Skye didn’t want to get up.

The newest shuttle bringing in the latest additions to the battalion had just arrived at the base last night. Apparently a battle had just happened the same day they’d made it to the ship—not the most convenient coincidence of all time—so all the new troops were given was a brief overview of where their bunks were and instructions to wait for further orders to find out which squads they would be divided up into. After that, everyone had pretty much conked out, exhausted from the hellishly long flight they’d been forced to endure on their way to join the fleet. It wasn’t the warmest welcome, but hey, that was military life.

Now, it was the next morning. Or at least, Skye was pretty sure it was the morning. It was hard to tell when all he had to gauge the passage of time was a boxy digital alarm clock and his own circadian rhythm, which was, by now, a complete train wreck. Living in a manmade ship with no changes in light level really did a number on one’s sanity. He’d tried to keep track of how many days had gone by on that godforsaken shuttle for a while, but after a few months, the activity was just depressing. It was easier for him to join the other soldiers and slowly lose touch with his sense of time. Why bother paying attention to day and night when nothing ever changed anyway?

Skye threw his pillow over his face with an irritable groan, wishing silent curses upon the other guys in the room who thought that now was a great time to have a burping contest. Maybe he could get rid of his stupid alarm clock. No need for that when he had this troupe of refined geniuses to wake him up bright and early every morning. He wondered if they even cared that he and the rest of the new soldiers had only gotten a max of four hours of sleep. Probably not. This was military life, after all.

A few minutes passed before the aforementioned clock joined the barrage of noise, and he begrudgingly accepted his fate.

Rolling over on his mat of a mattress, Skye slapped the snooze button and sat up with a broad yawn. Sinewy muscles flexed as he stretched his arms and torso, the result of years of intensive physical training on Earth and in the carrier that had brought him to the base. He wasn’t the biggest, baddest soldier in the battalion, but he still had a physique to be proud of. And he was. For better or for worse, he had an ego the size of a small house, and he wasn’t afraid to make it known. In fact, everyone at his old base in Fort Lewis used to warn him that he needed to be careful in battle because “it would be easy for an enemy to shoot someone with such a big head.”

He didn’t care what they thought though. He knew he was the shit, and that’s all that mattered.

Sliding down from his bunk, Skye ambled past the belching idiots to the adjoining communal bathroom. He took a quick, cold shower and completed the rest of his ritual morning hygiene before he got dressed in a pair of khaki cargo pants and a wrinkled, dark red t-shirt he’d grabbed from the top of his still-packed bag. He hadn’t had time to put any of his belongings away since he’d gotten in so late last night. It was on his to-do list for later that day… whenever he had a chance to get around to it.

Still half asleep and praying there was some sort of caffeine source in this flying hunk of metal, he followed a group of soldiers to what he could only hope was the mess hall.

His gamble paid off when he rounded the edge of a steel doorway and found a big cafeteria-looking room full of the classic, uncomfortable tables and slow-moving buffet line. It was just like high school all over again. He could even see cliques and the loners, loud and quiet, in-crowd and outcasts. Involuntarily, he let out a tired exhale. Every time he was transferred to a new base, it meant he had to reestablish himself all over again. It was eat or be eaten, and he wasn’t about to be anyone’s bitch.

His green eyes wandered to the buffet line.

But first, food.

Weaving through the sea of tables, chairs and people, Skye took his place in the row of guys and gals waiting to get their portion of gourmet astronaut slop. He was always astounded when he saw the crap they were supposed to call food. So much for being respected for serving the country—scratch that. The [i]world[/i], now. He kept having to remind himself that these alien bastards weren’t just a threat to the United States. Now that he was part of this particular battalion, it was his duty to protect the billions of people on his entire home planet.

No pressure or anything.

With a tray full of the best, barely edible shit a man could eat, he turned back around to scan the mess hall a little more thoroughly as he searched for a place to sit. Even though it was early, plenty of the tables were already full. He clicked his tongue, running his right hand over his still-damp, blonde hair. The comfortable option would have been to join a couple of the guys he’d spotted who had been on the shuttle with him before he’d arrived, but he didn’t want to miss out on an opportunity to start assimilating into the rest of the fleet. If he was going to be here for a while, he needed to get to know some of the other faces he was going to be working with.

Having come to a decision, he dove back into the crowd and made his way over to a table where two other soldiers he’d never met were sitting. There were still a couple chairs open. It looked like the perfect spot to meet some new people over breakfast.

He just hoped they could tell him where to find a hot cup of coffee.