Beneath the Face of Saturn, Part 1
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There was no sensation of movement as the EFS Normandy sped silently through
the void toward Enceladus, Saturn's eighth moon. The ship's clean lines were
interrupted by the bristling of weaponry and scanner arrays. Its engines were
silent, having already done their work of boosting the ship on its path to
Saturn orbit. Lights twinkled here and there from viewports, but were few and
far between. The Normandy was a frigate, a ship of war. Not a luxurious
cruise ship lazily coasting between the homeworlds.

Karen paused at one of the ports, taking a moment to look outside. She
couldn't see Enceladus, of course, but other bright dots scattered the
starfield. If she pressed her face to the plastisteel and looked forward, she
could see the huge bulk of the gassy giant Saturn looming before them. A
vague remembrance of astronomy floated through her mind. She remembered Dr.
Livingston lecturing her Exofleet prep school class that Saturn, for all its
girth, had a specific gravity less than water. If there was an ocean big
enough, it would float. For some reason that had struck a younger Karen as
amusing.

"All hands, battle stations." The XO's voice jarred her from her thoughts.
She thought wistfully of seafood linguini, thick with a creamy alfredo sauce
and flavored with whatever Cookie used to work his magic. Her stomach growled
and she forced herself to push such fantasies out of her head and head for
sick bay.

"How are we doing in here?" she asked as the doors hissed shut behind her.
Karen moved quickly to the main console and scanned the e-frame and jumptroop
flight rosters for anybody trying to slip through medical clearance.
Sometimes the macho types had selective hearing when it came to their flight
status. She cursed softly and keyed in a patch to the Gamma squad comm link.

"Lt. Tedronai, this is Lt. Rhodes," she growled. "I sure hope you're just
performing maintenance on that e-frame you're jacked into."
	
"Lt. Rhodes," he acknowledged. His cockpit recorder sent a view of his face,
distracted as he performed the pre-flight checklist. "Thank you for your
concern, but I am fine. There is no need to keep me from this battle."

"Lt. Tedronai, you have only been out of my sick bay for two days. You are
recovering from a broken femur and massive blood loss, and you are not
cleared for flight duty." Elan looked at her for the first time. His face was
set and impassive.

"Lt. Rhodes, I have fought in worse condition in the past. You have mended my
broken leg and I thank you for that. I think that..."

"I don't care what you think, Lieutenant," Karen interrupted. "I am the
acting Medical Officer on this boat, and until they send somebody who
outranks me I will continue to discharge the duties incumbent on this
position as I see fit. In pilot's terms, that means what I say goes and not
even the Captain can authorize you to fly without my approval." Her eyes
narrowed. "And you are most emphatically not cleared for flight duty."

"Doc, I feel fine," he retorted. Karen could see the mutiny in his eyes and
knew that he was close to having "communication difficulties." She sighed.

"Elan, I admire your bravery and your loyalty to your squad.," she said. "I
know that everything in you protests them going on a mission without you."
Relief crossed his face. "However," she continued, "it is my job to make sure
that the fighting force of this ship is able to fight to the best of their
abilities. I may have bonded the fragments together but your leg is still
broken, Elan. It will take weeks to heal fully. Right now it's so fragile
that if you took even a glancing blow to you frame and got knocked around, it
would break again."

She leaned forward, her face earnest. "Elan, how would you feel if you let
one of your squadmates down because you weren't 100%. This is a ground
assault. They don't need you risking yourself on this."

Elan regarded her silently a moment, then sighed. Karen blew out a breath of
relief as she saw the e-frame power down.

"Do you want me to tell Lt. Hobbes?" she asked.

Elan shook his head. "No, I'll talk to him."

Karen could just imagine the blasting she was about to get from the e-frame
jockeys. She couldn't let it bother her, but sometimes she resented having to
play the bad guy. "Rhodes out."

Elan scowled and muttered about the vagaries of meddling doctors as he
released his harness and jumped out of his Spy/Logistics e-frame. He grimaced
slightly as a twinge of pain coursed through his thigh. Well, maybe...

"Hey, Hobbes," he called out. Lt. Commander Hobbes turned from his inspection
and watched the youth walking toward him.

"What's up, Elan?" he asked. "We've got about ten before we're on." He ducked
back under his modified Police Enforcer e-frame and checked the gaskets along
the arm joint. "Darn thing's been giving me grief for the past week. Guess
I'd better get Kristin to check it out again."

"I'm not going, Hobbes," Elan said. Hobbes paused and peered up at him from
behind the gun turret.

"Oh, really?" Hobbes said noncommittally. Elan ducked beneath and followed
him to the other side. "And why is that?"

"The Medical Officer won't give me flight clearance because of my leg. It's
fine," he added with only a trace of resentment. "But she just booted me out
of my frame."

Hobbes pursed his mouth glanced upward, trying to place a face and name to
the position. "Huh," he grunted. "Yeah, she's young, and no combat
experience. Probably hasn't learned a middle ground yet." He looked at Elan.
"There's nothing that I can do right now," he said. "But I'll talk to her
after the mission." He thumped Elan on the thigh and arched a brow when he
yelped. "And maybe I'll have a talk with you as well."

Elan stalked from the flight bay, passing Lt. Kristin O'Connor's Field Repair
e-frame without a word. She paused her pre-flight checklist and whistled
softly. "Well now, that boyo's got a bee in his bonnet, I'm thinking." Her
native Ireland could be heard in the soft lilt of her voice and seen in her
auburn red hair and mist grey eyes.

"Lt. Hobbes," she radioed. "And what would be the problem with Elan?"

She saw Hobbes scramble into his e-frame and jack up. "He's been pulled from
the mission. Not cleared by Medical yet." She nodded and glanced up toward
the observation window. Elan stood there, arms crossed. She knew he wouldn't
budge until they returned.

Nicole Montgomery ran her hand along the side of her Exofighter
affectionately. She checked the hoses and the weapons mountings one last time
and then climbed up the side. She settled herself into the cockpit, feeling
it wrap around her like a glove. Excitement skittered along her spine.

"Nikki," a voice called out from the ground. She sighed and scrambled up to
kneel in her seat, leaning over the edge of the cockpit. She scowled. Crow
stood there, dressed in his environmental suit and light body armor, holding
his helmet in his hand. His blue shoulder length bangs were bound back with a
thong, contrasting with the pale blonde of his hair. His surgically altered
eyes were completely white without iris or pupil. It was difficult to see the
awkwardly endearing boy she used to know in the tall lean man standing by her
landing gear.

"What do you want, Crow?" she asked coolly.

"I just wanted to..." He paused. "About what happened in the mess..." Nikki
arched a brow. Crow frowned in consternation, fumbling for words. He looked
up at her, feeling like Romeo at Juliet's balcony. The thought made him
scowl.

"Just say it," she said.

"I'm sorry," he bit out. Nikki suppressed a smile.

"Now that wasn't so hard, now was it?" she asked sweetly. "See? Even grunts
can be taught manners." He narrowed his eyes at her.

"It wouldn't have been so hard if I didn't already know you would say
something like that," he retorted. He took in her strawberry blonde hair and
deep brown eyes. "You know," he added thoughtfully, "you might actually be
kind of cute if you weren't such a witch."

Nikki flushed. "Yeah, well you'd still be a freak even if you weren't such an
ass."

"Fine," he growled. "You can't say I didn't apologize."

"Yes, you did," she answered, sliding back down into her seat. She called out
to him, "And now you have something else to apologize for." She slapped the
controls and the canopy hummed down, sealing with a hiss.

Crow kicked the landing gear once in frustration. Somehow it always ended up
this way. He turned on his heel and stalked back to his platoon, gathering at
the base of the jumpship. Their capsules lay waiting for them, opened up like
so many cans. Crow began to shake as he approached. He always got the shakes
before a drop. Not from fear, more like a hunting dog poised and trembling
with eagerness before being released. He slapped Dirk on the back and checked
the straps on Robert Preston's rocket pack. Unholy whooped and high-fived
him.

"Getting pumped up, man!" Unholy grinned. "This time it's our show. None of
that shooting from a distance stuff." He knelt down and mimed firing his
blaster. "Up close and personal, just the way I like it." Crow grinned.

Captain Jose whistled at them. "Fall in!"

The troops fell into ranks like a well-oiled machine. Tom Jose looked them
over, appreciating the sheer physical presence of his platoon. From huge
Robert Preston to tiny Olivia Montrose, every last man and woman was in prime
fighting condition. Equipped with rocketpacks strapped to their backs and
armed only with a plasma rifle each, they were mobile and fast and very, very
dangerous. Tom grinned.

"Alright, you apes. Wanta live forever?" he yelled.

"No, sir!" they thundered.

"Then let's drop!" He ordered.

"HOO-RAH!!"

Quickly they broke ranks and climbed into their capsules. The hatches closed
one by one as each platoon member was strapped in. At the last moment of the
drop the harness would retract, allowing instant maneuverability when the
capsule opened on the surface. If it made it to the surface.

Trooper Robert Preston braced himself in his harness as he felt the rumble of
the dropship's engines all around him. He knew the pilot - it would be a
bumpy ride. He liked that. It meant they got into position earlier and
decreased the chance that the dropship would be hit while he was stuck in
this steel coffin.

Besides, it meant he had less time to wait. That was the worst. The waiting,
alone with your thoughts, waiting for his capsule to get hit at any moment.
Sure, the dropship sent out a scrambler burst at the drop to confuse enemy
radar, but all it took was one gunner with a good eye to do some serious
damage to the platoon. Still, it was the best way to deploy the troops. The
recall shuttles were smaller and more maneuverable, but as a trooper Robert
didn't want them exposed to danger any more than they had to be. They were
his ticket home, his lifeline. Nothing was sweeter than the sound of the
recall signal.

Jason Morris sealed the cockpit of his Reconnaissance e-frame and watched the
dropship ease out of the launchbay. He was covering them for this mission,
and was itching to follow. He could picture the dropship in his mind, blazing
toward the moon full throttle and then braking sharply, releasing the
capsules like so much confetti. He wanted to be there, to keep an eye out for
the platoon while it was vulnerable. Other squads were already launched and
ready to assist, but this was HIS responsibility. He checked off on his
missiles and waited impatiently.

"Sound off by the numbers," Hobbes' voice came over the comm, strong and
reassuring.

"O'Muirdagh, check." The lights of the launch bay gleamed on the massive
locked down at the shoulder of his heavily modified Field Sergeant e-frame.

"O'Connor, check."

"Vouriot, check." The med-tech swiped a careless salute with his e-frame.

"Montgomery, check."

"Morris, check."

"Alright, people, let's launch."
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to be continued with Part 2