Ad Astra - The Alagore War

AA V0 Prolog, Chapter 2

Miles watched as a small dust cloud emerged from the engine blast and consumed the area around the launchpad as the starship lifted itself into the sky. Living in a world with less atmosphere and less gravity allowed what should be small dust clouds to snowball and spread over a large area. Blast shields surrounded the city to help protect the city from the dust clouds; however, parts of the blast always sneaked through and would cover the city briefly.

Thrilled by another successful launch, the captain left the observation level and headed downstairs to the rest of the base. With this being the beginning of his shift, he needed to head to Operations to start his day. While on the way, he passed through the lounge, where he saw a few fellow guardians, a US and British marine, and a single soldier playing poker. He could tell the US Marine and Guardian were ganging up on the soldier as he had the fewest chips.

Noticing the frustrating look on the soldier, Miles asked, "How is the war?"

Everyone stood at attention as they realized an officer had entered the room.

"Stand down."

The group slowly sat down as some gave the soldier grief for losing.

"The war is going good, sir," the US Marine named Peter said with a cocky tone. "Just reminding our friend here who is the superior branch."

"Knock it off," the soldier replied with an annoyed tone.

Miles shook his head, understanding the situation. There has always been competition between the Army and Marines as many of their roles overlap. The two had been competing since the nation's foundation, and the insults were in jest at the end of the day—an everlasting competition to fight for which branch would be dominant.

Luckily for Miles, the guardians are the newest branch of the US military and have finally found their feet with the Second Space Age. While some academics and media creators' debate that the Navy should play a more significant role in space because of the need for warships, the USSF had struggled to shake off its Air Force legacy to forge its own identity. It did not want a repeat of that competition game a second time.

Watching the soldier go all in with his remaining chips, Miles saw the guardian and marine glance at each other with a smirk, clearly working together. Together, they matched the soldier and leaned back in their chairs.

"Be careful," Miles said. "You might be picking on the Army, but remember, they are the heavy branch. Once they mobilize, you're all dead."

Seeing the uncertainty in their eyes from the threat, the captain walked in, thrilled that he installed some fear in them. He headed toward the hallway that led to the base's interior. As he left the lobby, he heard the soldier cheer as he must have won that round.

Seeing the large airlock door with the words Operation Center with a Delta 8-unit symbol painted, he opened it and headed inside.

The airlock matched the aesthetic of the rest of the installation. The facility was module in nature. The color coding was white as the primary color, with blue and black as a secondary. There was yellow paint with black letters labeling everything of importance everywhere.

In front of the Operations Center airlock was a Guardian guard sitting in front of a terminal.

"Morning, sir," Sergeant Sanchez said.

"I believe it is evening on Earth," Miles replied as he handed him his security ID.

"That joke got old thirty times ago, sir," Sanchez said. "You are clear."

"And that is why you are on the most frontier post, Sergeant," Miles said. "Need to learn to laugh at dumb officer jokes." The two nodded at the lousy joke; he saw that the airlock started opening.