Sleep.
It didn’t matter what branch of the military you served in, sleep was an invaluable thing.
You had barley arrived in your new Quarters in Coronet before you had decided to crash. It had been a long week, to say the least, with you having to run all over the Mainland to complete your Minuteman training, you had gone through several grueling physical examinations, more mind-numbing written tests, and seen more drunk driving and sexual harassment prevention videos than all your time in the Armed Forces combined, quite a feat considering you had to watch them at least twice a month.
But you had done it, you had been the only one out of a whole training unit with twenty other soldiers to pass every test. You wanted to feel a sense of pride at this accomplishment, but you were just simply happy it was all over.
You had read over the message that Colonel Davis had sent you several times during the short flight to Coronet, even in your tired state, you didn’t want to miss anything important.
But all that didn’t matter now, as you were in the blissful hold of sleep. The bed of your quarters was much more comfortable than others you had slept on, but whether that was a perk of being a Minuteman or if such plush was standard in the capital city, you couldn’t say for sure.
It was much better than anything you’d ever had really, since you’ve had to sleep in uncomfortable cots of enlisted soldiers many times, and even when you got a bed of your own, your sleep was usually interrupted by drills in the middle of the night that made it impossible to get a decent sleep.
But that was also why you were such a light sleeper.
You were awoken by shaking, and your tired mind began to wonder if there was a small earthquake occurring. Sounds outside your quarters began to come to your ears, as base personnel began scurrying around.
“Why are they running drills so early on a Sunday…” You mumbled to yourself. You slowly rise out of bed, and reach for the radio that you had placed on the nearby nightstand. You activate it, determined to find out why the base Commander was so hell bent on making sure you didn’t get your well deserved rest, when another voice blasted over it.
“-Mergency! I repeat, eleven nine nine Emergency!” The man on the radio screamed. “They have gunships! GUNSHIPS!”
Your eyes suddenly snap open, recognizing the code even in your exhausted state. Eleven Nine Nine was an emergency code used by military and law enforcement to let everyone know that there was an attack on the Mainland.
An Attack on Coronet
You hear the bases emergency sirens begin to blare, as you rush to put your new combat gear on.
“Ain’t no rest for the Wicked….”