Though the benches could accommodate only ninety troops in relative comfort, the StarLifter was able to hold up to three hundred troops. With only eight people in the cabin and a pilot, copilot, and navigator on the flight deck, Lieutenant Colonel Squires felt as though he were flying first-class. His long legs were stretched in front of him, he had two of the thin cushions beneath him and one between his back and the hard metal, and best of all the cabin wasn't stuffy. On those occasions when the prime members of Striker traveled with backup troops from the other services, and the five German shepherds of the K-9 Corps, the cabin tended to fill quickly with the heat of the huddled, perspiring warriors.

After several hours in the air, Squires appreciated the comfort. He had spent the first hour with Sergeant Chick Grey and Private David George, taking inventory of the gear they might need for Helsinki, spent the next two hours with Private Sondra DeVonne reviewing maps of Helsinki and St. Petersburg on his laptop, and then he slept for four hours.

When Squires woke, George handed him a microwaved meal and a cup of black coffee. The rest of the team had eaten an hour before.

"I've got to talk to General Rodgers about getting us better food," Squires said as he flipped open the hinged Styrofoam lid of the tray and surveyed the turkey slices, mashed potatoes, string beans, and corn muffin. "We've got missiles that can fly around trees and over mountains and slip down someone's chimney, but they're serving us the kind of crap you get on commercial airplanes."

"It's still better than the rations my dad says they served in Vietnam, sir," George said.

"Yeah, maybe," said Squires. "But it wouldn't kill them to give us a decent coffeemaker. Hell, I'd pay for it myself. Doesn't take up any extra space, and they're idiotproof. Not even the Army could screw that up."

"You never tasted my coffee, sir," said Sondra, without looking up from her copy of Wuthering Heights. "When I'm home, my mom and dad keep the percolator under tight security."

Squires cut a piece of turkey. "What kind of coffee do you use?"

Sondra looked over. Her large brown eyes were perfectly framed by her round face, and her voice bore the lilting trace of a youth spent in her native Algeria. "Kind, sir? I don't know. Whatever's on sale."

"That's your problem," said Squires. "My wife buys whole beans. We keep them in the freezer, then grind them that morning. Usually something festive, like southern pecan or chocolate raspberry."

"Chocolate raspberry coffee?" said Sondra.

"That's right. We use a drip coffeemaker, not a pot that burns the coffee, and we take it off the heat and put it in a butler as soon as it's brewed. When we drink, we never use milk or sugar. Those are the great equalizers-- they make all coffee taste the same."