Almost immediately after Titus took command of the Marathon, the Captain decided to start putting his stamp on his crew. He began with going through reports from all departments and recommendations on file to make some personnel changes. He had two fire teams, but he wanted someone to head up the second one. Someone with combat experience, so he went through the files. He found several qualified candidates, but more and more, the notable absence of a file kept coming to the forefront of his mind. The merc, Dianna Henricksen. Or Ostrander now, according to the meager file Sybil had provided him. He needed to know how the former Marine handled herself. He needed to be sure she could be trusted. âProphet, when he comes aboard, assign Hiro Kuriyama to Fire Team Cobalt as second and ask Dianna Ostrander to come see me, please.â
âVery well, Captain Titus.â The A.I. acknowledged.
Ten minutes later, a piping tone at Titusâ office door announced Dianna had arrived. He called for her to enter and when the door swished open it revealed Dianna in a freshly-pressed Alliance uniform. She stepped into the room and offered a smart salute, waiting for him to acknowledge her.
Titus sighed and returned the salute before asking her to sit. Once she did, Titus asked, âYou know that I have told the crew how I feel about saluting?â
Dianna nodded, her pale gray eyes meeting his calmly, âYes, Sir. I know.â
Titus quirked a brow at the woman across from him. Somehow, he knew instinctively that regardless of his personal feelings about being saluted, she was going to salute him just the same. He decided to move on to the reason heâd called her to his office. âYou have tactical team experience, I understand?â
Dianna nodded, âI do, Sir. Vanguard class.â
Titus nodded, âHow do you feel about taking command of a Fire Team?â He waited, studying her for any tale-tell signs of how her mind worked.
Diannaâs gears were spinning in her head. Command meant she would be responsible for the lives of others. She wasnât the finest tactician, but she did think things through. She was not personable, so making a cohesive team would be more difficult. She would lead by example and find a good sounding board. All of these thoughts went through her mind in less than a few heart-beats. Dianna lifted her eyes to meet Titusâ once more, âI wonât let you down, Sir. Thank you, Sir.â
Titus smiled finally, âDonât thank me yet.â He said. âProve me right.â
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During the outfitting of the Marathon at Lookout Station, some crew transferred out and some transferred in. One of the new crew members coming aboard for the first time was Sargent Hiro Kuriyama. He was a lean Japanese man with compact muscle reminiscent of a dancer. His Alliance uniform was immaculate and pressed perfectly. As he came aboard with his duffle slung over one shoulder and a hard sword case over the other, his gentle smile suddenly bloomed when he saw a young Marine leaning against a bulkhead with an answering grin on his face.
Hiro headed for Harrison and the pair of friends clasped hands and then gave one another a brief hug, clapping each other on the back. Hiro shook his head at his friend, âDidnât think Iâd ever run into you again, Adam. You catching a ride or assigned here?â
Harrison reached for Hiroâs duffel and turned to lead his old friend toward his assigned room. âYeah, Iâm assigned to the Marathon for now.â He indicated Hiroâs hard sword case, âI see you still have your katana. I look forward to teaching you a few lessons.â
That made Hiro laugh, âOh do you really? I seem to remember taking you to task back on Arcturus.â He looked at his friend from the corner of his dark eyes, âThink youâve learned enough to beat me?â
Harrison just shrugged, âI think youâll be pleasantly surprised.â He continued to lead Hiro toward his assigned quarters. âYouâre being assigned to Fire Team Cobalt. Your chief is named Dianna Ostrander.â He paused slightly, then added. âSheâs an unknown quantity. Iâd like you to keep an eye on her for me.â
Hiro raised a brow at Harrison. âOh? Shouldnât that be something the Captain should know about?â
Harrison gave a little shrug, âHe will, after you tell me, Iâll tell him.â
Hiro gave Harrison a speculative look, âIs she going to get me killed?â
Harrison shrugged again, âYou know? Somehow, I donât think so.â
The pair reached the door to Hiroâs quarters. âHere you are. Iâll let you get settled and introduce yourself.â Harrison stuck his hand out again with a smile, âCome find me in the gym when youâre in need of a beating.â
Hiro gripped his old friendâs hand and laughed. âWill do. Good to see you again.â
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Brody Caramelli flipped through the pages of a well dog-eared pocket journal, the corner of his lips turned up in amused memory. âHooo. Samantha.â He actually pressed his nose to the pages of the little book as if the girlâs scent had somehow become impressed upon its pages. The slender Italian lay on his bunk, bare feet where his head should be. He wore only his dark Alliance athletic shorts, showing off his whip-cord physique. âI do believe she did her very best to break me.â He chuckled fondly.
The youngest member of Fire Team Cobalt, Mido Hamaada, looked up from tinkering with a torn apart data pad and rolled his eyes as Brody read off the virtues of his rather extensive record of conquests. âYouâre killing me here, Caramelli.â He grinned suddenly. âCaramel. Heh. Ice cream sauce.â
Brody lifted his chin to look at the Private upside down from where he was, âStuff it, King Tut before you find yourself wrapped in sheets like your ancestors.â He grinned as he said it, so the threat lost all of its meaning.
Mido laughed, heâd already learned that Brody was kidding 90% of the time and he enjoyed the banter. âYour arms arenât long enou-â His crack about Brodyâs lack of height was interrupted by a well-placed shot with a pillow right to the face. Mido was so startled by the speed of the attack, he barely registered what had just happened until Brody hit him upside the head again. This time with enough force to knock him from his chair.
Mido lay in a tangle of long, awkward arms and legs blinking up at the grinning heavy-weapons specialist. âHowâŠ?â He blinked again, âYou weigh like 50 pounds!â
Brody just laughed and flexed an impressively ripped bicep. âAnd every effing fibre is carbon steel, my young urchin.â
Just then, the door hissed open to permit Hiro to enter. Hiroâs dark eyes took in the scene, including the pillow hanging limply in Brodyâs left hand. âWow. Pillow fights?â His eyes twinkled with amusement. âAre we painting our nails next?
Brody took in the flawless uniform and inwardly groaned. Flipping the pillow back to his bunk, he offered a hand to Mido to help the Private up before addressing Hiro. âNo, uh. Just demonstrating the sagacity of never underestimating people, Sergeant.
Hiro simply looked between the pair for a bit longer, letting them stew for a bit. âCare to introduce yourself or should I break out my Ouija board?â
Mido, who was nearly fresh from the Academy recovered quicker than the more seasoned Brody. He snapped to attention. âPrivate Mido Hamaada. Engineer. Sapper, Sergeant.â His back was straight, his eyes straight forward and he looked terrified.
Brody was a complete contrast to Mido when he introduced himself. He also stood straight, but there was the impression of a coiled spring about him. He met Hiroâs gaze directly and smiled. âHeavy Weapons Specialist Brody Caramelli. Welcome aboard, Sergeant.â He introduced himself as if he expected Hiro to know who he was.
Hiro studied the pair for a moment longer he already liked Brody. The kid was still an unknown. âAs you were.â He shook his head and headed for one of the two open bunks. He tossed his duffel onto the mattress, but he placed his sword case there carefully. Turning, he then offered his hand to Brody first. âIâm Sergeant Hiro Kuriyama. I guess Iâm your second.â Broday shook his hand firmly, without the crushing grip some Marines are so fond of. âGood to meet you.â
Mido still looked intimidated, but brazenly smiled, âYeah. Nice to meet you.â His eyes kept straying to the sword case. âYou arenât another one of those crazy blade nuts, are you? Whatâs wrong with a good old Carnifex?â It seemed to hit him too late what heâd said, because he stammered and tried to back-pedal. âNot that IâŠâ He gulped, âI mean thereâs nothing wrong with that. Sergeant.â
Hiro quirked a brow at the young Egyptian and then looked toward Brody, âIs he always like that?â
Brody grinned brilliantly, âYep. Pretty much.â The heavy weapons Specialist did eye the sword case speculatively. âYou know. We got a guy aboard all into blades. Thinks heâs all thatâŠ.â He started.
âHarrison?â Hiro guessed as he began to unpack his duffel. âFriend of mine.â He grinned. âWord of advice? Straight up sword duel? Bet on me. Anything else? Bet on him. Make yourself a few bucks.â
Brody cast a glance toward the Private for a moment before turning back to his new Sergeant. âYou know him?â
Hiro merely nodded, âYes. I taught Kendo on Arcturus. Heâs very, very good.â
Mido joined the conversation at that point. âWait you are one of those sword nuts.â He accused.
Hiro straightened and pinned the rash Private with a hard stare. After a moment, he bent to open the sword case to reveal a beautifully wrought katana and not the mono-blade so many preferred. Its age was evident as was the deadliness of its design. âThis has not seen true combat in hundreds of years. To carry a blade like this into modern warfare is suicidal at best, impossibly ignorant at worst. I practice with it as a form of martial training and meditation.â
Mido stared from the blade to the suddenly unsmiling Sergeant. âI understand.â He murmured wisely. He cleared his throat and meandered back to his disassembled data pad. âSoâŠâ He searched for a new topic. âHow about our Alpha? Know her too? Dianna something.â