The glow of a cigarette cut through the smokey room, dimly lit by red lights and the blue glare from neural net monitors.

“They’ll be the death of you…”

Ashers cut their sentence short with a glare that could kill, his eyes sullen, he snapped back suddenly.

“Wouldn’t that be nice.”

He took one last, long, drag on his cigarette before pausing, almost pondering something, then flicking the butt into a litter receptacle.

“Sir, you’re not…”

Once again Ashers glared at the man, his frustration was building, with good reason.

He exhaled deeply. “Is the Admiral willing to see me now, huh?”

“Uh sir, the Admiral has gone home for the day. His staff car departed just a moment ago. Would you like to reschedule?”

“I… For fuck sake. No. I’ll do this myself, as bloody always.”

Ashers got to his feet and marched out of the door, his boots clattering on the stone floor, the tails of his coat being swept behind him. Sounds of the bustling corridor assaulted his ears as he stepped outside, he hated the city and everyone in it.

Pausing for a moment, he put his hand inside of his coat and pulled out a small tin, from it he produced another cigarette. He sparked it lit, collecting several disgusted looks almost as though they were tips.

Ashers shook his head and marched off once again, heading for the shuttle bay, so he could finally get off of New London. Bureaucracy was not to his liking, mostly due to the ilk that it attracts.

As he walked, he brought a small communication device out of another pocket, then brought it up to his mouth.

“Citronella, Bourbon, comms check, over.”

“Bourbon, Citronella, loud and clear, boyo. How’d it go? Over.”

“It didn’t. Get the shuttle ready, we’re RTB.” … “Over.”

“Ah…” The man on the radio paused. “I could see your marker moving closer, she’s already warmed up. We’ll depart as soon as you’re back. Aye?”

“Good, yes. I’m around the corner.”

Ashers slowed as he reached the corner, he shortened his rushed stride and walked towards the aft of the awaiting shuttle. No sooner had he set foot on board, then the airlock closed with a hiss, engines came up to takeoff power and the shuttle went hurtling up into the rain filled sky of Planet New London.

Ashers sat in silence, smoke drifting from the end of yet another cigarette, his leg bouncing up and down as he stared out of the cockpit. The little vessel hurtled through the Murton debris field on the lane. Ashers just stared.

The shuttle juddered as it slowed, coming to the end of the lane. His eyes stared blankly at where Southampton should be.

“They can’t get away with this. They brought death and ruin to our land.” He thought, slipping into a trance of ever worsening ideas.

The sight of Planet Leeds jolted him back to the present. His former home now lay in ruin.

Comms chatter began to build as they passed the planet slowly, half out of respect, half out of necessity. From the Newcastle jump gate lane emerged the Lady Victoria.

“For someone who doesn’t say much, you’re incredibly easy to get a read on, boyo.”

His pilot, and former mentor, once again broke him away from his thoughts.

“Yeah, well… You’ve known me for a while now.”

They both looked at each other, unsure of what to say next.

“Aye, an I know that look.”

Ashers smirked.

“Open a comm to the Vic, need to access the Falkirk Network. Need to bring the lads in for a chinwag.”

“You sure about this, eh?”

“More sure than ever. Fitting I should come to that conclusion here of all places.”

“Hmm.” the pilot grumbled, as he tapped the communications panel, his metallic fingers tapped the keys.

Moments later a comm flashed through the Falkirk to any officers mad enough to listen to what Ashers had to say.

The comm simply said to rendezvous on the Lady Vic, that’s all it needed to say.