Edward Black was in VR training, using his sword against a load of thugs wanting his major organs.

He spun, slicing a number in half, then jumped on another, and lept off, turning a sumersalt into an alley way, which he sprinted along until he reached a dead end.

"Bugger!" he snarled, whirling around to see the hostiles cautiosly entering the alley, looking out for ambushes, and keeping to cover, so he couldn't shoot them.

"Activating phase 2." the computer annouced. Some more thugs downloaded into the sim, carrying grenade launchers.

Someone of lesser ablility would probably have freaked out, but Edward clamped down on his fear, using it's focus to enhance his senses.

There... an opening?

You only life once... and Edward hoped to prolong it as much as possible.

He charged, flipping, and turning, shield on his sword activated, deflecting the grenades at his offensers. When he had reached the end, he realised his aggressors had fled.

"What...?"

He looked around, and surmised he had one. He was about to leave through the simulation exit door, when someone grabbed him from behind.

"Dammit! You let your guard down!" He yelled at himself. "Please let him gloat, give me time..."

Unfortunatly, this criminal was not one to gloat. He knew that the real way to demoralise an enemy was by killing them at the first possible moment. Which he did.

Edward woke up from the VR, feeling angry with himself. An error like that was unheard of for someone as experianced as him. That was a freaking rookie mistake!

Calming himself down, he looked at the data readout. Major slip up at the end not-withstanding, he had done rather well.

He exited the room and looked around the main concourse of the Baseship.

The ship was a converted colony ship, larger than a dreadnaught, but with next to no combat ability. It had the standard defenses, but no main gun, and it was slow as a snail with athletes foot. However, it's outer surface was crammed with antenna and sensors, giving the ops room all the information that would be needed for planning. Thermal, visual, sonic, you name it, the ship could probably detect it.

The majority of the population on board was the numerous support staff required, as the more people you had planning, the less likely error would occur. And with the operations STRIFE undertook, error would usually mean death of an experianced operative, a commidity that was nigh-on unreplacable.

A great deal of the ships space was allocated to training, and recreation. A large sized hangar bay stored many dropships, covert fighters, and a few 'civilian' ships for under-cover jobs.

12000 crew members equalled a lot of hunger and thirst, and many larger sized rooms in stragtegic locations were mess halls and bars. They were kept in stock by large stores of consumables that could last the crew half a year, on minimum rations. Generally the Baseship was restocked every three months, unless in an emergancy situation.

Edward sighed, and signed himself as off duty. A copy of the sim readout, and recording would have been sent to the analysts. No matter how hard he worked now, there would always be that stain on his record...