The Office was a bonus.

Located within the military sector of Station Four’s artificial gravity ring, the headquarters of the newly christened Task Force Thirty-One was one of the most difficult places to find within the structure. Through the Offices of the Task Force Four, past Rear Admiral Nikolai Markov’s personal cubicle and beyond the door into a storage area was the true entrance to the allocated space.

Forgotten to the universe, it seemed as if the dusty room dated all the way back to the original construction of the station. Bolted down furniture was arranged in a classical open office style, empty workstations completely unused. A thin layer of settled particulate matter is suddenly disturbed, a breeze rushing into the musty space from a door kicked open.

Light spills through the area in thin, dusty shafts; Admiral Tucker attempting to find the control panel as he reaches in with an extended arm.

In a small click the office illuminates, a handful of bulbs in the ceiling immediately burning out.

“Open season, you pick your table.” The Admiral waves as he cheerfully walks into the area, careful steps as he reacclimates to solid gravity. “I call the corner one though.”

A total of sixteen prefabricated workstations were lined facing together in two rows of seven. Two of them were displaced, one facing directly at the entrance as a reception desk while the other sat at the far side of the room facing the rest in a position of managerial power.

The walls direct front and right to the entrance were coated in the classical beige impact resistant rubber, while the left was taken up by a gigantic one-and-a-half-meter tall whiteboard that spanned the entire length of the room. Oddly, the entrance wall was equipped with a short shelf, which immediately is occupied by duffle bags of personal belongings.

“This is… strange.” Ling comments as he runs his hand on one of the workstations, the dusty plastic texturing mimicking a wooden construct. “This style of office I do not like. Too impersonal.”

Lieutenant Keys kneels down at the foot of a table as he narrows his eyes to the small screw tips, identifying them almost immediately. “These are R11 non-invasive securing bolts. And given the thickness of the floor, we could rearrange some furniture if we wanted to.”

“Combat Engineer already at it huh?” The Admiral laughs as he sits on his claimed chair. “Suppose we could do a little rearranging.”

“Well I need an AM-400 form for rearranging the R11 bolts in the floor.” Keys thinks. “Oh, and I also need my Combat Engineer Kit to get it done.”

“Is it possible to set up dividers?” Ling speaks up as he looks around the room. “Feels open.”

Keys raises his hands as he makes a viewing square, shaking his head. “It’s a pretty tight space already. I don’t think we can give fourteen people their own cubicle without turning this place into a maze.”

Ling grunts, strolling to the far station closest to the Admiral. “I will take this then.”

“I’ll take the one across.” Keys raises as he stands. “Though, Ling’s right; we could use a few dividers for decor. Might give the space some ambience and also reduce the feeling of emptiness.”

Master Sergeant Ling stops. “Admiral.”

“Yes?” Admiral Tucker looks up from his open travel bag on the table.

“There are no computer stations here.”

The old man sighs, getting up from his seat. “I’ll go check if the 4th Task Force’s Office has a few spares. And Keys, Ling; start filling out the requisition forms. Nothing except this room belongs to the 31st, gotta get this place up and running. We need a S-99 and an L-4 by the end of this week.”

“Understood Admiral.” Both Ling and Keys answer at the same time.

As Tucker leaves, Lieutenant Keys pulls out a dry-erase marker from his uniform, the felt tip reaching the cold surface on the left wall as he begins. “Alright, requisitions. Start from the top.”

Ling sits down in the chair, swiveling around to face the board. He stops, mind blanking. “Where do we begin?”

Keys pauses as the implication hits him. “Fuck do we even have a place to live here?”

“I thought I was being reassigned to a navy vessel.” Ling admits. “I did not prepare anything.”

Admiral Tucker interrupts, three laptops under his arm as he strolls back into the office space. “Don’t worry I’ve gotten that taken care of. You’re getting your own rooms in the ring: perks of being special operations, don’t have to live in the zero-g bunks with the riff raff.”

“Thank Christ almighty.” The Lieutenant exhales. “Admiral, you are the best command officer in the S.D.F.”

“I didn’t think hot bunking was good for morale, especially with just fourteen of us.”

Carefully placing the collected computers down on the desks the Admiral pauses. “I hope the Fourth didn't need these.”

“Admiral…”

Defensively pausing, Admiral Tucker points towards the door. “I asked Markov if I could have them and he said sure.”

Ling narrows, glancing over to the man. “Admiral Markov was recommended to his position in the 4th Task Force by you correct?”

“Ok nobody said anything about favors…. Well actually, I still remember Nikolai being a small chubby faced Ensign aboard the Washington. The only reason he’s here today is thanks to…” The Admiral stops. “Ok, might have been a personal favor.”

“I’ll knock computers off the requisitions list.” Keys turns back to the board.

“Oh and I lied.” Tucker raises as he boots up the first machine. “We are getting a T-9 setup kit courtesy from the Security Council tomorrow morning. That includes most of the necessities.”

“What isn’t included?”

Admiral Tucker thinks. “Anything related to EVAs or combat, snacks, and table lights.”

“And a functioning water dispenser.” Lieutenant Keys remembers as he writes down the required materials. “What else?”

Admiral Tucker silently hands Ling a laptop, the Master Sergeant taking a second to familiarize himself with the thing. “Keys, we are on a civilian station. If we need anything we could just go and buy it or order it off Amazon, free shipping.”

“True.” Keys points. “Alright, so for now we’re requisitioning the usual squad complement of eight combat EVA suits along with standard orbital warfare kits and maintenance supplies, a pallet of assorted secondary ration menu items, and are we fine with fixing the water dispenser they give us?”

“I’ll go and buy a civilian grade one.” Admiral Tucker waves.

“Ok.” Keys finishes, capping the plastic pen as he admires his writing. “For now, that’s it.”

Ling suddenly jolts up. “Oh I also need ceramic armor plating for modular combat suit. And if we can add weapons, I want a XA-77.”

“Fancy assault rifle for a fancy guy.” Tucker scoffs as he pulls an English accent. “Though, that’s not too crazy of a requisition for a Spec Ops Team, might as well get a gun that doesn’t jam in zero-g.

Oh and don’t forget a Combat Engineering Kit for yourself Keys.”

The Lieutenant adds the requested items to the list, turning around as he finishes.

“Just to let you two know; Special Weapons are also on the table. I can get us almost all class IV weapons.” Admiral Tucker informs. “But, we should get the recruitment out of the way before we really dive deep into the hardware part of this.”

Both Ling and Keys nod in agreement, turning to the old man.

Admiral Tucker stands from his chair, strolling to the white board as he motions for the marker. Removed from his position, Keys joins Ling as he sits on top of one of the empty tables, resting his feet on the chair as he leans forward. The Admiral smiles as he begins. “Feel free to speak up at any time, this isn’t exactly a normal meeting.”

With acknowledging stares, Admiral Issac Tucker of the Solar System Defense Force begins. “Alright, first and foremost we have a limit of fourteen personnel. So right now, the max we can recruit is eleven people.”

The old man draws out two rectangles, marking down one as NAVAL and another as MARINE.

Two tallies are marked down for Naval, and one in Marine.

“Keys should be in Marine.” Ling argues. “For the reason of combat roles.”

“Fair.” Tucker acknowledges as he erases the tally under NAVAL. “Though, for the record, Master Sergeant, we’re keeping Combat Engineering under our wing.”

“Pay’s better.” Lieutenant Keys shrugs. “And I didn’t slog through two years of engineering school to be in the marine corps.”

Ling groans, Keys laughs, and the Admiral continues.

“As our doctrine is first strike and open warfare, we’ll need a balance between our operators and naval firepower. Though, first we will need to figure out our naval assets before our marines, as we require both orbital fire support and deployment capacity to be combat effective.”

“We’re limited to Orbital Corvettes, correct?” Keys asks.

“Correct.” Admiral Tucker writes on the margins of the naval section. “Though, this works to our advantage due to the class’s smaller crew sizes and lower maintenance costs.”

Ling raises a hand. “So we will need to transfer one Corvette to our Task Force?”

“Correct again. Currently there are thirty-six corvettes in service within the System Defense Force separated into four different classes: Panama, Mogwai, Cyclone, and…uh…”

“Yangtze class.” Ling finishes.

“Yes.” Admiral Tucker cuts the man a sly, conspiring smile. “Now, the question is which sort of corvette is our Task Force looking for?”

“Panama and Mogwai are the oldest.” Keys starts. “I was on the Souez, which is a Panama Class, before I was on the Beijing. I don’t think it’s suited for orbital combat support; she was basically falling apart at her seams. Pretty much destined to salvage.”

“On that I agree.” The Admiral crosses out.

“And the Mogwai Class has a crew of twenty.” Ling raises. “That eliminates it.”

“And for the record I just want to say that that was partially my fault.” Admiral Tucker stares at the pair with a slightly embarrassed look as he draws a line through the name. “She should’ve been classified as a destroyer by all merits, but the old Admiralty Board got a little ambitious.”

“So two left.” Keys clasps his hands together as he thinks. “Never been on a Cyclone or Yangtze Class before.”

“There’s a Cyclone Class parked here for Fleet Week; the Hurricane.” Admiral Tucker informs. “If we ask nicely they’d probably give us a tour. Captain Yu’s a nice guy, was in one of my task forces back in the day.”

“Cyclone Class was made for anti-ship and station.” Ling speaks up suddenly. “Is missile carrier against country funded hostiles like Java Treaty.”

“That’s correct Ling.” The old man stops as he smiles. “Which means there’s only one choice.”

“Does the Yangtze class fulfill our needs though?” Keys raises as he leans back. “There’s no point in looking into the class if it doesn’t do anything for us.”

“Yangtze Orbital Combat Corvettes are built for deployment endurance, operational support, and have a complement of eight souls. I’ll admit that the class was the design board’s backburner project for a good while but it’ll work for us.”

“Crew of eight holy moly.” Lieutenant Keys vocally objects. “That’s a packed ship right there.”

“It is the smallest vessel in service.” Ling informs. “And Keys is correct, it is very small.”

“Yangtze class is also modular, first of its kind. We can swap out weapons, operational modules. I think the design board even planned to allow for a thirty-man transport system. Good enough?”

Satisfied, Keys nods as the Admiral continues.

“Currently there are three Yangtze Class Corvettes in service. The Lead Ship Yangtze herself, courtesy of your home country’s sponsorship Ling; Yenisei from the Russians, and the Rubicon from the Euros.”

“A mostly international class.” Keys comments slyly.

Admiral Tucker chuckles, pointing the marker at the man. “Don’t worry Lieutenant, good o’ll America’s gonna be sponsoring the next one. Then we’ll get our representative river up there.”

The Admiral finishes writing down the ships, each one organized into its own column. “So, given that the Yangtzes are a relatively recent production line, we can assume that they offer equal performance on technical specs. Which means our selection criteria is now based on crew personality, efficiency, and most importantly each Captain’s skill set.”

Silence propagates, Keys suddenly realizing the lack of movement from his companion.

“All due respect Admiral but who the hell would even join a Task Force such as ours?” Keys interrupts. “Zero oversight and no credit, I can’t think of a commanding officer who’d want to willingly get transferred to a group like this.”

Admiral Tucker snaps his fingers, leveling the marker as he points to the man. “Lieutenant Keys has a point, which means the question that should be asked is: Out of these three corvettes, which Commanding Officer would be willing to transfer their vessel and crew to a task force that operates in a manner such as ours.”

Without a reply, the Admiral continues. “I’ll offer some criteria, just for fun.

“We’ll need an individual who values the lives of civilians and crew over personal glory, and one who can reliably hold classified information. Standard stuff, though, given our rules of operation this person will also need uncompromising morals, and holds a deep care for the Solar System Defense Force.

But at the same time, this officer needs to be vocally frustrated at the current methods employed by the S.D.F.. And I want to just say, a ballpark here, that this theoretical person will need at least… I don’t know… four years of experience in command as well as a full set of awards. Possibly, these could include a White Combat Star, Meritorious Service Medal, and possibly a Purple Heart. Does that ring a bell for any of you?”

Ling’s expression sinks, eyes wide as he turns to the Admiral in utter silence. “哦 得了... ”

“Master Sergeant Ling Shu, may you remind us of your professional connection to the woman you agreed to marry about six months ago?”

“OH FUCK.” Lieutenant Keys jumps up as he slaps Ling on the shoulder, wild laugh echoing in the office. “LING YOU SON OF A FUCKING BITCH!”

“... and that is an order.” The Admiral blankly states.

Ling stares into the white board, eyes unmet. “Captain Michelle Pérez. Commanding Officer of the Yangtze Class Corvette Rubicon.”

Admiral Tucker points at the whiteboard, crossing out two and circling one. “It seems that we have arrived at our chosen naval asset.”

“Is this the reason I was transferred here?” Ling asks with a surprised look.

“No, of course not.” The Admiral tilts his head curiously. “I just wanted one of the best marines in low earth orbit. The fact that he came bundled with a decorated war hero and a corvette was just cream on the cake.”

“Ha!” Keys shakes Ling, a bright smile on his face. “Now who gets to serve with their fiancé you lucky bastard!”

“哎呀.” Ling’s expression droops as he tries his best to hide a massive grin. “Is she our best choice?”

“Oh trust me, Captain Pérez is our ONLY choice.” Admiral Tucker coldly, and honestly informs. “With five thousand active service members the recruitment pool for the System Defense Force was fucking small.”

“Small world, smaller force.” Keys shrugs, raising his hand slightly. “Though I have a question sir.”

“Go ahead.”

“How are we going to get the Rubicon transferred to us? We can’t just go and ask, can we?”

“Rubicon’s currently based in Lunar Anchorage under Task Force Seven. Vice Admiral Jacqueline Caron’s an absolute pain in the fucking ass but I know her. I’ll take care of the transfer; we’ll get the corvette, crew and all, so don’t you guys worry.”

“Should I tell Pérez?” Ling speaks up. “About the transfer. It is not likely she will accept this as she does not enjoy being switched from task force to task force.”

“Not to overstep my boundaries with your betrothed, but I’m pretty she’s very disgruntled out in Lunar Orbit.” The Admiral answers. “Right?”

Ling sighs, the life force leaving his body for a moment. “She has expressed her… dislike for the area.”

Lieutenant Keys nudges the man’s shoulder. “Plus the psycho would do anything to serve with you again Ling. Anything.”

“Alright then it’s confirmed!” Admiral Tucker reorients, attention focusing back towards him. “Now that’s taken care of we move onto your two’s expertise.”

Marking down eight tallies on the naval section, the remaining three marks are focused on towards the Marine section.

“Just barely larger than a fireteam.” Keys comments as he counts. “Damn the marine side of this task force is going to be lightweight.”

“Which is why you two need to make the selections carefully.” The Admiral tosses the marker back to Keys with a learned trajectory, the thing’s path curving as the momentum of the spinning gravity ring brings it to the Lieutenant’s outstretched catching hand. “No restrictions for this one; S.D.F. marines, national space force personnel, even military contractors as long as you can get them to join the System Defense Force.”

“Anyone?!” Ling immediately stops.

“Anyone.” The Admiral pauses as he rethinks his words. “Well, anyone can be a candidate. The question is on if they’re willing to transfer to our Task Force or join the System Defense Force. I can pull some clout with the U.N. Security Council and some of the private security companies still operating out here, but this will be on a person-to-person basis.”

“Hmmm.” Keys thinks. “Then we’ll need to cover all operational sectors with these three recruits.”

Ling nods. “Total squad needs minimum rifleman, medic, demolitions, breacher, and marksman.”

“Combat Engineering covers the demolitions and riflemen courses, a little bit of medic if we want to push it like last time.” Keys shrugs. “And Ling you’re a wizard with an anti-material rifle.”

“I am not that good.” Ling informs. “And I much prefer to be in the middle of a fight.”

“I mean…”

Out of nowhere a pen is snatched from thin air, the movement of flesh and uniform a blur against the peaceful office space. A reaction at the limit of human capacity, the Master Sergeant turning to face its thrower with a confused look.

Admiral Tucker chuckles, placing his handful of improvised munitions back on the desk as he pulls out his phone. “You see that Lieutenant? That’s the reaction time of a person you want at the front of a breach and clear.”

“Yeah agreed, and Ling you still carry around that emergency escape hammer for close quarters combat?” Keys asks.

From his right pocket the man produces a small black cylinder. Shaped like a detonator, the single button on the tool was opposite of a pointed metal bit. Spring loaded, the Master Sergeant activates the hammer, the sharp edge shooting out at incredible speed.

Admiral Tucker hums, a slightly concerned look on his face. “I never told you about this Master Sergeant, but using that thing might be a war crime now.”

“Better than a knife or one of those Java Treaty machetes.” Keys stops as he nervously turns to Ling. “I mean, I’d much rather go out with someone breaking my helmet visor than gutting me alive in vacuum.”

Ling nods, pressing the metal tip back into the outer casing. “Plus, very reliable. Used it seven times, worked seven times. Very quick, but also very messy. Lots of glass.”

Images flash in memory, both Lieutenant and Admiral shaking away brutal close quarters combat.

“So, we got a rifleman and breacher/demolitions then.” Keys turns back to Admiral Tucker, sliding off the desk and onto a standing position. “Sir, is it possible for you to provide us with a full listing of current active marine squads, retired personnel under the age of fifty, and maybe some of the old Vacuum Exiles or NanShan Security Astro-operators, and all national Space Force marines?”

The old man takes a moment as he stops mid-dial, processing the Lieutenant’s words as he glances down at his smartphone. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Preferably in spreadsheets.” Keys adds.

“We are looking at the old military companies now?” Ling stops. “That is risky.”

“Well, now the companies only recruit ex-System Defense Force Marines for their Orbital Security divisions.” Keys explains. “And if we can get our hands on one of their ‘Astro-operators’ we’d be set for whatever role they fill.”

Ling frowns. “I have gotten into a few shootouts with them before. Not sure if they are a good fit.”

“I’ve shot up a few as well.” Lieutenant Keys admits. “But this isn’t a customs inspection, we’re talking about a unified Task Force. Plus, I think some of them would like a change of pace; same pay but with less oversight.”

Ling thinks, turning towards Admiral Tucker’s desk. “Admiral, does hiring P.M.C.s count toward the limit of…”

Speaking on his personal phone, the old man looks up in the midst of conversation. A single hand cuts across his throat, the reply on the other end finishing as his intense glare turns into a soft smile. “... Yes I completely agree with you Jackie; the Budget for the Seventh Task Force has always been a nightmare to balance. You might not know this but a while back Vice Admiral Li actually… yes I know…but he actually managed to solve the budget balance issue with his own Force but…mhm…”

“操的媽...” Ling stares. “Look at the man. See how the conversation goes, he owns it.”

Keys listens in idly, a few words lost as his focus is bent to his assigned computer.

“... well of course. I mean the Rubicon…” The old man laughs. “Oh no I’m not trying anything, really!”

Admiral Tucker smiles with evil intent. “Oh don’t be so stubborn Jackie. I honestly believe Captain Pérez really has turned into a liability within the Seventh Task Force…. yes exactly, just like I said!”

“當槍使...” Ling comments, nudging Keys. “Do you think he can do this?”

“Let the Admiral do his magic Ling.” The Lieutenant comments. “He’s got twenty-five years of political experience at the head of the S.D.F., he’ll get you your girlfriend.”

The Master Sergeant frowns, leaning close to Keys as his voice turns into a whisper. “I have a question.”

“Yeah?” Lieutenant Keys turns, tone following suit.

“Why is the Admiral commanding this Task Force? Seems strange that he would command such a Task Force before retirement.”

Keys glances at the old man, answering in an equally hushed tone. “Admiral’s probably gonna be the first lifer of the System Defense Force, not the retiring kind of guy.”

“I understand that.” Ling nods. “But why us now?”

“Ling this Task Force will probably be his last project before the Orbital Security Council forcibly votes him into retirement. He’s the last founding officer still in active duty, man’s getting old. He probably wants to go out with a bang.”

For a moment Master Sergeant Ling stops, reaching back into his memories as he chuckles. “Remember what I said while we were on the Beijing?”

“You said a lot of stuff back on the Beijing.” Keys scoffs.

“It was the time I talked about plans, when Admiral Tucker interrupted.”

Keys turns as he remembers. “Was that when you were explaining to me about your plan to propose to Michelle?” The man cuts a slightly pitiful smile. “Where you laid out this gigantic, intricate plan about the whole proposal happening during an Earth Rise on Luna Anchorage and you had the ring stowed away and…”

Ling’s expression turns neutral. “Yes, that one.”

“Then the Admiral floated in and said that no plan survives first contact, and then Captain Pérez called you right there and asked if you wanted to get married.”

“See you remember.” Ling points. “It is just like then now.”

“How so?”

The Master Sergeant hums. “We have laid out an intricate plan of attack, have ambitions for this Task Force. In reality, it will be very different. Admiral Tucker has general idea of how this thing will work out, but now I do not think he is taking his own advice.”

“That’s just the Admiral.” Keys sighs. “But between you and me, if we’re taking the fight to people like the Java Treaty and South American Alliance then it’s going to be war. Shit will hit the fan.”

Ling nods. “Hopefully we start small. Space Liberation Font and pirates are easy target for Task Force such as us.”

“That they are.” Keys agrees.

Ling takes a minute, taking in the room as he meditates. “So, how many candidates do we need to choose?”

“A minimum of twelve.” The Lieutenant stops as he rubs his temple. “And we’re choosing out of like five hundred marines, three hundred contractors, and I don’t even know how much each country supports in their Space Forces now.”

“Then we have lots of work.” Ling states.

“Yep.” Keys pauses, a smirk approaching his neutral expression. “Plus you need to carve out some time to buy something nice. Pretty sure Captain Pérez doesn’t want to see you empty handed when she arrives.”

Ling’s face slacks. “Right…”