Deliverance

Food tastes terrible.

That was the thought that was running through Private D'gama's mind as he sat in the mess hall of the Deliverance. Mankind had travelled the stars for centuries. It had mastered faster than light travel, the development of simulacrums, consciousness transfer, and all matter of science that would have seemed like magic to the men and women who had called Earth home, and never known any other world. The galaxy was mankind's domain, the conglomerates had replaced the decaying democracies of old, and while the universe wasn't perfect, it was certainly much better than it had been in the days of a single world divided by multiple governments.

And yet the food still tasted terrible. The food that looked grey, tasted grey (he'd never thought taste had a colour to it, but that was before he was stationed here), and sounded (yes, sounded) grey as he picked it up on his spoon and let it drop back into the bowel. It reminded him of porridge, the type his mother had made for him before dear dad decided that he wanted something other than porridge and was willing to get violent to get it. Thing was, porridge had a taste. This...stuff, didn't. Still, knowing what was about to occur, he took a spoonful.

Still tastes like shit.

And nonetheless swallowed it. He didn't know when he was going to get his last meal. Could be eight hours from now, tomorrow, maybe eight days for all he knew. Given what the Deliverance was in the Rhodes system for, he figured that he might deserve something better than this crap. That Ferrous Corp might deign it fitting to feed his body while sucking out his soul.

"Holy shit, you're eating?"

He looked up, seeing Private Trent walk into the mess hall. Like him, she was decked out in body armour. Unlike him, she was carrying an automatic rifle over her shoulder.

"Y'know we're dropping in five, right?"

D'gama nodded as he took another bite of the shit.

"That chances are the shit's going to hit the fan?"

He kept eating.

"And that might result in you shitting your pants in every sense of the word?"

He still kept eating.

"Hey," she said, clicking her fingers in front of him. "You listening?"

He sighed, pushing the bowl aside. "I'm listening now."

"Good." She sat down in the chair opposite him and folded her arms, before glancing at the bowl of grey stuff. "Synthetic protein paste? You seriously don't have enough credit points for something better?"

"We're both down the ladder Trent."

"Yeah, but I'm a good spender. If I eat every two days instead of one, I get to have something that tastes a bit better than…well, y'know…"

"Shit?"

"Wish I could think of a better adjective, but yeah, shit." She lowered her gaze, and given the way her arms moved, D'gama could tell that she was rubbing her legs. "Course, mind's on a lot of other stuff right now…"

D'gama didn't have trouble believing that. So was his. Five minutes from now, he and a squad of Ferrous Corp troopers would be heading down to the surface of Rhodes – only inhabitable planet of the Rhodes system, and ergo, the only base of operations Ferrous Corp could use to mine tarium from the system's asteroid belt. Thing was, colonists were there. They'd rejected FC's offer to work under the conglomerate. After that…

"Listen," Trent said. "Corporal Ortiz wants to make sure you're on the shuttle. So I get to stay here until you're ready to leave."

D'gama couldn't help but smirk. "What if we don't leave?"

"Then you get to head down to the planet through an airlock. And I get my rations cut."

"Hmm." He leant back, folding his arms. "That wouldn't work."

"What wouldn't?"

"Sending me down to the planet through an airlock. I'd just bounce off the atmosphere." The smirk faded. "Wouldn't be that bad."

She sighed. "Come on pal…"

"Isn't meant to happen like this." He was talking more to himself than Trent right now. "Weren't meant to be going down to deal with the colonists. Wasn't meant to happen."

"Yeah, the Raza were." Trent nodded at one of the mess hall's walls, as if knowing (or more likely guessing) that that was the general direction of the mercenaries' ship compared to the Deliverance. "Apparently they're not answering our hails though, which is why we get to go down to the surface to find out if they've done the job FC paid them for."

"Which they haven't," D'gama said. Trent went to say something, but he interrupted her. "Come on, you know it, I know it, the captain knows it."

"And that's why you're wasting time? Putting off the inevitable?"

His eyes darkened. "I didn't know the 'inevitable' involved killing innocent miners."

"Okay…" Trent took a breath. "Okay, first of all, they aren't 'innocent.'"

"How do you know that?"

"Second of all, for fuck's sake D'gama, you work for FC. The Mikkei Combine is breathing up our arses, you know how the land rush works, and-"

"You got a point?"

"Point is, I'm assuming that when you joined Ferrous Corp you weren't a complete idiot and you knew how the world works.

D'gama snorted.

"Or is this old Galactic Authority-you talking?"

He said nothing.

"Well then…" Trent began drumming her fingers on the table. "Figure we've got about three minutes to get to the shuttle." She got to her feet and stuck out a hand. "You coming?"

He still said nothing.

"Are you coming, D'gama?"

He remained silent.

"D'gama, are you-"

"I know how the game works," he murmured, looking aside, not meeting Tent's gaze. "Just didn't think that the people of Rhodes were players."

Trent didn't say anything this time.

"Since they're down there, and presumably the Raza aren't, you think it's going to go the way FC initially wanted? Destroy their fusion reactor, make it look like an accident?" He looked back at Trent. "I mean, we could just bomb them up here, but that would leave too much evidence wouldn't it? But an outdated reactor just short of being a bomb, being operated by backwards colonists? That's a story the GA would buy, isn't it?"

"You tell me," Trent murmured.

D'gama got to his feet. "We survive this, I will."

"Good." She smiled, but D'gama could tell it was forced. It was the smile that one gave the Reaper as he approached, attempting to convince him that one's soul was pure so that you be may be spared judgement. "Now come on. Squad's waiting."

D'gama glanced at the gruel – it looked as disgusting as he felt right now.

But it wasn't what was giving him churns in his stomach. It wasn't even the knowledge that a few minutes from now, he'd be on his way to deliver death and destruction to people who'd been caught up in a sector-wide land rush. Rather, it was the ship's name on the walls – FCS Deliverance, alongside the logo of Ferrous Corporation.

What, exactly, were they delivering the people of Rhodes from? Because it certainly wasn't evil, he reflected. That was what they were bringing. With all the power, and none of the glory.

Only proof that not only angels descended from the heavens.

A/N

So, I've started rewatching season 1 of Dark Matter, and in regards to the first two episodes...damn, Ferrous Corp, your troopers suck. I'm guessing that multi-corps don't put troop training high on the agenda, and yes, you are up against the Raza, but you're being outgunned and captured by colonists. Colonists that, if not for the plan to sabotage the fusion reactor to make it look like an accident, you could just bomb from orbit.

Luckily, I'm further on in the season and remembering the show's strengths (primarily its character dynamic), but regardless, drabbled this up.