Chapter Two: "This assignment is as good as any, I guess."
As promised, an hour before dawn, the Talons were dressed and ready to go, lined up for the first day of whatever Kevin Ski had in store. The captain entered promptly, followed by a disgustingly abnormal human male whose hairy, pockmarked face implied that he had been nursed on flash grenades as a child. Ski had a clipboard in one hand and began to call out the roster. The tradition of the roll call almost made Ski want to remember the moment, but then he remembered exactly where he was and with whom he was dealing.
The feeling left rather suddenly.
"Danya Faithwood?" he called. The woman answered loudly to begin the listing at Talon Two. "Kendrick Quinn? Quis Heartilly? Jaren Kai?" All were met with shouts of acknowledgment.
"Telia Aris?" Ski called for Talon Six. There was no answer save for the burst of a rushed human female through the training room doors.
"Telia Aris, you are late," he informed her, as if she could not tell by the stares from her squadmates.
"Sir, the alarm in my room doesn't work properly," she dared to state. "I overslept, sir."
"Remember to arrive in the mess hall with the other Talons for kitchen duty with Sergeant Bullwinkle after dinner tonight," an unconcerned Ski said, marking something down on his clipboard. A slight snicker came from the side of the line, and the captain, seeing nothing funny about anything, looked up from his writing to gaze at one of his own. "Would you like to tell me what you think is so funny, Lieutenant Flynn?"
Talon Sixteen snickered some more. "What kind of a name is Bullwinkle?" he asked, drawing another chuckle from one of the women next to him.
The dirty and quite scary man next to Captain Ski stood up straight and cocked an eyebrow as he spoke around a half-chewed cigar. "My gre'-gran'pappy ga' me tha' name, boy, an' ain't nobody tryin' to undo wha' he'd done, ya hear?"
Apparently, no one quite understood what the sergeant had said, so the only response that ensued was silence.
Captain Ski let out a held breath and shook his head. He didn't want to think about the repulsive man supporting his entire base's supply needs. "Sixteen, you'll be joining the team in the mess hall as well."
"Rubi Jais? Mekial Yrisar? Jane Muir? Stone Talson?" Ski stopped cold, only a small part of his mind checking off the acknowledgements of those named. Stone Talson? Wait, that can't be...
"Talson, please don't try telling me that 'Stone' is your actual first name?"
"No, sir. It's not," came the reply from the combat expert. "It's a nickname I picked up during boot camp; my last CO didn't even bother learning my real first name, so I doubt he'd have thought to put it in my file, sir."
Ski sighed and shook his head. "That makes as much sense as everything else around here. Your real first name, Stone?"
"Janus, sir."
Captain Ski jotted down the information, then made as if to continue down the line. That little itch of curiosity nagged at him, however. He just had to ask even though he knew it would be utterly pointless.
"Talson, how the hell did you end up with that for a nickname?"
Stone remained completely blank-faced as he answered. "It depends on who you ask, sir. I insist it refers to my attitude under fire; my cadre insisted it referred to my skull."
Chuckles ensued down the line of Talons. Ski reserved one for himself as he massaged the bridge of his nose. "Let's hope for the former, Stone," he replied, looking up and continuing down the line.
"Trika Adair? Milan Lirac? Kithera Rinani? Kaiba Cloudrifter? Rinin Altura?" The responses came back quickly and efficiently. "And we all know that Ty Flynn is here because he has the best sense of humor out of all of us," he said, drawing a few smiles and some chuckling from his group.
His sixteen-member roster filled out nicely, and as he scanned them over a couple of times, he could tell exactly who his time bombs were and who his psychotic cases were. He could tell who would be in his office frequently for anger issues and who would be in the kitchen for discipline issues. He noted the abundance of women in his lineup, but he also knew most of his group was as qualified as any in the galaxy. The group as a whole could be united, he knew, but he had his work cut out for him.
"This is how we run Talon Squad, ladies and gentlemen," Captain Ski announced to his group. Tossing the clipboard to Sergeant Bullwinkle, he began to pace the line in front of them. "Sixteen members will be divided into groups according to specialty. We may be moving some of you around once we get done with basic training, but until that time, our tentative roster should do fine. I've analyzed our needs and our abilities and think that we will match up and perform well.
"I lead Talon Squad, but I would be a sithspawn if you think I'm staying behind to enjoy the luxury of our facilities," he continued, getting the few chuckles he wanted. The facilities around them were not entirely for the rich and famous. "I will closely work with the operations team, Talons Lead through Four. Lieutenant Jaren Kai is the lead for the support team, Talons Five through Eight. Lieutenant Jane Muir will lead the intrusions team, Talons Nine through Twelve. Lieutenant Kithera Rinani will lead Talons Thirteen through Sixteen as the second operations team. The squadron will need to be expanded eventually, and I'm hoping for another four members to round out Talons Seventeen through Twenty, the second support team. I hope that they'll be arriving very soon so they don't get too far behind.
"We are all paired in addition to having our specific team," Ski said. "The roster begins with the pairing of yours truly and Faithwood and ends with Altura and Flynn. You'll figure out that we are all partnered either with a common skill, a complementary skill, or because I figured the personalities would work well together. For the first few exercises, team leaders are responsible for their team's finish, but we will be training for the individual first. Talon Squad is only going to be as solid as its weakest member, so I'd encourage you all to take these drills seriously."
The captain gave a short nod to the sergeant named Bullwinkle and took his place, as a Talon, at the very end of the line. Perhaps the rest of the Talons will feel a sense of unity for the first time, Ski thought. He had understood from Jaren and Kithera's morning report that the briefing room tactic he had used to get his people to talk had not worked out so well the night before. Unity wasn't exactly a high priority for his people at that point, and that would definitely have to change.
"All right, ya grunts," a loud, obnoxious voice interrupted any other possible thought. "It's time fer a li'l trainin' session with ol' Floreverus Bullwinkle. On my whistle, wind sprints, an' no slackin'." To the dismay of everyone, he went through with his threat and blew his whistle.
A few Talons started off quickly, but more than half hesitated, wondering if all of this was some kind of twisted joke. Wind sprints? Floreverus Bullwinkle?
By the time Bullwinkle was done with training, however, everyone understood that his training sessions were no joke.
Captain Ski stepped forward and retrieved his clipboard, nodding again to the oddly disgusting sergeant. A man at the upper echelons of fitness, Ski was still drawing breath quickly, along with the rest of his squad. Taking a good look around, though, he could tell who was out of shape and who was in his prime. Some of the Talons were going to need to be in the gym for longer periods of time than others.
"We're going to take a break until this afternoon," Kevin announced, and, much to his amusement, many of his squad breathed a sigh of relief. "You've already received most of the information about protocol and schedules, so I expect those to be read and understood at that time. When we return, we'll be having some friendly competition between teams, so I hope that many of you will head down to the fifth floor lounge and meet the rest of your companions. While you're down there, grab something to eat from the mess hall and be back in two hours." He scanned his group once more, pleased just to have a squad that was willing to train as hard as they all just had. "Am I understood?"
"Yes, sir!" the response came back in one crisp yell.
"Get out of here." Ski waved his hand toward the door and watched as his squadron left. Some rushed out, but others were unable to walk very fast due to some strain on their leg muscles. He simply chuckled.
"They're a funny-lookin' group, eh, Cap'n?"
Ski turned to regard Sergeant Bullwinkle. This guy has the right to call somebody "funny-looking?"
"No," he answered instead, wondering where the Intelligence High Council had found this man. "No, I was just laughing because some of them are in an extraordinary amount of pain."
"Bah!" Bullwinkle snorted, appearing to gather enough mucous to spit out. Ski jerked back reflexively, but Bullwinkle simply swallowed the mass in his throat and nodded. "I ain't never killed anybody in training since I got booted from the Corellian 111th Infantry Division. They'll be all right."
As the sergeant turned to leave, Kevin pondered those last words, the disgusted look never leaving his face. He had put Bullwinkle in charge of not only training, but also all meals until Intel sent his squad a proper cook. He would be the only one touching and serving the food that his squadron was expected to eat. "I wonder what's for lunch," he grimaced quietly, heading out the door.
*****
The two snipers had noticed each other from the moment they had arrived on the fourth floor yesterday. Now, the two were sitting across from one another, only a table and two bottles of water between them.
Nothing could keep her from throttling him if she really wanted to do so.
"How did you get assigned here?" Jaren asked suspiciously, the stress of seeing her visibly contorting his face.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Telia's tone was casual, but from the dangerous way she quirked her eyebrow, Jaren knew where this was headed.
"It doesn't mean anything, Tel," he sighed, taking a sip of water and breathing a little bit easier after the workout that morning. The action also conveniently gave him the time to calm his nerves. "You were supposed to be with the 108th Combat Division."
"I was a transfer at the last moment," she explained, not even able to eye him correctly without first unclenching her jaw. "I simply got my orders and obeyed. I didn't know you were keeping track of my duty assignments."
Jaren ignored that last remark and continued on. "There wasn't any notice or clues? No one mentioned why you were coming here?" The concept of sending someone to a position blind was a little odd to Jaren. For a brief, fleeting moment he thought he had pinpointed a possible setup.
"No, Jaren," she sarcastically answered. "Does it always have to be my fault? Did anyone mention why you were sent here? Since when did you start questioning orders?"
Jaren was about to retort, but stopped, understanding that this pairing was not going to work. If he didn't do something about their issues, they both might bring the support team down and in turn, harm the squadron. Constant bickering was not conducive to a sharp squadron.
After thinking on it for a moment, Jaren came to a conclusion. "This is exactly what they want us to be doing."
"What the kriff are you talking about?" Telia demanded, her face exploding into fury.
The young man straightened a bit and softened his gaze. "This is exactly what everyone expects from us in this position. I really can't explain it, but I think we've been set up."
"You're telling me," she snorted, rolling her eyes. Her attention turned to the two human females standing right next to the sofas she and Jaren were occupying. The two ladies gawked at the apparent tension in the air.
Lieutenant Kai stood and offered his hand to them. "You must be the other two support team members. Talons Seven and Eight, right?"
One woman shoved her hand out first, obviously bold. "Mekial Yrisar, Talon Eight," she introduced herself. She was a petite woman with blue eyes and a zest for life to match her fiery hair. Her entire face lit up during their exchange. "I'll be helping out with smuggling, disguise, spying, infiltration, and general elbow grease."
"I'm pleased to meet you," Jaren returned her kindness, pleasantly surprised to at least have one woman on his team who didn't hate his guts. "I'm Jaren Kai, Talon Five. This is Telia Aris," he gestured to his partner, who stood promptly and offered her own hand politely. "We're going to be the snipers for the Talons."
Mekial looked impressed and greeted Telia. Jaren looked to the other woman, who was much sterner than the joyful Mekial. She had even gotten in trouble for her seriousness the night before after snapping at Danya. "Rubi Jais, correct?" he ventured.
The woman gave little more than a nod. "I'll be your espionage and infiltration expert," she said, then nodded to Telia, who was forcing a smile. "Are you sure you two are going to be the snipers for the Talons? It seems as if we walked in at just the right time."
She was bolder than most subordinates; he'd give her that. "It's a long story," Jaren said simply, leaving it at that. He would save the details for Captain Ski at a later time. "Why don't we sit down and get to know each other a little better so that we can move effectively against the other teams? I'm in the mood to make ourselves a prominent asset to Captain Ski in the coming competitions."
*****
"And then I said, 'That's not a landspeeder, that's a 'fresher!'" Ty Flynn let his last joke fly, drawing a couple laughs and many more groans from the second operations team.
"That's great, Ty." Lieutenant Kithera Rinani, the group's leader, attempted to take back control of the meeting and not sound so bland at the same time. "That's really great." The team had gathered at the other end of the lounge because the support team had already taken the comfortable sofas in the corner. She thought longingly for a moment about the worn sofas and shifted her weight on the hard floor. "Why don't we talk about how we're going to beat the other teams?"
Kaiba Cloudrifter, yet another human female, spoke up. "Have you seen the crazies on the intrusion team? They might kill us." She appeared hyped on some form of caffeine.
"Nobody's going to kill anyone," Rinin Altura said, a little more cocky than necessary, as if he could stop the entire squad if needed. "We can take care of anything they throw at us."
"Come on, guys," Kithera pleaded with her team. "Let's just be friends for a few moments, all right?" She couldn't explain why Talons Thirteen through Sixteen simply were not cooperating or behaving. "Ty, why don't you tell us what your specialty is?"
Talon Sixteen perked up, thoroughly ready to talk about himself. "Well, I'm a good pilot and mechanic. I can fix what I break and break what I fix," he said with a chuckle, his mop of brown hair swinging across his face.
"Not if I break your face," Rinin responded under his breath. "Can't you be serious for one moment?"
Kithera had heard, however. "Look, Fifteen, you'd better start getting along with at least your own partner or else this whole ordeal is going to be very unpleasant for you," she shot at him, a surprising move for the diminutive woman. Rinin turned silent once more and she switched her gaze to her own partner. "Kaiba, you're a mechanic as well, right?"
"I fix a lot more than just speeders and craft," Fourteen boasted. "I just don't have the nice degree and title that goes along with being an engineer."
Kithera hesitated to ask Rinin anything, but she did. "Fifteen, Captain Ski kind of separated our skills, but you're a pretty talented weapon engineer and expert, I hear."
"You heard correctly," he answered, then closed up again.
"Well!" Kithera threw her hands up in disgust. "I think we're done here."
*****
"So." Pushing away her meal of unidentifiable slime, Danya looked up at the other members of the operations team. "How did you guys end up here?"
Talons Three and Four, Kendrick Quinn and Quis Heartilly, gazed at her from across the table. Kendrick silently stirred the food around on his plate, his eyes refusing to meet Danya's. It was Quis who spoke first, although she too avoided eye contact, her gaze darting uncertainly between her plate and a spot just above Danya's head.
"I don't really know why I'm here, to be honest. I'd rather be working in a lab or something. I'm not really cut out for any work in the field, but I don't think Captain Ski will let me stay at the base. I wonder what sort of work he'll have me do, actually." Quis ran a hand nervously through her hair. Most of her words and actions seemed to be the product of unrelenting anxiety.
Not sure I'd want her watching my back... Danya glanced at Kendrick. "What about you?" she prompted, not sure she wanted to hear his answer.
It took him a long time to reply. "I used to fly A-wings, but my last commanding officer and I didn't get along too well. I asked for a transfer to make things easier for everyone." He shrugged, his manner careless if not apathetic. "I don't usually stay in one place too long, so this assignment is as good as any, I guess."
It was hard to tell if he was being cocky or deliberately reticent, but either way, it was clear from the way he turned back to his meal that he considered his conversational obligations fulfilled. The hacker gritted her teeth, trying not to show her rising frustration. She had suggested that they all meet for lunch so they could actually get to know each other, but she could have held a better conversation with the pile of mashed potatoes on her tray. She glanced around the room, hoping Captain Ski might join the rest of his team. But no, he was off eating by himself at a separate table. Not that she particularly blamed him.
Back at their table, Kendrick was prodding a particularly disgusting piece of steak. "It looks like someone already tried to eat this and decided to let someone else give it a try," he observed. Shifting his attention to the pile of pale white vegetables next door, he speared some on his fork and appeared to seriously consider them.
"Don't," Quis said warningly. "It doesn't look good." Danya sighed inwardly and pushed her own plate away, her appetite for both food and conversation lost.
The pilot put on a show of bravado. "How bad could it possibly be?" he said and, perhaps before he could think any second thoughts, stuffed the food into his mouth.
*****
"You look funny."
"You smell funny."
"You eat funny."
"At least I eat."
Milan Lirac looked up from his plate of… substance. "Why would I eat anything that looks like that?" The Kiffar male had a unique strip of yellow crossing his brow from his left jaw to his right temple.
"You don't see me eating any of it," Trika Adair said, taking another bite of a bowl of purple slop. The plate she had received from the mess hall line sat harmlessly at the edge of their table. "I saw Sergeant Bullwinkle making the stuff a little earlier. It definitely looked like poison going in and coming back out and onto the serving line."
Milan gave a slight chuckle and cocked an eyebrow at her odd-looking food. "Where did you get that stuff?"
"I brought it with me," the woman stated matter-of-factly, as if he should have known all along. Her dangerously sharp, green eyes suddenly turned off in the distance. Their odd slant gave her a deeply saddened look. "I have a good deal of it left from my last trip to my homeworld."
"Where are you from?"
"Chinaé."
The answer set Milan on his heels, but the mysterious Kiffar was never one to display emotions properly. "I'm sorry," he managed to let out with a bit of sympathy, but Trika wasn't one to look for a drinking partner.
"It's not a big deal anymore." She tossed the sad expression away and turned a smile for the first time since her arrival at the Talons' Nest. With a slightly evil grin, she grabbed his plate from him.
Milan didn't raise a fuss and didn't make a move to stop her. If the odd-looking Chinaési female wanted the food for herself, she was more than welcome to it. He planned on staying away from the mess hall permanently after the intrusion team meeting that afternoon. Where Sergeant Bullwinkle had managed to learn the art of cooking, he did not know, but the concoction of green and oozing slime between the two wet buns could probably floor the most hardened of warriors. "What are you doing?" he asked curiously when she began to push aside the green disaster with the tip of her finger.
"Do you want to eat or not?" she returned, taking her bowl of purple food and dumping a good portion of it on the side.
With a look of disgust etching his face, Milan shook his head. "That stuff doesn't look much better." His matted black hair moved slightly with each shake.
Trika took another heaping spoonful and shoved it in her mouth. "It tastes sweet, just like me," she smirked, taking the palm of her hand and giving the side of his face a good swat. "Now eat up, sweetheart!"
Milan hesitantly complied, swirling the goop around in his mouth. It actually didn't taste all that bad, and it was definitely better than whatever was being served on the line. He wouldn't let her know that, of course. As he brought the spoon out of his mouth, he inspected it for leftovers. "You remind me of my sister," he mused.
"Pesky little sister?" Trika hoped all too eagerly.
"Little sister," he agreed, then turned his gaze toward the front double doors. Lieutenant Muir and Stone had just entered, and they were heading toward the food line. "Do you think we should warn them?"
She shook her head. "No. Muir just gives me a bad feeling, like we're about to be ordered around by a dictator. As for Stone..." Apparently, the two other intrusion team members checked out the food and thought better of taking any. Both were headed toward their table. "Let's just say it takes one to know one."
*****
It didn't look appetizing, but at least it was something. Captain Ski began to fish around in a particularly gooey tray to find a decent piece of meat when a sudden splat caught his attention.
A spoonful of brown muck had made its way onto his plate. He looked up slowly and made a face. "What is this stuff?" he asked a grinning Sergeant Bullwinkle.
"It's good for you, sir," Bullwinkle said. "Eat it. My great-grandpoppa got that recipe from a dude with no legs and a big splotch of hair on his forehead. My great-grandpoppa gave the recipe to my grandpoppa, my grandpoppa gave the recipe to my poppa, my poppa gave the recipe my CO over in Special Forces, my CO gave the recipe to my XO, my XO gave the recipe to the ops sarge, the ops sarge gave the recipe to the weapons sarge, the weapons sarge gave the recipe to my drill sarge, and my drill sarge gave it to me. That's right, boss, I was the cookie for the 1st Special Forces Division, and only thirteen of them died from intestinal disease. A court martial proved I'm innocent. Now eat that crap or I'll shove it down yer throat! It gives ya nineteen essential vitamins and minerals. Adds ten years to yer life!" Bullwinkle threw another heaping pile onto Ski's plate.
At that moment, Kevin could only be glad that Bullwinkle was on the other side of the table or else he might have thrown a punch at the man. He was rather in awe, however, of how Bullwinkle might have survived the New Republic all these years. "You've got Special Forces training and you're a cook?"
Bullwinkle nodded, then turned to serve Jaren Kai something he called a Sloppy Joe before the sniper could run away.
Kevin couldn't believe it. "Well, I was waiting on Intel to send us a cook, but if you want to take over, the job is open." Ski knew that Bullwinkle was probably pretty harmless compared to the schmuck the High Council would probably send in his place.
The oddly disgusting man thought for a moment. "Well, I ain't really cooked much since I fell out o' my last squad. Some dude blew up my Winnebago and I got creamed on another starfighter."
Ski couldn't comprehend most of the words, but it didn't really matter. "Well, congrats. You're Talon Squad's permanent cook."
"Okay. I hope ya like Sloppy Joes, Cap'n!" Bullwinkle replied, just as Talon Three, Kendrick Quinn, fell over after getting a taste of the coleslaw. "Medic!"
*****
Just as he was getting comfortable in the mess hall, Stone heard the cry of "Medic!" go up.
You'd think I could get at least a bite down before something goes wrong, he thought. Glancing down at the mess on his plate, which Trika had insisted he try for her, he reconsidered. "A welcomed reprieve," grumbled Stone, standing and walking two tables over to see Quis, her normally anxious expression intensified, attempting to help her new friend.
Kendrick had been floored, but he appeared all right. It would be reasonable to take him to the medical floor just in case, though.
"Thanks," the pilot mumbled. He still seemed slightly traumatized from his experience. "I'm too young to die."
"Come on, flyboy," Stone laughed as he hauled Kendrick to his feet. "Let's get you someplace less hazardous to your health."
*****
Kevin thought he had found someplace away from the commotion of the mess hall to eat his lunch in peace. Before he could take his first bite, however, he noticed the tall form of one of his leaders nearby, awaiting permission to sit down.
He didn't mind, though. "Have a seat, Jaren." He gestured across the table and took a bite of some sort of meat sandwich.
The officer was taken aback by Ski's casual attitude and use of his first name. Sitting down, he grimaced at what was on his plate.
"How did your team meeting go?" Kevin asked, never looking up from his tray.
Swirling his soup absently and avoiding his Sloppy Joe, Jaren searched for the correct and proper words. "Well, sir... you know how you said that... uh... well, this whole thing is mysterious, right?" He waved his arms around as Kevin had done during their first meeting the day before.
The captain had put down his sandwich. "Continue."
"Something is amiss with the partnering of your two snipers, I believe."
Kevin took a sip of the water he had brought with him. His slight, ironic grin was followed by a chuckle. "I know little more than the fact that you two know each other. Am I to assume that there is more to Jaren Kai and Telia Aris than meets the eye?"
Jaren set his face into stone and composed his words carefully. "Well, there was. Sir, Aris and I were a sniper team for the 527th Special Forces. A sniper needs very good information if he is to take correct action. He also can't concentrate on both the shot and distant surroundings. That's what a spotter is for." He paused and took a drink of water. His mouth had gone suddenly dry. "Aris was my spotter on many of those missions. We would trade off jobs occasionally, and we were very good. Morbid traditions aside, we were on the top of the kill charts for six months straight and decorated three times." He hesitated. "We worked very closely on missions for long periods of time and eventually became... involved, but it didn't work out."
The smile had never left Kevin's face. "Ironic, isn't it?"
"That's the thing, though. They want us to bring up the past and tear apart what you're trying to put together."
Kevin paused, again taking his sandwich in hand. "Jaren, I hate to admit it, but the new slicer, Trika, was right. Ninety percent of this squad is in place because they are the most qualified to tear the Talons apart." The man took a bite of his meal before putting it down for good. "I've never told anyone else this, but one solid failure at this squadron gives the Intelligence High Council the ultimate right to dishonorably discharge me."
"I can request a transfer," the other announced even though he didn't fully comprehend the reasons for the setup. Why the IHC would want Kevin Ski out of New Republic service was beyond his knowledge.
Ski shook his head. "I need you both, Lieutenant. Your issues can be fixed. You were that good with the 527th, and you'll be that good again. We're due for more training this afternoon, but the evening is yours to do with as you please. I'd suggest some words make their way to the surface and we seal this whole ordeal for good."
"Yes, sir," Jaren said, not entirely excited about the prospect of sitting down with Telia yet again to resolve their problems. Come to think of it, he wasn't really excited about lunch, either. "I'll see you at training this afternoon, sir." He stood, tray in hand, and headed for the garbage chute nearest the double doors.
Kevin watched his lieutenant throw his entire lunch down the trash and briefly wondered if he had made a mistake by assigning Bullwinkle to the duties of the squadron's cook.