months ago:

“This way please, and remember, keep all appendages covered at all times! While of course there are no predators in this area, if the wildlife sees you they will flee and that would ruin the experience for everyone! Also, please remember to wear your visors! They will let you see through your cloak, and highlight the locations of the other people in the tour. We certainly wouldn’t want anyone getting stepped on like last week! Aaaaaand, we’re moving!”

As the various tourists approached her, she handed out visors and concealment cloaks appropriate for their sizes. Toward the end of the group a Broda and two smaller creatures of a kind she had never seen before approached her for their equipment.

“Aren’t you two just so cute!” she exclaimed when they approached.

She handed the Broda one of the largest sets she had then turned to get for cloaks and visors for the children.

“Oh dear!” she said as she looked at the racks, “It appears the group of younglings that left a few minutes ago took all the extra small cloaks!”

In the patronizing tone used by all species when explaining big things to little children, Minnen assured the two little bipeds, “Don’t worry though, I have some visors that will fit you! Could you kids get by sharing with your big friend here?”

The Broda and the two small creatures all exchanged looks.

With a twinkle in his eye the Broda said, “Yes, that will be fine.”

The tourists all hurriedly donned their concealment cloaks and visors and followed Minnen as she began the tour through the wilderness reserve.

As they began down the path she turned on the visor speakers for the group and said, “It will take us a few minutes to get into the forested areas where the wildlife is. In the mean time, please stay on the path here and stick together. We’re moving!”

A few minutes passed in silence before Minnen was surprised to hear a rather disturbing sound behind her. It was like a long, low, rumbling noise mixed with something…wet, maybe?

In curiosity she turned to find the source of the noise and began walking through the group. Sounds of choking could be heard coming from the back. She began to get worried and started reaching for the emergency call button on her belt. She emerged from the crowd just in time to see the two little younglings dive out from under the Broda’s camouflage cloak, gasping and making strange, “Huuhck” sounds.

The Broda dropped to its knees and threw the cloak off bellowing, “HAAAW! HAAAW! HAAAW!”

The two smaller creatures were bent down on all fours making the strange gasping and choking noises. It looked like they may be having some sort of seizure.

“Uh,” she stammered nervously, “do you need medical assistance?”

With that, the Broda looked up at her and asked, “Medical *gasp* assistance?”

She didn’t get anything else out of it before it fell down to its side and began the deep bellowing, “HAAAW! HAAAW! HAAAW!” noise even louder this time.

Then the smell hit her.

There are few things that nearly all species in the galaxy find offensive to their senses. The top contenders are: the sound of a flying meejorg’s territorial call, the taste of ripe Googsh fruit, the feel of Bilbian fleas, the sight of a Trelorg mating dance, and last but in no way least, the smell of Broda flatulence.

Even with the offensive odor attenuated by her being under her concealment garment, the smell made her want to turn and run away.

Her eyes began watering as she heard one of the little creatures ask between heaves, “WHAT DID YOU EAT!?!”

The giant answered by continuing its mirthful noises and rolling on the ground in hysterics.

The other youngling shouted, “Not cool man! *Hyuuk* NOT! COOL!”

Sounds of displeasure started murmuring and hissing through the crowd as the odor crawled through the air to find and attack the olfactory senses of the tour group.

Turning briskly and walking through the group, Minnen had a slight hint of panic in her voice as she said, “This way! We’re moving! Now!”

Eventually the Broda and its companions caught up to the group again.

Over the next two hours Minnen showed everyone a dizzying and dazzling array of local wildlife. By the end of the tour she was quite worn out.

As the guests removed their visors and cloaks she saw that everyone was showing signs of fatigue. It was quite common. The trail was long with a lot of uphill portions. The only real exceptions were the little companions of the Broda. They looked exactly the same as when they started. She wondered what they were.

With a practiced tone that was endlessly enthusiastic and disturbingly chipper she asked, “Were there any questions?”

A tall and slender Cheech was the first to ask a question, “What was the sound we heard from inside the trees?”

Minnen looked at him and enthusiastically responded, “Those are the wood grubs! They burrow into certain kinds of trees to lay their eggs. The canals they make actually fill up with water when it rains, so in the dry season the trees have more moisture reserves!”

A Grend spoke up next and asked, “How long to those large shelled herd creatures live?”

She responded excitedly, “The Forren live for upwards of a hundred ad ten years due in part to their very slow metabolisms!”

The Broda was the next to ask a question, “How large is the forest? Does the nature reserve protect all of it?”

Trying to keep up the professional exuberance her position demanded despite still recalling the horrible sensory events from earlier she replied, “The forest ranges across the entire southern continent, and about forty percent is reserved for the public, tourism, and scientific research.”

Pausing for a moment for more questions she was somewhat confused when she heard someone ask, “How do these work?”

She looked around to find the source of the voice and eventually her eyes dropped to one of the little creatures accompanied by the Broda. It was holding the camouflage cloak and visor inquisitively and examining them.

She bent down to get on his level and patted him on the head saying, “Well little guy, you put the cloak on so the forest creatures don’t see you.”

The other little creature made a noise kind of between a cough and a sneeze and put a hand over its mouth.

Unperturbed, the first one continued, “I mean more its construction than function Ma’am. Is it using optical refraction of some kind? Can they be designed to be invisible to the visors? What is the power source?”

There was a crack in her tour guide façade as she quirked her head to the side and, blinking, commented, “Those are, um, very specific and in-depth questions for a youngling.”

The Broda was breathing a little more deeply as she saw it was trying to contain laughter.

Confused, she looked at the creature standing in front of her and asked, “Uh, I have never seen your species before. What did you say you were called again?”

“Oh, I didn’t say before. Sorry about that. We are humans.” He said the last words as he gestured to indicate himself and his companion.”

Opening his mouth and exposing rows of teeth he reached out an appendage and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

Minnen recognized that name, but couldn’t quite place it. She looked down at the extended hand, confused.

For the past two months she had been gone on training in the forest. It was a yearly requirement for guides. In order for them to become fully attuned to the intricacies and patterns of the forest, they were not allowed contact with the outside world in that time.

Then she remembered! Everyone was talking about a new species that was recently discovered by the Broda. These must be some of the galactic newcomers.

There was something else though. A detail was tugging at the back of her mind that she just couldn’t recall.

She slowly stood up and looked around. The entire group, except the Broda, had backed up noticeably. They all looked as though they had seen…

And then it hit her. The detail she was missing.

These were the predators that killed all the Krador on Oom Three!

“Uh,” she barely breathed through her terror, “The…um…”

The other human attempted to mask its mouth movements with a hand as it whispered to the first, “Stop smiling Sir, you’re freaking it out.”

“Oh!” he exclaimed, “Right, sorry!”

He lowered his hand and hid his teeth behind his lips again while pleasantly repeating, “So, how do these work?”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

months ago:

Jill had never worked this hard for anything in her life. Not only were her muscles sore every day, but she was constantly in a mental haze from the classes, exercises, and tests she was taking. She was told if she made it through The Program she would be among the best the planet had to offer. She wanted that more than anything.

Over the past months of training she had seen people quit every day. Many that didn’t want to quit were forced out by not keeping up mentally or physically. A bad test score or falling out of formation on a run was all it took for some to be sent home.

What started with thousands of applicants from all around the world had ended up with what she guessed was a couple hundred now.

The worst part wasn’t the classes, tests, or torturous physical requirements though. The thing she hated above all other things in this process was the constant reminder given that quitting was only a half step away. The instructors were always at hand offering an easy way out. Make one minor error or subtle misstep and immediately one or more would almost magically appear over your shoulder yelling at you.

They told her she didn’t belong in The Program. They told her that she was too weak and too stupid to be there. She would be doing everyone a favor if she stopped wasting their time and just gave up. They said it was only for the best, and she wasn’t even close.

She knew that it was all a game. They were supposed to say all that to try and tear them down and weed out the weak ones. It gets hard to ignore though when you hear every day for months that you aren’t good enough though. It wears you down until your nerves are raw and you long to get away from the constant irritation.

Always the option of quitting was there. They kept transports ready and available with hydration, air conditioning, and comfortable seating close at hand. All someone had to do was indicate they wanted to quit and they would immediately be taken away from all this.

Today was different though. Today was worse.

Her arms and legs were burning. It had only been a ten mile run, but between the higher than normal gravity, the thinner atmosphere, and the presence of this heavy and unbalanced pack she had to carry, it was without question the cruelest single experience she had been subjected to in The Program so far.

“He is a sadist. That must be it,” She thought to herself.

“No, there must be a reason for it. The Military always has a reason for the training they subject people to,” her logical mind responded.

“Like hell they do,” her doubt shot back.

Shaking her head she focused on just getting across the finish line.

She looked up to see the end was just up ahead. As the excitement at the thought of getting this accursed pack off her back struck her, she stumbled on a loose rock. She started to fall out of formation. If she did, she was out of the Program. With a surge of effort and will she tried forcing her legs to get her back into her running position with the others.

Anyone who has ever run for any length of time knows that eventually your legs get so used to the specific labor you subject them to that they have to be reminded how to accomplish anything else. They had been running in cadence for ten miles now and had forgotten any other way to move.

Her efforts were rewarded with more stumbling and the weight of her pack started to pull her to the side. Panic surged through her as she realized there was nothing she could do to correct herself. She fell flat on her face.

The formation began passing by as she struggled to reach her feet again. She got up on her hands and knees just as the last few rows were going by. If she was not able to stand and keep up, she would be out.

Struggling against the weight of the pack, she straightened herself up and tried pushing off the ground to start running again. She was so weak, and the pack was so heavy. She couldn’t do it.

Just as all her hope was being extinguished a large strong hand grasped her around her upper arm and lifted her up. She immediately fell into step and began running again. Stunned, she looked at it and saw it was attached to a heavily muscled arm. She heard a grunt next to her and saw it was the last man in the formation. His African face showed the pained exhaustion she was feeling as well. She had seen him around and in her classes, but never learned his name. She nodded in thanks and he returned the gesture.

As if on cue, two of the instructors appeared and began berating them both.

The one on her side shouted, “How DARE you allow yourself to pull one of my recruits down to your level! You should step out of line and stop inflicting yourself on the others here! You don’t belong here! You aren’t made for this! Look, there is a transport right here waiting to take you back to rations and a comfortable bed! You are going to fail, and every step you take is just making it harder on yourself! You were never going to pass! Just get it over with!”

The one on the man that helped her yelled at the same time, “What do you think you are doing!?! She is weak! Do you want to allow yourself to die because you had a soft spot for someone weak? You are undermining the entire Program! If you are too stupid to see how you are hurting yourself then let me make it clear! We do not accept weakness into our ranks! There is a transport right here to take you and your ignorant ideas away from the rest of these recruits! Just step to the side so we can be rid of you!”

The dressing down continued up to the end of the run. How they had the breath to yell and run at the same time really amazed her.

The instructors only ceased when they reached the end of the run and were ordered to stop inside a large warehouse. It took a moment for the echoes of their running to fade away after they halted.

The Colonel was inside waiting for them. After a moment to let them catch their breath in the thin air he said, “In a little over three minutes this room is going to be saturated with incapacitating gas. You have the equipment in your packs to protect yourselves. Anyone who does not have sufficient protection will become unconscious and fail The Program. Good luck.”

With that, he and all the other instructors took out gas masks and put them on.

There was a flurry of activity as everyone removed their packs and set to work.

She hurriedly unlatched hers and set it on the ground. Opening it she saw why it was so heavy and uneven. It was a nanite shield generator. Looking over the equipment she took a quick inventory and found the nanite and energy reserves. Both were very low. She could make a protective bubble, but it would be only barely big enough to fit her.

She had scored very highly in shield dynamics instruction last month, so she felt confident she could do this. She saw that she didn’t have the energy to make a full Kinetic Barrier shield, but she wouldn’t have to. With gas being the only issue she could make a simple static shield to repel the toxin.

Hands shaking from the run and adrenaline, she set to work. As she was assembling the delicate systems she looked around momentarily. Almost everyone was busy at work. There were two looking desperately at their equipment with clear panic on their faces. While the recruits were actively discouraged from interacting with each other, she recognized them. Their names were Raja and Simone. Raja was a brilliant navigator and Simone passed the Combat Medicine top of the class. Jill remembered them as not having done so well in Shield Dynamics, however.

As she was finishing the assembly and about to turn on her generator, she heard an audible snap. Looking up, she saw the large African man holding the broken pieces of one of the more delicate shield generator components. He had a shocked look of panic on his face for a moment then began searching frantically for a possible replacement. She knew it was a critical part. He would never get his generator working.

She had completed her setup and the shield was ready. As she reached for the controls she froze for a moment as a thought occurred to her.

She reached out her hand pointing and said, “Hey, big guy! You’re never going to get that working. Bring your nanites and battery over here. Oh, and grab your power linkage.”

Glancing up she saw that Raja and Simone were both less than a quarter done with their generators. Time was running out.

Turning to them she yelled, “Raja, Simone, get over here and bring your gear!”

They both looked up confused, then to each other. Realizing they were out of time they scooped up their equipment and ran over to her.

One of the instructors began walking toward them and through his mask they heard his muffled yell, “What in creation do you…”

He was stopped short by the Colonel’s raised hand.

Jill looked blankly at the Colonel’s masked face until the other three recruits got to her.

She snapped back to the task at hand. Scavenging parts from the other systems she linked the nanites and power supplies together. A loud hiss filled the room as the gas was released. She noted with dismay that they had put an agent in the mix so they could see it coming. It looked like a ghostly mist crawling through the air toward them.

She frantically modified the codes and made the calculations to balance the new shield surface area with their energy and nanite supply.

The four of them huddled together as she finished. The nanites flowed out of the shield and snapped an energy barrier into place around them just before the vapors reached them. It flowed toward them and parted gently as it wafted by.

Looking around, she saw that everyone else had gotten their shields up in time. It seemed like nobody came up with exactly the same shield size, so all the bubbles were somewhat different. The one her group was in was substantially larger than that of anyone else. More than a few of them displayed bright Kinetic Barriers. They would certainly be up to the task of keeping the gas out but at what energy cost?

Just then one of the larger, brighter blue barriers began flickering and the occupant turned to try and change the settings on their generator. His fingers flicked over the controls but with each flicker of shields puffs of gas got in. Before long, he was slumped down on the ground breathing softly.

Before it was all over a few more people had their shields fail and washed out of The Program.

When it was all over the recruits were taken back to their barracks and for the first time in months were allowed an uninterrupted 8 hours of sleep. As she was completing her morning tasks of grooming and straightening her sleeping area, an instructor approached her.

She held out a lanyard with a bright red card on it and said, “The Colonel wants you in his office in two minutes Recruit. Don’t keep him waiting.”

She hurriedly put the cord around her neck and ran out of the barracks. As she was going through camp a few instructors began approaching her before seeing the pass around and backing away.

She entered the administration building and worked her way to the Colonel’s office door. Smoothing her clothes after running she gave the door three sharp knocks.

A voiced responded from inside, “Come in.”

She opened the door and standing at attention reported, “Recruit Jill Yeager reporting as ordered Sir!”

Glancing around the room with her eyes she saw the large dark skinned man also standing at attention.

The Colonel leaned back in his chair and asked, “Do either of you feel you are above the rules we have established for The Program?”

“No, Sir!” they answered in unison.

Leaning forward with a hint of aggression in his tone he continued, “Then why, Recruit Johnson, did you take it upon yourself to violate the rules and help Recruit Yeager during the run yesterday?”

The huge black man got a calm look of resolution on his face and responded, “Because she needed a hand up, Sir.”

Cocking his head to one side the Colonel leaned back in his chair and prodded, “And what made her any different than any of the others that dropped out on that march?”

He picked up a piece of paper and looked at it saying, “There were six other recruits that failed out yesterday. Did you not see any of them as needing help?”

Glancing down at him he responded, “Because they made a choice to quit, Sir, she didn’t. She fell down but kept fighting. I saw her hit that rock and trip. It could’ve happened to anyone. After all we’ve been through I wouldn’t want a rock making that choice for me.”

“And where did you get these kinds of ideas from Recruit Antoine Johnson?” The Colonel asked, a slightly hostile tone still lingering in the corners of his voice.

“From my father, Sir,” The man responded.

“Explain that one to me,” The Colonel ordered.

Johnson replied, “My daddy runs a soup kitchen out of our church down in Georgia. He takes people in, too, when they need it. He always told me, ‘All it takes to fail in life and fall on hard times is to be alive. It may not even be anything you did wrong. I would be happy if you had the fortitude to get through rough times like that. I would be proud of you, though, if you got strong enough to help others through those times.’ My father is a wise man, Sir, and he taught me well.”

The Colonel nodded in thought and then turned his attention to Jill, “And you, Recruit Yeager, you undermined the integrity of the selection process. By all accounts you were done with your generator. Instead of allowing the other recruits to fail out you chose to shelter not only yourself but three other candidates from failing out of The Program. Assuming you pass, which you seem to have the intelligence and drive to do, I want to know why you would choose to assist substandard personnel to get farther than they would on their own?”

She responded, “Well, um, Sir…”

“Spit it out Recruit,” he snapped.

She fought back the lump in her throat and exclaimed, “They needed help and I was able to help them. I can’t explain why I did it other than it was just the right thing to do. It was not my intention to undermine the selection process, Sir.”

The Colonel looked at her curiously and asked, “Didn’t you realize you could be forfeiting your position in The Program by doing so?”

“Yes sir,” she said somewhat sheepishly.

The officer said, “Then why did you do it? I need a satisfying answer or you may as well leave now to pack your bags.”

Straightening up a little more she explained, “Well, I have to help someone if I can. If I didn’t at least try to help the others I would have never been able to live with that. I know there are times when you can’t, but I knew I could help there and then so I did.”

Standing up and looking her in the eyes he asked, “Had you gotten to know any of these other Recruits before you made that choice? Have you four been helping each other and hiding it from the instructors?”

She responded, “No, Sir.”

He looked at them up and down skeptically then walked over to the window to observe a formation of recruits jogging by in their rhythmic cadence.

He relaxed his shoulders slightly and said in a soft tone, “Well, that’s a pity. You kind of got my hopes up. At least you were able to break through all the conditioning when it mattered.”

Turning back toward them he walked over to sit in his chair and said, “At ease.”

They both relaxed their stance as he continued, “Do you have any idea what The Program is all about, Recruits? I don’t mean the propaganda jargon of, ‘Be the best of the best,’ or anything like that. I mean do you know anything about the assignment?”

They both looked confused and said, “No, Sir.”

“We are looking at making an elite unit of special operators to carry out missions none of the other branches of our military are equipped or able to do. We need to be prepared to infiltrate, assassinate, liberate, or eradicate with equal facility depending on our mission. We have no idea what will be asked of us or when. We need to be ready all the time for anything. It’s a daunting task that may prove impossible.”

Continuing on he said, “What’s more, we are expected to be placed in morally difficult situations. I don’t want people under my command that follow orders to the letter despite potentially changing ethical circumstances. I need people I can count on to know what the right thing to do is in a fluid situation, and then do it. In short, I need a lot more than capable people, I need good people.”

He leaned forward, put his elbows on the desk, and folded his hands in front of him.

“I need individuals that are highly intelligent, capable, and virtuous. I need people like you.”

Standing up to address them he said, “Congratulations Recruits; you just passed The Program.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Months ago:

The ship that loomed before them was so black it looked like a hole in reality. The only way to really tell where its dimensions extended to came from what you couldn’t see behind it. The human eye was not made for seeing such things. In truth, no species had eyes that were.

Agent Smith turned to the man standing next to him and asked, “What do you think, Colonel?”

Colonel Marcus Alexander walked up to the black hull with his hand extended in front of him. Once he made contact, he ran his fingers across it. The nanite coating forming the light absorbing texture was wiped away for a moment revealing the hull underneath before flowing back together after his hand passed.

Some time elapsed as he stood marveling before collecting himself and exclaiming, “It’s really something.”

Smith smiled and said, “I’m glad you like it. Let me show you what else she can do.”

Lifting a radio to his mouth he said, “Ok Mike, give us the other end of the spectrum.”

The radio responded with an energetic, “You got it!”

Within seconds patches of pure reflection began forming all over the ship. It looked like liquid mercury was flowing out across the surface. Moments later the entire hull looked like a flawless mirror.

Marcus looked at the distorted image of himself being reflected back off the hull. It reminded him of the silly mirrors used to entertain children in playgrounds and fairs.

“Go for Blue Mike!” Smith said, speaking again into the small black box.

Moments later, the hull shifted again to an iridescent blue color.

“Believe it or not,” Smith began, “everything you are seeing is the result of nano-scale structures on the surface. There is no pigment of any kind involved. The nanites form shapes that bounce light around inside highly complex structures. The formations only allow for a specific spectrum of light to escape. If even the slightest variation enters the structure, the whole thing fails.”

“Who came up with that?” Marcus asked absently as he stared at the ship.

Smith tilted his head to one side and said, “Well, God I guess? We got the idea from butterfly wings.”

The Colonel turned his head toward Smith in mild annoyance, “You know, you can say it’s classified and leave it at that.”

Smith’s hands shot up in front of him in a placating gesture as he remarked, “No! Really! There is a butterfly called Morpho-something that has structures on its wings like that. I saw one when I went to Costa Rica a few years back.”

Marcus looked back at him with a sideways glance and asked skeptically, “Really?”

Smith pulled out his data pad and said, “Yeah, give me a second and I will show you a picture. In the mean time…”

Smith paused momentarily from his typing on his data pad to speak into the radio, “Ok Mike, demo’s over. Cut it.”

A muffled affirmative responded from inside his pocket as he stowed the radio and the nanite coating seeped away revealing the armored hull of the Corvette.

Still staring at the ship Marcus exclaimed, “Impressive.”

Stepping up beside him Smith held out his data pad to show the Colonel a picture of a butterfly with iridescent blue wings.

He stared at the pad for a moment, “Well, I’ll be, you weren’t kidding. Butterflies huh?”

“Yup, butterflies,” Smith confirmed.

Looking back to the hull paneling the Colonel asked, “So the report said this had active stealth systems. Is that what I was just looking at?”

Smith replied, “Only part of it. This next bit will blow your mind.”

He replaced his pad in his pocket and retrieved the radio again, “Mike, activate the CSS.”

“You will want to stand back for this one to get the full effect,” he told the Colonel.

As he two men turned around to get some distance between them and the ship, Marcus asked, “CSS?”

The intelligence agent glanced over at him and explained, “Chameleon Stealth System, or CSS. Same basic idea as the cloaks your personnel will be using just, well, a lot bigger.”

After about 100 meters or so the men stopped and turned around to view the ship.

It was gone.

They watched as one of the large doors to an adjoining bay slit open and a shipyard worker, a giant Broda, walked into the room intently studying a data pad. It walked distracted directly toward where they had just been observing the 1,800 ton Corvette.

“We should warn him,” Marcus said somewhat concerned as he took a deep breath in to call to the distracted Broda.

Smith caught his hand as he was raising it to wave, drawing a confused look from the Colonel.

Smith had a focused look in his eyes and a malevolent smile on his face as he explained, “That’s Boo’nu. We got stuck in an elevator together a month back and He thought it would be so funny to fart in there with just the two of us. We were in that hell-box for twenty minutes before the techs got us out. He was laughing the whole time while I struggled not to throw up. He still owes me a new set of clothes.”

As they watched, Boo’nu walked wirectly into the side of the invisible ship with an audible clanging noise.

The Broda stood up straight and began looking around wide-eyed as he rubbed his head where he impacted. Hie eyes finally came to rest on Smith. Realization washed over him and he began laughing in deep bellows.

He walked over to where the two men were standing and said, “Agent Smith. It is good to see you again. Was there any reason you did not warn me about the cloaked ship before I walked into it?”

Smith looked up at the giant and smiled politely, “Is there a reason you haven’t bought me a new suit?

The giant Broda bellowed again in laughter and finally said, “You are very fun. I look forward to seeing you in the elevator soon.”

A slight crack of irritation and possibly fear showed on the agent’s face as he said, “Not if I see you first Boo’nu, and I wasn’t joking about the suit. I had to burn the last one.”

The giant laughed as he walked away to continue his duties.

Smith pulled the radio out of his pocket again and said, “Ok Mike, disengage the CCS and put her into combat configuration.”

The ship flowed back to visible turning to a neutral opalescent white. Something that looked almost like the shimmering scales of a Say-ved rippled across it as large panels lifted up and then flipped over to reveal black panels shot through with ruby colored crystal armor. When the skin of the ship had finished its transformation it struck Marcus with its sleek, deadly beauty. It looked like the darker twin of the main fleet ships he had seen under construction.

The hull was covered in armored black plating with red crystalline inlays flowing across her in geometric patterns. It looked almost like a circuit board in how the lines of color crossed the dark hull.

With a wave of his hand indicating the military craft in front of them Smith asked, “Well, That’s the Shadow Colonel. How do you think she looks?”

Without taking his eyes off the ship he smiled slightly and said, “Dangerous.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Weeks ago:

Admiral Shoji walked through the shipyards with Colonel Alexander in silence for a little while before saying, “It’s time Colonel. We are activating your unit.”

Colonel Marcus Alexander kept pace with him and said, “I figured that’s why you called me here, Sir. What’s the mission?”

The older soldier turned to face the Colonel and explained, “With the acquisition of the Vashali planet’s location, the Planetary Defense Forces are understandably eager to take the fight to the enemy. Nobody is interested in running into a zero-knowledge situation, however. Your task is going to be three fold.

He took his pad and tapped at it a few times and a holo-image appeared in front of them showing a generic system with examples and bullet points.

He explained, “Your first objective is to covertly infiltrate the system and make an initial assessment of the situation for the fleet. In addition to direct observation of any points of interest, you will also be deploying cloaked sensor relays around the planet. Once a robust planetary grid is established, you are to deploy sensors to any additional locations you determine to be of military interest.

Waving a hand the hologram of the system zoomed in to the planet and its surrounding space as he continued, “The sensor grid will be of great importance for the ground forces. It will form the backbone of the guided munitions and fleet fire support they will be using.”

Colonel Alexander nodded as he studied the display and said, “Understood sir. What next?”

Shoji tapped a few more buttons on his pad and the display faded away.

“The next part is not so easy, I am afraid,” he began.

“Phase two of your mission will be to locate and acquire navigational information on additional Vashali worlds. The sensor grid may be useful in this, or it may not. We just don’t know. We have little to offer you for guidance in pursuing this goal. The best the analysts have come up with is to look for spaceports or other trade hubs. You will obviously need to take initiative to achieve this objective.

The Colonel nodded his head in agreement and said, “Understood, Sir. What’s phase three?”

The Admiral looked up at him and replied, “After the first two objectives are achieved, your unit will be transferred from directly reporting to me to General Lancaster, who is in charge of the planetary offensive. Under his command, you are to support the ground efforts in whatever ways they require.”

Alexander noted, “Seems pretty straight forward in theory. I am sure it will be less so in practice. My people are ready though Admiral. If it can be done, the men and women on the Shadow will see it is.”

Shoji nodded approvingly and asked, “It is customary for military units to be given nicknames. Have your people decided on one?”

The Colonel was a little taken aback by the question and replied, “Um, no Sir, it hasn’t come up yet. We have been focusing so much on preparing our ship and crew we have not taken the time to address it.”

“What is the general disposition among your people?” the old soldier inquired.

The Colonel answered, “Well, as you know I not only chose incredibly competent people, I also made a point to choose good ones. They have bonded strongly with a unified desire to see justice done for the atrocities perpetrated by the Vashali. They are angry, Sir. They want to strike back at those monsters as badly as anyone. We know we aren’t a front line unit, but we are all eager to hit the enemy in any way we can to make them pay for what they did to our galaxy. We will make them pay for what they did to our friends.”

“I see,” the Admiral responded thoughtfully. “Would you allow me the privilege of suggesting a name?”

The Colonel’s eyes opened a little wider in surprise and he approved, “Why, yes Sir. That would be a great honor.”

“All Right,” the old Soldier said still deep in thought. “I will think on it and get back to you.”

Colonel Alexander snapped to attention and brought his hand up in a salute that was returned by the Admiral, and they both departed.

Alexander scheduled a briefing for early the next day. He outlined all the details of the plan as far as they had them, and explained the mission.

In conclusion, he asked, “Any questions?”

Antoine spoke up and said, “Nah, it seems pretty straight forward. We go in and act as eyes for the fleet, find and grab the Navigation data, and then join the PFD. Sure, it won’t be that easy, but the plan is simple enough to follow.”

Marcus looked around at his crew and with a shadow of nostalgia said, “Well, this is it. All the work we have done, all the torturous training I put you all through. It’s our first mission. I have every confidence in you people.”

Looking down at his notes, he saw one thing left unspoken.

He straightened his back and addressed them in a more ceremonial tone, “Before I dismiss you all to start preparations, there is one more thing I have for you. I was recently reminded by Admiral Shoji that we are missing something as a unit: a name. I want to apologize for that. I have been so busy trying to turn you all into something useful that it completely slipped my mind.”

A chuckle of amusement went through the gathered group as he continued, “In light of my negligence, Admiral Shoji himself asked if he could offer a suggestion. As I am sure most of you know this offer is quite an honor. Just this morning he offered his suggestion and I believe it fits all of you perfectly.

Going forward the First Special Operations Group will be unofficially referred to as the Shadows of Vengeance.”

Today:

The Shadow and her crew had been on station in the Vashali system for a week now deploying cloaked sensor drones and observing the planet. Not being able to risk revealing themselves by using FTL closer to the planet, they had jumped in behind a gas giant in the outer regions of the system. After that, it was a long, relatively slow journey in. It had taken slightly over two weeks for them to make the transit to their target area at one G acceleration.

The planet was ugly and oppressive to look at. All the land masses had the same dark grey color. Any bodies of water were only a slightly lighter shade. Colonel Alexander wanted to provide the fleet with all the information possible, so three days ago he landed the Shadow on the planet. It was a remote region far away from any signs of habitation. They took air and soil samples and returned to orbit to resume deployment of the sensor grid. What they found on the surface was disturbing.

The land mass itself was covered with mold and fungi. Every step would sink in four or five inches before reaching the ground underneath.

Antoine related it to, “walking on a moldy, overripe melon.” Everywhere they went the surface was covered in a foul juicy layer of rot. Over top of that was a fuzzy black coating that everyone agreed looked like the black furry stuff that grows on spoiled food.

The air itself was filled with clouds of spores. They billowed in fetid mists as the wind wafted them across the planet.

For the three days since, the medics on board had been in close contact with biologists on Earth over the QE-COM analyzing their findings. The good news was that the human immune system was easily able to fight off any potential infections from these sources. The bad news was the environment was still very irritating to the eyes and throat, and it smelled putrid.

Orbital observations revealed beyond doubt that the Vashali were a subterranean species. No cities or other major structures were observed on the surface. Individuals were observed going into and out of large holes in the ground. This was going to add a whole dimension of difficulty if they intended to occupy this world.

The grid had been finished late yesterday and the remainder of the drones had been deployed around what the Colonel considered points of strategic interest in the system. He had tagged things such as observation bases, crystalline satellites, and high transit areas to and from planetary space.

“That’s the last of them, Sir. The grid is now fully operational and all sensor drones have been deployed.”

Turning to his first officer Colonel Alexander replied, “Excellent work.”

Standing up out of his chair he turned to his communications officer and ordered, “Connect me with Admiral Shoji. It’s time to call in the fleet.”