Gabriel's Redemption by Steve Umstead Page B

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.
    Gabriel studied Brevik’s face, but didn’t find anything out of the ordinary. His neuretics did detect faint signs of upgraded mil-spec rets in Brevik, but nothing too out of whack for a combat-rated officer. And one that apparently knew his way around armor and weapons.
    “Thank you, Lieutenant. I appreciate you ceding team command to me without any problems,” Gabriel said carefully, again watching for reaction. Brevik nodded, not giving anything away.
    Gabriel turned back to the group. “I’m looking forward to working with all of you. I know you’ve gotten the overview of the mission. Looks like a piece of cake on the surface, an undefended colony filled with a bunch of stoners, but pieces of cake never seem to work out as planned.”
    He walked over to the food dispenser unit and punched in codes for a ham sandwich. “Like I said earlier, we can hold off on mission details until after launch. Right now, I need someone to point me in the direction of an actual cup of coffee.” He looked down at what emerged from the dispenser. “And a decent meal.”

Chapter 6

    “Have you flown in the new Panther -class, Commander?” St. Laurent asked over her shoulder.
    Gabriel sat in the fourth row of the launch transport, a stripped-down utilitarian version of the luxurious Constellation that had driven him to the barracks the day before. No leather couches, no tinted windows to block the blinding New Mexico morning sun, and far less in the way of shock absorption.  
    “No, Chief, it’s only come on line since I’ve been…away,” he replied, gritting his teeth as the transport bounced over another uneven section of ceramacrete. The facility is starting to show its age, he thought.   Like a bankrupt airport. He only hoped the spaceplane was truly “new” as St. Laurent had termed it.
    Jimenez bared his teeth next to Gabriel. “It’s a beast, sir. Almost twice as fast as the Meteor -class, plush seats, plenty of room to stretch out, and a huge head for those of us,” he said with an nod of his head towards Takahashi, who sat directly in front of him, “who can’t handle zero-G.”
    “Yeah, but no drink service!” Takahashi shot back.
    Sowers chimed in from his shotgun seat next to the driver. “You, zero-G, and beer? That’s the last thing any of us want before a mission!”  
    “Hey, screw you Galen! The last time I checked…”
    Gabriel listened to the banter continue, noticing not just the camaraderie of a team that had worked together in the past, but the odd silence from Sabra and Lamber, who sat in the second row together behind the driver and Sowers. Nothing too out of the ordinary; he’d been on plenty of missions that started in a library-like hush as men and women prepared in their own way to face combat. But the two of them…he wasn’t sure. Almost like their silence fed off each other, some type of unspoken agreement. The lack of chatter from the massive Brevik in the rear of the truck, his bulk requiring its own row, didn’t bother him nearly as much. Gabriel already had him pegged as a shoot first, ask questions later type of leader.
    The transport turned a corner around a fueling facility and crunched to a stop at the edge of the tarmac. Gabriel looked out the dusty window and got his first glimpse of the spaceplane that would be taking his team to orbit.
    The NAFN Panther -class orbital transfer