A/N - So sorry this took a few days to get written! I thought I had an excellently sneaky way of writing this during boring lectures - writing it in shorthand. This worked well until I came to type it up and realised I had no idea what any of it actually said. As compensation, here's two chapters.

The radio room was a tech geek's heaven. Tim had always loved it in here but things seemed to have advanced even further in the last decade. Instead of one massive screen dominating the room, many smaller ones were zooming around of their own accord, flashing lines of text and short video clips at the thirty or so people on computers along the walls. Most were alien but there were a few humans scattered around, looking entirely at ease.

The room's name was a misnomer, really, but it had stuck from the very early days when radio was the only reliable form of communication.

Every so often, a technician would stick out a hand to catch one of the screens. In one corner a tiny orange man with five arms was juggling five screens at once, throwing them from hand to hand rapidly. Facing the door, he was the first to notice Timothy and Kinoan's entrance. He froze, and one of his screens went flying across the room to hit a human woman in the head. It didn't actually hit her, flying straight through her face instead and giving her quite a fright if her scream was anything to go by. She turned to yell at the orange man but the whole room had now noticed Timothy and had fallen silent. Then, as one, the radio technicians jumped to their feet and saluted.

It was a slightly uncomfortable feeling, a whole room standing to attention for a man most of them had only heard about in legends and stories. Kinoan patted Timothy on the shoulder and fell back a step. Inwardly, Timothy cursed his friend's diplomacy. He hadn't done this in ten years and was not at all sure he was worthy of this automatic respect.

The four stars on his shoulders seemed a little heavier as Timothy took a step forward, straightening up and locking his hands behind his back. He nodded once, curtly.

"At ease."

The authority in his voice surprised him. It had been a long time since he had last assumed the mantel of General and he had spent those years playing the inferior role, hiding what he had grown to be.

Those years had also given the many stories surrounding him the chance to be blown out of all proportion. He had seen it happen before - stories become legends and people become heroes. Timothy had never believed himself a hero, especially not for the final act which sent him running for Earth, afraid of his own capabilities, while the rest of the Peace Force called him their saviour.

Timothy felt calm, felt confident. "Is the radio connection to Earth set up?"

His question was answered immediately by enthusiastic technicians, talking all at once, eager to be helpful. Timothy held up a hand and all fell quiet.

"One at a time. The head technician, please." Timothy could see a little smile on Kinoan's face which said he was stepping back into his old shoes with ease.

The tiny orange man stepped forward, "Rank One Technician, Caliien Or'Vanci, sir. It's an honour, sir."

Timothy looked at him expectantly. Back home - on Earth, at NCIS where the team would no doubt have realised he was gone because several hours had passed now since he stumbled home to find the world was ending - he would have asked the question again, the epitome of politeness. He doesn't need to, up here, because Caliien Or'Vanci remembers his question and knows a repetition will not be forthcoming.

"The connection is set up, sir, yes. Leah Chesel and Varigandi have been monitoring it."

Caliien pointed to the two desks nearest the far wall, which was painted an almost blinding white and was completely blank. The human woman who had been hit by Callien's flying screen saluted again, as did the alien next to her. He was human in appearance, all except for the skin-tone wings protruding from his back.

"This will be a private call," Timothy said, his voice strong and clear. He felt more comfortable every second. "Everybody else, please leave."
As the technicians obediently began to file out, nodding deferentially as they passed, Timothy approached Leah and Varigandi with Kinoan and Caliien close behind. The two technicians - Rank Two, going by their uniform - looked nervous. Timothy was half-tempted to smile at them, but stopped himself. He wasn't here to be friendly. Kinoan was the General they came to for reassurance; he was the one they were meant to be a little afraid of.

Leah, focusing back on her computer station, typed in a series of short commands. All of the mini screens, which had been hovering motionless without the instructions of their operators, flew towards the blank white wall and joined themselves together seamlessly. It was a rather striking effect and, if Timothy had not been in the company of lower ranking soldiers, he would have been quite excited about it. It was certainly a step up from his last visit.

"Which call are you wanting to make first, sir?" Varigandi had a thick Icasan accent; he was clearly from the Icas tribe, tree-dwellers originating on a planet named Icutior.

"NCIS." This conversation would be difficult, yes, but less emotionally taxing than a call home. Suppressing all emotions, except that strange kind of anger that came in war, was the only way Timothy knew how to deal with this place.

As the technicians worked to establish the connection - a slightly trickier task than his call home, as this would be fed straight into MTAC - Timothy turned to inspect the room a little closer.

None of it was familiar. He hadn't spent a lot of his time in the radio room, or indeed on the Lunar Orbiter, but it was still disconcerting to see it so drastically different. With a horrible sickening feeling in his stomach, Timothy realised that the Field Equipment Storage Room was - or, at least, had been - located right next door. As there was no change to the communal recreation areas, Desky must have been in the FE Storage Room when the missiles hit.

With the amount of high explosive stored there - 'Field Equipment' for Stars soldiers was very different to that given to Earth soldiers - even a small missile would have done a great deal of damage.

Timothy turned around slowly, looking at the walls very carefully. Somewhere in this room, there would be a tribute to those who died in that attack. There always was. A row of pictures, names and dates of death, perhaps a short tribute left behind so their replacements would never forget. Somehow, it hurt more when a person inside the Orbiter - or onboard one of the two other, smaller, defence platforms orbiting Earth - was killed in a hostile attack. The stations were supposed to be safe zones; they were supposed to be home.

And they were the only things standing between Earth and the attacks of every war-hungry civilisation ever to take exception to the Peace Force's interference.

"Sir, the connection's ready." Caliien said in an official voice that didn't suit him. Timothy turned, the familiar interior of MTAC making his heart speed up.