Morning on Vanguard Station came with the artificial lighting systems brightening to simulate sunrise, but Noah had been awake for hours. Sleep was something that happened to other people, apparently. He'd spent most of the night staring at his ceiling, running through scenarios that all ended badly.
The knock on his door came at exactly 0600 hours.
"Eclipse, time to move," one of the guards called through the metal. "Transport leaves in thirty minutes."
Noah pulled on his formal military uniform—the kind reserved for ceremonies and official functions. The fabric felt stiff and uncomfortable, nothing like his usual combat gear. He checked himself in the mirror and barely recognized the person staring back. Clean-cut, pressed uniform, looking every bit the model soldier.
Except for the eyes. Those looked like someone who hadn't slept in days.
