Four years in this hell hole, what a troublesome existence it had been since he was thrown to New Mars. Commander James Mertens of Mersenne 5 sat behind his desk, rifling through the same reports he read every day, signing papers he saw everyday. But it all came down to nothing when he came across the obituary of another officer, this causing him to stop all other procedures as he slowly got to his feet.

A thunderous crash could be felt a floor down in the mess hall, several soldiers chuckling, others lowering their heads, one even commenting that it was the third desk that had been wrecked this month. Sure enough people knew that they would find the Commander's desk in two halves, papers falling into the 'wound' that was the center of the fallen in desktop.

True enough, their commander was pissed, losing officers was bad, especially when they were among the top ranked officers in their single station. To top it off they rarely got reinforcements, unless they were rejects no-one else wanted. As for the rest of their force, they were either rookies or paper pushing punks hired by the higher ups to make Mersenne 5's life even more difficult, but Commander Mertens always found ways to circumvent the rules. It was the only way to keep his officers alive.

Grave stepped out of his office, the door opening and shutting automatically with swift speed. He didn't need to nurse his arm for pain, it was prosthetic, in spite of how human it looked, even felt, but in truth he was really just a torso and a head on fake arms and legs, the thought still gave him chills at times, but he appreciated the synthesized nervous system that allowed him to feel surfaces, the burns and pains of normal limbs would never concern him.