[ WP ] Tell me the middle of a sci-fi epic . No beginning or introduction to the setting or characters , nor any context to what 's going on , and no resolution of any kind .

The amber light on the duty console started to pulse gently on and off at one second intervals. 57G yawned, stretched and looked up from the console out to the star-studded outer blackness. Damn it was boring. The whole damn business had turned out to be one long sleep-wake rota after another. How long had it been? 
 
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 57G reached up and meditatively fingered the 3 week length bristles on his scalp. Should he be shorn in standard or vintage rebel style? Frosted tips? Cyberdyne kevlar annealing? Chrome? Not chrome. 89B had gotten chrome last cycle and looked a right twat. Typical. 
 
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 A chime sounded and 57G rose with a groan and rubbed at his ocular sockets. Break time. An excuse to trade one monotony for a slightly different monotony. His work boots tapped a slow saunter down the corridor and the scent of 500 years ’ worth of coffee and duty rations suffused the air as he settled in to his usual spot at the galley counter. 
 
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 The sudden brilliance of 89X ’ s bright eyes and brighter smile momentarily stunned him as she made eye contact. The absolute joy of knowing exactly what he wanted and the exquisite pain of knowing he could not have it briefly enflamed and then compacted his soul. 
 
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 It happened every time. Every. Damn. Time. 
 
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 “ Frack 89! How did you get assigned to Galley rota so soon? ” he said gruffly, his voice sounding hoarse and strangled from lack of use. “ I thought they ’ d want to keep an eye on you for at least another cycle or two. ” 
 
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 And then, to avoid getting too personal, he coughed and added “ I ’ ll have the chicken. ” 
 
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 Unseen, the amber light on the duty console suddenly increased its ’ pulse to the rapid frequency of a frightened animal's erratic heartbeat. The warning system started beeping persistantly as ominous new information flooded the sensors. 
 
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 An acrid tang hit the air. 

