The loading dock was standing room only for the memorial service. Officially attendance was voluntary, unofficially, anyone failing to appear had better have a damn good excuse... like being the guest of honor.

In truth, extraordinarily little arm-twisting was required, as Valkyries took care of their own. They were family, sharing bonds that only those who have been to hell and back again could ever know.

As 1st Squad shuffled in to the mournful cry of Adagio for Strings, each spared a glance at the tableau on the raised dais before them; six reversed weapons, barrel down, each with a pair of boots at the base and topped with a helmet. The Battlefield Cross had been ancient even before Man took to the stars; now, it served as yet another reminder of what they had lost.

Rúna and Kai eyeballed their teams from time to time, making sure they weren’t about to do something stupid, though neither expected trouble. They were a good team, solid and dependable, but perhaps most important of all, each of them knew it could have just as easily been them.

As the music ended a small cadre of officers took the stage, led by the Old Man himself, Battalion commander Colonel Holme. His back was ramrod straight as always, his salt-and-pepper hair just a touch grayer as he took his place behind the podium, center stage, while the others stood off to one side. He gazed out over the crowd, taking it all in, before bowing his head and saying, “Let us pray.” There was a moment of silence as the crowd did likewise as he spoke.

“... The Lord is my Shepherd,” he intoned, “I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul; He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me. Amen.”

“Amen,” the congregation responded.

His craggy features seemed especially weathered as he turned to face the row of makeshift crosses, letting their mute testimony speak for themselves. The silence seemed to drag on forever, until finally he relented, sparing them further trauma.

“We come here today to commemorate the lives of our brave fallen,” he told them, “and pay homage to the sacrifice they have made. Each of us has lost something this day, as we mourn these men and women, and though time may eventually ease our sorrow, we will carry a piece of it with us forever.”

The colonel stepped out from behind the podium, and barked, “Battalion! Atten-tion!”

Seven hundred pairs of boots slammed together in unison as he’d commanded.

“Present Arms!”

Their hands came up in salute, snapping into place as he addressed the congregation.

“Be it known that on this day, we shall enter the following into the Rolls of our honored dead. May their names never be forgotten.” One officer sharing the stage held up a brass bell and metal striker, waiting.

“1LT Michi Babatunde.” Ding

“SSG Mohammed García.” Ding

“LCPL Kirabo Nizzola.” Ding

“PFC Josseline Albring.” Ding

“PVT Tangi Pandev.” Ding

“PVT Erik Yukimura.” Ding

The colonel recited each name by memory, his voice strong and true.

“Order Arms!”

Their hands came back down, slamming against their thighs.

As the sound faded his voice softened, sharing with them one last sentiment:

“They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning

We will remember them.”

“Amen,” they said once more.

Once again, the moment seemed to hang between them, before the colonel addressed the group one last time. “We conclude this service. Take charge of your units,” he ordered, as the sound of Amazing Grace, played hauntingly on bagpipes, echoed across the bay while they filed back out the way they’d come.

There was little conversation on their way back to the squad bay. Arthur seemed ready to explode until finally he could no longer contain himself. “Are they all like that?” he blurted out.

“Memorials?” Rúna asked.

“Yes, Corporal,” he nodded, while the other just shrugged and found places to sit. “It just seemed so... so…”

“Short?” Rivka suggested. He shook his head. “No, that’s not what I mean. It just felt like it was... rehearsed.”

Everyone froze. Kai raised an eyebrow as Rúna stared the Newbie down.

“This is a combat unit, Arthur. You understand that, right? You didn’t get lost on the way to Boot Camp or something?” she inquired.

The private flushed. “Yes, Corporal... I mean no, Corporal... I mean…” He looked up at her helplessly, at a loss for words, as Rúna tried to remember what she’d been like as a Newbie. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Arthur,” she said evenly, “when we go into combat, people die. It’s a fact of life. We’re a combat unit, which means we go into combat a lot. So if it felt rehearsed to you, that’s because the colonel gets plenty of practice.” She shook her head in disbelief. “How can you grow up among the Clan and not get this?”

The Newbie suddenly looked even more uncomfortable, if such a thing was possible, as her radar started screaming at her.

“... shit... you’re an Expat,” Rúna challenged him. “Aren’t you?”

“God damn it!” Yendrick swore, before kicking the bedframe with his boot. “A fucking wannabe!”

“You at ease that shit right the hell now!” the sergeant barked. “They go through Boot Camp, they’re Valkyries. End of discussion.”

The squad looked as if they were on the edge of mutiny. While transfers... Expats... from other clans weren’t unheard of, they were uncommon, and some felt that growing up minus the environment the Valkyrie Clan provided made for a less capable and less committed warrior. It was a stigma rarely discussed openly, but all too present.

Arthur looked like he wanted the deck to swallow him whole. She sighed and eased off a bit. “What clan are you from?” she asked him.

“My family are Dharmists,” he mumbled. “They... tried to talk me out of this.”

“I’ll bet,” Rúna snorted. She folded her arms across her chest, leaning against the bulkhead. “Well, don’t leave us hanging. Why the hell would you leave the sweet life to join the Crotch?”

The kid’s demeanor changed instantly.

“The sweet life?” Arthur growled dangerously. “It’s obvious you know nothing about the Qi-Tam.”

“... Qi-Tam?” Tawfiq said in confusion.

“You know... the Grays,” Doc Svoboda reminded him. “Little hairless bipeds, big black eyes. Folks thought they’d been visiting Earth before the Oivu, cause of how they looked.”

“That’s them,” the Newbie confirmed. “We tower over them, and they find it intimidating. So much so they found ways to cut us down to their size.”

“Like?” Becca asked, suddenly curious.

He looked physically ill. “They have this holiday every year during the solstice... and their year is short, so it comes back around fast. They exchange meals, clean out their homes with a special mop, carry around lanterns, all good harmless fun.” His face darkened as his fists clenched. “But they also have a legend of this enormous monster that appears, and they hurl garbage and manure at them to drive them away.” He scowled. “Guess who they have to play the monster.”

“You could refuse,” Sergeant Kai pointed out.

“It’s a symbol of high status to have a Terran play the monster,” he told them, “so much so they’ll actually get into bidding wars with each other. A human can make more in one night than they do the rest of the year if they’re lucky.” He glared defiantly at them. “Credits and jobs are tight. What would you do?”

The squad started squirming in their seats, suddenly uncomfortable with this revelation, but the newbie wasn’t finished just yet. “So, every year, my parents and my younger sisters and I would go out and play the dancing monkey... and come back home reeking of alien shit.” He closed his eyes. “My sisters used to beg not to go when it came around. It took days to get the smell out. But we needed the credits.”

“Damn…” Rivka said softly.

Arthur worked his jaw, still angry. “So yeah... first chance I got, I left. Told my family I wouldn’t let those gray bastards throw their crap at me ever again. I hopped a Corsair transport, and worked my passage to the nearest recruiting center, and joined up.” His nostrils flared as he stared at them. “And I’m never going back.”

No one knew what to say after that. Finally, Yendrick dug into his pack and pulled out a bottle, tossing it to Arthur who caught it clumsily. “Here. Figure you can use it.”

“... thanks,” he said in surprise, when a loud buzz interrupted them.

Kai checked the communicator strapped to his wrist and made a face. “We got a briefing,” he sighed, standing up.

“There wasn’t anything scheduled today,” Rúna pointed out.

“There is now,” he shrugged. “All NCOs and Officers. This one’s virtual though, so we can take it in our quarters.”

“Roger that,” she agreed, pausing briefly to look back at the squad. “Doc, give them a Wound Care refresher class. Arthur needs the training anyway. That should keep you guys busy while we’re in the meeting.”

“I’m on it,” Svoboda answered, reaching for his Med Kit, as she and Kai exited the compartment.

Once they were back in their own space, they logged onto the Battalion Virtual Net. It took a few minutes for everyone to get the word and check in, but soon the screen saver disappeared, to be replaced by the image of Colonel Holme himself. He had changed uniforms since the Memorial, opting instead for something more casual. His expression, however, was grave.

“I’ve just received word from Commandant Zakiyya,” he informed them, coming straight to the point. “I realize that after a mission like Dzan we would normally be scheduled for some much-needed downtime, but I’m afraid that something has come up.”

“God damn it,” Rúna muttered, after ensuring she’d muted the mic.

“An extremely lucrative contract opportunity has just opened up, and we’re the closest available ship. Currently, this is a negotiation only, it’s possible that we might not come to terms. If so, you’ll get that downtime, I promise.”

He paused, weighing his options before continuing. “That being said, my gut tells me we’ll get the contract. If we do, we need to hit the ground running. This is a new client for us, so they get five-star treatment every step of the way.”

“And speaking of the client…” he managed a twisted smile, though it didn’t last, “... the contracting party is the Sonoitii.”

Kai and Rúna stared at each other. The Sonoitii were extremely distrustful of those they hadn’t worked with before, bordering on the xenophobic, but they also held title to massive riches. Most were still locked up on their homeworld’s surface, but coming to them like this, even with restrictions... lucrative didn’t even begin to describe the possibilities.

“I realize we don’t know at this point what we’d be contracted for, but I want us prepared. I want HSC, Easy, Fox, Golf, and Weapons companies working on scenarios first thing in the AM. Everything is on the table. I want us to be ready, people, no matter what they throw at us. Make it happen.”

Something caught his attention off-screen, giving it a nod, before he turned back to the camera. “Take the rest of the day off. Stand your people down. I know it’s not much, but it’s the best I can offer. Tomorrow, we roll up our sleeves and get to work. We should arrive at their homeworld within a week.” He gave the camera a curt nod. “Holme out,” he said, as the screen went blank.

Kai slumped back in his seat. “The squad won’t like this,” he said unhappily. “After that mess on Dzan we need some downtime.”

“Looks like it’ll have to wait,” Rúna told him. “I don’t see the colonel backing off on this, do you?”

“No. I don’t.” He thought hard for a moment, considering what they knew. “All right, first thing is we tell the squad they’ve got the rest of the day off. That should help soften the blow.”

“In theory,” she answered, not entirely convinced. “And tomorrow? How do we plan for a mission we know absolutely nothing about?”

“The only thing I can come up with is a shotgun approach,” Kai said after a minute. “Divert what resources we have into coming up with options for every imaginable scenario. Even if it’s just a couple lines jotted down on a dinner napkin, at least it’s something.”

“You realize there’s a good chance none of our guesses will even come close to what they’re looking for,” she reminded him.

“I know,” he sighed, “it’s just all I can think of.”