Lions in Blue and Silver

The story of a really good steak, and of acid-drooling slug-cats.

The night before the testing began was one of mixed tension and excitement for almost all of the teams participating. While all the Marines kept in mind their need to keep the contents of the briefing quiet, they didn't have to hide the fact that they were all slated to test for SpecOps, and the majority of them hit the town, either taking the magrail to the Richmond Arcology, or the tube over to Manassas to party.

Ahern's group was no different, and they met up at the Longhorn, a pricey steakhouse that had survived all the years from the 20th Century, in Manassas. The streets were full of both civilians and soldiers, but no one paid their group too much mind, and they were able to get inside with almost no wait.

The ancient building was reinforced with fresh, light brown armacrete, with the inside renovated a dozen times and ending up with a mix of light sandalwood trim and heavier oak flooring, oversized round tables and a bar almost eighteen meters long. Trees and other greenery flanked the open sky dining area they ate in, which also had a leaded glass mosaic overhead to cut down on direct light. Old jazz music was played by sturdy speakers, while servers in long white coats brought out expensive and rare dishes, mostly related to the old 'surf and turf' menu of years gone by.

Given that the Longhorn had one of the few licenses in the world to serve actual cattle, medically certified seafood, and honest to God pork instead of reconstructed soybean paste with protein supplements, the price for the food was staggering – Ahern's point four five kilo prime rib cost over two hundred dollars, and even Kyle, who ate lightly, came in at one hundred ten dollars.

As he dug into his meal, though, the price didn't seem to matter to Ahern much. The steak was exquisite, and the rest of the food just as good. He'd never had a real steak in his life. Quite possibly nobody in his entire family had ever eaten a steak this good in the past fucking century. If he was possibly going to die in some godforsaken, radioactive swamp he wanted to have one damned good meal before checking out.

That, and some fun with Sheila Adkins in the pool… later on tonight.

The group talked about minor things at first – catching up with a few acquaintances they saw in the meetings, the usual back-and-forth bickering between Chu and Saracino over politics, Rachel's ongoing attempts to get Kyle to date one of the countless legions of girls nearly throwing themselves at him, Kyle's ongoing attempts to get Rachel not to act like a floozy, and Ahern trying to teach Kyle how to curse like a real man – but conversation stopped when their food came. Once it slowly started back up again after the first moans of delight at the wonderful tastes, discussion quickly turned from bullshit to the near future.

Ahern was the leader of the team – even Rachel deferred to him. So he made sure that while he turned the conversation to his plans to get through the trials ahead, he also encouraged them to give their feedback on his ideas. He considered himself a fair judge of tactics, and mindful of the need to balance offense and defense, but he always included the others in his tactical planning, both to make them feel like they had a part in the plan, and to honestly gain perspective from their insights.

Such meetings usually started off well and then almost always descended into a contest of insults, but Ahern could live with that. Smirking as he focused on the large and clunky flat-screen tablet with his musings about the coming fights on it, he tapped it with his free hand.

Everyone glanced at him, and he paused to swallow a bite of loaded mashed potatoes before speaking.

"We should be in a pretty good situation. Rachel and I can fuck up any other rifleman in the Marines; Saracino is the goddamned Grim Reaper, and Chu and Kyle can more than fucking hold their own. Once we make it past this Ok-you-fucked-me swamp bullshit, all we have to do is show everyone why we were chosen for the Solguard right out of first rotation."

He sighed. "The problem isn't the second or third phases; it's the first – the swamp. Never mind that with our fucking luck, we'll get jumped by ABC war robots, fucking deathjaws, or mutated snakes the size of a bus. The bigger mess is that we're going into something that, for once, we are not likely to be the best experts in handling. None of us have ever operated in swamp environments, but common sense tells us some things to consider."

Saracino piped up. "Swamps are smelly! We'll need to bring air freshener."

Ahern gave him a glance. "Your attempts at humor remain pure shitfuckery, Mike." Grunting, he continued. "A swamp will cut down on our mobility. It doesn't allow silent movement. It limits line of sight. Worst of all, it gives us no real area to set up for cover."

He gave a small nod as the expression on his friend's faces changed. Team Smashfucker, as Saracino colorfully referred to them as, had developed a fearsome reputation for speed, accuracy, the clever use of cover and evasion, stealth, and deceptive tactics. Most of this relied on the fact that the entire time was fast on their feet with excellent reflexes, and the unbelievable speed and accuracy of Saracino's sniper rifle and Kyle and Rachel with assault rifles. Chu's brilliance with small unmanned drone vehicles was only matched by his ability with traps, and Ahern sometimes felt like the weak link.

A swamp, though – that fucked with literally everything they were good at. He let it finish sinking in before speaking.

"I've been racking my brains all day to figure out how we are going to pull this off, and nothing I have makes much sense. Our strongest forte is in full-fire ambush scenarios, which we won't have. Combined with the fact that it's a goddamned swamp with all the problems I just mentioned, most of our usual formations are worthless."

Rachel was eating tank-grown shrimp, probably from some sea-farm arcology in the Northwest. As she popped one in her mouth, she turned the padd to her, and once she finished chewing, spoke. "Our best bet is still to rely on what we're good at. We're going to be fast and mobile. The goal is to find a shuttle and get there in one piece. Since I doubt they'll give us a fucking map, we've got only one real choice – follow a rapid search pattern and try to find a shuttle, and then figure out how to attract a second team to the location and split."

Kyle sighed. "What kind of search pattern? Standard sweep and clear? I'm fairly sure none of us has ever negotiated a swamp before, and we don't know what patterns will work or will get us going in circles. While we are all skilled, we are usually deployed en masse with clear orders. None of us has any sort of recon or tracking skills. Nor are we familiar with any methods of finding our bearings in a gigantic swamp which, based on the timing, will be in nightfall less than five hours after we arrive."

Saracino frowned, actually getting serious. "Fuck. Low light cuts down on the range we can pick up incoming threats. And given the place is the worst shithole on the continent, you can bet all kinds of fun things will come to chew on our nuts once nightfall hits. I doubt we'll get NV gear, either. Still, we can just dig in once it gets dark, right? It's not like a goddamned gator is going to sneak up on us if we just set traps."

Kyle chimed in. "There are slugs roughly the size of a cat that like to drop from trees and have an acidic sucker-mouth to liquefy and suck up their prey. I believe there are also six different varieties of carnivorous swarming insects, and the mosquitoes carry Type B-II hemorrhagic fever along with an enzyme that inhibits clotting."

Saracino gave him a long look before shaking his head. "Man, I didn't need to fucking hear that. Thank you for tonight's nightmares, bastard." He chewed at a piece of sliced pork, glancing at Chu. "What about traps? We can do traps at night, right?"

Chu sighed. "They will be useful when we stop for the night, yes. And possibly in defending a shuttle until another team shows up… but on the move there is little I can do aside from claymores behind us, and those are as likely to maim other Marines as they are to stop wildlife." Chu folded his arms. "I suspect many of our problems, both in finding a shuttle and evading the more dangerous parts of the swamp, could be solved by linking up with a good recon-focused team, save that I don't know how to identify any of them."

Saracino bit into his roll, mumbling around his food. "Shit, that's easy. We send the boy scout to chat up some other teams, then link up with 'em once we start." He jerked his head toward Kyle, who was eating in decorum.

Ahern sighed. "That won't solve all our issues. The problem with a pure recon team – which is usually two scouts, one heavy, and a pair of CQBs – is they're going to be eaten goddamned alive in that shithole of a swamp, Mike. There's mutated fucking alligators, eezo-dusted snapping turtles that can supposedly bite through steel, fucked up swarms of piranha with a paralytic bite, and apparently, according to Kyle, giant slug-cats."

He cut some more steak, grunting. "What we need is a damned good recon team – like a non-pansy-ass scouty version of us, basically. That would solve both our problems."

Yonis Chu frowned. "Those are not the only problems we face, Tradius." He lowered his voice. "Hasn't anyone asked why they'd stage this kind of exam in such a horrid place? They go on about how valuable we all are, yet dozens of us are likely to get killed in this phase, when the next two phases are perfectly safe. It doesn't add up…"

Ahern sighed, while Saracino muttered. "Let me guess – there's a secret Knight Templar base there they want plundered. Or wait, Elvis was sighted." He stuffed more food in his mouth, rolling his eyes. "All aboard the bullshit conspiracy train with your esteemed, noble conductor, the honorable Lord Chu-Chu."

Florez giggled, and then mocked a train whistle sound. Ahern shot her a dirty look and she gave an impish grin.

Chu shook his head. "Now that the idiot duo has spoken their piece… here's what I know, based on what I was able to ask my father last night. The Eastern American Group for Liberty was based out of the ruins of Tallahassee, which is just west of, and quite near to, the Okefenokee. The Commissars never did clean them completely out, because they'd built bases and hideouts in the swamp, and they've been a thorn in the side of the SE District for a while."

He looked around at each of them. "My father said the original plan for this event, from what he gathered, was only a tournament-style face-off, and this was added in the last week. I think this entire first phase is a chance to kill two birds with one stone – test us in horrible survival conditions and flush out any remaining EAGL terrorists. People who go in just expecting wildlife are going to be unprepared for actual combat with human beings."

Kyle frowned. "Groups with heavy firepower and combat focus will be less effective at scouting and locating the shuttles, but more successful in fighting off the wildlife and any possible terrorist action. Recon teams might be more able to find the shuttles quickly, but are poorly equipped to deal with heavy fighting. And hybrid teams are likely to fail at both. A rather clever ploy, if you look at what you would want in your special forces units. Only the most skilled, flexible, and capable will make it through."

Rachel drank her wine thoughtfully. "Yay, we've proven once again the SA is led by heartless REMFs who live to get us line animals killed. Shocking. Any ideas on how we, you know, avoid being eaten or otherwise dismembered while finding a shuttle?"

Ahern nodded, and then frowned, tapping his tablet to show a map of the Okefenokee Bayou-Bay. "Just one. The main sections of dry land are to the far south and east of the swamp, with a big chunk near the northwest– there's the ruins of an old university there. If there's a shuttle anywhere in this fucking mess, this Valdosta College is the only place likely to have any standing structures and places to tuck it out of sight."

Kyle nodded. "It's also a likely strongpoint for any EAGL terrorists, should Chu's suspicions be correct."

He waved a hand. "I'm not worried about them. I can't even count how many of those stupid 'Don't Tread on Me' idiots we've killed in the past year. Fire discipline is something they think you do with BBQ, and their idea of tactics is remembering to take the fucking safety off before charging in with Rambo-style bullshit. If anything, I'm a lot more worried about running into old ABC robots or the wildlife than those clowns."

Kyle summed up. "So. We must attempt to locate a superior recon team, preferably tonight or before the actual testing tomorrow. We would prefer to be able to rapidly proceed overland through whatever open clearings that can be located to maximize our effectiveness, stopping to trap a perimeter and dig in at night. The ruins of Valdosta College is our primary target, given we don't know the swamp well and are unlikely to find a guide."

Ahern nodded. "Position breakdown?"

Kyle was like a tactical machine, sometimes, and Ahern liked the way the big man could put together the proper way to approach any situation.

Kyle finished his asparagus. "Given our skill sets and the travails of our itinerary, Saracino should act as mobile sniper, focusing on taking out distant threats and crippling incoming forces. Chu should split his duties between scouting with drones when we are stationary, and as Mike's spotter when on the move, covering our rear arc. Rachel and I will act as primary riflemen, covering the front and side oblique arcs, while Ahern should take up the position of both point man and close-in rapid defense, given his toughness and reaction time. Assuming we meet a standard recon team, their heavy should backstop Saracino, with CQB in the front and rear, and scouts to the sides, assisting in both spotting and cover fire."

Saracino sighed. "That never fails to be a little creepy, boy scout. You sound like a damned tactical VI."

Kyle shrugged, and Ahern snorted. "Now, finding a good recon team. Off the top of your head, does anyone at all know of any good recon types?"

Rachel and Saracino looked at him blankly, Saracino speaking first. "I know lots by name and rep, but none of them personally, and you can fucking bet the dispatch guy is not going to just give out that kind of information. Plus, we have no 'in' with these people to get them to listen."

Rachel nodded. "He's right, as usual. Even if we did know a good team directly, how would be find them? I mean, I know that the 4th Scout-Sniper of PriBeta is probably some of the best recon specialists in the SA, but there's no way to know which units are participating or not without just wandering around and asking, which would take days."

Kyle frowned, but Chu rubbed his chin. "I can think of one recon person that we should be able to find pretty quick, based on her appearance, assuming she's gotten this far and didn't wash out in the paperwork crunch."

He finished his last bits of food before continuing. "Jon Grissom was talking to my father and my grandfather at the last meeting of the High Lords, and was a little amused at dad playing up my accomplishments so much. I remember Grissom saying his own daughter was in some kind of recon specialist group, and that they just got commendations and promotions for tracking and taking out a pirate band near Thanas. He said she was surprisingly sneaky and hard to spot, especially given her coloring was like his own."

Saracino snorted. "Pale white skin, blond hair, and blue eyes? Yeah, that is pretty damned rare these days, so she should stand out like a sore thumb. We could split up and just look through the crowds of Marines as they come in from leave later tonight…"

Something about that description was bothering him, even as Rachel was skeptically questioning the plan. "Why would they help us?"

Chu smiled. "Because if one of them is really Grissom's daughter, EAGL will be trying to kill her, given that Grissom's assault drove them into the swamp and shattered their organization. All we need to do is reveal they are likely to be in the swamp, and they'll want all the extra backup they can get."

Rachel grunted. "Pretty slick thinking, Chu-Chu. Maybe that conspiracy shit is worth something after all. She pushed her hair back behind her ears, and the motion clicked with Ahern, making him shake his head.

"Now I remember. I saw a person like that yesterday, on the team sitting next to us. Chatted with one of the LTs a bit. Fuck, what was his name?!"

Kyle piped up. "I believe it was Lieutenant David Anderson, 2nd Marine, Thanas."

Saracino rolled his eyes. "Do you memorize fucking everything?"

Kyle shrugged. "It's called a photographic memory, Michael. It isn't like I can help it."

Saracino stared at him for several seconds, and then shook his head. "I don't know if it's awesome that every time you fuck a chick you basically have a porn recording afterward, or fucked up because you'll never forget the time you walked in on Rachel in the shower during her period and fainted."

Ahern, Chu, and Florez all facepalmed, while Kyle grimaced. "Thank you for bringing that back to the forefront of my mind."

Saracino airily waved a fork of food around. "That's my job. Professional asshole. I'm surrounded by incompetent idiots, I can't help letting them know the truth every now and then."

Chu snorted. "Aside from killing people with your sniper rifle, you can't do anything, Mike."

"Or a pistol. Or rifle. Or pretty much anything that shoots, throws, or fires. And honestly, it's not my fault I'm this way. I was a perfectly adjusted and nice person until I started working with you all. Fucking weirdos. Rachel excluded."

Ahern coughed. "Someone find a fucking kettle, the pot is calling." Chu snickered at this, while Saracino only raised an eyebrow.

"You want some of this, Ahernia?"

Ahern rolled his eyes. "Mike, that was a pretty weak comeback. You don't know who you want to insult more, Chu or Kyle or me, and you just bounce around between insulting us all like a guy using a trampoline."

Saracino ate his bite of food and swallowed. "I know exactly who I want to insult. As for trampolines… I also know they used to call them 'jumpolines.' Until your mom used one the first time."

Chu sighed even as Ahern blinked, thought for a minute, then went red and lunged over the table.

O-LiBaS-O

After dinner, Ahern walked across the various barracks squares near the main assembly point, doing searches on his cellphone. He finally managed to find the number for the transfer and information officer for off-world TDY units, and called them to find David Anderson's location. As expected, the TDY dispatcher didn't want to give out the information, but dropping a lie saying that he knew him from Thanas and just wanted to talk to 'the old man's daughter' got past the man's suspicion.

As it happened, the TDY dispatcher sent him toward the other nice restaurant in Manassas, the Broken Keg. He staked out the front of the building, waiting, and about ten minutes after he had arrived there was a commotion at the door of the restaurant. A group of five Marines came out, wearing plain undress BDUs with no rank markings and simple nametags, two of them arguing over something while the third cursed at them both.

The leader of the group was clearly the biggest of the lieutenants, with RICHARDS printed on his barrel chest. His head was shaven bald and the guy was even bigger than Kyle. Next to him, the other two black guys – ANDERSON and PELLHAM – were still big and muscular, but not quite so heavyset. Anderson had a certain refined look to him, while Pellham was still cursing loudly – and well, in Ahern's opinion.

Bringing up the rear and talking softly were the girl with the blond hair and bright blue eyes, with SANDERS printed on her shirt, and a slender but muscular Chinese man with slightly out of regs hair and LENG for a nametag. Strangely enough, Ahern caught the outlines of at least three knives under the man's BDUs.

Ahern pushed off the corner of the building he'd been leaning against and boldly walked up to the group. "Pardon me. You Sierra Recon of 2nd Thanas?"

The reaction was obvious. The Chinese fellow placed both hands into a martial arts posture, moving the girl behind him in a clearly protective fashion, while the two smaller black guys fell back a bit to flank her. The big man up front seemed to actually get bigger as he folded massive arms over his chest, his voice sounding akin to a pissed-off avalanche or an out of sorts meteor strike.

"What concern is that of yours?"

Ahern smiled. "Because my team is participating in the event tomorrow… and we are good fighters, but not so good at reconnaissance."

The black guy on the right scowled. "Motherfucker, do we look like we can't kick ass on our own? Do you not see how goddamned big Tiny is?"

Ahern could not help but arch an eyebrow, turning to look at Richards with a disbelieving note in his voice. "Your fucking nickname is 'Tiny'?"

Anderson spoke, a long-suffering note in his voice. "He is the runt of the family, he claims. Look, Captain – I think we met yesterday – we appreciate the concern, but we can take care of ourselves."

Ahern folded his arms. "Sure you can. I've got news for you guys, though – this swamp we're headed to? One of my teammates is in Family Chu. He heard the place is a fallback point for a bunch of separatists called EAGL." He gestured at the blond girl. "If I know whose daughter she is, you can fucking bet they will. And given the shit in that swamp, your size is just going to get you shot faster."

The big Lieutenant glanced back at Sanders, who sighed. Her voice was clear and sweet, if soft. "My father hates EAGL because they killed my sister… it's likely the whole reason we're going into the swamp is so he can use this exercise to kill the last of them off."

The man named Pellham groaned. "And the big man didn't think to fucking tell us this shit? Jesus fuck. We ate with the stupid bastard last fucking night."

Sanders glared. "He's not stupid!"

Pellham snorted. "Shiiit. Girl, in my book if you send your kid into a damned swamp and forget to fucking mention it's full of people who wanna god-stomp the shit outta you? That's stupid."

Ahern leaned back against the wall, crossing his feet at the ankles and grinning. "Did I mention my group is all Solguard vets, and we have Michael Saracino as our sniper? We just can't really operate in a swamp that we have no idea on how to navigate. We'd be happy to help you guys out."

The Chinese man spoke, his voice calm and whispery, but cool. "What do you suggest, Captain Ahern? And yes, I know who you are – as well as your ally, Yonis Chu."

Ahern's eyes narrowed. This one looked like a snake. "Deal is simple. We team up at the outset, you help us navigate through and find a shuttle, and we keep you safe and help you fight off anything that fucks with us. We need ten people to take off anyway, and it's unlikely my combat heavy team and your recon heavy team will be going for the same slots."

Richards frowned. "We were planning to roll with the 4th Thanas."

Leng shook his head. "They are weak. This group would serve better in keeping Kahlee safe." He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she smiled at him. Anderson gave the Chinese man an upset look, and Ahern wondered what that was about.

If this is some kind of love triangle bullshit, I'm going to lose it completely.

The man named Pellham looked him over. "Assuming we roll with this shit… you got a plan? We're familiar with swamps from Thanas, and where the shuttles will be is pretty obvious, but we have no way of knowing shit we'll be running up against, and two of us are CQB types."

Ahern brought out his tablet, flicking it on to show the neatly diagrammed plans of Preston Kyle on the twenty-centimeter screen, accounting for two CQB troops and two scouts along with one heavy working with his own team. "I'm guessing 'Tiny' here is the heavy?"

The big man sighed, and then shook his head. "It's your call, Sanders."

The woman gave Ahern a careful, measuring look, before glancing back to the Chinese man, who slowly nodded. "Let's at least try it out."

Ahern smirked. "I'll send you my TTL code. I'm headed over to Sam's Last Stand; I can have the team meet you there in thirty to discuss this some more."

Pellham gave a crow of laughter. "I love that place!"

Anderson merely shook his head. "That isn't really the sort of place for Kahlee to be seen…"

Ahern arched his eyebrow. "I made Yonis Chu drink a beer in there. If it's good enough for the grandson of a High Lord of Sol…"

Anderson snorted, as Pel nodded. "We'll meet you there in an hour."

With that, they swept on down the street, being careful to keep Sanders roughly in the middle of their group at all times.

Ahern was struck by the thought that they looked less like a coherent team and more like a bodyguard unit, then dismissed it. No need to give Chu more conspiracy theory material to work with, after all.

Author's Notes:

As usual, the ANs will cover subtle details that might go unnoticed:

– In case you aren't up on your reading in my Cerberus Files, Pellham is Theo Pellham – better known as Pel some thirty years later.

– Yes, that is Kai Leng. It's an AU.

– Yes, I had Kahlee Sanders messing with Kai Leng. She knew Anderson was attracted to her, and she was a little to him, but more to Kai. When Kai turned out to be a dick, she ended up chasing and being shot down by Anderson for twenty years. He was… pretty bitter.

– The Broken Keg and the Longhorn are actual (and completely fucking awesome) restaurants near Camp Lejeune in Jacksonville, North Carolina. Relocated to Virginia in the PV due to sea-level changes.

– Likewise, the Okefenokee is a real swamp, not far from where I was stationed in Georgia. And it is full of gators, and mosquitoes we call 'flying teeth' that will raise a good-sized welt on your arm if they bite you.

– A 'claymore' is a stationary mine, usually set low and to one side, that explodes laterally, usually throwing shrapnel into legs and crippling its victims.

– CQB = Close quarters battle, i.e., melee weapons or unarmed combat.