A youngish man in a heavily-decorated blue dress uniform was standing by the door waiting for Jeff as he came out. Only Jeff didn’t see him. Jeff didn’t notice anything for a while. He was blinded by grief and a sick, lingering pain deep inside. In the past few hours, his life, his very identity, had been torn apart. Now, with vague bits of information, he was adrift in a strange new world.

If the waiting soldier noticed Jeff’s haunted eyes, he said nothing about it. Nor, when Jeff finally saw him, did the man fulfill Jeff’s expectation and speak “down” to him. Jeff had changed schools before and knew what that was like. A military school probably dished out initiation scorn in spades.

That did not happen. Instead, the man stepped up, saluted sharply, and introduced himself. “Major Kendrick Van Blair, sir. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you down to Scorpion Training Center. General Kerrington is waiting to introduce you to the team.”

Jeff looked around. Was that soldier speaking to him? When it became evident that he was, Jeff followed the man onto the motor walk in near shock. This high-ranking soldier had called him sir!

Jeff thought a moment, then shrugged. No doubt, just a tradition here. Everyone probably called everyone else “sir.” The motorway started forward slowly, then accelerated rapidly. Soon, it was traveling at a blinding speed, much faster than General Kerrington had set it for on tour. Jeff clung to the nearest side rail but noticed taht Van Blair did not. Obviously, the officer had grown accustomed to sidewalks that could move at speeds close to Mack one.

Just as he was getting used to the speed, jeff noticed they were slowing. Seconds later, Van Blair vaulted over a side rail and opened a gateway for Jeff.

“This way, sir.”

Jeff stepped off the motor walk. Van Blair turned and headed for a door a few meters down the corridor. When he reached it, he stopped and stepped to one side. “Main assembly and workout room for Scorpion Team One, with whom you will be training. Van Blair explained in a formal, lecture-type voice. “There are ten of us, the optimal number for a Scorpion team. Rank results from military skill, seniority, and potential psi power; mostly, it’s based on the latter. However, every man accepted into the Scorpion Forces is an officer. A Scorpion has authority over any Marine or Spaceforce officer of any rank, except for their generals. General Kerrington is the only one of us who ranks over them. Confusing, but it’s worked for us for a long time.”

“Psi potential is designated by color.” Van Blair continued. “The read scorpion has the highest rand and power potential and is the team leader. Two Blue scorpions are next on the Table of Organization, followed by three green and four Orang Scorpion commandos. The number of Green and Orange levels are sometimes reversed, though.

“Red scorpions are rare. When one is discovered, a new team is formed; unless he’s replacing a retiring team leader. We presently have 28 teams. You’ll need to know that a few of our team embers, including one Red Scorpion, are of pure Terran blood. You’ll be briefed later on how that’s possible.

Van Blair paused. “That’s all for now. We won’t keep General Kerrington waiting any longer.”

Jeff raised an inquisitive brow. “Should we have kept him waiting this long?”

“I am following orders, sir.” Van Blair assured him. “However, the team will appreciate your concern for our tight schedule.”

Van Blair touched the door switch and motioned Jeff to precede him into the room. Jeff was thoroughly bewildered. Student, soldier, or whatever Jeff was about to become, Van Blair's tone of respect was surely misplaced.

Jeff was tense as he waited for the harsh sardonic sound of an instructor of drill sergeant’s voice. Being mostly a realist, he knew taht no trainee or any type was treated with respect for long. Because he was expecting something, Jeff did not jump or flinch when a very authoritative voice ordered, “ATTENTION!”

He stood very still and looked around and felt shock course through him. Somehow, Van Blair had moved fast enough to rejoin his team and was standing with them in a triangular formation by color. And they were all saluting Jeff!

After a moment, the red tip of the human triangle, who was General Kerrington, moved forward and addressed Jeff. “Scorpion Team One, presenting arms, sir!” There was a flash of movement as laser rifles moved to a saluted position in unison.

Jeff felt like a fool, like Waler Mitty inventing fantasies with himself as the hero. His face burned in embarrassment.

Only this was no fantasy. Keffington was speaking again. “Does the Gold Leader wish the team to be at ease?”

Numbly, Jeff nodded, and Kerrington. “Sir, I don’t understand. What’s this all about?”

“You shouldn’t call ME ‘sir’, Kerrinton instructed. “Call me by first name, last name, rank, title, or whatever else you wish, but the Gold Leader calls no one ‘sir.’

Suddenly a broad smile broke through Kerrington’s military correctness, despite apparent attempts to control it. “We’ve waited a long time for this day, High General. Come and meet your teammates, then I’ll explain some more. But we have to hurry. The other twenty-seven teams are assembling right now on level three, waiting to meet you as well.”

Jeff walked with Keffington toward the rest of the team; then, his eyes fell on the Blue Scorpion standing beside Van Blair. Tage Bennett! His father’s friend. Relief flooded Jeff at the sight of a familiar face, and when he reached the team, he went straight to Bennett.

“Tage, what is this about?”

“Bennett glanced at Kerrington, who nodded. “Okay, but intros first.”

Bennett acknowledged this by introducing Jeff to the team member one at a time. Then he said, “Basically, sir…”

“Not ‘sir’, Jeff said suddenly. Jeff burst out at Bennett’s look of uncertainty, “Oh, come off it, Tage! I’ve been ‘Jeff’ to you for as long as I can remember.”

“Things have changed,” Bennett said quietly. “You’re the Gold Leader, a full Thallian of Imperial blood. When you were growing up, unaware of all this, calling you by your first name was not considered disrespectful or out of place. But now…”

So that was it! Jeff staggered. In less than forty-eight hours, he had shifted from a relatively typical Terran high school student to some kind of VIP in Thran society. He was both honored and miserable; because the conditions of his new situation, whatever it was, meant loneliness and separation from possible friends and peers.

Unless, he could change that right now.

Abruptly, Jeff turned to Paul Kerrington. “General, I’d like to request an assignment to another team. Is that possible?” Jeff held his breath. Whatever his rank or position in Thran society, he hoped it was sufficiently important to cover this. After all, what exactly was a “Gold Leader”? Jeff didn’t know.

Kerrington looked shocked, then suddenly unhappy. “Yes, sir. But..”

“The thing is,” Jeff broke in. “I don’t think I can train with a team who keeps calling me ‘sir’, ‘High General, and who knows what else. I’m not used to it and could never keep my mind on the job with that kind of treatment.” He looked at Kerrington meaningfully. “Could you find me a team who would be willing to treat me as what I am right now, a complete greenhorn in military matters, and who’ll accord me the honors of a peer rather than a VIP?”

Slowly, Kerrington glanced around the other. One after the other, they answer that look with a mute nod. Then suddenly, everyone was laughing and cheering again and clapping Jeff on the back.

One had stayed on his shoulder. Jeff looked up at Tage Bennett. “I was hoping you’d do something like that. I think we all were. Welcome to Scorpion Team One, Jeff.