Summer was sweating as she shakingly manipulated the final mechanisms of the device she had been assigned to build. If she did something wrong to one of these pieces, the entire timing assembly could fail, and the device would go off before the team delivering had time to get off the target ship. Just one… more… solder. Done. Leaning back, Summer let out a sigh and slumped her hands away just in time not to destroy all her work when a loud banging was heard through her door, and she jumped.
“Hey, Summer, is it done yet?” A man looking to be in his early thirties stepped into the room as he opened the door. He looked uneasy, as was everyone aboard the shuttle. The final stage of assembly had to be completed on the way to the target due to an emergency change in schedule, so the entire team was nervous.
Summer glowered at the man and reached out to her desk, grabbing the last bit of outer plating and placing it over the recently soldered area. “Yes,” she snapped. “And if it hadn’t been, you could have killed us all just now with that banging.” The man grimaced at the thought, then raised his eyebrows to hers in an apologetic manner. “Oh, it’s fine, Angus. No harm done, right?” She smiled crookedly at him, still a bit shaken by the timing of it all.
“Thanks, Summer. Listen, we really appreciate you filling in for Clayton’s part on this assignment. He just got moved to a top secret assignment by the Muffin Man himself. Apparently, it was a now or never type of deal. So, thanks.” He smiled back at Summer and extended his hand in gratitude. She took it, and they spent a few moments recalling easier times in each other’s eyes.
“Hey, Angus!” A booming voice called out, quite in contrast to Angus’s own light tenor. “Did you find out? Is it done yet?”
Summer let go of Angus’s hand, instead placing hers on his shoulder and yelling past him, “Yes, it’s done, you silly goat! Is the rest of the team ready?” She couldn’t help but shake her head at the Lieutenant. He’d done a fine enough job in the Navy, but all his protocol and properness flew out the window as soon as he got out on the eve of Phoenix Day. If this mission hadn’t been entirely his plan, she’d have thought the man had lost all military sense whatsoever.
“Good!” the Lieutenant shouted. “But do we really need to shout if the door’s open?” He turned his head toward her as she peeked out into the main cabin, in which he was leaning against the far bulkhead and grinning mischievously at her.
Summer’s smooth face formed a few creases as she glowered playfully at him, scrunching her face as tightly as she could and saying quietly, “No. We don’t. Are we almost there? I’m starting to lose my stomach to the simgrav. The Tees could have come up with something a little closer to normal levels. It’s weird being this light.” She exhaled slowly in an attempt to calm her stomach, which was not taking well to space travel.
“Aye, we’ll be there soon enough.” He bashed his hand against the door to his right twice. “Oi, how much longer d’you think, Mickey? Five, maybe ten minutes?” He pressed his ear to the door, just barely moving from his previous leaning position. After a few moments, he stood upright and said, “Yeah, he’s figuring about five minutes. Everybody’s suited up, Angus?”
“We’re all good to go, L.T.” Angus reported in a manner becoming of a military man, which was ironic because he was the only one on the shuttle with no military experience.
“Weapons are all good? No fingerprints?” The Lieutenants concern in this regard was shared by most of the crew. Even though they were willing to die if the need came about, they’d rather not be found out should they actually survive, and it was even more important that no one find out who had smuggled the weapons from the peacekeepers to the resistance. If the smugglers were found out, the Tees could easily crush the resistance’s supply lines.
“I wouldn’t worry about that, L.T. I checked ‘em all myself.” A bulking man with a thick Texas accent walked into the cabin. “If there’s anything I learned dusting for prints, it’s how ta’ get ‘em off.” The man grinned at the Lieutenant proudly and lifted the chin of his helmet The neck guard became tight, preventing him from leaning his head further back. “Cain’t say I’m too fond of these suits, though. Tees could’a given a bit more thought to comfort…”
“I don’t think the Tees give a rat’s–” Angus started before being abruptly interrupted by Summer.
“My studies have shown that the utmost care has been given to ensure the safety of the wearer in case of accidental venting due to hull breaches and the like. You may not want to wear these for pyjamas, but they’ll keep you alive in vacuum, under fire, and with a tank sitting on your chest.” Summer’s matter-of-fact tone made it clear that any further complaints would be pointless. The mission depended on the suits, so they were staying on. Besides, it would be critical in adding to the element of surprise when the Tees started to see their fellows firing on them.
The dark, mirrored visors that would conceal their identities were also designed to protect the crew’s eyes from radiant blasts caused by many battlefield weaponry and had the added benefit of a HUD wirelessly connected to the weapons in the suit’s immediate vicinity, removing any guesswork from ammunition count and aim. There were no sights on the Tees’ weapons, only small cameras used by the HUD to produce a reticle where each weapon was aimed over the wearer’s view of the battlefield, which was extended to 360 degrees by the cameras around the helmet. It took some getting used to, but it made suprise attacks from behind a thing of the past. Angus thought it was a lot like a video game, but when he mentioned this, the rest of the team scolded him for not taking the mission seriously.
Only a few minutes later, the shuttle was secured inside the target ship’s receiving bay, where Mickey would wait exactly twenty-eight minutes for the team to return. The rest of the team moved into the airlock, securing their visors and ensuring their weapons were loaded.
“Right, everyone,” Lieutenant Larry Denton said over the secure comm line for the team. “Let’s go Dragon slaying!”
The team nodded, taking a few possibly last glances at one another, and took off into the TAS Fhit’s receiving bay, making their way to the main hangar where five Dragon 52-Fs were waiting to be refueled. An explosion of the right variety there would take out not only the Dragons, but the entire aft quarter of the ship, including the aft galley, where five Dragon Riders were eating with other Tee pilots and flight officers.
Grie Khuda’Cronell was among them.