The Road Ahead

Posted on Sun Nov 3rd, 2024 @ 2:55pm by Lieutenant Atlas Nanting
Edited on on Fri Nov 15th, 2024 @ 3:49pm

5,420 words; about a 27 minute read

Mission: Anubis Rises
Location: Various
Timeline: Current

Atlas came from the Renao homeworld where he lived a peaceful life for many years going to school and living with his parents. He spent his early years wondering what life is like beyond the cluster whilst outside the peace and quiet war was coming this way a new power was gaining ground and power all the while enslaving race after race for the glory of the empire. Scientists on the planet had been monitoring the growth and the war and had speculated it wasn't long before we would join this new faction and be enslaved ourselves.
Nanting was scared he didn't like the thought of being enslaved or being killed either way life carried on as normal. A few days later the sound of sirens echoed across the city and the valley which signalled something bad was coming but Atlas knew the bad people had finally come to invade and enslave us all.

The skies over the Renao homeworld burned red with plasma fire, streaks of neon death crisscrossing the battlefield. The shattered remains of a city loomed in the distance, its spires reduced to jagged teeth by orbital bombardment. On the ground, it was pure chaos—screams, explosions, and the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground. Somewhere behind Atlas, another explosion rocked the ground, and someone was screaming—one of the Imperial guardsmen, no doubt. But it was all fading now, the sounds blending into a dull roar as the guardsman raised its axe again, the vibro-blade humming menacingly, ready to end it. The alien's torso exploded in a rain of gore and metal shards, drenching the nearby wall in a mix of alien blood and viscera. The acrid stench of burnt flesh was overwhelming, thick in his nostrils. Pieces of the body rained down, splattering the mud in sickening chunks.

Suddenly, a flash of movement caught his eye—a Renao guard, or what remained of him, crawling desperately toward me. His legs were gone, severed clean at the thighs, the stumps smouldering from the energy weapon that had done the damage. His armour had been split open, revealing a chest cavity where his ribs were cracked wide, and his organs spilled out like overripe fruit. Blood gushed from his wounds, pooling beneath him as he dragged himself forward, leaving a dark crimson trail.

“Help…me…” the citizen rasped, their voice thick with blood.

Atlas, now super scared, continued deeper and deeper into the city trying to get home to his parents to make sure they were still alive. One of the civilians he passed had been blown up during an explosion, their body hanging limp from the open window. Nanting saw the Renao’s torso had been completely split open, their organs dangling like decorations from their ruined chest. The soldier continued its relentless assault, stepping over the remains of civilians as if death meant nothing. The stench of rotting flesh smelled putrid and nauseating much like opening a can of surstromming creating a sickly feeling in Nanting's body pushing further and further into the wreckage and carnage that was the devastation of the Renao capitol.

Atlas made it home turning the doorknob slowly but surely the door creaked open. The house was silent, unnaturally so. No ticking of the clock, no faint hum of the replication system. Just the heavy, oppressive quiet that hung like a suffocating veil over the living room. It was dark, the only light coming from the dim streetlamp filtering through the half-drawn curtains, casting long, jagged shadows that stretched across the floor like reaching fingers.
The alien soldier stood there, gripping the handle of their knife so tightly that his knuckles were bone-white. His breath came in ragged, shallow bursts, his heart hammering in his chest like a trapped animal. They were asleep upstairs—he could hear the faint, rhythmic snores of his father, the softer breathing of his mother.

Slowly, as if in a trance, the soldier made his way up the stairs, the wooden steps creaking beneath his weight. Each creak was a gunshot in the silence, a reminder that this was real, that this was happening. His mouth was dry, a metallic taste lingering on his tongue. The knife felt heavy in his hand, a cold weight that seemed to grow with every step.

At the top of the stairs, he paused, staring at the door to my parents' bedroom. It was cracked open, a sliver of darkness beyond. He could feel the heat of his own breath on his lips, his pulse thrumming in his ears. He pushed the door open, the hinges squeaking softly.

They lay there, completely unaware. His father, a solid mound of flesh beneath the covers, his thick neck exposed. His mother, her face turned toward the window, her hand resting gently on the pillow beside her.

Without thinking, the soldier moved toward his father first, standing over him, watching the rise and fall of his chest, listening to the soft snore that gurgled in the back of his throat.

And then the knife came down.

It sunk into his father’s throat with a sickening schlick, the flesh parting easily under the blade. Blood spurted instantly, a hot, arterial spray that hit his face in thick droplets. His father’s eyes flew open, wide and bulging, his mouth moving wordlessly, blood bubbling from his lips.

The knife twisted in his hand as he yanked it free, the blade scraping against bone. A fountain of crimson gushed from the wound, splattering across the white bedsheets, staining them a deep, violent red. His father’s body convulsed, hands grasping at his throat in a desperate, futile attempt to stop the flow of blood, but it was too late. Blood pooled around his head, soaking the pillow, running down the side of the bed in thick rivulets.

His mother stirred beside him, her eyes fluttering open. For a moment, she didn’t understand, her face twisting in confusion as she looked at the blood-soaked bed, at her husband’s gurgling, gasping form.
And then she screamed.

It was a shrill, desperate sound, but it was cut short as he turned the knife on her. The blade sank into her chest, just above her heart, and he twisted it, feeling the resistance of flesh and bone beneath his hand. She choked, blood spilling from her mouth, her eyes wide with terror as she reached out toward him, her fingers grasping at the air.

He ripped the knife free, and with it came a wet, sucking sound, followed by the gush of more blood. Her chest cavity was wide open now, a gruesome gash from which her insides began to spill out. He watched, detached, as her intestines slithered from the wound, falling onto the bed in a tangled heap. Blood soaked her nightgown, staining her skin, her eyes glazing over as the last of her life drained away.

He wasn’t done.

He brought the knife down again and again, each thrust more violent than the last. The blade sliced through flesh and bone, tearing open her abdomen, splintering her ribs. His hands were slick with blood, the coppery stench thick in the air, mixing with the warmth of the room.

Her face was unrecognisable now, a pulp of mashed bone, skin, and brain matter. Blood coated the walls, the ceiling, the floor—there was nothing left but a grotesque heap of mutilated flesh that had once been his mother.

He stepped back, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with the effort. Blood dripped from the knife, pooling at his feet. The room was a slaughterhouse—a massacre of crimson and torn flesh. His parents’ bodies lay in ruins, their organs splayed across the bed like some grotesque display, their blood soaking into the mattress, the floor, everywhere.

He stared down at his hands, slick and red, the knife still clutched between his fingers.

The silence returned, but it was different now. It was final. Complete. Atlas had been watching from the shadows witnessing everything that went on between his parents and the alien soldier. The alien turned to leave, stopping to hear the sound of Atlas accidentally knocking the vase off the shelf crashing into the floor, startling the alien being the sound of its heavy boots on the wooden floor thumping down the hallway towards my position and where the sound of the broken vase originated. Atlas was totally scared but held together as the footsteps grew louder and louder and the light from his flashlight growing nearer and nearer suddenly this arm appeared from nowhere piercing the darkness picking me up by the waist high into the air thrusting me down the corridor now Atlas could hear it running towards me getting louder and louder the heavy boots thumping on the wooden floor faster and faster as it picked up speed. The alien thrust me against the wall breathing heavily with its rotten breath assaulting my senses still dripping with blood. He thrust a metal device onto my neck and threw me violently onto the ground, turning away and departing the house leaving a trail of bloody footprints on the wooden surfaces. Nanting stood up struggling with the metal device wrapped around his neck trying frantically to remove it only to hear it humming louder and louder before a strange beam of light engulfed him transporting him onto a ship surrounded by other prisoners of war that had been captured for slavery.

Several years later Atlas was a slave on a planet they called the terran homeworld or earth. where hundreds of slaves—both humans and other species—are forced to labour under brutal conditions. The slaves are guarded by heavily armed soldiers and overseers. Atlas witnessed first-hand the suffering of the captives all malnourished and weak, all looking to escape someday. He had overpowered several guards on a few occasions and they could see that Nanting had more potential than just being a slave, maybe doing something else. He was dragged away one night from this place to go on a ride into town to a posh looking building where people went about their business in some weird uniforms and stuff much like a university and students. Atlas thought he was going to be killed off but instead they had thrown me to the fleet to become a cadet in the academy and serve for the emperor.

The Terran Empire Academy, an elite and ruthless institution where cadets are trained to serve in the Imperial Starfleet. It’s a far cry from the peaceful, diplomatic Starfleet of the Prime Universe. Here, success is measured by power, fear, and conquest. The Academy itself is a fortress-like complex on Earth, surrounded by warships and defences. Inside, the atmosphere is tense and dangerous, with students constantly watching their backs for treachery from their peers. Atlas spent 2 years in academy before being arrested for hacking into the computers to find information that was classified about other Renao and his homeworld. The prison is a fortress, surrounded by automated defence systems, razor-sharp energy fields, and brutal guards who take pleasure in tormenting the inmates. Inside, it's a chaotic world of fear, violence, and shifting allegiances. They threw me into prison for a year brainwashing me and trying to condition me into the ways of the Terran Empire all the while trying so hard to ignore all this as Nanting didn't really care. Atlas after being released was thrown back into the academy to complete the last 2 years of his Security and Tactical course.

Starbase Alpha orbits a cold, barren moon on the edge of the Alpha Quadrant, its immense metal structure bristling with weapons. The base is a vital military outpost for the Terran Empire, but beneath its rigid control, cracks are beginning to form. The halls are filled with the sounds of boots on metal grating, whispers of treachery, and the occasional scream from the interrogation chambers hidden deep within the lower decks. The central command centre overlooks the busy docking ports, where traders, pirates, and warships constantly arrive and depart. The starbase's officers live in a state of constant tension—failure or disloyalty means certain death, either from the enemy or from their own commanding officers. This was Nanting’s first posting away from the brutality of the academy and earth being an ensign was hard having to be on edge all the time and to perform 100 percent of the time in fear of being killed or taken out by your fellow security and tactical comrades.

The nova colony, located on the fringes of Terran Empire space, is a rich mining world that extracts topaline and other rare minerals vital to the Empire's war machine. The colony was once a flourishing, peaceful settlement before the Terrans conquered it. Now, it’s a brutal reflection of the Empire’s rule, where fear, violence, and ambition dictate daily life. Overseers oppress the colonists, resources are exploited mercilessly, and rebellious elements constantly threaten to undermine Terran control. The governor’s mansion looms over the settlement, a steel-clad fortress surrounded by guard towers and electrified barriers. Colonists live in constant fear, watched over by Terran soldiers and spies, while secret resistance movements plot rebellion. Life for the native alien population is even more precarious, as they are relegated to the lowest levels of society, exploited for manual labour and constantly watched for signs of insurrection. The colony building located within the fortress where Atlas was posted for the second of his career posting was an impressive building with lots of fancy technology and surveillance equipment staring out into the depth of the colony and keeping an eye on the slaves of the Nova colony. Many many screens adorned several walls as the crew went about monitoring the screens for anything or anyone of the slaves on the colony trying to appease the empire or even escape whilst keeping an eye on the various mines and their vast network of shafts and operations both above ground and underground.

Atlas was again thrown in prison for trying to help colonists by giving them food and medical attention all the while trying to improve their way of life and longevity rather than see these malnourished, scrawny looking slaves die. He was thrown in prison for 2 years for his actions betraying the empire's ethos to help poor defenceless slaves survive and have better conditions from those of the hot and sweaty humid dangerous environments that were the mines.

Starbase 23 orbits a cold, barren ice planet on the frontier of the Alpha Quadrant, its immense metal structure bristling with weapons. The base is a vital scientific outpost for the Terran Empire, but beneath its rigid control, cracks are beginning to form. The halls are filled with the sounds of boots on metal grating, the occasional scream from the interrogation chambers hidden deep within the lower decks. The central command centre overlooks the busy docking ports, where freighters and warships constantly arrive and depart. The starbase's officers live in a state of constant tension—failure or disloyalty means certain death, either from the enemy or from their own commanding officers.

Standing in the darkened control room of Avalon station, his eyes scanning the starfield outside. Ships of the Terran fleet arrive and depart, bringing supplies, weapons, and prisoners from distant battlefronts. Avalon is the Empire’s spearhead in this sector, a critical post tasked with holding the fragile border between Terran-controlled space and the dangerous fringes of resistance territory. Atlas never enjoyed this post at all having no friends and a boss that hated all his departmental drones only thinking about themselves and impressing the empire trying to suck up to them to get promotions quicker and rise up the ranks. Her green Orion skin oiled up gleaming in the humid environment of the prison deck made Nanting think she was a snob, a bigshot posh git using her hierarchical status and body to gain power and progression.

The ISS Gothenburg is a fearsome Defiant-class starship, a powerful and agile vessel, equipped with advanced weaponry and cloaking technology. It is designed for stealthy assaults and tactical strikes, operating in the depths of enemy territory. The interior of the ship is dark and foreboding, with flickering red lights casting ominous shadows throughout the corridor. Under the command of Captain Chris Green, the Gothenburg represents the iron fist of the Terran Empire, patrolling the fringes of space and maintaining the Empire’s control through fear and brutality. The crew is a tightly-knit band of ruthless individuals, each motivated by ambition, loyalty, or fear of the captain’s wrath. Nanting loved the captain and all things about the ship but was ordered one night by command back to earth to be replaced it was a sad moment in his career having tons of friends on the vessel he may never see again or even see the ship ever again in service.

The ISS Stockholm, a formidable Galaxy-class starship, glides through the dark void of space, its hull gleaming ominously in the starlight. This ship is a tool of the Terran Empire, a ruthless force known for its brutal conquests and oppression. Onboard, the air is thick with tension, as crew members navigate the treacherous waters of ambition, fear, and betrayal that define life in the Mirror Universe. Atlas loved the ship and doing his duty but didn’t like the direction the commanding officer took and decided to take matters into his own hands with the small group of vessels sent to destroy the colony and the helpless non warp capable species living on it ending up yet again in prison.

The lieutenant commander was dragged into Obsidian Prison, his body bruised and bloody from the beating he endured on the transport ship. The cold, sterile corridors of the prison hum with an eerie silence, broken only by the distant, muffled screams of other inmates. Guards marched Nanting through the halls, their eyes showing no sympathy, as they shoved him into a holding cell, barely big enough to lie down in. The walls were metallic and dark, reflecting the hopelessness of the place. Atlas was taken from his cell and strapped into an interrogation chair within Inquisitor Marek’s chamber—a vast, dark room filled with sinister machines. The chair itself is an instrument of torture: its restraints digging painfully into his limbs, and electrodes embedded in the armrests, ready to deliver agonizing shocks. The walls are lined with various devices—neural probes, psychic amplifiers, and pain inducers designed to break both body and mind. Inquisitor Marek enters, wearing the black uniform of the Terran Empire, her cold eyes gleaming in the dim light. She circles him like a predator, her voice calm but menacing as she recounts his supposed crimes against the Empire. Without warning, the neural probes engage, sending waves of excruciating pain directly into his nervous system. Atlas grits his teeth, refusing to scream. Marek smiles at his defiance, her sadistic pleasure growing as she increases the intensity.

"You’ll scream eventually," she says, her voice laced with cold amusement.

"They all do."

The days blurred into each other as Nanting was subjected to endless rounds of torture. Marek’s methods are not just physical—they’re psychological. She used holodeck simulations to break your will, replaying your worst fears and failures, making you relive moments of betrayal and loss. She wraps his reality, creating nightmares in which everyone he ever trusted betrays him, his crew turning on him, laughing as they watch him fall. She pushes him to the edge of madness, and yet, he refuses to give in. Atlas had to endure this for 6 years for his crimes against the empire, hacking into several starships and disabling them to try and save the helpless colony from destruction was worth it to endure the pain and suffering Marek inflicted upon his mind and body. He was also demoted by the time he was set free again and allowed to join the fleet being demoted to a lieutenant, the scars and bruises still evident on his body and the pain of bruised bones and tortured muscles.

The ISS Malmö is a sleek, formidable Excelsior-class starship, emblematic of the Terran Empire's military might. It serves as a flagship of a task force, equipped with advanced technology and powerful weaponry. The ship's interior is stark and utilitarian, with red alert lights casting ominous shadows across the bridge, a constant reminder of the threat of rebellion within and without. The Malmö operated in the turbulent waters, where the Terran Empire's oppressive regime faced constant challenges from rebellious factions and enemy powers. Life aboard the Malmö is a perilous game of ambition, betrayal, and survival, where crew members are always one wrong move away from being jettisoned into space. Atlas never got along with the commander of the ship he was always a bolshy stuck up know it all what an ego bigger that anyone else also the fact he was like die hard empire to the core going through several executive officers during Nanting’s time aboard the ship.

The ISS Copenhagen, a Terran Empire warship, is patrolling the outer edges of Imperial space. It's a fearsome Sovereign-class starship equipped with the most advanced weapons and defensive systems the Empire has to offer. Copenhagen is known for its ruthlessness, having participated in countless battles and suppression campaigns against the resistance forces of the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance. Its captain, Captain Christian Anderson, rules the ship with an iron fist, ensuring that loyalty to the Empire—and to him—is absolute. Atlas spent the most time here ever of his career having been given the position of chief security and tactical officer as well as the major responsibilities of second officer. The captain was ruthless with an iron fist always taking loyalty seriously. We became good friends having had a similar upbringing being in prison a few times as well.

The ISS Anubis, a powerful warship in the Terran Empire’s fleet, had nearly finished construction. After a gruelling task getting it ready to battle the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance task force, Its once-imposing hull nearly complete,scars of construction etched into the bulkheads. Now docked, surrounded by scaffolding and workers scrambling to get the impressive ship out quickly, the Anubis sat vulnerable—an unusual and dangerous position in the brutal Mirror Universe. While the chief engineer was occupied with ensuring the fierce construction schedule, Lieutenant Nanting was preparing a plan of his own.

In a dimly lit room near the starbase's lower levels, Atlas stood there staring out the window he knew the others transferring to the Anubis shared his ambition, or at the very least, had grown weary of the empire’s reign of fear. Lieutenant Atlas Nanting, the ship’s chief security and tactical officer, proud to serve the empire yet hated the way they did things and killed innocent people just to gain territory or their resources but still enjoyed the satisfaction of serving in the fleet.

"The empire is losing control," Kel said, her voice low. "Half the crew blames the emperor for the disastrous defeats. We were unprepared for the rebels to strike."

Atlas nodded. "So what I don't care about the ways of the empire only to serve on a starship and do my job. I do not care for the old ways—brute force, fear, domination that the empire brings. But the Terran Empire is evolving. It’s time for new leadership. We don’t really need to do anything during the final construction phase when security is lax, I’m supposed to do my job. Yes security is lax on this construction project but seriously get a life stop worrying about the rebels."

The officers exchanged grim looks. Betrayal was the currency of power in the Terran Empire, and today, Atlas wasn’t impressed with the new officer's attitude.

“If you would like to keep your job then shut the hell up with your attitudes and by the way keep those opinions to yourself or end up dead” The lieutenant junior grade medical officer snapped with such vigour in her voice cutting through the tension between the new recruits for the Anubis.

A gruff voice barked across the hallway, snapping Atlas out of his thoughts. Warrant Officer Groves, the ship's officer in charge of new recruits, strode toward them, his eyes glinting with malice. He stepped into the room to confront the new crew, looking them up and down as if measuring their worth.

“You must be the Academy's latest batch of cannon fodder,” Groves sneered. “Welcome to the Anubis. The Captain doesn’t tolerate failure, and neither do I. You survive here, or you die. Those are your only options.” he continued to speak “First off,” he continued, pacing along the line of them like a drill sergeant, “I don’t care what you did in the Academy, how many simulations you aced, or how many times you’ve heard your instructors call you ‘promising.’ This isn’t a training exercise. This is the real deal, and I expect each of you to handle your duty like the officer you were trained to be. Got it?”

Nanting was the highest ranking officer amongst the new crew assigned to the vessel and felt super nervous trying not to show it or show his true feelings. Atlas took a slow breath and composed his expression into the cold, calculating mask he had learned to perfect at the Terran Academy. He was no stranger to danger, but this transfer was different. The Anubis had a reputation—vicious officers, brutal discipline, and a captain who tolerated nothing less than total submission. One wrong step could mean the end. Groves paced up and down the line of new crew boots clanging against the metal floor with every stride pulling the pad up to read the screen he stopped in front of me and spoke
“I see you're a bad boy lieutenant judging by your time in prison we will not tolerate any of your kind of behaviour on this ship. Last posting the ISS Copenhagen I see, second officer interesting” the tone in his voice sending chills down Nanting’s entire body “Renao I see bah worthless” Groves sneered menacingly and moved along

Atlas thought long and hard the only reason Groves would single me out was because of my service record and my actions. Groves barked some orders picking up my backpack and the duffle bag we headed as a group towards the docking port being marshalled like soldiers onto a landing craft or shuttle ready to leap out and face the enemy head on. The long walk down the ramp towards the door was silent and excruciating all the while staring out the glass windows into the hustle and bustle around the Anubis wondering what was next for the lieutenant. Atlas stepped through the airlock doors into the bustling ship, his eyes scanning the sharp-eyed crewmen who moved about with purpose, their gazes flickering over her briefly before returning to their duties. The air smelled of burnt metal, and the coldness of the ship’s atmosphere sent a chill down his spine. Every step he took echoed, reminding him that he was alone, an outsider in a ship filled with predators. The Warrant officer marched us to the nearest turbolift with vigour and intensity within his role aboard the ship every step keeping his beady eyes on all of us watching for one of the new crew to screw up or make the wrong move stepping around the various construction projects the officer beckoned us all into the turbolift with such intensity and rhythm.

The turbolift hissed to a stop as the door creaked open into a brightly lit corridor the officer barking out names of new crew and assignments with such ferocious intensity and swiftness stopping to yell at an ensign to straighten his belt buckle yelling even more about writing it up but the scared crewmember scurried off into the darkness of a dimly lit corridor to one side. Groves stepped back into the turbolift and called out the next destination with the turbolift humming away at speed slowing down for the next floor the officer yet again barking names and assignments the group getting smaller and smaller with each stop. The final stop was officer quarters, the door squeaking open ever so slowly stepping out with such vigour the warrant officer beckoned for me to exit. Stopping to vigorously yell at a female crewmember for not wearing there communicator Atlas could see the man’s face getting more and more red as his tone changed and his voice rose in volume he stopped momentarily to tell me to go ahead alone pointing me in the right direction he also mentioned this needed his full attention and disappeared.

Lieutenant Atlas Nanting strode down the narrow corridor toward his quarters, his dark eyes scanning the passing crew members with cold calculation. The ship’s hum beneath his boots was steady, a constant reminder of the power the ISS Anubis wielded. But power aboard the ship didn’t just come from the size of its weapons or the strength of its shields. Power was in the whispers, the betrayals, the quiet killings in the dark corners of the ship.

Nanting’s quarters were just ahead, marked by the sleek steel door bearing the Terran Empire’s emblem—a dagger through Earth. He approached, hesitating longer than he’d care to admit. This was the moment he’d waited for through years of training, long nights, and countless sacrifices: his first assignment as a full officer on the Anubis. And yet, now that he was here, staring at the unremarkable metal door with his name on the display, he found himself at a loss. It felt surreal. He was no longer a cadet, no longer a subordinate officer watching others take command. This was his ship now, in a way, and this small room would be his home. Swallowing the knot of excitement and anxiety in his throat, Atlas tapped his code into the console, and the door slid open with a faint hiss.The room was sparsely furnished, as was the Terran custom. The empire did not encourage luxury among its officers. There was a narrow bed with black sheets set against one wall, a polished desk embedded with a built-in terminal in one corner of the room. He crossed the room with measured steps, his sharp uniform glinting in the dim light. The first thing he did was approach the viewport across from the bed. He leaned close, watching the hustle and bustle within the drydock against the deep black. It was breathtaking and intimidating all at once—an endless void filled with countless possibilities. Out there, whole star systems spun in silence, and he was a part of it now, piloting through that vastness.

Nanting shook himself out of the reverie and turned back to his quarters. As much as he loved stargazing, he had a routine to set up, and unpacking was the first step. He opened his duffle bag and methodically arranged his uniforms in the small closet, aligning them with precision, just as he’d been taught all those years ago. He placed a few personal items on the shelves: a small case displaying various medals, his Academy graduation medal, and a photo of his slaughtered family on the bedside table, the exact people who he was now working for. The desk console blinked to life with a tap, displaying his assignment briefings and rotation schedules. He’d read them all a dozen times already, but now, seated at his own desk, with his old rank visible on his collar, they felt weightier somehow. Real. In his previous posts, he’d simply been another set of hands, another voice in the chain of command. Here, on the Anubis, he had responsibilities that went beyond carrying out orders. People would look to him for guidance, for decisions, for answers. He leaned back in the chair pondering his life and the demotion from a lieutenant commander to a lieutenant and the mess he got himself into to get here and the challenges Atlas faced within his career.

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