"There are few constants out in the expanse. Empires rise and they fall. Planets are inhabited and deserted. People live and people die. But there's one thing- one idea... one contstant that's branded itself into my brain. No matter where you are, the blood shines black under moonlight. You can be in Proxima, Alpha, TRAPPIST, any of the Keplers... the blood always forces your eyes, like ink spilled on a parchment. I'm afraid that I cannot afford to see any more ink spilled out of those I love." -General S. Baer, RSCN
Your capsule sank itself deep into the hangar door, bursting it open into four clean sheets. The gas-bags did their duty and sealed the hole shut, preventing any air inside from escaping into the void from which you came. A hell likely lied ahead. This was suicide, but it was your honor, your cross to bear. If you make it out of this tophet, you will be a hero for the rest of time. Curious, then, why they send the greenest of their troops to such a menagerie.
You step outside, and see some entity lying unconscious from the blast. Best to change form now before you get caught.
'From soul to body we shall remain,' you think, as you test the appendages on your new body.