August 19, 2089
18:00
“It’s your call.” CapCom buzzed over the radio.

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August 19, 2089
09:00
A small window was the only view Criss had. For 15 hours the window showed nothing but black with stars sprinkled around. The next 9 hours would let the window reveal a dazzling view of Earth.

Criss checked the charts. Everything was normal, everything was according to plan. There was no need to fire ARC, there never had been. God forbid that there ever would be.

A bell sounded. Time for exercise.

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September 6, 2086

Ian Criss signed his name clearly. Training would begin immediately. Volunteering for ARC service was always honored and glorified as a noble task. Reality was much less exciting. Being summoned to ARC duty was more or less a boring prospect. Every man must serve a term as the raffle called their number, however. Most went willingly. Some less so. So saw to it that they could not go at all.

Criss, on the other hand, felt no attachment to the petty planet.