Battlenaut Crucible

Chapter 5-1

5Scott arrived at Hangar C-17 fifteen minutes early and flashed his I.D. badge at the side door. He toted everything he owned behind him, packed in an olive drab duffel bag on wheels.

Two Marines manned the door, faces stony until they viewed his badge. Then, when they realized who he was, their eyes instantly changed, filling with disapproval. He'd seen it happen dozens of times since Chelong III; as far as they were concerned, he was under suspicion, his reliability and even his loyalty suspect.

The difference was, this time, their disapproval didn't give Scott the slightest twinge of doubt or worry. He knew there was evidence that backed him up, and people believed him. The hell with everyone else.

When the guards stepped aside, Scott threw the door open and marched into the hangar with his duffel. As soon as he stepped inside, he saw his next ride--a black transport shuttle squatting in the center of the huge space. It looked like a big crab with an ebony shell, its disklike body perched between four spindly struts. The shuttle's body bristled with weapons and instruments, and dual engine pods jutted from the rear, their flared cylinders ending in open silver cones.

Engineering personnel in red jumpsuits hurried around the ship, disconnecting hoses and conduits and running status checks with tablet computers. Other personnel in navy blue security uniforms stood close watch, rifles at the ready.

As Scott approached, a black-uniformed man with a tablet computer in one hand rushed out of the hatch in the belly of the shuttle and down the steps leading to the hangar floor. He spotted Scott immediately and jogged right over to him.

"Corporal Scott?" The man looked to be of Chinese descent, with broad, flat features and a thick black crew cut. He was muscular, like all CORE personnel, and tall--a few centimeters taller than Scott. "I'm Sergeant Vic Fong. Good to meet you." He reached for a handshake.

Scott liked him right away. "Likewise." He returned the handshake. "Reporting as ordered by Major Perseid."

Fong took a look at Scott's ID badge and nodded. "Roger that. Welcome to the Diamondbacks, Corporal."

It was the CORE unit's nickname. "Thanks." Scott glanced at the stylized snake jaws on the chest of Fong's uniform, the symbol that matched the nickname and called to mind a striking serpent. "I understand we're leaving at oh-six hundred?"

"From orbit, yes." Fong hiked a thumb toward the shuttle. "But we're launching from here to the mothership any minute now. Just waiting on a few more people." Suddenly, his eyes flicked away from Scott, looking over his shoulder. "There they are now."

As Fong jogged past, Scott spun to see who had gotten his attention. Seven people in black uniforms had just entered the hangar, loaded down with packs and ruggedized black plastic cases.

Scott knew four of them: Perseid and Rexis were up front, followed by Trane and Abby. The other three were strangers: a short, dark-haired man bulging with muscles; a woman with brown hair pulled back in a tight bun; and a tall woman with a long black ponytail and a lithe, swaying walk.

Fong met the group and accompanied them across the hangar, talking fast to Perseid, who listened and nodded. When Fong showed him something on the tablet screen, Perseid frowned and made a comment; Fong's fingers darted over the touch-screen, changing something, and Perseid nodded with satisfaction.

When the group reached Scott, Perseid stopped. "Glad you could make it."

Scott snapped off a crisp salute. "Corporal Scott reporting for duty, sir."

Perseid nodded. "You've already met Captain Rexis and Lieutenants Trane and Catharsis." He turned and gestured at the three newcomers bringing up the rear. "This is Gunnery Sergeant Joe Balko..."

The man with the bulging muscles nodded at Scott.

"...Lieutenant Masada Feinberg...," continued Perseid.

The woman with brown hair in a tight bun looked at Scott and blinked.

"...and Doctor Monique Beauchamp," finished Perseid.

The tall woman with the ponytail solemnly inclined her head.

Perseid ran his finger along the scar on his left cheek. "All present and accounted for?"

Fong nodded. "Everyone else is shipside, Major." He tapped the tablet screen three times, and the shuttle's engines whined to life, activated remotely. "Ready for departure, sir."

"Then let's get the hell rolling." Perseid stormed past him. "We've got work to do."

The rest of Perseid's group followed in his wake, leaving Fong and Scott standing alone. Fong tapped the screen a few more times, making the engines run louder, then leaned closer to Scott. "I've got a trivia question for you, Corporal."

"What is it?" said Scott.

"Do you know how many non-CORE personnel have returned in one piece from CORE Diamondback missions?"

Scott shook his head. "How many?"

"None." Fong raised his eyebrows and fixed Scott in a piercing gaze. "In other words, watch your back. This is some hardcore plang you've stepped in."

"Roger that," said Scott.

"The Diamondbacks are a family, and you're not one of them," said Fong. "Just something to keep in mind."

"Got it," said Scott, and then he turned and headed for the shuttle. He'd already understood what Fong had told him before Fong had said a damn word. He wasn't operating under any illusions when it came to the Diamondbacks.

As important as he was to the mission, he knew he'd still have to prove himself. And he knew he couldn't take anything for granted when the plang hit the fan.