You never thought a military bunk could feel so luxurious. But after a few days of constant fighting on the surface, followed by a brief stop in a crowded sickbay, you suddenly appreciate the dark silence of your own cabin. The mattress is narrow and thin, but it's part of your own private kingdom. You're awake now, but you lie still for a few more moments, just reveling in the peace. Your mind is already spinning, though, and you feel unsettled. After all you've been through lately, you're lucky to be alive.
You reluctantly haul yourself up to a sitting position. Quite a few parts of your body hurt, but all your limbs are functional and intact. Which is more than can be said for some of the troopers in your platoon. Being scattered after that air attack probably helped most of them survive—it was harder for the rebels to hunt small groups than an entire platoon—but eventually some of them were taken down. Squad Leader Garcia's body was recovered yesterday, you know, and you sigh. None of the other officers seem to think you did anything wrong, but you know now what it is to lose troopers, and your heart feels heavy.
After a quick shower and donning a fresh uniform, you scan through the messages on your screen. There's a troop briefing for the officers in an hour, but until then you have no requirements. Back at the Astral College you'd have climbed back into your rack for fifty-five minutes, but you're a Hoplite officer now, and you know more is expected of you.