Sergeant First Class Eric Lambert walked down the shiny bright halls of the Pentagon. He was wearing his dress uniform, which felt uncomfortable, like it belonged on someone else. Staffers and bureaucrats skittered out of his way, many of them casting wary glances at the soldier. Even officers gave Lambert a wide berth once they got a look at his chest full of medals and the combat patch which adorned his right shoulder, the unique insignia of the Human Defense Corps. Lambert smiled to himself. He was in unknown territory here, amongst the REMF's and pencil pushers. It did not hurt that Lambert was a big man, roped with muscle, and had one of the more intimidating stares most people had ever seen.
Lambert was edgy because he wasn't exactly sure why he was here. Yesterday, he had been on a training mission deep in the jungles of Central America, when he got fresh orders to report to General Evan McCallister, the HDC commander, in Washington D.C. Whisked from slogging though impenetrable tropical undergrowth to a metropolitan city in a matter of hours was slightly disorienting, even for one as adaptable to changing situations as Lambert.
He halted outside of McCallister's office, his egress blocked by the General's secretary, a pretty, blond female sergeant who pretended not to notice Lambert standing in front of her desk for several moments. Finally, she looked up from her paperwork, and regarded him with a challenging eye. "May I help you, Sergeant"? she asked.
"I have been ordered to report to General McCallister," replied Lambert. "He is expecting me in…" He glanced at a clock hanging on the wall overhead. "…Thirty seconds." The sergeant checked her calendar, Lambert's name and I.D. badge, the buzzed the General on the intercom. "Please, Sergeant, go right in," she said at last, smiling sweetly. Lambert doubted the expression was genuine. He had seen similar grins on the faces of sharks right before they devoured their latest meal.
General Evan McCallister was sitting behind his own huge oaken desk. He was a graying bear of a man, whose sheer force of will, and ranting tirades were legend throughout the Corps. He would also back his soldiers with every ounce of pull and influence the old warrior could muster, borrow or steal, and his troops knew that, too. The easiest way to start a fight with a group of HD Corpsmen was to say something unflattering about General McCallister.
Lambert walked in, and came to attention in front of his commanding officer. "Sergeant First Class Eric Lambert reporting as ordered, sir," barked Lambert smartly.
"At ease, Sergeant," said McCallister, waving Lambert into a nearby seat. "Do you know why you're here?"
"No sir," said Lambert. During the trip to Washington, he had gone over all of the things he could have fucked up bad enough to warrant getting called on the carpet in front of the C.O., but he had drawn a blank. Unless it was that situation with the Thanagarian proconsul's daughter, but that had been over a year ago.
"You are being reassigned," said McCallister, "effective immediately." He pushed a large file folder toward Lambert. "Your new orders and an extensive briefing are included inside. You can go over them in your own time, but I wanted to speak to you face to face. Your new mission is a somewhat delicate matter." This statement piqued Lambert's interest, and he hunched forward slightly in his seat, and paid even more attention to McCallister's words, if that were possible.
"S.T.A.R. Labs was recently contacted by representatives from the Psion race. The Psions want to engineer a trade between themselves and Earth. I do not trust the scaly bastards any further than I could toss a battle cruiser, but the guys in the white lab coats want a look at what they are offering."
"Sir, what are they offering, and why contact S.T.A.R. Labs and not the government?" asked Lambert.
"The Psions fancy themselves scientists, and so they contacted the most advanced widespread scientific organization on the planet, which happens to be S.T.A.R. Labs," said McCallister. "Once the eggheads found out who they were dealing with, they called us. As to what they're offering, you may or may not know, the Psions have a nasty history of experimenting on other races and species, including humans. The claim to have developed a number of bio-upgrades which will make the average person, smarter, stronger, faster, all that stuff."
"And what will they want in return, sir?"
"That is the big question," said McAllister . "S.T.A.R. Labs is sending someone to check out the Psion's claims, and try to get a clear picture as to what exactly they want, and if what they are offering is worth the price."
"No diplomats, sir?"
"Psions won't talk to them. They say only another scientist will understand, and as it happens, the best scientist in the field of human-alien hybrid physiology, works for S.T.A.R. Labs. She, of course, agreed to meet with the Psions before we could intervene, and now those walking crocodiles will only deal with Dr. Hardin."
"Ah," said Lambert. "Sir, I still don't know why I am here."
"Khunds," said McCallister.
"Khunds," repeated Lambert.
"Our new scaly friends are bringing along a contingent of Khunds to act as their security force. We don't know if they are mercenaries or if the Khund Empire is in league with the Psions. We'd like for you to find that out. Since Dr. Hardin is to be in charge of the mission, there cannot be any high-ranking members of the military to go along, since the Khunds and the Psions will both assume such a person is in charge of the entire operation."
"Shouldn't they be, sir?"
"Yes," said McCallister flatly, "but it's not our call. You were chosen for the mission because of your impeccable combat record and experience. I've looked over your record, Sergeant, you've had some familiarity with the Khunds."
"Had a couple of run-ins with them, sir," said Lambert. The Khunds were an aggressive warrior race that delighted in warfare and interstellar conquest. Lambert's confrontations with the Khunds had included repelling an incursion into the Marshall Islands, and fighting off a Khund mercenary force which had landed in Chicago. They were tough bastards, big, ugly and mean, with a mindset that would put Attila the Hun to shame. His recollections of the fighting were jumbled, as the fog of war tended to descend rather quickly when everyone was shooting, and things began to explode.
"I can see that," said McCallister. "You will be able to handpick your security team. You get six men. Choose them carefully."
"Will that be enough, sir? Do we know how many Khunds and Psions are coming?"
"No," replied McCallister. "And make no mistake, Sergeant, I will not allow those aliens to set foot or claw on Earth. Even being inside the solar system can be problematic. Their presence can make some of out metahuman friends a little twitchy."
"So, if I may ask, sir, where are we going to meet them?"
"The Corps has been developing, in conjunction with the DEO, a new sort of beam technology, based on plans from the old JLA transporter tubes. The boys in the lab figure that with a boost from the Psions, we should be able to get your team a little bit past Mars, and onto a Psion shuttlecraft. That ship will take you to the rendezvous point with the Psion mother ship, which will be stationed inside the rings of Saturn."
Lambert visibly swallowed. He had signed up with the Human Defense Corps to help protect Earth, and he knew that he would see some far out shit, but he never expected to be beamed across space, and become the guest of an alien race a few million miles from home. Nothing is ever simple, he thought. "Yes, sir," he said, as if the information he had just received was the most natural thing in the world. "When do we leave, sir?"
"You will have a few days to gather and brief your team, go through some last minute training to get you ready for space, and to meet the aliens, and have a nice little sit-down with Dr. Hardin to make sure everyone is one the same page. I should warn you, our reports indicate that Dr. Hardin is not enamored of having a military presence on the mission. However, you are to be mission ready in one week, understood?"
"Yes, sir," said Lambert, who knew a dismissal when he heard one. He stood to leave, and snapped to attention once again.
"Good luck, son," said McCallister.
"Thank you, sir," said Lambert, hefting his thick folder. He turned on his heel and left the office, his mind already playing over details and possibilities. Lambert pulled out his cell phone as soon as he was clear of the building. It was time to gather the team.