The black canvas duffel bag felt light to Brian, but he knew there had to be over a hundred pounds of equipment inside. One of which was the M-25. A pet project of Colt's, the 7.56mm NATO bullets had a proximity sensor inserted into the tip. When the bullet hit its target, the small marble-sized amount of Semtex explosive would detonate. Theoretically, if shot correctly, the bullet could literally explode inside someone's body cavity.

The Heckler and Koch MP-15 was the basic model of the MP-10 and the MP-5, although on the inside, it was no longer a bullet that had to be hit with a hammer. With the added Andalite technology, magnets propel the bullet at supersonic speeds, giving twice the velocity and literally zero sound. Before, with a silencer, the click of the hammer could still be a dead giveaway. But now, even that possibly dangerous annoyance was eliminated.

Along with the primary arsenal, a pair of Glock Model 45s, using the same technology as the MP-15, was inside. Also, there was the extra equipment that was standard: Kevlar Vest, Deftec No. 5 explosives (flashbangs), Nightvison, Thermal scope, and some gas grenades. The not-so-standard equipment and the final addition to his bag was a new grenade recently released from the Army, after testing it in Delta Force. After months of studying Andalite and Yeerk technology, the grenade emits an electromagnetic charge that's invisible, but has the same effect on electronics as a nuclear warhead. It would effectively shut off any and all electronic weaponry as well, including Yeerk Dracon Beams and Andalite Shredders. The only Andalites that knew of this technology were those that were apart of the Seraphims.

West ran out on to the new helipad in the center of Hereford (it was moved and rebuilt after the invasion). As predicted, men and women were rushing about, looking at the ship that arrived. Like all Andalite craft, it was smooth, and the twin engines on either side of the bow made the ship look like a Naboo Starfighter from Star Wars, although much larger in proportion. What was more, there were gun ports every yard or so in every direction. The ship was an army of its own accord. But it wasn't the size, the shape, or even the power of the ship that amazed Brian. It was the sound that came from it.

Or lack, thereof.

Brian walked to the ship, brushing past the crowd and walking up the lowered ramp that led to the belly of the ATT (Assault/Troop Transport). At the top of the ramp, McCain, in all of his 6'1", two-fifty pounds, glory. The barrel-chested man saluted, and Brian returned it equally crisply. The Brit's brown eyes shimmered slightly, in awe of the beautiful ship he was in. "We're all heah, Commander," McCain reported. He, like Brian, had strangely brought his voice down to a whisper, as if anything above that would rouse the sleeping giant.

Brian nodded and sat the duffel bag down in the first of twelve overhead compartments that lined the entrance to starboard. The ramp, seemingly on its own, slid back in telescope-style and the door closed and sealed itself, pressure returning to the ship. West yawned and felt his ears pop, equalizing the pressure he felt pressing against his head.

The airlock that was used as the deployment zone was little more than a boxy room with two metal benches that connected to either side of the wall, along with two doors on opposite sides. One lead to the next portion of the ship; the other lead outside. West walked across the airlock, pretending that the team was there and he was giving them all approving glances. McCain chuckled slightly, but it was a nervous laugh that came from within him. He wasn't sure about this mission, either.

Walking through the other door, Brian stopped at the sight of four humans, two male, two female, suddenly snapping at attention and saluting in the middle of the wide hallway. Brian realized that while humans could live with a yard-wide walking room, other species may not even be able to stand straight up in such tight confines. The four Seraphims stood outside a pair of voice-activated doors opposite each other. The first of them, a tall and broad german by the name of Gil Hanseckart, dropped his salute, remembering that they were no longer official, and gave West a handshake with his vise-like grip. "Velcome, Commanderre," he greeted, his accent bleeding through.

Brian smiled in return, and held on with his own firm grip. "Thank you, Lieutenant."

The man of Spanish features walked up and had to look up slightly to see Brian's eyes. Despite his looks, his english had a british tone to it, and Brian remembered something from his dossier about Casimiro Martinez getting a communications degree at Oxford. "Everything's going accourding to shedule, Commander," he announced.

The two women, one short, the other tall, both attractive, but certainly athletic, approached him. The first and the shorter of the two, a brunette, accepted West's proffered hand and gave him a smile that could only be described as genuinely sweet. Michele Nicolette's blue eyes shined with the light of pride, but a pride of knowing that she was in the right place. Her voice, light and calming, had only a trace of French in it. "How are you today, Commandeur?"

Brian sighed tiredly. "Exhausted. My brain's running me to death."

Michele laughed, a sound that overpowered Brian's nervousness and brightened his mood immediately. She moved forward to give him a reassuring hug, but she brought her mouth close to his ear. "When are we going to tell them about us?"

Brian released the hug, although only reluctantly, and laughed. "Don't worry, Michele. We'll get our chance soon enough."

Michele understood the meaning of his statement. I have no idea if we ever will. She seemed a little disappointed, but knew that Brian was only looking out for all their best interests. She gave him a wink that only the two of them saw, and went inside to the door on his right. The second woman, a dark-tanned american, who had the aspects of her african blood in her skin, and her european in her face, gave him a knowing smile. Very little got past Katrina Michaelson, and being Michele's roommate, it would be impossible to keep the secret from her. She also went into her room.

Martinez and Hanseckart seemed content to stay in the hallway and chat a bit with McCain, so Brian quietly retreated from the group and moved on. As he passed Michele's door, he gave it a little tap. The men didn't notice it. He walked to the last pair of doors and turned to the one on his left. There wasn't a doorknob, just a speaker on the wall to the side. "Open," Brian said. It slid open, from right to left, and disappeared into the wall. Brian stepped inside, but held the door open as Michele scurried in and ducked under his arm that kept the door from sliding shut. Once she was in, Brian released his hold on the door and it closed without a sound.

The room was basic; two beds, a sink with cabinets and a mirror, and a pair of closets on the opposite wall and in front of either bed. Michele took off her light, black suede jacket and tossed it on the left bed. Her shirt underneath was dark blue and made of cotton, but it was a snug fit, and enhanced her natural features, making her look even moreso lithe. Brian surprised her from behind and picked her up in one quick grab, his arms around her waist. She gave an airless scream, a playful one, and slid around in his grip to face him. She smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek, her eyes telling the whole story: You're going to have to work for more.

Brian laughed, nodding. Okay, we can play that game.

Playfully, he tossed her on the bed, and jumped after her, pinning her arms to the matress and settling his knees on her legs to keep her from kicking. With a triumphant and cocky look, he kissed her on the lips, but it was not for long. Her legs kicked up quickly, managing to lift Brian off her and sending him flying to the floor. He hit the carpet and bounced against the side of the other bed. Brian got up and shook his head in bewilderment. "Damn..."

Michele grinned innocently, like a child that was reminding someone of her dominance.