nero Jehan nodded. “You are right, my friend. Perhaps I’m just tired.”

Tanner stiffened as the big man moved past him and leaned down to whisper.

“How can they be soldiers, old friend,” Nero asked in a whisper as he moved past, “when the person they look to for leadership doesn’t even know what a soldier is?”

Sean Bermont threw himself up against a wall as he checked his gun’s status in the HUD and grimaced.

“I’m out!” he said over the link, taking a few deep breaths to relax as stray ray gun blasts whined around him.

“Hold for reload,” Brinks’s voice came over the link, but all Bermont could do was nod uselessly.

The powered armor increased a soldier’s endurance practically exponentially, but he always seemed to get winded in combat, just the same. Something about the adrenaline rush, perhaps, or maybe it was the fear, plain and simple.