There wasn't much to see at the barracks. It has a worn out look and the rooms were crowded with saved civilians making the air around here even stuffier.
They found an empty cubicle and roughly cleaned up. The trickle of recycled water was weak and cold, carrying the faint scent of disinfectant as it leaked out of the purifier.
Fu Ling splashed some on his face anyway, watching as grime and dried Zerg fluids swirled down the drain in thin, gray streams.
Xandros cleaned his face and looked at the dirt with slight disgust. He could never get used to it.
They got done and walked around the advance camp side by side. The camp stretched out like a patchwork quilt of metal and polymer, stitched together by desperation rather than design.
