Isaiah Hussian the Third sat in the corner behind a thick metal table that was currently being shot at. The young grumbling naval officer moved to the corner so that he could watch both approached from around the table. His eyes shot from either side of his make shift bunker as he was waiting for the small gang battle around him to end.
He had been marooned on this station for at least a month after being dropped off by a rogue trader that had technically kidnapped the young craven naval officer. A man came up to the table only to be blasted away by a shotgun in the young mans hands. His hands shook some as he awaited another person to arise but none did. The fight still continued around him, but his corner was somewhat quiet compared to the area around him. Only the eventual stray shot from a weapon landed near him, the table took most of the damage.
After about an hour or so of a small battle raging on a small head came from out of the corner with a laspistol coming with it. His vision scanned the room slowly as nothing but bodies, and marks of battle were left, the bodies mainly looted, except for a few near him. So he went to work, trying to find anything he could sustain himself on for another day or two on this hell hole of a station.
"Now... what did I do in the light of the Emperor to deserve this horrid fate of mine, going through this wasteland of a station... I had everything, only to be locked away on some traders ship... did his work and clerical things and then he just leaves me on this god forsa.." a lasbolt comes out of a door way and he ducked back behind his table, with a small ration bar as the battle began once again around him. But now with more lasfire and solid fire coming his way. It was his time to fight now, even if he just wanted to sit, he would do so, like a coward a shotgun pointed up towards the edge of the table awaiting, once again.