"Kilo-Five-Seven has touched down and her pilot is en-route for debrief, Sir." First Lieutenant Burbatoff reported smartly.

Major Gerard Ashton wasn't listening. Indeed, he was ignoring the junior officer entirely. Slumped in his high-backed leather chair, the swarthy, hulk of a man seemed fully intent on staring into space. A tapestry of crumpled coffee cups, discarded data-pads and over spilling ashtrays littered the desk in front of him. It looked like the remains of a battlefield. Major Ashton probably would have appreciated the analogy, were he capable of caring anymore.

Burbatoff frowned, and tentatively tried again.

"Uh, Major, Kilo-Five-"

"I heard you the first time." Abelev grunted, without so much as turning his head. "That'll be all, son."

"Sir." Burbatofff snapped a tight salute. Ashton's own was casual, almost an after-thought. Brambley was well versed in masking his disdain, however, and left without another word. He had much better things to do.

Ashton was miserable. He was a good soldier, a proud soldier, a resocced soldier but still, a proud and good one, however the writing was on the wall. He'd been Mar Sara, he'd fought Zerg forces in no less than four separate engagements - and survived. The jagged scars which twisted the edge of his mouth into a wicked grimace were testament to the fact that he very nearly didn't. He had never asked for it, but they had given him medals and acclaim. Not that he gave a damn, of course, but the gesture was nice.

But now look at him, where was he? Stuck here, marooned on a no-bit colony inhabited by Corporate pigs and whack job dirt farmers while the rest of the Koprulu Sector burned. There was no fleet left to pluck him from obscurity and let him do his job - a job he loved. And so he sat, and smoked, and - when Burbatoff wasn't around to cluck his tongue - he drank. Heavily.

He turned and spared a glance out of the control tower's viewport, his morose, blood-shot eyes taking in the skeletal remains of the D.A.F Anchises. It was the Dominion military warship that had brought him and his men here, and it taunted him every day; providing false hopes of possible escape.

Ashton had managed to prevent the colonists from gutting it entirely for all of six weeks before finally relenting. Supplies were low, and with the rest of the Sector occupies with the unfortunate business of boodshed and war, the chances of New Geneva receiving proper re-supply were practically non-existent.

Ashton snorted in amusement as he reached for the bottle of whiskey secreted away beneath his desk. The Anchises had heroically survived over three days of sustained combat in both the Battle of Mar Sara, Korhal's Fall and Kerrigan's Great Betrayal, only to be finished in a matter of hours by a swarm of resource-hungry colonists.

"Such is the fate of true heroism," he toasted, swigging from the bottle.

In more peaceful times, such measures would not have been necessary. If anything, it would have been tantamount to treason. Since the beginning of the Second Great War war, Horizon, New Geneva's only city, had been content to sit tight and mind its own business, hoping to remain the obscure little colony it was. All but forgotten on the very rim of the Terran Dominion territory, their isolation was their greatest defence. To date, it had performed magnificently.

Until now. Now they were at alert, and with the second disappearance of a long range patrol in as many weeks, the city was prepping itself for war, in whatever meagre way it could. After all these nervous months of listening to wide-band despatches, eaves-dropping on the death of their own species, the war had finally come to New Geneneva.

Realising that help was not coming, and that the possibility of rejoining the defence of the Inner Colonies was nothing but a childish fantasy, Ashton had accepted his fate, and allowed the colonists to strip the once proud BattleCruiser down to its very bones. With the ship's captain having been killed at Korhal, there had been few objections. The Major turned his attention to gaze at the bustling city beyond the reaches of the starport. It was for the good of the colony, Ashton told himself. It was the right thing to do. He took another swig.

But if that was true… then why did he feel so miserable?