There was an air of excitement and anticipation as the company gathered in The Club’s combination dining hall and lounge for their briefing. Speculation as to the exact nature of their new assignment was, of course, the subject of much of the scattered discussion, but it was secondary to the main thrust of their emotions. Almost without exception, the Legionnaires were eager for the chance to put their new skills, honed by hundreds of hours of practice, to use. While no real protest had been made, they had been feeling for some time that they were ready for something more challenging than guarding the planet’s swamp miners once a week, and it looked as if the Legion was finally in agreement with them.
Of course, not everyone was enthusiastic.
“It’ll be great to get off this rock and see some real fighting, won’t it, C.H.?”
Chocolate Harry, the company’s massive, pear-shaped supply sergeant, turned his head with regal slowness to survey the Legionnaire who had addressed him through his pop-bottle-thick glasses. One of the few blacks in the company, Harry would be an imposing figure even if he didn’t favor a fierce bristly beard to offset his close-cropped hair, or wear his uniform tunic with the sleeves ripped off to display his thick arms, but as it was, the cold stare he leveled was enough to dampen the enthusiasm of his questioner even before he spoke.
“I suppose,” he said slowly at last. “Personally, though, I’m not lookin’ forward to having to move my whole inventory to another location … especially since I seriously doubt our new facilities will be as lavish as where we are right now.”