First Lieutenant Zameer Kamara laid back on his bunk and stared at the ceiling of his shared quarters and connected the dots between all the pock marks and imperfections that spanned the metal work. He frowned. He had not wanted to receive another posting out in the depths of space, but alas, he had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and so he had been volunteered to escort two of his regiment who had put in for transfers to one of the more specialised Task Forces, specifically to do with the Qapu Khalqi. For a moment, he compared the pock marked metal ceiling to that of the aged and blemished face of his commander as he recalled the words he had said; “You will gain valuable experience, young officer.” Kamara knew this to be true, only, he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that if on the off chance he was somehow sucked into the cold Void, that he would in fact gain the opposite of ‘valuable experience’. Kamara briefly chuckled to himself as he imagined posting on one of MayaNets multiple review apps; ‘The staff of the The Haqqislam light cruiser adh-Dhiʼb were polite and welcoming, but the sudden explosive decompression and subsequent exposure to vacuum was not at all what the brochure had promised, and as such, I shall not be back...’ ‘Drinks also over-priced. Would not reccomend.’ The dark skinned, short black haired Kamara suddenly kicked his legs around to the side of his cot and sat up. The room contained two bunks consisting of two beds. Enough space for four officers of similar rank to his own. The ship was only a light cruiser, but it still seemed to house a number of units, and so space was tight. His room mates had kept to themselves for the most part and none of them were here currently. He glanced at the time, stood up and turned sharply to face his open locker, his new and correctly fitting uniform hung neatly in front of him. He smiled as his recalled his Company’s QM, a stern man who had little time for young ‘upstart’ officers, had been rather humble with him after Zameers fifth and final attempt to obtain a fitting uniform. He remembered being rather perplexed with the whole situation until he had gotten back to his quarters back on Bourak that day to find that a small note had been tucked away into one of the pockets. It had read; ‘Consider a string pulled, young Lieutenant. I hope these fit you well.’ - Cardamom The Company QM had been fair with him since then. Kamara donned his uniform and spent the next fifteen minutes getting ready before making his way out of the room.
