AK-763 Chapter 1

Achey stood up from the chair, still without using his arm in a sling but instead the rock hard abs and glutes he's developed over the past couple months as a Ranger. It was probably a mistake putting him with other troopers as crazy as he. Having noted the technological difficulties from the first part of the invasion Achey and his teams had been learning to drive, sail, ride a six legged smelly beast, and operate the most primative gear on the planet. When it came time to break things and kill people though, no one seemed to complain.

With his dress jacket hooked in one finger over his shoulder he approached the admin NCO's desk and smiled.

"Good morning, Lance Sergeant. As I mentioned to you about an hour ago I am AK-763, currently stationed here for some rehab, and somehow I still haven't gotten those personell records Captain Caho authorized for me. The ones I asked you for an hour ago. Would you mind if I just got them myself?"

The somewhat young and mildly deskbound LSGT looked up and Achey and sneered. "You can wait your turn, mister. I'm busy with Captain Starhunter's request for additional personell."

Achey smiled at the Lance Sergeant as he laid his dress jacket, ribbons up, on the desk. "Your right, sergeant. Captain Starhunter probably needs his extra babysitters." Glancing down at his own jacket, he added. "I will point out, though, that while my NCO stripe is pretty new and Captain Caho's bars are still pretty shiney, I happen to have a confirmed body count higher than Captain Starhunter's entire company. Some of my kills were as close as you are, Sergeant." Achey paused. "Caho's record is about the same as mine and he does it from two kilometers or more away, Sergeant."

. . .

Achey whislted a happy tune as he reviewed the records Caho had sent over. With all the unit reformations it was nice to get a trusted recommendation for a gung-ho trooper that wasn't the patient sniper type. Achey cooperated and sent back a few troops who were ice cold under fire but not quite hyped about jumping out of, well, almost anything to get face to face with the enemy.

. . .

Achey sat at the bar, dress in civvies and swirling a small shot of something a human probably shouldn't have.

"That bad?" The bartender said, not knowing Achey personally but fairly certain the close haircut, weathered skin, and near hollow eyes weren't like the regular sod-buster or ship jockey that normally drank their sorrows away. "A woman can do some things to you, mister." Raising an eyebrow, he added. "But that's not your jones, is it." Pouring a draft he slid it to Achey. "You can talk, or not. However, if you're going to drink that small glass I suggest you down that big one right after or you're going to feel a lot worse in the morning."

Achey smiled, remembering the wisdom of the bartenders he'd known over the years. Too many years in the field, too many haunting memories of people just like him raising arms against the Empire. Too many questions about honest behavior by the Seccessionists and too much self-indulgance on the side of the Imperial officer's cadre. It was no longer Achey's fight; he'd done his terms of service and could hardly wear all the ribbons and awards he'd gotten.

It had really gotten to him last year on the Donegral invasion. They'd had to go underground to some of the same types of caverns Achey had played in as a kid. Only this time it was playing with kilo's of thermal explosives, close range blaster fire, and then seeing the bodies of teenagers who had desperately held them off for a week. This day, last Imperial year, Achey watched a teen's unborn infant thrash and then be still, it's small hand reaching out to him through the mother's shredded body.

A tired blond came in and took her place a couple stools away. The barkeep poured her a draft without even asking. She thanked him and looked at Achey. "Well, stranger, you're not from around here. You look too smart to be one of the miners and too mean to be one of the ship stewards that don't get paid enough to go to the good bars." Taking a gulp, she sat down her mug and extended a hand. "I'm Mary. I own the hardware store down the street. You?"

Achey shook her hand and looked at her for a moment before chuckling. "Hello, Mary. Join me in a celebration." He pushed away the small glass and picked up his mug. "It's my birthday, Mary. I made it three decades." He reached his mug out and they chinked together.

"John. Name's John..."

"Well, John. Congratulations." Mary said, smiling. "YOu look a good bit older, but I take it you've not been behind a desk your whole life, have you? What do you do fora living."

John let his breath out slowly. "Well, nothing at the moment. I figured I'd travel around a bit and see what comes up."

Mary looked him over. "If you can do an honest day's work I can put you up over the store and keep you real busy. Both boys helping me figured they'd do better off-planet in the military, of all things. You don't hanker to run off and join the Emproer's finest, do you?"

"No. I'm a bit old for that, I think."

The bar tender leaned over. "Mary, I don't mean to cause you any problems, but you ought to tell him."

Mary grimaced and then slowly nodded. "I know Bill, I was getting to that." Looking back at John, she said. "There's been some trouble, and I think that's why them boys really ran off. New mayor in town came in with outside money and bought the election. Mostly by buying run down parts of the town and taking over failing businesses."

"You don't like him?"

She looked at Bill and then replied. "He's my ex father-in-law. My ex was a bum and we bought the store before it totally went under. He drank himself away and I made him sign over his half of the store before he split out."

"Ah, families can be such fun."

"You got any fmaily, John?" Bill asked.

"Not really. Haven't talked to my folks for a long time, we kind of drifted apart. Nothing bad, just a misspent youth out in the stars."

The bar door opened and six men swaggered in. "Drink!" one yelled. "Don't be so slow old man! Bring us a couple bottles. Now!" The yeller unzipped his jacket and he made sure the butt of his blaster was visible.