--<[Dust of Archæia]>--

Annalis Sparatæ: Eremus Archæiæ

--<[Dust of Archæia]>--
[Continued..]

... Sci awoke from his reminiscent day-dream. His history was of no importance here on the brink of the known solar system - the brink of the rest of the universe. This giant dust cloud had long blocked Sparata's view into the galaxy, and the galaxy's from it. Sci and his men would be the first to ever penetrate the wall. The sandy grinding of the ship's metal hull hadn't ceased. It had only gotten worse over the three hours since the Sævii had entered the barrier. The darkness had now engulfed the craft completely, only it's dimmed interior lights beaming through the cockpit provided the sight of dust continuously slamming against the windshield.

The novelty of exploration had begun to wear old on the crew. They feared what they'd find, and yet feared that they'd never find anything again in their lives. They had gone into the very dust of time, and would most likely not return. Sergeant Vræii, who was recruited for his skill with a hydrospanner and mechanical prowess, turned from the command deck, descending some stairs into the narrow armory corridors. He walked past the racks of weapons and turret station, past the door to the small hangar, and finally turned the corner into the dormitory section. He jumped up into his bunk and tried to clear his mind. He didn't notice the short, young pilot huddled in the corner. The pilot, who was a last minute addition to the crew, was selected only for his proficiency in learning languages and his general knowledge of the technical workings of the expedition's Starfighters. The crew was not pleased with his addition at all; his piloting skills in combat were untested, and his youth prevented him from having any real prior experiences away from his homelworld. He was also the youngest of the crew.

Sci was still on the command deck, overseeing operations. Cirii, the pilot of the Sævii, rapidly tapped on the command console, trying to keep to keep the ship on course. Weapon Master Xæ stood peering through the cockpit at the stream of sand. The tall, slender frame of Jir the navigator was in the recessed navigator hub, struggling to ensure that they were still where they thought they would be at this point in the journey. As Sci left the bridge, Tavii the medic broke the long, eerie silence that the ship's commander had instilled, "Did we make sure the kid was really a Præ...", Cirii replied, obviously annoyed, "How the hast should we know!? The Sentii put 'im in here with us. I don't know what the Commander saw in the wretch, to be honest."
"I mean, I guess he's old enough to get by, but he better sling his own weight around here. I'm taking care of a rash teenage body that just crumples in a corner and cries for home all day." Tavii declared. Xæ, who was usually slow to words if he spoke at all, chimed in, "I hope he dies. Maybe Sci'll even let us space him, like he did that one Lieutenant on Kræia."
Jir finally broke his navigational concentration, "Aw, come on guys. He's not that bad. Probably just misses his girl back home." Sci walked back into the scene without being noted as Cirii continued the conversation, "A girl? Oh. Wonderful. A teenage emotion well. This just keeps getting better." Tavii put his hand to his face in frustration, "Well, I guess that explains a lot. He better prove himself worthy to receive my aid..." Sci interrupted, "Or be lucky enough not to need it." Tavii spun around, fearing the mechanically tinted voice emminating form Sci's emotionless helmet. "He has proven himself in my eyes. Now get focused." he started to head back down the stairs, "... and stop gossiping like a gaggle of merchants."
"Now why would he say that? What could that runt of a pariv have possibly done to warrant that kind of reprimand? I mean, we've all been with him before - he ever defend someone like that before in front of you guys?" The rest of the bridge crew didn't respond. None of them knew the answer, and none wanted to speculate.

Sci moved through the ship and walked up to the small, gritty workbench in the corner of the hanger. After a brief inspection of the tools, he walked over to the smallest fighter in the hangar. It was simple, yet elegant - brilliantly crafted at Sparium, Sparata's premiere shipyard. Sci ran his left hand over the ship's small, but heavy frame as he made his way around the vessel, looking over it in splendor. It was Spirvs, Sci's personal fighter. Although Sci had made many modifications himself, the basic design was was that of an SP-116. This particular craft carried Sci through most brutal times of his life. It had served him for as long most of the crew had known him...