"I can't have too much on my record or they would have arrested me at customs," Junebug snickered, then sat up considering.

"Come to think of it, I though Miranda said I had a warrant out on me for assault," she amended. When she had been home on leave she had beaten a drunken school mate of Miranda's pretty badly when he had grabbed her after a party. Perhaps Miranda had exaggerated, or perhaps the lout had never bothered to make an official complaint. Well it didn't much matter. 

"Played alot of sports I see," Neil commented, picking up one of the trophies from the shelf and turning it over. He pushed a button on the side of the award and a younger version of Junebug appeared, holding an odd combination of stick and net, dressed in athletic gear with a numbered bib.

"ZGL," she reported, the sport was played in very low gravity fields and involved a great deal of leaping and bouncing off handholds.

"Were you a captain?" Neil asked. Junebug laughed and picked up an award. She manipulated the simple holographic controls and pulled up a list of statistics. Sayeeda Selene Cyckali - Most penalties blinked at the top of the list.

"Always room on the team for a goon," she snickered and set the award down.

"I never really belonged here," she admitted soberly, looking around the room as though she had never seen it before. Certainly she hadn't belonged here when she came back from five years with the Armored. The other troopers had warned her that it would be like that, but she hadn't really appreciated it until she saw it with her own eyes. She rolled the helmet in her hands, then set it down.

"Booster," she said, triggering the intergral AI inside the unit. "Unit projection, file 224-31-21-Echo." A hologram flashed to life from the helmets projector, the color was a little washed out from the limited ability of the projection heads, meant for squad briefings rather than cinematics. The view was a viewpoint shot, jostling as the viewer rushed down a canted metal hallway. It shook as the viewer threw themselves against a bulkhead, a squat plasma gun coming up and spitting several soundless blasts into a pair of figures in fatigues that were in the process of climbing through a partially opened hatch. The blast threw one man back to his own side, while most of the second body tumbled into the partition with the shooter, uniform tunic blazing.

"Booster, end file," Junebug commanded and the hologram vanished.

"Fine, lets go to the beach and get some ice cream," she declared.