Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Seed Destiny or any of its characters.

The idea of the story is that it follows the Gundam Seed Destiny series through the eyes of an added character.

Warning: This fiction contains (or will in later chapters) mature language, violence and adult themes not suitable for children.

A Spy to the Gods

Section One

I had shut the door, but his muffled screams could probably be heard as I rammed the damp cloth down his throat. His hands and legs are tied to the chair. All he could do was squirm and shake his head around like a man on fire. I push the cloth further and further into his mouth and down his throat.

'Are you going to talk or not?' I ask in a harsh tone. I diverted my attention from the cloth to his eyes to see his reaction. His eyelids are red from crying for his life. His eyes tell me that he is very scared. He breaths frantically through his nose.

I had told him before how he would die, and that after it would be most painful. He said that I wouldn't dare do it, that I was bluffing. I have to make him talk, to let him know that I was very serious about what I was going to do. I put my mouth close to his ear so he can hear me clearly.

'Now you have two options. One; I shove this down further, right down to your stomach, except I hold on to a little piece at the end of the cloth. When you stomach starts to digest it, I pull it out taking out your stomach lining, leaving you here to die slowly and painfully or I'll make it quick if you tell me what I need to know after your stomach lining is removed.' His breathing becomes somewhat more relaxed as he becomes aware of the realisation of what I'm telling him. 'Two; you tell me now and you'll live. If you want my opinion, option number two seems to be the better choice for your own well being.' His eyes start to droop; I grab his head and shake it back and forth and look right into his eyes.

'Hey are you listening, you are going to die if you don't tell me!' His eyes widen. 'Now are you going to tell me or not?' He nods his head. I pull the wet cloth from his mouth in one quick motion. I step back as he vomits on the floor below him. Staining his t-shirt, jeans, and trainers in the process.

'Well?' I ask as he coughs and sputters the last of the grouse vomit out of his mouth between deep breaths.

'I don't know exactly who is going to steal the new mobile suits.' He speaks finally. Not satisfied with his answer I step forward intending to put the cloth down his throat again.

'Wait, wait, wait!' he stutters out as he cranes his head back in fear. 'I don't know their names or their faces, I only recruited three assets who work on the base!'

'Who?'

'Two ZAFT guards, they're to help the pilots gain access to the base.'

'And the other?'

'A technician, the one who told us of the new models in the first place.'

'What's his name?'

'Her name is Gaynelle Greninger. She's a civilian contractor working on the project.'

'When are the snatch team going to arrive? Are they here already?'

'They arrived today.' He nods.

'Where are they now? On the base?'

'Maybe, they were supposed to start the operation from the moment they arrived so they'd already be half done.' I figure that would be enough. I step away from him and reach into my coat that was left on the table. I fetch out my mobile phone and dial the number for Section. I put the phone to my ear waiting for an answer from the other end as I put my coat back on. Someone answers the phone.

'OS Four, Liz Ryan speaking,'

'Hey Liz, it's Jack. Listen, I've found and interrogated Rehfield. He says that the operation to steal the new model mobile suits starts today.'

'Wait, slow down, you said today right?'

'Yes, the operation is planned to start today, Rehfield thinks that it could even be in progress at this very moment, you've got to alert security at the base.'

'Jack, Chairman Dullindal is visiting the base today along with Representative Athha from ORB.'

'What?'

'Geez… Didn't you read yesterdays report?' She asks. I hadn't.

'Doesn't matter! Tell them to get the Chairman out of there at least.'

'Do you want me to dispatch a team to collect Rehfield?'

'Yeah, you know the address from the files IT decrypted. I'm going to the base now, let security know I'm on my way so I won't have to deal with any bullshit from their guards.'

'Okay Jack.'

'Is Stoke in Section yet?'

'Yes, but he's on the line with Sieren at the moment.'

'So he doesn't know that I've followed up a lead?'

'He doesn't even know that IT have decrypted the files.'

'What the hell is Sieren playing at? Just bring Stoke up to speed when he's finished with his chat.'

'Sure thing.'

'Oh, one last thing Liz.'

'What's that?'

'I want you to run up a name; Gaynelle Greninger. She's a civilian contractor working on the mobile suit project. She's the one who informed Rehfield about the project. Get someone to find her and bring her in.'

'Gotcha.'

I hang up the phone, and put it back in my coat pocket. I look back to Rehfield. He seems to have relaxed now. Damn does he stink though; I'd feel sorry for the guys who are going to have to collect him.

'Someone's coming to collect you in a little while. Don't put up too much resistance, they'll probably let you have shower before they throw you in a cell. You smell bad enough as it is.' I smirk. I close the door to the room behind me not really listening to his muffled shouts of how much of a bastard I am. I make my way down the staircase to the outside. My car is parked on the side of the road.

It'll be about twenty to thirty minutes to get to the base from where I am now. I'll have to drive fast and hope that the traffic isn't busy. I open the car door; I hadn't bothered to lock it, I hadn't seen anyone in this abandoned warehouse district. I sit in the drivers seat and turn the engine on.

The man back there was an intelligence agent working for the Earth Alliances Central Directorate of Intelligence (CDI), a collaboration of various intelligence services from the nations of the Earth Alliance, and as always the Atlantic Federation's Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) running the show. After the peace treaty between Earth and PLANT, the general public were under the impression that all was relatively right with the world. Working for the Domestic Intelligence and Security Centre (DISC), will tell you differently. Earth and PLANT were now fighting a 'Cold War' of information, espionage, and spies. Each side has been screwing the other over continuously for the past two years, in the name of peace. But the Earth Alliance stealing some new model mobile suits from ZAFT in an operation on this scale could lead to another war.

One month ago the National Defence Council's Secret Services Centre (SSC), the foreign intelligence service for PLANT, had turned a CDI officer, one of their spymaster's, Eric Dalby. Dalby was the top Intelligence Officer responsible for running CDI agents in Lagrange Point 4 and had been keeping DISC and SSC busy for the past 2 years. SSC got him when they found out that Dalby's daughter was a first generation coordinator, and was living secretly among the naturals on Earth. SSC contacted Dalby warning that if he didn't turn they were going to expose the information to the Earth press. Imagine that, the daughter of a CDI, or more specifically a CIA Officer, is a coordinator. Not only would his career burn, but also with Blue Cosmos searching high and low for easy targets on Earth, it would be quite an opportunity for them to gun down a helpless six-year-old girl, just because she's a coordinator. Like any dedicated father he put his daughter first, and turned himself over to SSC.

In Dalby's debrief he happened to mention a upcoming CDI operation to steal the new model mobile suits being built at Lagrange Point 4, Armoury One. This information was passed to the National Defence Committee, who deemed the operation a threat to the peace treaty and to the PLANT security. The task to prevent the operation fell on the laps of the DISC's Operational Section Four (OS Four), a small department responsible for counter intelligence and counter terrorism in the newly reconstructed Lagrange Point Four. Most of these colonies had been heavily damaged in the war three years before, but after the end of the war some were reconstructed as PLANT type colonies.

Problem was, when Dalby turned himself over, this operation was still in the planning stages with no definite time or date for when it was to be executed. However Dalby had spilled the location of a CDI officer codenamed Sona, who would know. Unfortunately, Sona was killed resisting arrest. We did recover a computer, however most of the files were encrypted. This morning the IT department finally decrypted some of files of which could be of interest, they mentioned a name and an address of what is thought to be one of Sona's agents, called Rehfield. Not knowing whether or not this agent would know anything about the operation I followed it up anyway. I went to the address on the decrypted files. It turned out to be an office in the top floors of a warehouse complex. There I found Rehfield, fast asleep on a bed set on the floor of the office.

Damn, how much further until I reach the base? Traffic is much worse then I had anticipated. It's going to take me longer then I thought. The phone rings. I take it out of my pocket and look at the caller ID. It's Section calling. I answer the phone.

'Liz, have you contacted the base security?'

'I haven't had the chance, we've just received word that the general alarm has been sounded on the base.'

'Damn, they must have started the operation already!'

'You better get down there quick, it sounds like the shit has hit the fan.'

'Has Stoke finished with Sieren yet?'

'Yeah, he wants to speak to you.'

'Good, put him on.'

'Jack.' Says an aged and gravely voice at the other end of the phone.

Nigel Stoke, Director of OS Four. He's a reasonably intelligent person in his early forties. For a boss he's not too bad, Stoke has been in the intelligence business for many years starting out in his mid twenties, so we can rely on his experience, especially when it comes to Blue Cosmos. For as long as I've known him he's had a real anger and hatred of the terrorist group, not that I can blame him. Rumours around Section say something happened to him whilst he was doing some work with the SSC on Earth during the war. Not that I knew the details, I always thought that it went his hatred went much deeper to a personal level, then the reasons the masses hate them for. This was something that we perhaps had in common on a certain level. He must had read my work record of when I was in Special Forces, and a certain botched operation.

'Nige', has Liz briefed you?'

'Just now, the moment the base alarm was sounded I ended the phone conversation with the Director General, I just hoped the it could had been ended in better circumstances.' He didn't chuckle. 'You're on your way to the base now aren't you?'

'Of course, Boss.'

'Cut the sarcasm!' he snaps lazily, saying it as if he's fed up. 'If the new models are already airborne, just get Chairman Dullindal to safety, and call us with a sit rep. Okay?'

'Right. Oh, I hope your not too pissed off that I didn't tell you I followed up a lead?'

'I was wondering why you weren't in this morning.'

'I was. I left before you arrived though, I've been in Section waiting for IT to extract the information from Sona's computer, I couldn't wait around for you to arrive, so I borrowed a shuttle to Armoury One.'

' "Borrowed"? You mean stole?' He asks.

'It was one of the Section's shuttle's, it's still in good nick.'

'Fine.' He huffs. 'Just get to the base ASAP. Oh and don't worry about pissing off without telling me, I would've done the same in your position.'

'That makes me fell a little better, I'll call you back.' I hang up the phone and bury it in my jacket pocket again. The light changes, as I lift my foot off the clutch the car lunges forward as I start off in second gear.

Lately, Stoke has been having many calls from the new Director General of DISC, Kevin Sieren. I don't know much about Sieren apart from that he lacks a proper intelligence background; from what I had heard he had sat behind a desk most his years in the ZAFT Intelligence Bureau, trying his best to figure out where the enemy is hiding on a map. To me he seems more like a politician, looking to rise up to become Chairman of the National Defence Committee. Although I can't make too much of a judgement of him, since he is yet to prove himself as a leader, I don't like the first impressions of him though. He's been calling Stoke on the phone everyday this past month, probably reminding Stoke how he would like the job done. In the event that something goes wrong, Sieren can tell the Committee how he reminded OS Four how to do their jobs, so we get the sack, and not Sieren. How can he expect us to do our job when he's keeping such a tight and short leash on us? I wasn't entirely happy of not informing Stoke about the Rehfield lead first, but I couldn't wait, I had to go right away. More to the point, what would Stoke think of me using an old trick of the Siberian Gulags to get the information from the agent? I'm sure Rehfield would be complaining to the guys going to collect him all the way back to Section about how he was mistreated.

The base is now in view. Through the windscreen I see the main gate. Beyond that are plumes of smoke rising. I'm too late.

I pull the car up to the main gate of the base. The base had been hit hard. From what I could see, most of the storage hangars had been destroyed. Amongst the panic of ZAFT soldiers rushing to help their comrades anyway they can, a lone soldier toting an assault rifle and sporting a Kevlar helmet, knocks on the car's side window with his knuckles. This must be the gate guard. He looked like he was in his mid thirties. His skin was wrinkled and slightly tanned. A shadow, formed from the front rim of his helmet, covered the top half of his face. The green uniform of a ZAFT regular showed the early stages of a growing beer belly, I suppose that is to expected for someone whose job description that involves sitting on a chair, drinking no more then 50 cups of coffee a shift, busting civilians for glancing at the perimeter fence, and then having a big piss up all night every night. I wind down the window.

'What do you want here kid?' he spits out the word 'kid'.

'I'm a…' I start to say.

'Save it!' he snaps, cutting me off from finishing my sentence. 'We ain't got the time to deal with journo's so just turn that car around and get your story from the official press conference,' he spits in his accented drawl. He tilts his head up slightly and looks down on me.

'I'm not a journalist. I'm an officer with the DISC!' I shout back at him. There was still the sound of explosions and fighting nearby.

'DISC… DISC?' he repeats to himself, looking slightly confused as if he was searching his memory for what the acronym stood for.

'Domestic Intelligence and Security Centre!' I remind him.

'Yeah right! Get out of here.' He orders. Shit, even Rehfield was more helpful then this, and he was working for the other side! He seems to be talking down to me as if I was something he stepped in, and would want to wipe off as soon as he could.

'I haven't got time for bullshit! I'm here to ensure the safety of Chairman Dullindal, who was visiting the base today.'

'How do you know that kid? That information is strictly classified!' He says trying to sound as if he knew something. He didn't. If I was a bloody Journo' like he said I was, he would've just gave away valuable information.

'For fuck sake!' I shout at him. 'I already told you I'm a field officer for the DISC's Operational Section Four!' He narrows his eyes at me.

'You talk to me like that again once more sonny and I'll throw you in a cell for the rest of the day!' He shouts.

'I suppose you were the guard who let them in?' I counter. His face scrunches up as he takes a deep breath. He's had enough.

'Alright that's it!' he shouts at me as he grabs the handle to open the car door. 'You're go… ah!' He never finishes his sentence as I throw the car door open, impacting against his stomach and torso. I step out of the car quickly; I feel a sharp pain in my ribs as they knock against the door in the process. I throw a punch into the guards face before he can react, the top of my closed fist just brushing the rim of his helmet. As he stumbles back I grab the butt of his rifle that is attached to a sling worn across his chest, and strike that butt into his face. He stumbles back further and eventually lands on his arse. I move back into the car, and put my foot on the accelerator as I close the car door leaving the guard on the floor in pain.

I look into the right wing mirror seeing a small group of ZAFT guards crowding over the disorientated guard. Whilst another chases after me on foot yelling something along the lines of 'Come back you son of a bitch!'

Looking past the car windscreen again, the base had been hit very hard. Destroyed Mobile Suits and their parts littered the open areas. Storage hangers were now in ruins. Driving was difficult as the road was damaged. The car jumped slightly as the wheel hit a dent in the road. Out of the corner of my eye I spot the orange and red cloudlet of an explosion high above the base. I stop the car for a moment, to take a closer look. The explosions were from a Mobile Suit battle taking place. That definitely means they've got at least one of the new models. I gaze at the battle above like a curious child. Watching the beams trace cut through the air, makes me think back to when I was a mobile suit pilot for the Schanz team. I regain my senses back to reality from the daydream. I remind myself to remain focused at the objective at hand. I drive on.

Where the hell could Chairman Dullindal be? I should try finding someone in charge that could have a clue where the Chairman is. Ideally a Commander class of some sort, they probably won't piss me about like that guard did.

After a while, I catch sight of a few mobile suits standing sentry, I figure that would be the best bet. As I get closer, the area around the mobile suits is clustered with tents, vehicles, and green uniforms. Perhaps this is some sort of temporary command centre. As I get closer, I slow down and gradually bring the car to a halt about a hundred or so metres short of the command centre, all under the watchful eyes of a green Zaku mobile suit. I exit the car and walk forwards at a quick pace to one of the tents. Two green ZAFT soldiers each armed with a sub-machine gun approach me.

'Hey!' he chokes out. 'Who are you?'

The two soldiers look quite young, as young as me almost. They seemed to be a little shaken. There green uniforms are dirtied grey, probably from the dust and tarmac. I hope they don't give me the trouble I had with the gate guard.

'I'm an officer with the DISC.' I tell him as I fetch out my card from my coat pocket, and flash it at them. One of them snatches the card from my hand and looks it over. The other has his gun pointed at me, eyes focused on me, ready to shoot. Strangely I don't feel uneasy with him pointing that gun at me. I'm getting too used to it. I needn't really have to worry; they'd sooner arrest me then shoot. The soldier nods as he hands the card back over to me

'Alright, what do want here?' he asks. The other soldier lowers his weapon.

'Who's the commanding officer here?'

'Commander Gregov, he's over there.' He says as he gestures with his head to an open white tent fifty or so metres behind him. In the tent was a number of green uniforms being ordered about one guy in a black uniform. That must be him.

'Alright, thanks.' What can I say; he deserved it. I walk past the two soldiers, who have gone away to do something more productive with their time. As I get closer I can start to make out some of what Gregov is saying over the noise of explosion as combat.

'Take a team together and head off to hanger twelve or what's left of it, check the area, see if anyone's still alive or not, if so radio in and I'll send some help okay?' I hear him bark to a green uniform. He pats the uniform on the back and nudges him in the general direction of where he wants him to go. The uniform scampers away. Gregov notices me. He looks at me in confusion for a moment, then his expression changes to annoyance.

'What do you want here?' he hisses at me.

'I'm a field officer…' I begin as I fetch out my card yet again '…with the Domestic Intelligence and Security Centre.' I tell him. His expression becomes friendlier.

'If you want to debrief me, you're going to have to wait, I've got a right cluster fuck on my hands here, besides I haven't got a clue myself what's really going on.' He says as he shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head. Fair enough on his part, it does look like he's got his hands full, but I still need to find Chairman Dullindal.

'It's not that, Chairman Dullindal was visiting the base today, do you know where he is?' I ask.

'He was here a few moments ago, I think he's on the Minerva, he should be safe there.'

'The Minerva?' I ask.

'Big ship, over there.' He points to the large ship behind him in the distance. I look over there. It seemed to still be docked. A large green leg, probably from a Zaku, obstructed my view of the Minerva for a moment. The Zaku looks like it's heading over to board the Minerva.

'Alright I need to get on the Minerva then.' I tell myself.

'I'd suggest you hurry, she looks like she's about ready to launch anytime soon.' He tells me.

'Okay, I'm going over there now. Call them and tell them to wait 'til I arrive.'

'Alright.' He complies by grabbing a phone of some sort. I turn my back to him and make my way back to the car.

I start to jog, passing and dodging those who happen to be in my path. I get back in my car, and drive off in the direction of the Minerva. As I get closer to where the walkway connects from the dock to the Minerva, two more ZAFT guards stand watch just at the entrance to the walkway, gesturing me to slow down with their hands… and their guns. I slow the car down to a halt. I exit the car, bidding my fair well to it, as this will probably be the last I'll see of it. I make my way over to them, fetching out my card, yet again. Their eyes and guns follow my every move, as I walk towards them.

'I'm a field officer with the Domestic Intelligence and Security Centre.' I tell them as I flash them the card. 'I need to speak with Chairman Dullindal. Commander Gregov told me he was on the Minerva, yes?' As I get closer one of them puts their hand in front of me.

'Sorry, I can't just let anyone on, even if they are DISC. I need to ask permission from Captain Gladys.' He tells me. I put the card back into my pocket again.

'Well then, get the Captain on the line and ask if I can?' I ask of him. He nods and presses the PTT button on the radio as he speaks into a throat mike.

'Minerva security, this is dock security. I've got a guy here who's identified himself as an officer with the DISC, he's requesting to board the Minerva.' He waits a moment for a reply. 'Oh come on Marv'! You know; the Domestic Intelligence and Security Centre!' He barks into the mike. 'Just get the Captain on the horn, and ask her if he can board or not?' I didn't know what the reply was; I wouldn't have been able to hear it. 'Thank you.' He says. I couldn't help but smirk.

'That Marv' is a right dumb shit.' The other guard jokingly informs his colleague. They both give off a small snicker.

'Damn right he is!' He agrees.

These two seem more armed and ready then the previous guards I've come across in the past few minutes. Though wearing the same ZAFT green uniform as the others, and armed with the standard issue sub-machine guns, they're also wearing a black assault vest that fits snugly across their chests. The vests also carry a pistol in a cross draw position. As well as those, they're also wearing throat mikes. I come to the conclusion that these guys are with Fleet Protection Group. Made up of about hundred or so experts in close quarters battle, these guys are given various jobs, mainly involving in the defence of the ZAFT space fleet and also act as boarding parties to stop smugglers.

'Sorry for the wait.' He apologises, breaking me from my thoughts. 'Marv', the guy on the other end of that radio, is a moron.' He grins.

'That's very reassuring.' I say to him sarcastically. They both grin and snicker again.

The two seemed to be in their early twenties. However they didn't look like rookies. I could tell by their eyes, that they were experienced. They had probably been in the war two years ago. Either that or they were very well trained. Maybe even current or ex-Special Forces. Usually I'd be very sceptical of such youngsters in Special Forces, but who am I to complain, I was only eighteen when I completed my four months of intense training at the Jakarta Special Forces Training School during the war. The ZAFT Military Academy is even allowing fourteen and fifteen year olds apply, since the start of the war in CE70. Before, candidates had to be sixteen and nine months before they could attend the Academy.

'Alright, you can go on.' He says stepping aside allowing me room to pass. 'They'll be someone to meet you on the other end of the walkway. Are you armed?'

'Yeah, just a nine mil' pistol though.' I tell him.

'In any case, when you meet Marv or whoever it is, hand your pistol over to him.' I frown at the prospect of being unarmed. He sees my reaction. 'Relax, you'll get it back, once you're properly cleared.' He assures me. I nod. 'You better get moving, son. She's just about ready to take off, they're waiting on you.'

'Cheers.' I thank them.

'Oh, by the way… we'll look after your car for you.'

'No need, it's not mine.' I don't see their reaction in their faces as I have already ran past them and down the walkway as fast as my legs can go, the other end seemed to be about a few hundred metres away. My run became a sprint.

Having my gun taken away was not a prospect I liked, especially by this 'Marv' person. I've been too used to being armed for the five months or so. All employees of the Centre are required to have weapons training, but there were strict guidelines to when weapons could be carried. When I was transferred over to OS Four, whose activities are much more serious and dangerous then the rest of the Centre, apart from the other three Operational Sections, I was required to carry a weapon with me at all times, which I had no qualms with, however it feels like a necessary item of clothing I must put on every morning. Without it I'd feel naked and insecure.

I reach the entrance to the Minerva in time. Panting, trying to get as much air into my lungs as I can with each breath I take. My fitness level has gone down quite a bit since I left Special Forces. Sitting on my arse at a desk, reading pages and pages of intelligence and terrorism threat assessments for days and weeks doesn't do much for fitness. As I looked at the entrance, another man dressed in a standard ZAFT green uniform was there to greet me.

'Welcome to the Minerva, sir. I'm Myles Braner, head of security on the ship.' He said as he saluted me. Out of breath still I just nodded. 'Please get inside sir, we're just about ready to launch.'

I step inside the ship, gazing around at the interior. The walls of the corridor are painted a grey, blue colour. Behind me, two other ZAFT regulars closed the entrance behind me.

'Sir, do you have any weapons on you?' he asks, I don't really take in what he said first time, so he asks again. 'Are you armed, sir?'

'Yeah.' I reply

'Okay, could you please hand over your weapons and firearms please?'

'Alright, I only have a nine mil' pistol anyway.' I tell him as I undo the belt on my jeans and slide it out of the first two loops to the right.

'Don't worry, sir. This is just temporary until you get cleared properly.' He states to me as I then slide the holster carrying my pistol off the trouser belt. I hand the holster over to his hand. I put my belt back again.

'Thank you, sir.' He hands the pistol over to a colleague behind him. 'Now if you would just like to follow me please.' He says leading my down one of the corridors.

Braner looks to be in his late twenties, he has a short military grade hair cut, complemented with a groomed moustache under his nose. He looks well built and in good shape. Not bad for someone serving on a ship. Too much sitting ruins people's bodies as I've just found out. That's why I think mobile suit pilots are very unfit and in all honesty, wimps in real combat. Take that pilot from a mobile suit and put him or her, as there has been an influx of female ZAFT mobile suit pilots in the recent months, on the ground, they wouldn't last long. After a minute or so of following Braner through the maze of corridors that seem to lead to nowhere. I ask, 'Where are you taking me?'

'The ship is in the process of being launched and once out of the colony, we're expected to engage in combat with an enemy vessel.'

'That doesn't really answer my question, I thought you were going to take me to Chairman Dullindal or to the bridge?'

'Sorry, but the Captain only granted you permission to board the ship, not to have a nice cup of hot coffee on the bridge with the Chairman and discuss the meaning of life for the next half hour.' I scowl at his back, as he continues walking on. 'Ah, we're here.' He opens a door to what looks like an empty crewman's quarters. 'I suggest that you please stay in here for the duration of the combat please.' I just nod again. I enter the quarters uneasily. I have no qualms with that, best be out of the way of the crew. A mysterious man in civilian clothing on a military ship amongst uniforms tend to stand out, I don't want to attract attention to myself.

'Will I be able to make a call?' I should get in touch with Stoke and let him know he can put his mind at rest over the safety of Dullindal, for now.

'Not while we're in combat, sir.' He exits the room and closes the door behind him. Probably locked it too, but I can't be bothered to check it. I could always call Stoke with my mobile phone, however doing that on a ship in combat would constitute as an unauthorised transmission, which security will be able to detect, and land me in more trouble then I'm already in now.

With nothing else to do at this very moment in time I sit on one of the two beds, I take my coat off and throw it on the other bed on the opposite side of the room. I lie back and stare up at the grey ceiling. I close my eyes and drift off into the dreams and nightmares of my past.

Endnote: Well that's the Section One done and finished. I hope you enjoyed it. Read and review, constructive criticism welcome. Thank you for spending your time to read this. Note that as of 28/06/05 Section Two has been merged into Section One. So now Section Three is now Section Two, Section Four is now Section Three etc.