He headed down two decks to the officers’ quarters, finally finding his room after a couple wrong turns. He stripped out of his flight suit, peeling the liner off his skin, and tossed it into a hamper built into the wall. A few minutes later, he was in the shower, washing the last remnants of his fighter suit off his body and hair.

After an all-too-short shower, Weston dried off and checked his closet. He found that all his things had preceded him to the ship and were all perfectly laid out.

I guess there are some perks to command, after all.

He pulled his dress whites out and laid them on his bed. Forty-five minutes after he had entered his quarters, an entirely new man emerged and headed back to Odyssey Command.

The shuttle rolled to a stop and shuddered as the huge pylons stabilized the delta-shaped craft in the zero-g of the hangar deck. A few minutes passed as the craft was secured. The lift readied as her passengers floated over to it, dropped onto the steel plate, and activated their Magboots. Loud reverberations echoed through the air as they all locked into place on the lift, waiting for it to drop.

Machinery hummed and the lift dropped down until it came into contact with the flight deck of the big mother ship, and the passengers found themselves staring at a pair of armed sentries. Lt. Sean Bermont, former member of the Canadian Joint Task Force 2, was the first to step forward, handing his identification to the Marine sentry.

“Lieutenant Bermont, to join ship’s company,” he said, passing the sheet with his orders to the Marine.

The sentry glanced down at it, but his eyes weren’t looking at the formal orders and ID; instead, they moved farther down to the lieutenant’s dog tags.

The information came up, along with a countersigned security voucher from the ship’s computer, and the Marine signed off on the arrival. “Very good, sir. Lift to the habitation decks is twenty meters behind you, and you should check in with the XO as soon as you settle in.”

Bermont nodded and turned on his heel—as well as he could in zero-g—and moved toward the lift.

Behind him, he could hear the next man handing over his ID to the Marine.

Weston left his quarters, dreading the press conference. When Commander Roberts met him at the entry to Command, Weston acknowledged him and everyone around the bridge before addressing his new XO.

“Commander, I think we should finish up the publicity ceremonies as quickly as possible. We do have a mission to begin,” Weston said, wanting to get his new command underway. Although he had to play to the press, he didn’t have to like it.

“Yes, sir. I’ll contact the admiral, and we’ll set up the public transfer.”

Weston walked around the command chair, lowering himself slowly into it.