<strong>Name:</strong>Aluce Base personnel<br/><strong>Date:</strong>March 10, 2032<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Command Center<br/><strong>With:</strong>T'chak<br/><hr/>Despite appearances, the control room T'chak had entered was but a small cog in the machine that formed the command block of Aluce Base. Cavernous as the room was, it was only part of spaceport control and a transit area for the crews of visiting spaceships who had business with the base. Beyond lay all the numerous facilities that were necessary to keep a base of several thousand people running, including the actual command center at the heart of the complex. Officially this part of the base was the "command block", the actual operations central the "command center", but in daily use around the base, the name had drifted, until most people called the block the center. In turn the operations center had acquired the sobriquet "bridge". It usually confused newcomers, but hardly anyone who had worked in the base for more than a week or two considered it much of a problem.<br/><br/>"Yes, Sir. Welcome to Aluce, Sir." The Zentran behind the desk was a petty officer and duly respectful in tone towards the officer. "May I see your ID, please, sir?" Handed the document, the PO ran it through a scanner and looked a moment at a monitor that sprang to electronic life on his desk. "You are wanted in personnel, sir. Through that door over there," he pointed, "down the corridor two hundred meters, up one level, then left. Compartment Bee Three Two Two Four. You can leave your bags with me, if you like."<br/><br/>Minutes later, T'chak found himself in a smaller office. One Zentran-sized desk currently stood unoccupied to the side, two chairs facing it. Another two giant chairs faced the rear of the room, where several micronians had their desks set up on a balcony that jutted a few meters into the room. As T'chak entered, a monitor lit up on the wall above the balcony, showing a clean-shaven human of about 30 in the red uniform of a command or staff officer.<br/><br/>"You must be T'cak Chrasha. Have a seat." The inviting gesture on the monitor was mirrored by one of the micronians. "I'm Lieutenant Mosby, personnel department. I am afraid I have some bad news for you, concerning your assigned craft."