Commander Roberts looked over the rather motley crew. He was aware that each of them was handpicked, the best of the best of the various Special Forces groups that had cropped up by the start of the World War III—Army Rangers, Marine Force Recon, Navy SEALs, Joint Task Force 2, etc., etc.

Each man chosen for being the best his unit could field.

Only one problem, Roberts thought, with a carefully hidden frown. They weren’t yet more than the sum of their parts. They weren’t the well-oiled teams that each man had been plucked from, and it showed even in how they stood at attention.

He took a breath and stepped forward. “I’m certain that the major has informed you of the situation, so I’m not going to add anything that you don’t already know. You’re going to do a SAR recon of the planet. If you pick up any signs of survivors, you’re going to do your best for them. If you kiss dirt, watch each other’s backs, and you’ll all come back alive. Hear me?”

There was an interspersed return from the soldiers that varied from a “We hear you, sir!” to a roughly uttered “Huah!”

Roberts was disappointed, not because of any lack of enthusiasm, nor because their replies were wrong, but simply because he would have preferred if they had all replied as one.

Milla and Brinks held back while Roberts spoke to the men, then stepped back and nodded to Brinks.

Brinks nodded back and turned to address his team. “You heard the man! Double-check that your gear is all accounted for, then strap in. We’re going for a little ride.” Brinks watched with satisfaction as his team broke up, heading to the equipment to make certain it was all intact. He turned to Milla and looked her up and down appraisingly. “It was hard to find a fit for you, and we don’t carry a lot of this stuff in your size. If you’d follow me,” he said politely, but firmly.

Milla followed the man to a locker on the far side of the bay where he pulled out an armored suit, similar to the one he wore.

She looked at it warily. “Do I have to wear this?”

Brinks smiled. “You’ll be glad of it soon enough. It is standard issue for entering hazardous areas. It’s what we call a ‘firm suit,’ completely sealed environmental gear that can withstand pressures from near vacuum to fifteen standard atmospheres without endangering the wearer. It also has a few other gadgets packed tightly into it that could save your life.” Brinks looked her over for a second until she stared back. She was surprised to see the rather rugged-looking man flush and turn away. “One moment, miss…I’ll have a female officer help you get suited up.”

Milla watched in confusion as the major cleared the locker room and stepped out. She looked down at the armor in hand, puzzling over the hard material. Unless she was missing her guess, it was made of some sort of ceramic material, though she couldn’t be certain.