Young pilot Aaitt'Kaz looked out over a valley where the first peace talks ever were taking place. People were laughing, dancing and sharing drinks like never before. Kaz was taking pictures of everything and everyone.
A runner came up and handed him a flimsy; it was new orders and his new ship was waiting behind him at the top of the hill. The ship was an impressive new design, sleek, made for speed. He spotted a few others just like it scattered around the valley but Kaz wanted a beer.
But he wasn't to have his beer. His sub-dermal receiver came alive with the disappointing news; the peace talks had failed - he was a warrior once again.
Kaz ran for his ship, shouting for an accounting as he sealed the hatch, flipping switches as he called a countdown. The ship's voice responded with smoothness and calm. She had coordinates for him and then she had sleep for him - a very, very long sleep.