(Genesis) Prologue

Pride: Genesis

Prologue

Formation Order: Explorer Team designation 686.

All personnel listed below are hereby ordered to report to Omicron Terminal briefing room 348 at 0900 hours, Tuesday, July 12. Relay these orders and conduct necessary custody transfers.

Supervising officer: Colonel James Hawkins, Explorer Team Command.

"They sent me an order to relay formation orders to myself?" Hawkins muttered as he read the message. It was far from the silliest thing the brass had ever done—it probably didn't even merit that title for the week—but it was silly nonetheless. "Whatever makes them happy."

It was something of an improvement, giving the side-eye to the brass rather than receiving it. The Explorer Teams excelled at that. It was a simple fact that sometimes, the very best of the best at their jobs had some difficulty playing nice with others. Sometimes a disciplinary record didn't quite outweigh a service record.

Sometimes someone with connections just didn't like you.

For all those incidents, the Alliance had created the Explorer Teams: irregular units composed of those who couldn't fit within the standard structure, but couldn't just be kicked out either. The teams were elite and served vital roles, able to go where line units couldn't possibly function. But they were still seen by the rest of the military as a bunch of rejects, and respected accordingly.

Hawkins himself had earned his posting through politics. It turned out General Wegener didn't care to have his conciliatory approach toward the Drules publicly questioned. Oops.

It had been awhile since they'd commissioned a new team, so at least it would make for some excitement… sending an order to an aide and another to the team's commanding officer, Hawkins sat back and waited.

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

Demolitions technician: Senior Specialist Tsuyoshi "Hunk" Garrett, Alliance Engineering Corps Jovian Division.

Garrett was on KP. You couldn't say he was on KP as a punishment, because he'd been cleared for the incident that had gotten him there. It was 'temporary assigned duty', or as the soldiers preferred to call it, 'drop duty': where the brass dropped you until they figured out what to do with you.

There were also some more vulgar terms, but those weren't the point.

Sergeant Donovan Brown, Security Division, headed into the mess hall with some trepidation. It wasn't at all unusual to have to pull people off their temp assignments personally. Alliance policy required face to face transfer of custody… there had been incidents. It was all part of the Explorer Team package. What was more unusual was not having to get anyone out of the actual brig.

Still, a little healthy nervousness when dealing with those people was always warranted.

The scene in the kitchen was organized chaos. All activity seemed to be centering around an enormous man who wasn't in proper uniform; instead he wore an apron with gold and red flames stitched up the sides and a matching chef's hat. He was rushing around seeming to be everywhere at once, critiquing the rest of the mess team's work.

"Lookin' good! Hey, watch the noodles, that ain't steam comin' out of the pot. Dude! You can't put that much salt on that, you'll kill someone!"

Who'd have thought? The people in the mess actually care about the food. Shame you can't tell that by eating it.

Well, at least it was pretty clear who was running things. Brown approached and cleared his throat. "Excuse me…"

The big man startled and turned, hazel eyes fixing on him with a sharp focus his demeanor didn't seem to mesh with. "Hey! You need lunch?"

Brown cracked a slight smile to cover the fact that he'd jumped back about three feet. This guy could probably crush his spine without breaking a sweat. "Not exactly. I'm looking for a Tsuyoshi Garrett?"

"That's handy. Right here!" He flipped a salute and gave a huge smile. "Whatcha need?"

…What now?

He stared blankly at the big man, finally catching sight of the rank badge pinned to his apron. Sure enough, it indicated a Senior Specialist rather than anyone who should actually be in charge of the kitchen… he frowned and shook his head slightly. "I'm ah, here to… rescue… you from drop duty?"

"Ohhhh." Garrett turned and yelled over his shoulder. "Yo! Cap'n Crunch! The brass is here for me!"

Brown was absolutely certain the mess supervisor was neither a Captain nor named Crunch, but at this point just running with it seemed like the best option.

Turned out it was a warrant officer named Talbot, who came up from the back of the kitchen and shrugged at Brown's questioning look. "The man's good at the job," he said as if that explained everything, then lowered his voice. "Get him out of my kitchen, please."

Poor guy. "That's what I'm here for. Just sign off." He held out his datapad, amused and not a bit surprised when Talbot didn't even read the transfer form. "Garrett, you've got an Explorer Team waiting for you."

"Now? Like, right now? Shouldn't I go get in a real uniform or somethin' first?"

This man's job is to work with explosives. Brown shook his head for a moment, trying to comprehend how that could possibly be wise. "…Just come with me and I'll give you your orders. You've got some time."

"With ya, Sarge." Garrett paused and looked around the kitchen, grimacing. "Hopefully this place won't go to pieces without me. Sure you don't want lunch?"

…What the hell? He hadn't eaten before coming on duty. "Why not?"

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

Medic: Specialist Jace Inácio Cardoso Gregory, 48th Centauri Regulars.

Gregory wasn't on drop duty. Most of the time that complicated things, but in this case it was the opposite. Brown knew exactly where he was, because he'd taken his forced leave and gone to Brazil, and if there was anything the Garrison Island airport did well it was keep thorough passenger lists.

Flight 2850 from Rio de Janeiro was right on time, and he watched the passengers disembarking until only one was left; a slim man with dark hair, bronze skin, and an air of irritation that not even eight hours on civilian air transit could fully explain. He was wearing a military-issue medic jacket and obviously looking for someone, so… "Jace Gregory?"

The man turned and studied him for a moment, dark eyes narrowing. "You Sergeant Brown?"

Nod. "How was Rio?"

"A lot like Novo Rio, but less sun and more water." He rolled his eyes. "Don't know what I expected, other than the dude who's here to bury me not asking about my vacation."

That wasn't subtle. "Hey, I'm just the messenger."

"Yeah, I know. Don't shoot the poor sap doing the dirty work." He slung his bag over his shoulder and scowled. "So what's it gonna be? Babysitting rock rats or tractor tykes on the Rim, right?"

Well he was pleasant, wasn't he? But maybe he had reason, if he was expecting to be kicked to the Rim. The real orders might cheer him up. "Nothing so dire as that. Here." Brown handed over the datapad and waited.

Gregory read impossibly quickly; in a matter of seconds he was looking up with an expression of disbelief. "You're kidding me with this, right? An Explorer Team? That's pretty goddamn dire!"

Oh. "Better or worse than the Rim?"

"That's a question? Patching up boring civvie boo-boos compared to the Alliance's own personal Wild Wild West? They both suck, but I mean…" He looked at the orders again and made a disgusted face. "I'm not the dumbass who couldn't follow procedure, what the hell are they thinking?"

Asking for elaboration on that seemed likely to go over just as well as his other questions. Brown was pretty much over it. "No idea. I told you, I'm just the messenger." Though if he'd had any say in the matter, he wouldn't have inflicted this guy on civilians either. "Just sign off on it, would you?"

Gregory gave him another look of irritation, but seemed to accept that. "Yeah, okay. I'm on it." He scrawled something illegible on the screen, muttering a few things under his breath that Brown politely pretended not to hear. "Nine tomorrow. I'll be there. You can buzz off now."

Brown was all too happy to do just that.

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

Navigator: Lieutenant Sven Holgersson, Deep Space Defense Agency.

Holgersson was probably one of the easier men to track down. The navigator’s former C.O. informed him that if he wasn’t on duty, in his quarters, or at some political party with his parents, he was at the base library buried in some book. Made his job easier. Brown’s eyebrow had quirked with surprise earlier when he learned of how frequently Sven was granted leave from the base to accompany his parents to some political function or party. Soldiers that had parents with as many connections as Sven’s obviously had, not to mention deep pockets, didn’t usually get transferred to Explorer Teams. Not that that was any of his business.

Walking into the base library Brown scanned the large room, and quickly spotted the lieutenant. He was seated at one of the many tables, alone, midway through a fairly thick book. Brown couldn’t make out the title as he walked over. Once there the title was easily read: The Viking Way: Religion and War in Late Iron Age Scandinavia.

Sven seemed to be completely oblivious to his presence. Brown grunted to try and catch his attention. He didn’t. "Lieutenant Holgersson?"

Sven’s head snapped up, looked him over and immediately stood up, poster erect, face blank. "Sir."

"Relax Lieutenant, I’m just here to give you, your new assignment." Brown handed him the datapad. Sven smiled as he read it.

Is this guy seriously smiling?

"Off-world…" He said quietly to himself, and then seemed to remember that Brown was still there. Blushing, the lieutenant gave him the datapad back. "I will be there on time, sir." He had a heavy Scandinavian accent, which was the least surprising thing about the whole encounter.

"I’m sure you will be."

Brown walked away from the table, and Sven went back to his book.

The navigator seemed normal enough, nice even. He was definitely more polite and professional than most of the others. Brown wasn’t sure if that would be an asset or a hindrance on the lieutenant's new assignment… he sighed. Wasn’t his problem.

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

Pilot: Lieutenant Lance Charles McClain, Andromeda Vanguard, First Recon Wing.

Tracking down Lieutenant Lance "Maverick" McClain was a task. He was beginning to see a pattern, however. Everyone he asked said to go to The Bar. Finally after more pointed questions to ascertain what The Bar could be, he had a list of three. Somehow he got a stroke of luck and found McClain at the first. Playing darts. Or rather betting on darts.

"Now, if I win this round, you not only owe me ten dollars and a beer, you pay on our date," McClain said to a tall man with long hair and arm tattoos. Brown did a bit of double take on that, he was sure he’d heard rumors McClain was a ladies' man. But he looked at the orders and yes, the man in the leather jacket was the man whose face stared back at him.

"Lieutenant McClain?"

"Hey, we have a bet going on, wait your turn," the man with the tattoos snapped.

"Now, now," McClain winked at the guy then turned toward Brown, giving him a dazzling smile. It was all teeth and Brown found himself blinking. Then he winked and asked, "What can I do for you?"

Was he flirting? Brown cleared his throat. "I have your new assignment orders, Lieutenant McClain."

"Oh, why didn’t you say so… you’re Brown? Hey Trish, beautiful?" He reached into the crowd and grabbed a woman’s hand. He winked at her too. "Bring this guy a beer on me, sweetheart." She smiled at him and shook her head but disappeared as quickly as she appeared. "So, orders?" Lance asked him after a beat.

Brown mentally shook himself. He shouldn’t be surprised. Every one of the new Explorer Team members was interesting in some strange and new way. He handed McClain the orders.

McClain grabbed them and looked them over. Slowly a smirk appeared over his features. He looked up and grinned even wider. "Explorer Team? Sweet. You totally deserve that beer I’m buying you."

"Oh. Lieutenant, I really shouldn’t"

"Screw that, Brown. I’m getting an adventure. You get a beer."

"Um." Brown hedged and the waitress appeared with two beers on a tray. McClain handed him one.

"Come on, you know you want to." Lance winked.

Brown found he couldn’t say no.

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

Chief engineer: Lieutenant Commander Flynn Kleid, Second Merchant Marine, ACS Magnusson.

Kleid had pulled general maintenance. The maintenance hangar was a cavernous building housing dozens of vehicles from scout bikes to small spacecraft, crawling with mechanics in dozens of different uniform patches. Duty here was a catch-all for mechanics awaiting reassignment; it was kind of a mess. Usually it would've been beneath an officer to be thrown in the pool, but such was the nature of drop duty.

The supervisor's office was tucked away in a back corner. "Director Beringer?"

She looked up and glanced at his nameplate. "Sergeant Brown, good to see you. I'm told you're here to finally take Kleid off my hands."

That was certainly the theme with this assignment. "Yes ma'am."

Beringer stood and led him to an armored personnel carrier on the far end of the hangar. A man with a long red ponytail was crouched at the back, working on the engine. "Kleid! Your… what are you doing? That vehicle didn't come in with engine trouble."

"It's carrying a Greypoint 820, it's the very definition of engine trouble." He sounded vaguely Australian and extremely bored. "I'm fixing it."

Groan. "Have you at least repaired the fuel leak? You know what, don't even answer that. You're being sent to purgatory, close that casing and go be a pain in someone else's ass."

Kleid complied with the first part and stood, eyeing her doubtfully. "Thought this was purgatory." He turned a curious look on Brown.

He was tall and athletic, and his violet eyes were slightly unsettling. There was a time—measured more in hours ago than days—when Brown would've found him intimidating… but he'd already dealt with Garrett so that ship had pretty well sailed. "They've posted you to an Explorer Team. I'm here to do the transfer."

"Oh really?" A grin spread over Kleid's face. "Sounds fun."

"You would think that. Enjoy it, I suppose." Beringer rolled her eyes and walked away.

Brown watched her go, waiting for her to be well out of earshot before looking up at Kleid and arching an eyebrow. "I don't suppose you pulled this posting due to problems with authority?"

"I don't have problems with authority!" he protested in a way that made it all too clear he'd been accused of it before. "Authority just has problems with me."

It was hard not to laugh at that. "I hate to tell you this, but you're about to be authority. You're your new team's number two."

"I'm what?" He blinked. "That's a terrible idea."

Shrug. "I don't write the rosters, I just play fetch. Let's get you out of here."

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

Commanding officer: Commander Keith Akira Kogane, Fifth Orion Fleet, AWS Vesuvius.

Hawkins' yeoman had informed him of the new team's commander's arrival fifteen minutes ago. He knew the suspense had to be killing him, but still wasn’t quite sure what exactly he should say to him about this whole situation. He sighed. I may as well just get this over with.

"Kogane, get in here," he barked.

The young, nervous looking commander opened the door and stepped inside, giving a sharp salute. "Commander Keith Kogane, reporting as ordered, sir."

God, he looks so damn young to be this rank. He knew Kogane was one of the youngest commanders in the Alliance, but still. Did I ever look THAT young? "At ease, Commander. Have a seat."

Keith blinked, obviously shocked at the command, but he took the seat as he’d been instructed to do. He looked around the empty conference room before his gaze settled back on Hawkins.

"Don’t look so shocked, Kogane," Hawkins stated, grinning at Keith’s shocked expression. "They all wanted to be here to drag you across whatever coals they possibly could, but your evidence and witness statements shut them up fairly quickly. Not to mention testimony from Sky Marshal Wade’s daughter. She apologizes, by the way."

Keith swallowed hard. "Um, thank you, sir?"

Hawkins shook his head. "Don’t be thanking me, Kogane. It was mostly your record and your evidence that saved your neck," Hawkins stated, leaning back into his chair and lacing his fingers over his stomach. "But, the sky marshal was insistent that you be sent a ‘hell of a long ways away’ from his daughter."

Keith frowned, but nodded. "I’m being demoted."

Hawkins shook his head again, a pained look on his face. "Not exactly."

Keith arched an eyebrow. "With all due respect, sir, what do you mean by that?"

"It means, Keith, you’re being reassigned."

Keith winced. "I’m afraid to ask, sir."

"You’re being assigned to the Explorer Teams," Hawkins stated, handing him a data pad. "Your orders and service files for your team."

"My team, sir?"

Hawkins nodded. "You’re being put in charge of a team, Keith. I’d say congratulations, but folks on explorer teams tend to be," he paused, searching for the right word, "troublesome and hard headed at times."

"…I know what an Explorer Team is, sir."

Hawkins grinned and nodded. "Good! Then you’re dismissed. You report to your new post tomorrow."

Keith stood and saluted. "Yes, sir."

Hawkins saluted back and watched Keith go, a sad look on his face. "He’s a good kid. The hell with politics, anyway."

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

Keith walked down the hall at Alliance headquarters to his own office in a kind of dazed shock. He keyed in his access code and walked inside. He dropped the data pad onto his desk and dropped heavily into his chair, staring at the top of his desk. "An Explorer Team. I’ve been reassigned to an Explorer Team." He pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing this wasn’t the end of his career, but it was certainly not how he had planned his career to go. This was the Garrison’s way of saying he was too valuable to let go, but it wanted him gone. He sat in silence for several minutes, just processing, before he reached for the datapad before him.

He touched the button to unlock the screen, entered his username and passcode and started to study his orders and the team he’d been assigned to lead. To lead, he thought, his eyes drifting away from the screen. God. I mean, I know this is what I’ve been trained for, but am I really ready to do this? He looked back to the file names he had to look over. I don’t have a choice. I have to lead. This mission must succeed.