Another Miracle of Sirius

[AngelofMercy]

Benito lay in his bunk.
He tried to get some sleep, but couldn't. His men were exhausted as was he, to the point where body and mind are in such a disarray, one cannot find a good nights rest.

The ongoing campaign in Sigma 17 was in high demand of everything a person has to offer.
Benito had lost his Gallic transport due to the wear and tear of hauling supplies back and forth from Crete to the Barcelona's battlegroup. Coming under heavy fire so many times he lost count, the ship ended up at Tripoli beyond repair. The engineers there dismantled it to look for some new tricks to learn from their Gallic colleagues.

From his original crew no one was left. Badly wounded or killed one after another had gone, being replaced by men with less and less experience in combat situations. They were good men, dedicated, but no fighting material. Dock workers, Farmers, all sorts of civilian trades, who had some experience with spacecraft or cargo loading procedures. Some were just muscles.
None of them stayed long enough for Benito to become acquainted to. Many simply could not stand the stress. So a rotation system was established and the crew exchanged after twenty runs or sooner if need be. Despite Corsair bravado and boasting, although proven to be justified in many cases, many Corsair don't venture into space commonly. They take care about the daily business on Crete like on any other world.

Benito himself lost much weight. His face was pale. Fatigue and stress had left their marks and he had to admit, that the years in prison had their toll on his constitution and endurance. He had become soft. Sugarland was meant to be a euphemism, but the prisoners had a much more easier life there, than the commoner on Crete. So yes, for Benito it was a Sugarland and the labor not harder, than he was accustomed to. The food supplies and medical treatments were much better and inmates showing a good and peaceful behavior even could have visits under guard on nearby planet Houston. However, the ten years naturally made him older and even if he could get back into shape, he was past his prime now and in question for how long he could take this wear.

He rolled to the side.
The Crete media named his return a miracle and for them it might have been one. For him, he just survived an artifact smuggling run, that went south and eventually found his way back home. No the true miracles lie somewhere else. Often they are around us and we just don't take notice.

He took the trinket, which he wore on a leather band around his neck and examined it once more.
There is a miracle. Hidden in the microcosm, invisible for the human eye. For the most people just a piece of metal of some sort, but for him not being a stranger to material science an alloy, which most likely should not be possible to exist. It had a a slight glimmer he had not seen before on any other alloy and it felt warm as if it would be radioactive, but no radiation was emitted. It also did vibrate on such a small amplitude, he did not notice at first.
If he just could get the transport runs done and gain access to a far more sophisticated laboratory or test facility.