The first time Carter boarded an IRC spacecraft, she realized just how much influence and resources the Rangers had. People always said it was the marines who lived the most luxuriously, until, a week late, they finally boarded a shuttle to take them the Rangers headquarters.

After that day in the hospital with Stark, after Rowan's scare, Carter had become, she realized, almost paranoid about her patient's health. Even though Rowan had assured her that she felt fine, every day, Carter gave her wound a thorough check, even though she knew it irritated her new C.O. to no end. But Carter was scared. Somehow, before, Rowan had managed to hide the severity of her injury from her, and she wasn't going to let that happen again.

Rowan was up and about, by then, or close to it. Her stomach wound had healed, and she could maneuver on crutches, instead of in a wheelchair or on complete bed rest. Carter felt a small stirring of pride every time she saw her patient standing, moving, walking (sort of), smiling, although Rowan's smiles were still few and far between.

A handful of other Rangers, Stark included, had left only a few days after Rowan's second surgery, but all of the members of Fox Squad had chosen to stay behind, to see if their Sergeant would be okay.

Their solidarity was what made Carter sure that she'd made the right decision in joining their squad. And, even though she'd hardly met some of them, and never met others, the day the squad assembled for the first time since the battle, Carter learned something else about Fox Squad's members.

They'd met on the landing dock, the day the were to leave for Earth, the seven surviving members, and Carter. Stark had already left, but the others were all there. Rowan, Ripple, Gerrit and Slate, and three other men she hadn't yet met. Rowan introduced them to her as Prescott Daly, Jase Takara and Holden Kader. All of them bore the marks of the Battle of Hosk proudly, like they were medals they'd earned in the line of fighting.

Once they had all arrived at the docking bay, and once Carter had been introduced to everyone, they shouldered their gear and Ripple led the way to berth number 2A, and an inter-system shuttle docked there.

"Okay," Rowan said, hobbling over to the front of the gangplank. "Time to go home, what do you say?" She gave a crooked smile, her sad gaze landing on Carter.

The others let out a weak cheer, born more out of weariness than excitement. All of them were eager to get home after an extended stay elsewhere. Even Carter was more than ready to see her new abode, since Hisashi had gone with the earlier shuttle, promising to sort out an apartment for the two of them to share near the Rangers headquarters.

Single-file, they all trouped onto the shuttle, the IRC Washington, named after a historical Earth political leader, Carter last in line. When she cleared the narrow passageway that led from the bulkhead door, she stopped dead, her mouth falling open.

She had just entered what was effectively a lounge room, with an electric fireplace set in the far wall, and chairs and couches scattered around the room. A small coffee table occupied center space, with coasters strewn about it. The door was framed by a shelving unit that housed dozens of books, boxes of games and office supplies. The floor was plush carpeting in a soft cream color. There was even a bar tucked under a spiral staircase, which everyone, save Rowan, was clambering up. She waited for a glass elevator tucked into a corner of the room.

Despite her awe, Carter snapped to and scurried up the stairs after everyone else. Upstairs, she found a glass door, firmly shut, with a palm scanner. Experimentally, she pressed her hand against it, and a hologram with her picture and name popped up on the glass of the door, which snapped open with a whoosh.

Carter slipped inside, and, once again, her breath was taken away. The room was simple and minimalistic, but not sparse. The walls were painted white, and the floor was the same carpet as downstairs. At the center, and the focal point of the room, was a long, rectangular, glass table, with ten black chairs placed around it, one at each end, four on either side. One wall sported a giant cork board–old-fashioned, to Carter's way of thinking–beneath which was a counter that ran from one side to the other, covered in paper printouts, with a printer and a coffee machine in the middle.

Ripple leaned close to Carter and whispered, "Gerrit's old fashioned. He always uses paper. Drives the rest of us mental."

Carter gave a small smile in return and continued her perusal. At each place at the table, someone had set an empty mug, a glass of water, a tablet and a notepad and pen. The lengthwise wall was covered in screens, each displaying different things. Some showed video feeds, others maps, some spreadsheets, some reports, some scientific data, and a whole assortment of other things.

Rowan slipped into the seat at the head of the table, and the others began sitting down, too, seemingly in some sort order. Ripple sat at Rowan's right elbow, Jase at her left. Holden sat next to Ripple, and Slate sat opposite him. Prescott sat next to Holden with one seat between them, and Gerrit took the chair next to Slate, pulling Carter into the one next to it, which she assumed was traditionally the Medical Officer's seat, at least in this squad.

When they were all seated, Rowan said, "Okay, let's get started. If anyone wants coffee or tea, get it now."

Ripple pushed back her chair and stood. "Okay, drink orders, everyone," she said, walking around the table and collecting everyone's mugs. "The usuals, yeah? Carter, what do you want?"

Carter gulped. She didn't even know what that fancy coffee machine was capable of, so she decided to keep it simple. "Just tea, please. Sugar, no milk."

"Got it," Ripple said, and she stalked over to the machine, punched something into the display, and a few seconds later it was whirring away, spitting out drink after drink into their coffee cups, which she loaded onto a silver tray.

When the machine went quiet, about a minute later, Ripple carried the tray over to the table and began unloading various cups. Some were the same ones that had been laid out for them, but others were various different sizes. Ripple stopped by Carter's seat first, depositing her mug and a little teapot in front of her. "Carter, tea. Let it steep a bit, though." Then, she walked over to Gerrit and began making her way around the table, keeping up a constant stream of explanation as she did. "Gerrit, latte, no foam. Slate, coffee, black. Jase, green tea and a pot of honey. Rowan, chai latte. Holden, iced coffee with room for cream. Prescott, coffee with room for cream." She set a pitcher and a bowl in the middle of the table, and sat down at her place. "Cream and sugar, and a mocha for me."

Now that everyone had their drink orders, everyone went quiet, their eyes touching on the two empty seats, and on Carter, sitting next to Gerrit. It was as if, all of a sudden, the losses of their squad-mates had hit them harder than ever. Even Carter felt strangely subdued and sad, remembering, not for the first time, that she'd taken a dead man's place.

The silence stretched on and on, and Carter heard someone sniffle, but she couldn't even venture a guess as to who it might have been. Finally, Rowan broke the silence and cleared her throat.

"Let's get started," she said, her voice hoarse, even though she'd squared her shoulders and her expression seemed designed to radiate calm. She cleared her throat again and turned on her tablet. "For Carter's benefit," she said, her voice steady, now. "This shuttle is one of our miniature mobile command centers. In case you're wondering why 'miniature,' each one of our ships is technically a full-sized, mobile command center. This room is what's called a squad room. They're basically conference rooms where we meet to plan missions and excursions. On an actual ship, as you'll see, soon enough, each squad room is part of the area given over to each squad onboard a ship. This shuttle belongs specifically to Fox Squad, and we use it for small-scale missions which don't require a whole starship.

"Anyway, moving on." Rowan keyed something into her tablet, and one of the blank screens flashed to life. "We've received a new mission from Captain Falk, and we're already halfway through with it."

The others looked around, just as confused as Carter. What mission had they already unknowingly started?

"Recruitment," Rowan went on, pretending not to notice their confusion, even if she did allow herself an eye roll. "Now that Carter's joined Fox Squad, all we need is a new cadet with high weapons and science scores. Then, we'll be golden."

The others let out a bit of a cheer, and Carter joined in. "That should be pretty easy," Rowan said, her eyes glinting mischievously. "Once we've rejoined the ship in San Francisco, a couple of us will head up to the army base in Juneau. Lieutenant Reid's already there, and he says there are a handful of good candidates, a pretty good pool to choose from, if his reports are to be believed."

Everyone but Carter chuckled, and Gerrit leaned over to whisper to her, "There's a bit of a rivalry between Fox and Ocelot," he explained. "It's all good-natured, and it'll probably go away, now that we're both stationed on the bridge."

Carter nodded. She understood, to a point, but she didn't actually know the dynamics between the two squads. Was it just competitiveness, or something more? She would have to find out for herself.

"Speaking of recruitment," Rowan went on. "Until we dock in San Francisco, we aren't officially on duty, which means we don't have to wear uniforms." She paused briefly while everyone let out whoops and grinned at each other. "Still, Carter, you need to get fitted. Ripple, you can handle that." Ripple nodded. "Great. Everyone, let's take advantage of our last little bit of holiday time. We'll take it in shifts to pilot, yeah? It's fifty hours at lightspeed to San Francisco. Let's not risk pushing her to Aether. We don't want to burn that much fuel unless it's an emergency. Better not chance a stopover anywhere. Who knows how people will react when a Ranger ship pulls up."

There were nods, and murmurs of agreement, and they all scattered. Carter held back until Ripple joined her. "Come on," the other girl said, kindly enough by her standards. She still sounded bored and slightly annoyed, as per usual. "I'll show you to your bunk, and you can dump you crap. Then we'll head to the armory, see if we can't find your gear. Yeah?"

Carter nodded, and, together, they strolled out of the squad room and back downstairs. As they walked, Carter asked, "Ripple? What did she mean by Aether?"

Ripple grinned, a bit maniacally, Carter thought. "Aether is only a step away from teleportation," she explained, and Carter realized that she hadn't been surprised by the question. "It's much faster than lightspeed and it's basically the reason the Rangers and called so often. It was developed by a Science Officer a few years back, one of our own, and, the way I understand it, it basically warps space and time and launches us across huge jumps of space. It takes a lot of fuel, though, which is why we don't use it on these smaller crafts."

Carter was awed. She'd only ever heard theories on such fast travel, but to hear that the Rangers had been using it for years... "So, it's like a miniature wormhole?"

Ripple shrugged. "No idea," she said. "For the science-y explanation, you'll have to ask Gerrit, not me. I'm no Science Officer." She drew Carter to a halt in front of an unassuming door. "Bunk room," she said, and pushed the door open, waving Carter in first.

Carter stepped past her and walked into a square room with what appeared to be cubbies set along the walls. Each cubbie had a bed made up on top, and a wardrobe built into the side. Ripple stepped confidently up to one, pressed her hand against a palm scanner, and stepped back as a door slid aside, revealing a cluttered desk and a chair.

Ripple waved Carter over to the bunk next to hers. "Okay, so this one's empty. Just press your palm against it, and it'll be yours for as long as you're on Fox Squad," she said. Carter did as she was told, and the door on her bunk opened on an empty, sad desk. Carter set her bag on it and stepped back. As if it knew what she wanted, the door swung silently shut once more.

"I'm set," she told Ripple.

The other girl nodded once, firmly, then let her own door close. "Then, let's go. You need a uniform."

She led Carter back out into the main body of the ship, past more doors just like the one to the bunk room, then stopped at the fourth one down. This one had a palm scanner built into it, and Ripple placed her hand against it. A display on the door burst into life, and a mechanical voice said, "Operative Ripple Ellis. Medic Carter Roe. Cleared." And the door swung open.

As they stepped inside, Carter realized why this room needed such advanced security, compared to the rest of the shuttle. Shelves upon shelves of weapons lined one wall, and, at a perpendicular angle ran a case full of top-of-the-line medical supplies. The third wall contained a row of neat, hanging garments on two metal bars, and beneath them was an array of neatly placed shoes.

To Carter's surprise, not all the clothes were uniforms. She saw several tuxedos and ball gowns, some everyday clothes, and business suits that looked, to her untrained eye, like they were specifically tailored to each member of the squad. And that was without even getting into the hole section devoted to special gear, like gilly suits, armor, camouflage and what were called forgetfulness suits, which were made to make the wearer disappear when they were put on–or, rather, they were made with technology that made anyone who laid eyes on them immediately forget what they'd just seen. They were obscenely expensive, which just confirmed Carter's realization of just how much money and resources the Rangers had access to.

Ripple strode over to the clothes section and began pulling things out. "Okay," she said pensively. "You'll have to get your uniform tailored at headquarters, but... Yeah, you're a size small, right?" Without waiting for a reply, she began pulling things out. "Let's see. Uh, jackets. Suede and waterproof. Here." She tossed two fitted black jackets to Carter, who caught them. "Coat. Here. Catch. Now, pants. We need lightweight and winter. Two of each. Yup." She flung four pairs of tight-fitting, black pants over Carter's arm. "Now, shirts. Three tank tops. One sleeveless blouse. One long-sleeved blouse. Long sleeved t shirt. Scarf, vest, gloves, both winter wear and leather. Hats: beanie." By now, Carter was staggering under the load of clothes, and, when Ripple kicked a laundry hamper out of the shadows and over to her, she gladly dumped her burden into it.

Ripple picked out a few other things–a pair of sweatpants with the Ranger logo emblazoned on the hip and a matching hoodie, a bag to store gear in, and a suit of the lightest armor Carter had ever seen. She wondered if it really could stop a bullet, like Ripple claimed, then decided that the Rangers wouldn't have shelled out for it if it didn't work.

Finally, it seemed like Ripple had exhausted her list, and, with a last, "Boots, tall, combat and snow," she dumped the last few items into the hamper, and said. "Well, that's you set." Just then, a bracelet she wore began to flash red. "Good thing, too. Rowan wants to see us."

Carter nodded mutely and hoisted the hamper into her arms. "Let's go," she said, when Ripple gave her a questioning look. They traipsed back down the hall, pausing in the bunk room so Carter could set her new uniform and gear on her bed, then hurried back up to the squad room.

Rowan still sat at the head of the table, doing something on her tablet. When they came in, she kept at it for a minute, her brow furrowed, then set the tablet aside and looked up. "Great, you're here. Carter, I just wanted to give you this." She held out a flat, square box, and Carter took it, wondering what was in it.

She pulled off the lid, and, lying on a bed of black velvet was a bracelet like the one Ripple wore, and a small, skin-colored earbud. "Comms device," Rowan said, when Carter pulled out the earbud. "And that's how we alert each other to a mission or to come in. The light flashes different colors depending on what you're needed for. You'll learn what they mean soon enough."

Carter smiled at her and slipped the bracelet on to her wrist. Ripple and Rowan both grinned, and Rowan said, "You're one of us, now. Hang on to the earbud. You don't need to wear it all the time, just when we're in the field." She levered himself up, and Carter sprang forward to hand her the crutches. "Come on. Let's go have fun."

They took the elevator downstairs, this time, and, in the lounge room, they joined the guys, clustering in front of the fireplace and the telescreen above it. Jase and Holden were playing a war game on the telescreen with handheld controllers that looked like silver sticks, not videogame tech. Slate lay on his back on a long ottoman playing a game Carter vaguely recognized on his tablet, and Prescott was nowhere to be seen. Carter figured he was probably pilotting.

Gerrit stood behind the bar, pouring himself a drink, and when he saw them, he bellowed, "Who wants a drink?"

Ripple laughed and pushed him aside. "Your drinks are shit. You can't bartend to save your life. And I want a martini. Rowan? Carter?"

"Whiskey on the rocks," Rowan said, collapsing into an armchair. Carter wanted to tell her not to drink on painkillers, but she didn't want to ruin the fun.

Instead, she laughed and said, "I'd like a mojito, if you can make it."

Ripple rolled her eyes. "What do you think I am, an amature? Seriously, Carter!" She sighed, but Carter knew she wasn't as annoyed as she was making out. "One mojito, coming right up."

Carter perched on the arm of the chair next to Rowan. "Hey," she said, when her C.O. looked up. "You doing okay?"

Rowan rolled her eyes, and it struck Carter that this squad had an epidemic of that going around, though there was genuine affection in Rowan's eyes. "Fine, just like I was when you asked me before we boarded. I'll be even better once I have a drink!"

She roared the last bit at Ripple, who slammed the cocktail shaker down on the bar. "Fuck off, Rowan. You have the patience of a two year old."

Carter scooted off the arm of the chair and onto the seat proper, nestling back into its hold. It felt right, listening to the bickering and the camaraderie, like she'd finally found someplace to belong, even though she'd never felt out of place, exactly, ever before. She let her gaze fall on each member of Fox Squad, and her heart swelled. Gerrit and Ripple were still arguing, now about the right way to make a mojito, and Carter sincerely hoped her drink came out okay, despite their meddling. Slate had apparently given up on getting any peace and had joined in the game Holden and Jase were playing, the three of them exchanging jeers and insults, each one getting more and more ridiculous, as if they were competing to see who could make up the most hilarious one.

"Oh, come on! Is that the best you can do? You couldn't outrun a mining pod full of sloths!"

"Did you do that on purpose, because only someone stupid as Gerrit would ever think