“I’m Abby Thomas, personal assistant to Commander Bills. I’m here to observe Tactical Team One and the Veslors today. Which shuttle are we going down on, and where exactly is it?”
He hesitated then sat. “I was warned.” His cleared his throat. “I mean, informed. Shuttle number six. You’re ten minutes early but the pilot is onboard, going over pre-flight procedures.” He pointed. “Far left, toward the external space doors. You can’t miss it. The numbers are painted on the sides.”
“Thank you.” She left flight control and headed that way. Each shuttle had a name but they were also numbered. She spotted the number six and headed toward it. None of Rogers’s team members were in sight. Nor were the Veslors. The ramp to the shuttle wasn’t guarded. She just walked up and into the passenger area.
Battle transports weren’t anywhere near as nice as passenger ones. She studied the stripped-down interior. No one had even tried to make them look particularly welcoming. Metal walls and beams, with some thickly wrapped electrical conduits showing. The seats had buckles but they weren’t grouped together along the walls. Instead, they were spaced a few feet apart in the center area, in rows.
Footsteps sounded behind her, and she turned. It was one of Rogers’s team members, Parker Tellis. She’d gone over the files of each man on the tactical team assigned to work with the Veslors. He was born on Earth, had no siblings, and had lost his parents as a teenager. Fleet had snapped him up before he’d even turned legal. It was probably because he’d been an orphan, with no one to intercede on his behalf. It was his responsibility to oversee weapons for the team.
He paused in the entrance, staring at her.
“Hello, Mr. Tellis. Forgive me for not using your fleet designation, but they’re too long. Please just call me Abby. I’m observing today.”
“I’m aware of who you are.” He glanced back before looking at her again. His expression wasn’t exactly friendly, but his tone wasn’t disparaging. “Rogers is pissed.”
“I’m sure he is.”
His lips curved a little at the corners but he masked that almost-smile fast. “He doesn’t like you much. Especially after you got him in hot water with the commander.”
“Well, he was breaking regulations by overworking the Veslors. Keeping Rogers happy isn’t my job, Mr. Trellis. It’s making sure orders from the commander are being followed.”
He gave a slight nod. “What he was doing wasn’t right. Even if the aliens are great fighters. I know what it’s like to be treated bad. I don’t got any problem with them.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” She looked away from him. “Where can I sit without someone yelling at me for being in their spot? Are the seats assigned? This is my first battle transport.”
“Seating isn’t assigned, but avoid the front row by the cockpit, and the row near the doors. Rogers always sits in the first row to be close to the pilot, and the Veslors like being near the doors. They’re always the last ones to board but the first ones out in case we’re jumping into a situation.”
“Situation?”
“A fight, Miss Thomas. They said they were trained that way.”
“Ah. Thanks for the clarification. Call me Abby, please.”
“It’s better for me if I don’t call you by your first name. I don’t need the grief from my team.”
Abby respected his honesty. She nodded and crossed the shuttle, taking a seat in the back, farthest from the open door. It might have been the armor suit she wore but the seats didn’t seem designed for comfort. The helmet attached to her belt didn’t help as she strapped herself in, and there were more seatbelts than normal, too. Not only were there straps to pull over her shoulders that locked into another that wrapped around her waist, there was a strap for her lower thighs, as well.
“Why this one?” She held up the long belt, gaining Tellis’s attention.
He paused checking out the weapons storage locker. “It’s to keep us from being thrown around if we’re flying into bad weather conditions or if we’re under fire. You’re not carrying touchy weapons, though. Your legs bucking won’t accidently set off a blaster or an explosive.”
“Thanks.” That was grim. She watched as Tellis checked the weapons stored on the vessel. He closed it and took a seat near the front, far from her.
Other tactical team members began to arrive. Rogers entered behind his team, met her gaze, and his mouth pressed into a tight line. He didn’t say a word though. Instead, he bypassed the passenger area and entered the cockpit, probably to check with the pilot or to avoid her altogether.
The Veslors boarded last. A few of them spotted her, immediately looking confused. She guessed Rogers hadn’t informed them that she’d be observing. It wasn’t a surprise. Rogers was an ass. One of them, a tall one with black hair and bright green eyes, held her gaze. He bypassed the seats by the door and walked toward her, taking a seat on her left.
“You’re Abby Thomas.”
She smiled brightly, glad to talk to one of the Veslors. “I am. And you’re Drak.”
He appeared surprised as he strapped into the seat, adjusting the many weapons on his body. “How did you know my name?”
“I looked at your files. There wasn’t much in them, though. I know you’re not mated, work as a mercenary for your planet, and your grouping came highly recommended. It also says you’ve fought and won many battles for your king. The person who wrote your file said you guys are the best of the best.”
“Mercenary?” He gave her his full attention, now that he was strapped in. “Isn’t that a paid killer?”
“It’s someone paid to do dangerous work, mostly.”
“We’re fighters.”
He didn’t like the term mercenary. She made a mental note. “Understood.”
His bright green eyes reminded her of emeralds, if said emeralds were cat-eye shaped. They were beautiful. His dark skin really made the color more spectacular. He had a handsome face, for an alien. It helped that they had a lot of features resembling humans.
His pointed ears intrigued her. So did the texture of his skin. From a distance, it looked somewhat like hers but up close, she could see a fine cover of tiny hairs. Her friend Vivian said it was fur and swore it felt like velvet to the touch.
She realized she was staring rudely and glanced away.
“Why are you here?”
Abby met his gaze again. “I’m observing for Commander Bills. He wanted to know what you guys do down on the surface.”
“We will be hunting Cadia while they sleep.” Drak reached up and tapped his nose. “They smell bad and are easier for us to find.” He dropped his gloved hand, only to lift it again immediately, tugging on the suit near his throat.
“You don’t like the suits? I noticed none of your grouping are wearing Veslor armor.”
His eyes narrowed. “I heard you were on the Gorison Traveler.”
“I was. Your full body armor was tough-looking. Brassi and his grouping wore them while fighting the Ke’ters.”
“We weren’t allowed to bring our armor.”
She frowned. “But your suits are better than the ones we use.”