The York Fleet

[AdamantineFist]

Neville Hughes sat at his desk, writing up his latest batch of reports and filing all the assorted paperwork a Captain of the BAF had to deal with. He took a swig of his coffee and set to work on the next batch of field reports his men had sent in. Things had not gone well over the past two weeks. After narrowly escaping death after getting shot down by Kusari raiders, his injuries had kept him grounded, and he'd had one hell of a boring time waiting for the doctors to give him a green light. That and the rash of losses he'd suffered in the men under his command. His cruiser, the magnificent, newly constructed Invictus, had taken a beating too, recently. A Kusari bomber had gotten an antimatter bolt just in near one of the reactors. Miracle she survived that one, thought Hughes, Few metres to the left and she'd 'ave gone up in one big fireball.

"Well, guess fings can't get much bloody worse..." he muttered to himself. Just then, as though cued by his unwitting words, a knock came upon his office door. Though it was timid and soft, Neville would come to sorely regret it. "Come in," he barked.

A timid lieutenant walked into the room, clutching a sheaf of papers close to his chest. "Well, wot in the bloody 'ell is it, man?" Neville asked him sharply. The lieutenant shuffled in place nervously. "Come on, then, spit it out."

"Err... ah... these are for you, sir," said the lieutenant, handing Hughes the papers.

"Well now, wot's this... I... BLOODY 'ELL!" he screamed, jumping to his feet in anger. His face flushed red. "They're sendin' me to the York?! Damn toffs fink they can boot an outstanding officer out there just 'cause o' 'is parentage. Narsty little blue-bloods. I'll show 'em a fing or two..." Glancing up, he saw the lieutenant still standing there, rigid and tansfixed by the Captain's blazing eyes. "Eh? Wot are you still doin' ere?! Don't you 'ave somefin' better to be doin' than standin' around gawkin'? Get to work, man!" Neville barked after him. The words seemed to unfreeze him instantly, and he practically ran out of the room.

Neville plunked back down in his seat and slumped back, running a hand through his rapidly greying hair. "Bloody 'ell..."

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