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"After you," Echo said, holding the door open. "I still can't believe he made you give them your key. Now I'm paranoid. What do you think they're going to come in here and do?" She collapsed into an easy chair. "I don't know. They live upstairs. FlatFace has really good hearing. I imagine if I get close to leaking they'll barge in and stop me. If I spill the beans they loose their memory too, and their commander made it clear they can't interfere with me otherwise, so they've got their hide in the game as well." "Makes sense. Still, it's removing what little privacy we had in here." She shrugged. "We don't have much of a choice until we have more housing." Echo sighed. "I guess not. I'm going to head back in. Gunny said his guys, uh, re-appropriated another desk for their maintenance officers... navigators, delta array operators or whatever they're called. I'm going to try and find a way to shoe-horn them into that broom closet office." She smirked at him. "You might have to stack them. Have fun." "Yup." And with that he walked out the door. She picked a book off the end table, opened it to her bookmark, and began reading. There was nothing like unwinding with a good book. A step into another mind was such an easy way to shirk the stress and never ending list of things to do and responsibilities that refused to leave her as she walked home. She was just settling in when there was a solid thud upstairs. With a concrete ceiling that was almost cause for concern. They had better not be doing that at night. Her phone began ringing. She pulled it out of her ankle pocket, her aunt Susan's number on the screen. "Hello?" "WHAT DID YOU DO, EVELYN?!!" She jerked the phone away from her ear, opting turn the speaker on and setting in on the table instead. "What do you mean, Sue?" "I mean why did I have ALIENS push their way in when I opened my door to get the mail this morning?! My god, Eve! They put this... this blue thing around Caroline's neck, and said it was to keep you quiet about stuff. We can't cut it off! Bill even tried using bolt cutters! What did you do, Eve?! Why are they holding your daughter in case YOU do something?!" "Caroline is not in any danger, Sue." "And how can you know that?! This thing just, just, shrank around her neck! How do you know it won't shrink more and choke her?! It can't even be cut, Eve! And these... people? These dog people... Why are there aliens in my house, Eve?!" "Wait, are they still there?" "Yes! They're inside, have been all day. I'm in the back yard. I went behind the garage so they won't hear me." "Go back inside Sue. Caroline won't be hurt. If I talk she might be taken away, but she won't be hurt." "You're awfully sure of something you don't know Eve." "I'm wearing one too, Sue. I'm the one that needs to keep my mouth shut. I'm the one who's mind they'll wipe. They want Caroline for insurance and insurance only. She'll be fine even if I talk. I'll never see her again, but she'll be safe and healthy and grow up just fine. They'll also make sure she says that way with you in the mean time, because if something happens to her they loose their extra insurance on me." "But-" "I don't plan on saying anything regardless Sue! What I know would be just as damaging to us as it would be to them. They're giving me a lot of support in this- more than I could have asked for. More than I get from the navy for their secrets." There were a few seconds of silence. "I'm going back inside. But I want to know how you got involved with these people." "We're hosting a squadron of them here. They're supposed to teach us how to fight back at skinnies." "They didn't protect their classified information very well then. Excuse me, Mr., uh, thank you." Shepard heard Caroline laugh in the background. "Caroline sounds like she's in horrible distress, Sue. You'd better do something." She heard a sigh. "She's playing a board game with two of them and a human they brought with. The one is talking astronomy with Bill -you know he bought another telescope? The other two are breaking out that model rocket kit you bought her last year that she's never touched. I think one is in the garage looking over Bill's rebuild project. This is day three. You'd think they were moving in." "Careful. If they hear that they might decide it's a good idea, especially if they find out you can cook. They're terrible people, Sue. Horrible." Sue sighed. "How did you get in trouble again?" "I was hit by a car and left in the desert. They saved my life, but it involved riding in a UFO." "Oh. Oh." "Yeah." The line was quiet for a few seconds. There was cheering in the background. "So what does the blue thing do?" "I have one around my wrist that makes it impossible to hide if they want to find me, and other, benign stuff. Why don't you ask them?" Sue sighed again. "I guess I will. Her school will raise questions." "Bring it up with the team then. That's their job, and from what I gather they are very persuasive." "If you call bulldozer persuasive. Everything else going well?" "Busy, but yes, going well." "Ok. I'll let you go then." "Say hello to Caroline for me. I'll call this weekend." "Will do. Love ya." "Love ya too. Bye." She looked up to a circle of faces staring at her. Cypher, Sparks, and Echo all bore a face of concern. "What?"

[Are you ok, Mallet?] Lube said, [You look like someone ran you from pole to pole.] [I'm ok,] Mallet smiled weakly, [just tired. Keeping up with this flight schedule would have been brutal even without all our annuals and the 8's phase coming due. I think I only got about three hours of sleep.] [What?! You know it's illegal to crew on less than four!] Brakes said. [Did I say three?] Mallet said [I meant eight, sir. Yup. Definitely a solid eight.] Lube shot her a smirk. Brakes started digging through screens on his console. [Oh yeah? When?] [Right after Flatface inspected my last sign-off.] [That was three and a half hours ago, according to the logs.] Brakes said. [Lube did the preflight and we woke you up off the cabin floor. You slept for eight hours in that three hour window?] [I sure did!] Mallet said trying to sound cheerful. [Compressed sleep. It's great!] Tack looked back at her from his station. He wasn't angry, but he didn't share in her humor. Mallet bit her lip. Her crew counterparts were so hard to read in this form- human expressions didn't come naturally and rakken ones didn't translate to the shape well. It made them very difficult to interpret sometimes. Like now. He wasn't angry, but what was it? Not worry. Frustration? Irritation? [I'll go in back and sleep while we patrol.] She said. [You said that last time.] Brakes said. [And I did, until we started playing tag with Tickle. The HASS back there will only dampen so much. It's not meant for comfort.] [You will go into the back as soon as this exercise is over and you will sleep.] Tack said. [I should not have to tell a sergeant to do that.] [Yes sir.] Mallet said. [Lube, if her vitals don't indicate sleep within an hour, go back and 'assist' her,] he continued, making a gesture like shooting a stunner, [and let me know so we can drop her off on the Trisona for an insomnia evaluation .] [Yes sir.] Grum said. [I didn't want to be up for this long, sir!] Mallet said, [It was stay awake and get the Ten up for this morning or sleep and loose the mission.] [A sleep deprived engineer is dangerous to everyone, including our sister vessels. I'd rather do without and drop a training mission.] [Well then Rika was up too, sir. He was closing the Phase on '8. Why isn't he in trouble?] [Who says he isn't?] Said Brakes. [Lost brought up his lack of sleep at the briefing, and now he's currently catching up on it. That's what prompted us to check in on what your crew rest has been.] [WHAT? Flatface sleeping? How?!] Mallet exclaimed. [I'm tired but this seat isn't that comfortable.] [Lost looked at the maintenance log after he asked them to get him a couple of coffees on the way in and flipped. Then he pulled his vitals for the past three days 'cuz he lives in his suit and almost died of an aneurism. He got him a cup of decaff and mixed a sedative into it. They loaded him into the bunk before take-off.] Mallet shook her head. [That's fucked up. It's wrong. I mean the crazy creature won't stop otherwise and he's been sprinting non-stop to meet Shave's ridiculous demand for that phase in two days- but it's still fucked up. It's like getting punished for obeying orders.] She sighed. [He's going to be livid when he wakes up. Lost better hope he doesn't catch him alone, especially after the stunt we pulled before we left. I take it we keep Shave in the dark about this?] [Who do you think got the sedatives from Doc?] [He's too prudish for that. This mission requires an engineer on crew. He's short!] Brakes shook his head. [Lost is handling both.] [How the fu-]

WHRREEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

[SHIT!] she said. [I'm loosing iron containment. Tack, I need you to burn the tail out!] "Ghost three declaring emergency at flight level three one, heading two five five four, speed mach one and five," Brakes said in a cool voice. [I can't,] Tack said. [Not in the atmosphere. Why is that even heated?!] [We were hiding from IR,] Mallet said. [Entropy has to go somewhere, sir.] The vessel suddenly pitched completely vertical and accelerated hard. "Ghost, this is Outreach. Can you clarify the nature of emergency?" "We're loosing containment on ionized iron plasma. Four souls. Climbing beyond high orbit and venting," Brakes said, "if we can make it that far." "Wingmen?" "No lag." Smokey's said. [Mallet you had better not be heating that still!] [I cut power to it with the alarm sir, but that doesn't mean it'll cool fast. I'm dumping all the heat I can into the atmosphere.] [Fuck.] "Copy that Ghost," Outreach said, "NASA notified. You are clear to flight level one zero zero zero, your wingman has better equipment than we do beyond that." [What is broken?] Lube said, speaking to her on the maintenance channel. [Can we fix it in flight?] [Release shutter isn't sending a closed signal to the tail control computer.] [None of the sensors are sending?] [None.] Mallet said. [Which means if the shutter isn't open, it's about to be. Something mechanical must have given out, but I don't know how... Though it was due for high-time replacement six flights from now. So much for a margin of safety.] [Shit.] Lube said. [Standby Ghost two, three venting on my mark,] Tack said. [You're clear three,] Shave said, [Two standing by for pursuit and rescue.] There was a tremor. [It's gone!] Mallet said. [It gave!] Brakes said. [Three burning tail, heading seven seven eight one six three, by two one one one five nine!] The tremor became a roar, and Mallet was riveted to her readouts (and plastered to her seat) as Tack pushed the Farrom Ten into full tail, countering it as much as he could with the gravity thrusters. Even in her suit Mallet could hear the thunder as the vessel shook. Seconds crawled as she watched the remaining mass rapidly dwindle. [Ten *urhg* percent *uhn* remaining,] she called, watching the indicator droop. [Five percent *Gasp* Two percent *urg* left.] The shaking and noise were abruptly replaced with silence and a very strong acceleration to the rear. [Is the tail off, Tack?] She asked. [It should be. Is it not?] [I have no safe indication. Computer still indicates shutter is not closed.] [I didn't shut it until after it indicated empty up here. It should be safe to bring back to the surface... I think. Procedures?] [Nothing specific given,] Lube said. [If the shutter isn't closed we can bypass to the emergency port and the reactor will be venting waste iron and nickel to the atmosphere, but it won't be ionized or high energy. Book says to dock at external airlock, and that's it.] [That's what I have,] Mallet said, flipping through emergency procedure checklists. [All well, Three?] Shave said. [We're good.] Tack said. [No safe on tail shutter, but it's empty. No other indications.] [Good. Return to Ledger home.] [Roger that two. You don't need to tell me twice. Brakes-] "Outreach, this is Ghost three." "Go ahead Ghost. This is Outreach." "Emergency has been resolved, request return to Ledger home for repair upon reentry." "Granted Ghost, form your flight up on Ledger. Ledger, Outreach." "Go Outreach," Woody's said. "Flightpath changed to shortest vector, push heading..." [So,] Mallet saif, slouching as much as her suit would let her, [do you still want me to go to bed as soon as we land, or fix our tail first?] She practically felt Tack stew from the seat in front of her. [If you're not in bed when we walk for patrol I'll seal you in the bunk room myself for a week.] She fought a twisted smile. [Yes sir. We should park away from the unit when we land. They don't have protection from the reactor venting.] "Woody, do you have an out of the way spot for us to repair?" Tack said. "We're leaking iron fumes." "Just the CALA, but it's full with the Checker's jets. And there's the hot-brakes area, but they don't allow maintenance unless it's absolute. Is it radioactive? How long does it take?" "No, just gaseous nickel and iron. I wouldn't want to breath it. Repair depends on parts, but the reactor only takes about five minutes to shut down. "My guys should stay back if you park it on the flight line. That's not long enough to impact flight ops much." "Copy. Thank you Woody." A few minutes later found them touching down on a mostly empty flightline. As soon as the nose strut was down Mallet had the hatch open and had leapt to the ground. She bolted to the rear and opened a panel as Lost sprinted up behind her. He and Lube gave her a leg up into the open panel before pulling himself to the opening, leaning in with his weight hanging on his forearms. She crawled a short ways forward, inspecting the shutter mechanism. [DAMNIT!] she said, [Linkage is current-fatigued. It's all out of shape. The shutter was open and the bad link caused a gap. We leaked iron all the way up. The nozzle is fine, but the vectoring actuators are burnt, the charging mesh is toast... This whole control assembly is completely torched. Shit. Shit shit shit. This is going to be a can of worms, as Flatface says.] [We'll help.] Lube said. [I'll grab Lost, Smokey and Flatface will trot over when she wakes up. It'll go fast-] He was interrupted by something and looked down. [Hold on Mallet. Smokey's here.] He dropped from the opening. Mallet crawled back and looked out. Slosh waved from the driver's seat of the 'Mitz' as he pulled up. In the bed the large bulk of an iron plasma accelerator unit was resting at an odd angle. [Dip overheard your emergency. We're still waiting on our reactor monitor, so he, Tits and I pulled the whole unit as fast as we could.] Mallet lay in shock. Even suited, she could tell Smokey was standing there in much the same state. [Holy... that was fast!] Slosh shrugged and grinned. [Powerline shop helped.] [Slosh... I... Thank you! I'll get Tack to push cann paperwork and then-] [Paperwork is done. Tickle wrote and cut it all while we were pulling it. Even wrote gripes against yours. 'Swap for test.' Take ours and we'll take your burnt one and order the junked shit to fix it.] [Why?! It would be easier to just give you our monitor and let you take the sorties until we get our parts.] She saw the image of his face grin on the inside of her faceshield. [Farrom eight and ten have been nearly tied for the second highest readiness rates in the fleet for almost a year. You and Flatface are a pride of the pad, and likely the squadron, but nobody will admit it. Hurry up and start pulling your IPA. I'll be up in a second. Where's grouchy?] [Lost drugged him before the flight so he could put him to bed.] [About damn time. He's been pounding coffee like a desiccated dog. Last time he slept was two days ago.] [He told me he slept last patrol!] [But he never takes his suit off! Lost pulled his vitals this morning in the chow hall and nearly fell out of the booth. Speaking of which, how about you? When was the last time you caught some dark?] [I haven't been sleeping much, I'll admit, but-] [I bet Lube or Brakes can tell me-] [I've already been ordered to bed before patrol or I'll go for an eval! Leave me some damn privacy!] Slosh only winked, unfazed as usual. [Just making sure. You stop paying attention while working on this bitch and she'll kill you, and I'd hate to loose anyone from our pad.] Mallet let a smile grow across her face. [Me too, Slosh. I love our little dysfunctional group.] [Are you going to chat, or pull that hunk of junk out of there?] [Yeah, on it...]

"Pearson!" Cpl. Pearson jumped to his feet from one of the battered and abused office chairs. "Yes Gunny?" "When were you supposed to report to the Farrom ten?" "Oh-seven hundred, Gunny." "Then why the hell are you in my shop?" Pearson shifted nervously from one foot to the other. "They've been out flying since zero six, Gunnery Sergeant. I went out as soon as they came back, but three of them ran at me waving for me to go away. So I came back here. AM1 told me to wait an hour and try again. Said they closed the flightline for a while for some reason." Gunny Owens looked at his watch. "AM1" "Yes Gunny?" the petty officer said, looking up from where he was typing a maintenance action up on one of the computers. "You and Sgt. Thomas escort Cpl. Pearson to the Farrom Ten immediately." "Aye, Gunnery Sergeant." the NCO's said in unison, standing up. Pearson didn't wait, and began a quick, nervous pace towards the hanger door of the shop.

Gamun lounged in the engineer's chair, faceshild open as she ran the necessary tests on the "new" IPA unit. Niedka sat on the threshold holding a rather bloody rag to his forearm while Rika sat two steps below him and leaning groggily against his legs for support. Both had their hoods off, revealing the scratches on Niedka's face and matted fur on the sides of Rika's muzzle. It was difficult to tell because of the black fur she had there, but it looked suspiciously like drying blood. Rika's head bobbed slightly as she stared off into the distance while he gently scratched her behind the ears with his free hand. Slosh leaned against the ladder. Gamun was telling a story. [So fast forward three hours: It's two AM and Brakes here sounds like one of these trucks downshifting on the freeway. I can't sleep, so I'm standing naked in the kitchen eating a bowl of yogurt and thinking about how the human body really isn't that ugly without clothes on when... Well what do we have here?] The duo on the steps looked up to see what had caught her attention. Approaching the vessel at a brisk walk was Cpl. Pearson, flanked by AM1 Jones and Sgt. Thomas. Gamun broke into a grin and then laughed as they walked up to the foot of the ladder and stopped. "HAHA! Are you afraid of him running off or something?" "Apparently," AM1 said. "Gunny wanted him to quit stalling and be gone already," Sgt. Thomas said. "Nervous Pearson?" Mallet said, clearly amused. "No sergeant," he said, stone faced and standing tall. Rika looked at Pearson blearily. "You absolutely stink of fear. You're not fooling me." "Is that blood? 'the hell happened?" Sgt. Thomas said, his eyes moving from Rika's mouth to Niedka's rag. "That fucker behind me drugged me! He gave be decaf coffee with sedatives!" All three human's eyes got wide, especially Pearson's. "He didn't sleep for two days straight and crew a sortie. That's illegal as hell and he knows it," Niedka said with a wink at Pearson. "You, FlatFace, were told to go to bed after yesterday's patrol. Shave and I pull biometrics, 'cuz you never take that damn suit off, and find that you've been up for seventy hours straight. Shave said you'd be asleep by take-off or he'd have to pull your flight status and we'd be forced to leave you with doc for evaluation. A sleep deprived engineer can get the whole flight killed and you know that." "That doesn't mean you-" "None of our vessels will risk loosing an engineer. That is out of the question. I gave them to you earlier and you didn't take them, you didn't even go to bed. If there's paperwork you'll be in deep, deep shit and not just with Shave. Would you rather have had him dope you, Smokey, or me?" Rika stewed for a moment in front of the shocked humans. "You. I'm not violated, just mad. Really fucking mad. I'm still going to break your fucking fingers and castrate you the moment this shit is out of my system. If anyone else did it though... Pearson, why the fuck are you here?" "Checking in, Sergeant. I, uh, I'm fap'ed to the Farrom Ten." "You're not fapping in my vessel," Mallet said. "The only person who does that is Tack, but he's the commander of it so he gets to do whatever the hell he wants." "He's assigned to us," Brakes said, who had appeared behind her. He looked at the two men escorting the Corporal. "Let him up." Rika and Niedka scrambled to their feet and climbed (or stumbled) off the ladder; Lost guiding his drowsy Sergeant back to the Farrom 8. Pearson timidly began climbing the stairs to the cabin and his escorts turned back towards the hanger. "Have fun!" AM1 said with a sneer. As Pearson stepped past the threshold an alarm screeched through the cockpit and he froze. Gamun spun to the door frame, held a button down and stared at her console impatiently. "YES! I KNOW! Shut up already, he's with me!" A few moments later a flashing red indicator on her console changed to steady green. The screeching stopped and she let go of the button. "Over hear Corporal." Brakes motioned him towards the WSO's console. "Let's get you on the crew list so you can come and go without the vessel trying to kill you." Pearson's eyes grew wide. He timidly skirted Gamun's station and up the narrow isle to the front. "It will do that, sir?" "It might." Said Brakes. "If you're not on the crew list and nobody clears you it'll simply crank up the gravity until you can't get off the floor. Some people have problems breathing at that point." He pulled a text-book sized box off the floor, and connected it with a cable to a port under the right panel of his console. Lifting the lid he held it out to the marine. "Put your hand on this." Pearson set his hand on the cool, slick surface. Brakes let the lid rest on the top of his hand and touched something on his display. Pearson jumped. The lid had melted around his hand, conforming to the top of it while he felt his palm sink into the lower surface. Just as suddenly it was solid again, and he gave it a cautious tug to confirm his fears: his hand was firmly stuck in the box. "Easy," Brakes said, keeping a firm hold on the box. Pearson froze and slowly took a deep breath to calm himself as Brakes worked through menus on his display. "Alright," he said, turning to the marine. "I won't lie, this is going to hurt a bit, but it won't harm you. I'm going to map your nervous system. Ready?" "Wait!" Pearson said, more out of reflex than anything. "Yes?" Brakes said, raising an eyebrow. "Er, ah, map my nervous system sir?" Brake merely nodded. "And that will let the ship know it's me when I walk through the door?" "Everyone's nerves are slightly different," Gamun said from behind him. "They follow similar routes, like finger prints, but like fingerprints everyone's are unique. The vessel scans the field generated by your system and identifies you by that... well, it does unless your suit is on. Then you are ID'ed by brain wave patterns. The scan is so the vessel can identify you if you are injured out of suit and some of your nerves are fucked up or missing. If we only mapped your hand, for instance, and it was crushed while working on the landing gear, you'd be SOL if you came in here to suit up so we could leave, wouldn't you?" "Oh," Pearson said. Brainwaves? He was liking this less and less, but with his hand stuck there wasn't much he could do now. Hold on, they were going to map more than just his hand? "Ok," Brakes said. He touched something on his display. Lightening seared up Pearson's hand, through his arm, across his torso, over his head, down his other arm, and shot down both his legs. He wasn't sure if he screamed, but the next instance the pain was gone and he was left with the death of a whimper on his breath. "Done. Still living?" "Y-yes sir," Pearson gasped. The box suddenly fell away from his hand. He looked down to see Brakes winding up the cable in his hand, the box, back in its original shape, sat in his lap. "Good! Mallet!" "Yes sir!" "How is the IPA testing?" "Four out of five passed. Last one in progress." "As soon as that last one passes, sign the MAF and kick it to me-" "Yes sir." "-And then finish processing Corporal Pearson in." "Yes si- er, how do I do that, exactly?" Brakes shrugged. "I don't know. I was hoping you would." "Not a clue. I've never heard of someone being temporarily assigned to another unit before. Well, outside of the infantry." "Your military doesn't do temporary transfers?" Pearson said. With some luck he might be sent back if they had no way to attach him. Gamun looked up at him and grinned. "Oh brother, you're in for a whole lot of learning. I forgot how much I had to teach Flatface. Let's start with a language lesson." "Yes sergeant?" Pearson's face held an unstifled look of confusion. "Our word for unit is etakku. Try it." "Ee-tah-koo." "Close enough. The word for family is etaku." "Ee-take-oo." "Yes. Notice the similarity?" "Yes sergeant." Gamun explained how each small, non-infantry unit was composed of an element of a family. Pearson's eyes grew wide. "So each of you are..." Brakes nodded. "Yup." "Related?!" "Wait," Brakes said. "What?!" Mallet said. "No! By marriage. Like a chain. I'm at the bottom. Tack is a the top here, but really he's more like the lower-middle of the whole thing. There's sixteen more adult Yasouds back home." Pearson paused for a few minutes. "I'm not going to-" "Hell no you're not. Not in my family and definitely not as my lower. But you see why we don't do temporary transfers. Once you get back to your house or a patches-off dinner while deployed, Lieutenant Commander Yasoud here becomes hubby to Lube and wifey to Tack, and Booger Breath to me," Gamun said with a wink to Brakes. Brakes just shook his head and kept digging through menus on his display. "That's not fraternization?" "Since our civilian families have a very similar, informal structure already, this simply takes advantage of it. Not much changes when we go home, just the formalities drop. Lube still obeys Brakes and minds me. Without a group to play favorites with it doesn't cause problems. Fraternization would be me schmoozing up to Brakes here to lever Lube into doing something." "Oh." "And Tack and higher would NOT find it amusing." "Here," Brakes said, pulling a document up on his display. "I found something under the fifth division's SOPs. According to this, each unit 'shall create a checklist ensuring temporary assignee has all standard issue equipment, accesses, and permissions for the appropriate rating; is in the foster unit's programs, rosters, manifests, databases, and roll-calls; and is familiar with command personnel and appropriate offices.' It's from the infantry, but it's something go off of." "So both the skipper and Shave don't have a checklist or a procedure?" asked Mallet. "Hah! No, Tack asked him and was told to just 'make him work'. So of course the mess got passed to me. And-" "And now you're passing the buck to me, as Flatface would say." "Exactly! But I've started a list. I sent it to you over the net: It should take you until patrol at least to complete... as long as he doesn't fight you over anything," he added, staring at the corporal. Pearson shifted uncomfortably, but didn't say anything. Mallet looked through something on her display. "Alright. Will he be flying with us sir?" "We can't leave him here if we do cross-countries or leave the system. I picked up his environmental suit and a back-up from the Trisona this morning; you, ah, were a little preoccupied examining the minute details of your workstation console." He made a gesture mimicking someone sleeping at a desk. "We didn't try to wake you." "Yes sir." Mallet sighed. "I guess the next thing will be to have you suit up, Pearson, so it can tune to your body, then map and register your brain pattern with the vessel database." "Um, sergeant, why do I have to do that? Isn't my nervous system enough to identify me by?" Mallet ushered him into the back room while explaining. "The Farrom 10 does a lot more than use it for identification. While it doesn't read thoughts or control your mind or anything crazy (and convincing Flatface of that took a while) it does use it to alert you to emergencies, among a lot of other things. You just, well, know that the reactor is leaking, or the IPA is loosing containment, or we're painted, or the computer bay is on fire again, and so on. It's like the lights and tones in the cockpit of your airplane, but this is much faster since you don't have to process the meanings of those lights and sounds. You simply know what is wrong. If only troubleshooting was like that." He gave her a dubious look as she opened the small locker and fished around. "Not to mention it braces your body to withstand the violence of our flight, and the life support you'll need if anything happens outside of the atmosphere. We only have one hull, so if it's ever penetrated your blood will boil and you'll be toast. On top of that I'll depressurize the vessel so the cabin hass doesn't have to work as hard during maneuvers. Or I'll do it to board a vessel we've arrested. Or assist a stricken craft. Do you get the picture?" "Yes, but I'm really not comfortable with it," he said. She grinned as she pulled out a suit with his name spelled in both English and Arlomic characters, Corporal chevrons replaced the usual rakkan rank, but the unit 'patch' was still the FLI-682 [Wraiths], a reaper-esq character with a canine-ish skull for a head and a long, billowing cloak that ended in a tatters for a body. It had a skeletal hand "catching" the end of a laser beam and the other choking a tornado. "I don't care if you're comfortable with it. I care that you'll put it on willingly. If you'll trust her word more I can ask Sergeant Yasoi to come over and explain it. And if you still don't want to, let's just say you're well within stun range and the great thing about life support is you don't have to ever take it off." She paused. "That's not true. After about a month you do, unless the vessel is hooked in and services it, which ours does whenever you sit in a seat. It saves on power. Well, what's it going to be?" He bit his lip. She played with her multitool in it's holster. "Nobody is going to read your mind. I swear." He held out his hand for the suit. She didn't hand it to him. "It can't go on over anything. Strip." He stood for a moment. Mallet didn't move. "Now?" "Yes now," she said. "You humans are so fucking sensitive about nudity. Everyone has the same stuff, it's not like people are different within species." "But you're not-" "Oh, get over it. We studied humans in our pre-deployment training, so it's not new, and you'll see the rest of us before long too." He sheepishly took his cloths off. Standing buck naked in the room, he fought the urge to try and protect his dignity. She didn't even look down, thrusting the suit at him while going back to digging in the cabinet. He turned away from her and stepped into it. "Now," she said, "one of the reasons you'll notice our crews don't change out of them until the end of the day (or in Sergeant Yasoi's case: ever since we got here), is that because your suit contains your life support it needs to be sterilized after every time you take it off. You really don't want to forget that even though you have a spare, since a dirty spare isn't a spare and an infection can be nasty if nobody can get to it to treat it. Again, the whole vacuum space thing." He shrugged it over his shoulders and fingered the edges where it split down the front. It was clean, like it was made to simply be open. "How do I?" "Relax as much as possible, touch the two sides of the collar together, brace yourself, and did I mention relax?" He shook his head and touched the two sides of the collar together. He jumped as it aligned its self and the seam grew together down his front, vanishing where they met. "Remember to relax," Mallet said, wearing a mischievous smiles as the closure ended at his crotch. He nearly hit the low ceiling. "AAHH! SHIT!!" Mallet doubled over laughing. Brakes could be heard out the door doing the same. "What the hell you sick fuck?!" He began frantically clawing at the collar and crotch of the suit, trying to pull it away from where it was quickly shrinking down snugly around his body, pulling the armor plating with it. "No! Hell no! Not funny. How the hell do you take this thing off?! What the fuck?! Get it off!" She waved her computer. "Without claws you have to use one of these... or the Farrom 10 its self." He glared at her. "I'm serious. Flatface is the only who can take it off all on her own. You have to stick something in that small hole on your collar that has a nervous impulse in the system. No accidental opening from combat debris or weaponry. No enemy venting you. The engineers that designed the thing were paranoid as hell." "Alright then. Will you let me out please, Sergeant?" "No." She said, tossing him boots and gloves. "Patrol is in an hour, and you'll only have to put one back on again. Until I've taught you how to run sterilization you'll do the same as the rest of us -once a day. My suit is 'hooked up' to me too, so don't think I'm being unfair." "You're insane if you think I'm going to put any more of your alien gear on. Fuck no. Let me out." Mallet leaned towards the hatch to the cockpit. "Lieutenant Commander Yasoud." "Yes, Sergeant?" Brakes said. "Corporal Pearson is refusing to put on the rest of his environmental suit," she said with a wink at the marine. "What should I do?" "Do you have your multi tool?" "Yes sir." "Then put it on for him." She gave Pearson a sadistic grin, drawing the tool cum weapon. Pearson, remembering the flash from it that had dropped Rika like a hot rock, hastily shoved his feet into the boots, jumping as they self sealed to the suit and reshaped to fit him. He watched the gloves do the same. Mallet tossed him his hood. "When you put this on, touch its collar to the collar of the suit, but hold off closing the faceshield. Brakes, can you please give me his listening so I can test his comm?" He nodded and pulled it on. There was a muffled "sure" from the cockpit as Mallet watched Pearson's collar seal down. "Hear me?" "Yeah," he said. "Loud and clear." "Good. Flat-face?" Silence. "Did you hear that, Pearson?" Mallet asked. "No," he said. "I'm checking Pearson's comm, Flatface. Can you talk to him?" "Been violated yet, Pearson?" Pearson looked up in surprise. It had sounded like she was in the room with them. "Yes, Sergeant." There were a few seconds of silence. "Did he say anything? I'm not getting anything," Flatface said. "Imagine yourself talking to him," Mallet said, "-like he was standing in front of you. The suit will monitor who you are talking to and automatically mic to them unless you speak to an open net. It limits background noise." "I heard you Sergeant," he said. "Hah! Good. I got him that time. How's the IPA?" "It's good so far," Mallet said. "We'll do a pro and go before this sortie. How are you feeling?" "Slowly waking up. I promised Lost if he ever did that again he'd have a different fur pattern by the time I finished with him. I mean it, too. Fucker. Need a tow out? Ready for this patrol?" "I think we'll just float it out. Could you help walk us? Breaks can handle it; I'll set heat and come down with Pearson." "Sure, just remember to send it all up this time around. Holy hell was that hot last time. I swear we were almost broiled. We should have rubbed some spices into our fur before we put our suits on." "I'm still sorry about that. Brakes, are you ready to move?" "I am. Let me call it into control."

Pearson watched nervously as the farrom gently came to rest on the ground again. He had seen it done before, but it was strange hearing what was being said. What he had assumed was a silent operation before was actually filled will communication thought his hood- although he understood little of what had been said. Mallet said something while looking at the nose, then Flatface said something, presumably about the right main skid, which he was staring at. "Pearson, how is your skid?" Flatface said. "Still there, Sergeant." "Is anything under it?" "Oh. No sergeant. Just the flightline." "All solid!" Mallet said. She squatted down and made sure nobody was in the vicinity. "Corcluine?" "English Mallet!" Rika said. "Clear right!" "Clear Pearson?" "I'm clear on left!" "All clear!" "WEIGHT!" Brakes said. The craft suddenly sank, the landing gear shock struts absorbing the weight of it. "Hill and well down. Craft is safe," he said. The hatch opened and Mallet walked from her position in front of the craft to the ladder, motioning for the corporal to follow her. He caught up at the top of the ladder. Rika was at his heels. "Are you good Mallet?" she asked. "Yeah. I was going to give Pearson his safety indoc and the basics of flight prep, but I took care of preflight before we floated it out of the hanger, and I don't have time for the full indoc before we go." "You're flying with us?" Rika asked Pearson. That expression was probably 'shocked'. "Yes sergeant." "How the fuck do I get in trouble for hauling Shepard's soggy, busted tail out of the flooding desert, get blackmailed into showing all sorts of classified shit; I'm punished, she's tagged to keep her quiet, but you get to parade around the fucking system with ass-clown here... and it's authorized?! Please tell me you're keeping him blindfolded and in silence." "Nope," Mallet said, grinning. "Logging him as a trainee. Although he should know," she added, making eye contact with Pearson, "that his MO chose to be tagged as an alternative to us wiping her memory, and that he, like her, has nothing to worry about as long as he keeps his mouth shut, and as with her, we will know if he spills the... seeds? on anything." Pearson swallowed nervously. "Beans," Flatface said. "Seriously though, you'll be seeing all sorts of shit, and I hope your stupid ass will figure it out for yourself that shutting up is beneficial to both your people and mine until the right people choose to make it known the right way. Well, except for the Farrom. You'll see that smashing your pilots is something we do half hog tied. They're figuring that out pretty well for themselves and don't need to be told." Mallet looked at her computer. "Shit. Shave and Tack said they're starting the briefing. I'v got orders to crew rest for this sortie. Sorry, you'll be bored." "It'll be ok. I'll have Pip to talk to. And Burp. And Slosh. They're all good guys. What about Pearson?" Pearson cursed his timing while struggling to stifle a yawn. "What shift were you on, Corporal?" Asked Mallet. "Er, nights." "Good. Both of us are going to take a nap in the back room," Mallet said. "But first your in-flight safety and emergency brief. First off, ANYTHING Tack says is law. And I do mean anything. If he tells you to each shit in seriousness you had better start snarfing it down. Second, the ship will lock your suit once we depart to prevent accidental opening. You will not be able to take it off until we land again, but in the off hand chance you can, you will NOT attempt to remove it anyway- even if you puke in it. Not that you can do much without reading Arlomic or having a computer, but still: there is no way for you to know if the cabin is pressurized or not. In the event we have to abandon, grab another person if you can and hold on. If the suits do not detect outside pressure and a normal vessel for longer than a couple of minutes they will bind. You might be stuck hugging someone for a few weeks, but you'll be easier to find and rescue than floating alone. Lastly... actually, I think that's it. Flatface?" Rika shrugged. "If it's red, yellow, or dusty don't touch it. If your vessel gets hit and the rest of us are gone, stick your head between your legs and kiss your ass goodbye. I got nothin'. I'm going to get going and set up the '8. You'd better hit the sack before Tack shows up." Mallet cocked her head to the side. "Hit the sack?" "Go to sleep," Pearson said. "Oh, right. C'mon, back room." "Yes sergeant." He looked around the spartan room. His eyes fell on the tiny, single level bunk. "Um, is there a pad for the floor?" "A pad for the floor?" Mallet said, closing and sealing the door behind them. "What for?" "To sleep on, sergeant. There is only one rack." Mallet looked at the single bunk. When she looked back at Pearson she wore a mischievous smile. "Oh. More culture shock for you: Rakkan don't sleep by themselves. Sorry Pearson; it's that size to accommodate half the crew at a time." He gave the bed an uneasy look. While it would be called luxurious by ship standards, it was only the size of a twin, and that was being generous. "So we?" "Yep. But first, close your face shield. Don't freak out- the hood is going to fit its self." He did, and she watched him take a few deep breaths as it closed in around him. "Good. Now, is there anything red or strong smells?" "No Sergeant." "Good. If you ever smell something nasty, you need to tell one of us immediately. We're very scent oriented, so that's one of the warning systems your life support uses." "Ok." She reached up and closed her own face shield. "That green stuff in there are menus and stuff like suit and crew status, vessel readouts, and the like. You're classified as an engineer, so our's always has a lot of systems stuff that I can teach you later." "I can't read any of this. It's not in english." "And it can't change languages, sorry. You'll learn enough Arlomic to understand it before long, so don't worry about it. Now, remember how I said the suit monitors your brain patterns?" He nodded, not liking where this was going: he felt violated enough at the other end as it was. She continued. "It does so at a very base level. So while it won't pick up higher level thoughts, it will understand things like hunger, thirst, wants, and what you are paying attention to; like how you talked to FlatFace earlier. So to work those menus I mentioned, all you have to do is look at one and 'want' it to do whatever you want it to. I'm telling you this now so you don't fuck with it. I have administrator over your suit through my computer to fix it, but the restraint on the bed won't let me access it once we bed down and I can't admin through my suit's menus -only Tack can do that. So if you accidentally turn off your comm you'll effectively be gagged until you either figure out how to undo what you did, or we land and someone opens your suit." He looked up at her, wondering for a second at how he could see the ghost-like appearance of her face behind the visor. Accidentally changing things worried him. What if he shut off his oxygen? "Is there any way to, you know, shut these menus off since I can't cut off my own air?" "You can't do that, and I can't lock you out of them, no. Although, hmm. Flatface, can you answer a question for Pearson and me?" "Yeah *pant* sure." She was breathing heavy. Pearson guessed she had just lifted something heavy. "How did you keep Eve, er, Shepard from getting into menu trouble?" Mallet said. "Oh. She didn't have her own profile. Her visor was slaved to mine. Nervous about fucking something up, Pearson?" "Yes sergeant." "Good. You should be." "I remember now," Mallet said. "Thanks" "No problem." She pulled out her computer and started tapping and sliding away. "Hmm." "Yes Sergeant?" Pearson said. "I'd like to snag everyone into teaching Pearson here how to talk and read. Do you think you could help?" "Sure," Rika said. "Yep." Brakes. "Absolutely." "Etsh!" "Starting when?" "No Problem." "Sounds like fun." [Sure!] [Yep.] "'d love to." "Yes! You're in for some fun, Pearson! Haha!" It took a moment for him to register that he had just heard every member of the three farrom crews present. Mallet was looking mischievous again. The last voice had a sadistic tone to it. He swallowed. "It feels painful and cruel at the start, but it goes fast and it's not that bad." "When do we start?" a voice said. Who was that? "Tack says I need to sleep for this patrol, Lost, and since Pearson is coming off of night shift I'm making him come with me. I'll get back to you all on that." "Oh, that's good. I was wondering if he thought putting you back there by your self was going to do much good." "Sergeant, who is Lost?" Pearson asked. "He's the navigator on Farrom 8; Flatface's crew. Lieutenant Yasoi. Oh! That reminds me, we need a callsign for Pearson, folks!" "Nugget is the Navy tradition until he earns one by fucking up," Flatface said. "-Unless you can make fun of his name, which you can't." "How about Flatface, since our current Flatface doesn't have a flat face anymore and never will again?" "Then we'd have to change her callsign too," Brakes said. "But what to change it too? Any ideas?" "She does look like a dog," Pearson said quietly. He didn't think of anyone in particular, but he was well aware that Sergeant Yasoud was standing next to him. He was embarrassed when his thinking aloud wasn't just to himself. They were tied together. Right. "She does," Mallet said. "We can't just use dog though. What would be a good term?" "I dunno. Pooch?" That time he made the mistake of thinking as if he were part of the group, observing Rika with 'them'. "Pooch?" a voice said. "OH! Pearson, what did you call her the other night? A what?" "He called her a lot of things," Mallet said. "And I regret every one of them." "I bet you do," Lost said. "Pet," a voice said. There was a moment of silence. "What?" Brakes said. "He called her a pet, sir," the voice repeated. "Ooo, thank you Slosh." Pearson was pretty sure that was Tack's voice. "No problem sir," Slosh said. "Objections to 'Pet'?" Tack said. Pearson had a funny feeling the question was directed at everyone but him. There was silence. "Corporal Pearson," Tack said, "your callsign is Pet." He sighed, careful that it was to himself. "Yes sir." "Shave, will you please-" "Registered," Shave said. The silent comm, sealed suit, and sealed room all still failed to silence Rika's howlesque whoop and cheering outside.

"Alright, I've put in a sleep assist request," Mallet said, tapping away at her computer. "Sleep assist?" Was there an end to all this stuff? "Yeah. Long times in deep space really fuck with your... I think Rika called it cicada rhythm. Your sleep/awake pattern, whatever that is called. Dunno what bugs have to do with it. Sleep assist helps with insomnia so the crew doesn't become sleep deprived..." She gave him a flat look. "Seriously? You're going to freak out about this, too?" She sighed. "Only you can put in the request. Well, since you're classified as a trainee and I'm your administrator I can put in for you too, but the vessel commander must approve it regardless, and you need to be in this room. All it does is use those same brain patters to tell you the ship's on fire to make you drowsy, so it's not like being sedated." "Then why did they drug Rika?" "She wasn't in this room, wasn't sealed, and they can't make her to activate it. Not even the vessel commander can, but he can charge you for disobeying when he tells you to." "Oh." "There will be a red dot in the middle of your vision. You can always override it by looking at the dot and wanting to be awake. Got it?" He nodded. "Good. At least try to sleep at first. If you override it right away Tack will be pissed." She motioned to the bunk. "Get in." He reluctantly climbed onto the bare mattress. It was more like a tumbling pad: very firm and only a couple inches thick. He smashed himself as far in as he could and lay on his side in hopes that they could have at least an inch or two of separate space. He wondered briefly why there was no covering on the mattress, then remembered they were both wearing environmental suits. Mallet climbed in, smashing her life support against him. She grinned a wicked grin at him and he realized she was trying to make him feel uncomfortable. "You humans have such interesting connotations. They're so fun to abuse." He tried in vain to squirm back more. "Stop. Relax. This doesn't mean to me what it means to you," she said, reaching to the foot of the bed and drawing up what looked like a sheet of translucent plastic. It slid up as if either side were attached by a track to the bed. "A blanket?" he said. "Do we need that in a suit?" "Not a blanket," she explained, pulling it over their heads. "Restraint. It'll shrink down around us and hold us in place so we're not bouncing around like a ball in a... paint bottle?" "Paint can, sergeant?" "Yeah, that's it. I don't get Flatface's metaphors, but she says it's natural to use some, so I try. Anyway, this is like being vacuum packed without the vacuum. Get comfortable, because once it's active neither of us will be able to do much beyond burp and fart." He wiggled around a little, trying to find a place for his lower arm that wasn't going to make it fall asleep. He was starting to get frustrated when Mallet scooted forward, lifted up, grabbed his lower arm by the wrist and yanked him forward. The jerk pulled him off his side and onto his back, his armpit around her shoulder. "Lift your head." He obeyed, and she pulled a small, rectangular block of hard foam out of the wall the width of the mattress. He got the picture and rested his head on it. He wiggled once more to make sure he was comfortable. He had no clue how long these patrols were. "Good?" "Yes, Sergeant." She rolled back, half laying on top of him. "Um..." "It's not very wide, and I don't want my arm to go numb either. Chill out. Every one of us has taken a nap back here like this." "Yes, Sergeant." "It's Mallet, Pet. You can use 'sergeant' on the ground if you want, but in here it's strictly callsign." "Yes, er, Mallet." "Hey Tack," she said, "How are you going to fly this mission without an engineer? I know Shave stretched it for training ops, but a patrol?" "That's why I'm here." "SLOSH?!" "Yep," Tack said. "OH FUCK NO! Get off my vessel, you ass picking piece of shit!" "He's taking your spot for this one," Tack said. "If you kept crew rest-" "You wouldn't keep the mission!" "And then the CO might stop overloading us," he finished, sounding irritated. "Slosh, vessel status." "Reactor stable, Iron is ambient, fuel is 3000 kg, load out is five Maulers. Vessel is ready." "Shit," Mallet muttered. Was it to herself? "I forgot to swap out the pod." "Shhhh," Slosh said. "Rika and I took care of it while you worked on the IPA." "Thank you." "No problem. Get some sleep, you maniac. I'll take good care of her." "You had better. I'm downing the fuck out of this thing when we're done out of spite." "Crew status," Tack said. "Brakes." "Go." "Lube." "Go." "Slosh." "Go." "Mallet." "Go." "Pet." "Oh! Er, go." "Ready Mallet?" Tack said. "Yep." The sheet slammed down around them, filling nearly every nook and cranny around Mallet's and his bodies. He gave an experiment twitch and his fears were confirmed: he couldn't move. "Suits!" Slosh said. Pearson felt a pinch at the back of his neck. "Shit! I think something is in my suit. Fucker bit me!" "Was it on the back of your neck?" "Yes." "It was your suit locking. It will lock without your hood, so that doubles as a warning to put your hood back on." "Oh." "Who's not sealed?" Slosh said. Silence. "Still awake?" Flatface said. "Yeah," Mallet said. "Feeling awkward Pet?" "As hell, Flatface." "Hee hee. You ain't seen nuthin yet. Rest easy, Mallet. I'll scream at you if you're about to miss something." "Thanks," Mallet said. There were a few seconds of silence, presumably as the crew ran through checklists. The adrenalin must have been wearing off from earlier. He was feeling the three scant hours of sleep he had gotten the night before, and the fatigue hit him like a pile of bricks. It wasn't until he noticed the red dot in the center of his vision that he realized it wasn't just him. The lights suddenly went out, and then there was a hissing noise. "Depressurizing cabin," Slosh said. "Uh, Mallet?" Pearson said. "Mmm," she said. She sounded groggy. "I'm really, really uncomfortable with this." "I told you, it doesn't mean-" "No, with being locked in like this. In my suit, and unable to move." She sighed. "Trust my crew- our crew. They'll take care of us. We're stuck until the vessel becomes stricken or someone lets us up, and there's no way in hell Tack will allow that- there's only one jump seat and being unrestrained during maneuvers is a death sentence to everyone around you. You can't do anything about it, Pet, so just try to accept it and give in to the sleep assist. Sleeping through the patrol will save you from a lot of boredom and in your case, panic." "But-" "Look, nothing can happen to you that won't also happen to me, so *yawn* chill out." Pearson yawned and then took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he tried to relax. His eyes felt heavier, and he gave in and closed them, trying follow Mallet's advice. It wasn't like he had much else of a choice.