WING COMMANDER : THE DREADED ALLIANCE
Major “Powerhouse” Quinley had just woken up from a nice long sleep, it was just another day beginning for him or so he thought, he thought it would just be the usual, get up, get dressed have a bite to eat and head out into deep space on the usual boring patrol missions. Quinley kicked his bed covers forward and with some hesitation sat up and revealed his eyes. At the bottom of the bed was his brown coloured uniform and trousers, he reached out for these and put his jacket over his t-shirt which was inscribed “TCS Sunshine”. Hanging from his jacket was the golden sun which was awarded for ejecting and surviving, although it looks good on the chest it is nowhere near as prestigious as the bronze silver or gold star, infact he felt he looked like a pathetic rookie only the major’s crest distinguishing him not so.
He stood up and looked around him, a clock high above him noted the date 2627.114. The dim lights shone above him, everybody was awake at this moment in time and all had not risen out of bed yet, he was in command of a small squadron of Lieutenants fresh out of the academy the squadron was named “The Bearing Tigers”. He was the only person ranked higher than a Lieutenant in his berth. He took his comb out of his pocket and he brushed his blonde hair making a side-parting.
Quinley was a tall man with a height around 6 feet 2 inches with an extremely straight posture. He turned around “Everybody up now!” He yelled.
Then, almost instantly everybody rose up and positioned their jackets on themselves and started doing their gold buttons up. Everybody looked very miserable and nobody was to blame them, the people were rotting in idleness, all the men wanted was a good fight. Confed was going through a very rough patch, food was running short and there were no transports around to give them the food they desperately needed, the main thing was, could the men on TCS Sunshine survive…?
Avenger (copright) (14 years old)