Collins often felt as if he had been lied to by his school careers advisor, because a job in a interstellar planet cruiser was not nearly as exciting as he had been told. In fact it was more so; and that was Collins' rub. He was a dull person, who had been formed to take on dull jobs surrounded by people just as dull as he was but who would rather not admit it: Collins knew this and accepted this. His mother had always dreamed of her son becoming a chartered accountant, maybe in Brixam.

'Wouldn't it be wonderful,' she would often say, standing over Collins in his crib, 'if Alastair grew up to be an accountant!' (This was perhaps an indicator of just how dull his mother was and therefore how boring he was destined to be.)

It wasn't even as if he'd been against this idea. Collins liked maths; he had a good work ethic; he liked Brixam and the surrounding areas: so why wasn't he an accountant? The school careers advisor, probably. He'd never had one but it appeared to be the common excuse. He'd joined the Core on a whim, on the premise of well paying accountancy jobs in the outer rim of the galaxy. A little more exciting than Brixam, sure, but not so far as to cause an aneurysm- Collins was always very conscious of his health.

How he had got from a small amount of intergalactic travel to facing off an invasion fleet was completely beyond him.

There was another dazzling proton flash and the ship veered wildly to the side. Collins gripped tightly onto the console and looked over his shoulder at Captain Mattias, his commander, for some reassurance. Mattias grinned tightly back at him, and Collins realised he would garner no sympathy from that particular area. Everyone else also seemed to be enjoying it or looking down fiercely at their readouts, deciphering, learning, frightened but exhilarated. The viewscreen was lit by green sparks and the carcasses of other ships in the fleet swung in front of the ship at various intervals. Collins could hear his console beep and cry out for him like a baby desperate for a suckle. It was too much.

Whatever happened to good old fashioned exploring, he thought, a touch of travel amongst the stars and popping home for tea? That had been what he'd set out to do after all. He thought of lovely old Brixam and her accountancy opportunities. He thought of his mother and the imaginary careers advisor.

He lent over the side of his station, and was violently sick.