Gabriel's Redemption (6 page)

Mayton led the way, Gabriel on his heel, Gesselli just behind, glancing over her shoulder to ensure her bags were taken care of.

Chapter 5

Three hallways, two doors, and one more security check later, the three arrived at a door marked “Common Area.” Mayton pushed the hinged door aside, then stepped back to let Gabriel and Gesselli pass. “The team is all inside, sir, ma’am. There’s food available along the back wall, dinner tonight is at nineteen-hundred hours, which is…two hours from now, give or take. I’ll see you again tomorrow morning for pre-flight briefing, oh-eight hundred. You get to sleep in, sir, enjoy it.”

Gabriel patted him on the shoulder as he stepped through the doorway. “Thanks, Chief.”

Gesselli wordlessly followed, nose again buried in her flexscreen, and brushed against Mayton rudely. Mayton grimaced, turned on his heel, and walked back down the hallway.

The room was spacious, probably enough area to fit forty or fifty people, Gabriel noted, yet it only held seven others. A massive food dispenser unit nearly filled one wall, a counter running the full length of the unit, with two steaming pots of coffee at the very end. At the far end of the room, several leather sensory couches were aligned together facing a holowall display, where two men and a woman in gray combat fatigues relaxed watching a baseball game piped in from Japan. Along the third wall, two basketball shooting games and two VR arcade simulators, one in-use by another soldier, indicated the true nature of the room. In the center sat a multi-use billiards/magnetohockey table, with two more soldiers shooting pool. A stack of cash sat on one corner of the table. Finally, in a corner sat a large man wearing full combat armor less the helmet and gloves, cleaning an Escobio Oso-11 heavy assault rifle that was lying across his armored knees.

“Officer on deck!” shouted one of the startled men watching baseball, leaping to his feet.

A billiards cue clattered to the floor as the two men at the pool table came to attention. The other man and woman on the couch also jumped up. The soldier playing the VR sim continued unaware. The armored man, Gabriel noticed, was very slow and deliberate in showing military discipline and respect. He wasn’t sure if it was because of Gabriel’s own history and ‘temporarily reinstated’ rank, or if it was just the man’s massive size, but he made a mental note to keep an eye on him.

Gabriel’s neuretics detected a short burst transmission between one of the men playing pool and the person under the VR hood. The hood flew up, a pile of red hair fell out, and a woman snapped to attention as the hood bounced up into the ceiling.

“As you were, everyone,” Gesselli said, earning a glance from Gabriel. Her return look let him know she knew he outranked her, but didn’t care.

“Gimme a second,” said Gabriel, making his way over to the coffee pots, feeling fourteen eyes on him as he passed through the room. He grabbed a ceramic mug, poured a cup from a red-handled pot, and turned back around, leaning against the service counter.

“Sir, that’s…” began one of the men at the pool table. Gabriel’s neuretics again picked up a burst, this time from the combat armored man in the corner, and the pool player stopped.

“Decaf, I know,” said Gabriel. “I can’t handle caffeine, I just need the placebo effect.” He sipped from the mug. “Well, it appears this crap hasn’t improved since the last time I was here,” he said with a grimace.

The man at the couch who initially noticed their arrival laughed. “No sir, no doubt. Only ell-tee can drink that, but he’s not really human after all. With all due respect, sir.”

The armored man in the corner grunted an acknowledgement and made his way over to the pool table. The three people at the couches walked over as well, with the redhead putting away the rest of the VR gear and joining them. Gesselli set her briefcase down on the end of the synthoak pool table, scattering the cash stacked there. One of the pool players raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Gesselli addressed the group. “I’m sure you’ve been briefed on who we are and what our mission is. If you haven’t, please let me know and I’ll send you the data.” Her emphasis on the word
If
made it quite clear she expected no one to take her up on that. “Can someone give me access to the wall?”

“Got it, ma’am,” said the woman from the couch, making her way back to the holowall and fiddling with the remote. “Channel 12-B,” she said after a moment.

Gesselli opened her flexscreen, tapped a few keys, and the wall image mirrored her flexscreen. It showed Poliahu from orbit. “We have a spy satellite in orbit right now, feeding us the latest data, and still as of today it appears they have little to no defensive capabilities. Currently, the colony consists of…”

Gabriel stood up from the counter he was leaning on and walked to the pool table. “Excuse me, Lieutenant. We can go over this during the flight. We have, what, four days or so to Poliahu?”

She looked back at her flexscreen. “Four days, six hours from launch.”

“Plenty of time for updates, don’t you think? And I think you’ll agree the situation may change between now and then, so we may as well skip the latest updates until closer to arrival. Besides, I’d like to at least find out who I’ll be fighting alongside.”

“Fine. I’ll be in my stateroom if you need me.” She abruptly cut the connection, grabbed her briefcase, and quickly left the room, leaving behind more than one slack jaw.

“Uh, sir, will the lieutenant be joining us on the mission?” the woman near the holowall asked.

Gabriel smiled. “No such luck, sorry to disappoint anyone.”

“She’d have made great target practice,” one pool player said, only somewhat under his breath.

“At ease,” Gabriel said. “Introductions, please. I’m sure everyone knows all about me, but I’m at a complete disadvantage. Except for you,” he said with a nod to the redheaded VR player. “Mikaela Sabra, correct? I believe you served on Ganymede when we had those issues with mining a few years back? I had a team there as well, although not quite as front-line as you were.”

The redhead stiffened. “Sir, that’s correct. I didn’t realize you were there, I, uh…”

“Relax, Warrant Officer, is it?” His database showed exactly who she was and what rank; he just wanted to show a little naiveté to settle the atmosphere and stir the conversation.

“Uh, no sir, I was promoted a couple of times since then. It’s Lieutenant Junior Grade, Commander.” She smiled a bit, but the smile never reached her eyes, Gabriel noted.

“Excellent work, you and your team out there. Wasn’t an easy situation, was it? A lot of angry people lost their jobs, and we were close to losing the entire moon,” he said, watching her face intently. His neuretics passively scanned her body reactions.

Her jaw clenched almost imperceptibly. “No, not easy at all. I’m fortunate to have made it out of there in one piece.”

“And with a couple of extra pay grades as well, how about that,” Gabriel said lightly, again intently watching her reaction. Nothing this time. She was well in control of her emotions, but there was definitely something bubbling below the surface. “Nice to be working with you on the same side, sniper,” he added, and this time he got a flash of anger popping up in one of his readouts: increased heartbeat, dilated pupils, flushed skin.
Yes, another one to watch.

“Commander, Ensign Keven Takahashi, pleasure to meet you.” The young man who had brought everyone to attention extended his hand. He was slightly shorter than Gabriel, around six feet or so, with a shock of spiky brown hair, bright green eyes, and a baby face, with just a hint of Oriental features.

Gabriel took his hand and gave a quick shake. “Likewise,” he replied. “Aren’t you a little young for ensign-grade?”

One of the pool players coughed.

Takahashi’s face reddened a bit. “I’ve put in my time, Commander, just like everyone else.” His demeanor indicated he got this question quite often. “I graduated second in class from the Mexico City Naval Academy, specializing in exobiology, and have been on three combat missions.” He emphasized
three
.

“Well done, Ensign,” Gabriel replied. “Can you fire a weapon?”

“Of course, sir, I achieved highest marksman ranks my senior year and have qualified Proficient every test since.”

Gabriel shook his head. “No, can you fire a weapon…at another human being?”

Takahashi cocked his head slightly, then caught his meaning. “Sir, yes I can. Not that I’m proud of it, but my record shows three confirmed combat kills on Beth-Barah.”

“Nothing to be ashamed of. You’re correct, nothing to be proud of either, but something I need to know before I put my ass on the line.” Gabriel paused. “Takahashi. Any relation to the famous…”

“Yes, Commander, Masahiro was my great-grandfather,” the ensign replied.

Gabriel gave a short nod. “So spaceflight is in your blood?”

“Well, yes and no. I still have a little, uh, illness issue with, well…” his voice trailed off. “But, that should be all taken care of,” he continued. He held up his arm, showing a small shiny band around his wrist. “Or so the commercial says,” he said with a smile. “You’d think after two hundred years of spaceflight they’d have come up with a cure by now.”

“They have cured the common cold,” Gabriel replied. “Guess that’s not high on their list.”

“Petty Officer Second Class Galen Sowers, Commander,” one of the pool players said, shaking Gabriel’s hand. Sowers was Takahashi’s height but broader in build, buzz-cut hair, with slightly-olive skin; an almost Mediterannean look to him. “Electronics and comm specialist.”

“Experience?”

“Bachelors of Science in Communication Systems from Sao Paulo, Masters in quantum computing from UCF. Also put in a year after graduation at Apple, but my father, uh, strongly recommended I join up to continue the Navy tradition.” He held up a hand. “Not that I’m complaining, I love the Navy, and this is my third off-world mission. Some people get the wrong idea when I give them the full history.”

“No worries, Mister Sowers. As long as you’re one hundred percent committed, I won’t have any issues at all. So you’re the low man on the totem pole here?”

Sowers chuckled. “Close, but that honor goes to Arturo.” He waved his hand in the direction of the other man who had been watching baseball.
 

“Petty Officer
Third
Class Arturo Jimenez, Commander,” the man said with a smile as he put an emphasis on his lower rank.
 

Gabriel took his proffered hand and gave it a shake. Jimenez was tall and wiry, a hair taller than Gabriel, dark skinned, with a slight hint of Mayan in his facial features. Very odd combination, Jimenez’s height and his Yucatan heritage. “Weapons and demo?” he asked.

“Uh, yes sir…how did you…”

“Scarred fingers on your left hand indicate close-in use of Geltex explosive, probably from a premature flash burn. Slight incision near your right eye is evidence of a sloppy NAF weapon targeting retina implant job. And honestly, you smell of tactite projectile propellant. No offense.”

Jimenez was taken aback for a second, then recovered. “Got me pegged, sir.” He glanced down at his left hand. “Didn’t have the money to get this fixed. Plus chicks tend to dig scars.”

Gabriel absently rubbed his right leg, the dead, ruined skin underneath his pants scratching at the fabric. “Not all the scars, Mister Jimenez. And certainly not all the chicks.”

Jimenez nodded. “Right sir. Looking forward to working with you. And I’ll shower before launch.”

Gabriel looked at the other pool player, who was wearing a t-shirt with a patch showing his rank. Same one who had coughed earlier. “Ensign…?”

“Lamber, sir. Ensign Marco Lamber,” he said quietly. Gabriel noticed his dark hooded eyes first, which gave him a brooding appearance, almost scary. He had a Latino look, mustache and goatee, and his crinkled leathery skin showed he obviously had spent many a hard day in the sun. “Former Marine ground pounder, sir, looking to see some other worlds before my time’s up.”

Gabriel nodded. “Understand. Hope you don’t think the Navy is an easy gig?” He picked up a ball from the table, the eight, rolling it around in his hand.

Lamber smirked, reminding Gabriel of Gesselli’s look. “No sir, but I’m tired of humping through jungles and across deserts. Ready for a new challenge.”

“You may get your wish, Ensign. And it certainly won’t be a jungle or desert.”

“Good afternoon, Commander, I’m Chief Warrant Officer Teresita St. Laurent,” the woman who was watching baseball said, offering her hand. “Medic and shooter, at your service. Everyone calls me Tee.”

“Nice to meet you, Chief,” Gabriel said, setting the eight ball down and shaking her hand. Very small in stature, St. Laurent had tiny features, but piercing blue eyes, sparkling with some hidden knowledge. Gabriel could almost feel her brain running overtime behind those eyes. “Canadian?”

“Mostly. Father is Canadian, mother is Cuban. Makes for interesting holidays at our house,” she replied.

“I’ll bet,” Gabriel said. “Medic or shooter primarily?”

“Medic by trade, shooter at heart,” she said with a smile.

“Excellent, my favorite type.” Gabriel noticed the armored lieutenant hadn’t said a word. He walked up to him and extended his hand, looking slightly up into his eyes. “Okay, big guy, tell me about yourself.”

The large man returned his look, then glanced down at his hand. Several seconds went by, then he took the hand and squeezed. Hard.
 

Oh boy
, Gabriel thought.
Here we go
. Alpha male lion, his pride invaded by a new alpha male. He returned the squeeze, just enough to let the man know he wasn’t backing down, but not enough to make him feel threatened. He didn’t engage his enhanced muscle system for fear of not only breaking the big man’s hand, but also his spirit. Team is team, after all. And that’s another upgrade he didn’t need others knowing about.

The man looked back into Gabriel’s eyes and gave a small nod, releasing his hand. “Lieutenant Harris Brevik, sir. Glad to have you on board.” His voice was a low rumble, like quiet thunder.