Demo #002

                The man snorted as he looked at all the new entrants. "You're a tough lot, I'll give you that. I, Blue Star Captain James Furngul, welcome you to DSB, Deep Space Bragade. Every single one of you has given up life on Earth to defend it in space. DSB holds the record for second deepest patrol in our galaxy." This was met by cheers from all but one of the new men.

                This guy was shorter than Furngul, but he was covered in a thick, dense muscle. His blue hair was wild, standing up in spikes. His black sunglasses looked at Furngul as he gently searched with his red and black cane. "Incorrect, sir. DSB has the record for third deepest patrol as of two months ago. DSB lost their title to ETRU, Extra-Terrestrial Reconisence Unit. Sir," the blind man said to Furngul.

                If the man could see, he would notice the peculiar shade of red that Furngul had turned. In space, news of records could take up to a year to reach DBS, so Furngul knew nothing of that change. "Name, rank and number! Immediately," Furngul ordered the blind man.

                "Charles Cartright, Platnium Star Captain, number 3. Sir," said the blind man, smiling. How he wished he could see Furngul, who just happened to be turning a very odd green.

                "My-my appologies, Sir! I- I didn't know. How could I have known, you were hidding in with the new recruits. Please, sir, my appologies," Furngul gulped loudly. I'm going to lose my job over this, Furngul thought.

                Charles smiled. "Incorrect again, Furngul. These aren't recruits. They're replacements. For," Charles thought to himself, trying to remember the numbers. "For, area 111, third quadriant, eighth district, Platoon 16. Or is it sixteenth district, Platoon 8?"

                "Sir, there is no sixteenth district," one of the replacements said.

                "Platoon 16? Why would they need replacements? We just sent them out there- what was it?- three months ago?" Furngul said.

                "We recovered a space craft in that district not even three weeks ago. The craft appeared to have been thirty years old, in terrible condition, with only six passengers on it. All of them wore the uniform of that Platoon, the space craft was the same modle and same name. It appears they hit a mystery hole, and it aged the ship."

                Furngul looked at him. Mystery holes were an unstable wormhole. Before he could speak, Charles was talking again. "For now, I'll be in charge of Platoon 16. Your platoon is to merge with us, you taking orders from me. Now, Johnathan," Charles said, turning to the group of men again, "Take me to the pilot area of that craft. Damn, what's it called? The new one, the Space Hawk 2, I believe it's called."

                As Charles and the large soldier walked off, Furngul looked around. I'm going to be taking orders from a blind guy fourty years younger than me? Not if I can do anything about it, Furngul thought.

                He ran off to find Number 2 or Number 1.