The smell.

It was always there thought Mac as he stood in the bay of the repaired TALON class medical transport. The smell of hydraulic lube, seal foam bandage and blood.

Touching the comm panel next to the loading ramp he remembered how many times he had stood there before during the final moments of an approach to an LZ in some god forsaken hole on whatever planet the current battle was being fought on. Fought over because of some nameless strategy by the unseen authority known as "High Command" determined it was vital to the cause. Planets and places lost to history already except to those that were there and had survived, or those that were still there and buried under a simple marker.

Places like Twin Bridges on Essayons,Hilltop 215 Alpha or Whiskey South on Santo.

Whiskey South....

It started with the summons from the bar during downtime on the platform station orbiting Athens. No big deal, it had happened before. Vasily and Mac followed Chief Ellis back to their TALON class medical transport SAGANAMI TWO FIVE for a hurried launch and hook up to a Special Forces Command and Logistics Ship for transit to Santo. The rapid transit under cloaking was spent in quick and dirty briefs and rushed sim time. A Special Forces insertion team had gone missing during a covert intel mission. Suddenly after eight standard days they commed for emergency extraction with wounded. Their dedicated MEDEVAC lost it inbound and wound up a smoking crater. The team was able to clear the area and were now holed up low on everything except Alliance hunter teams.

Strapped in to the medics seat with pre checks complete, the insertion began with the familiar lurching disconnect from the carrier followed by the steady build up of gees. Chief Ellis had a habit of going straight for max descent remembered Mac. After all, the Chief reasoned, if they were picked up on sensors, no Alliance scan tech would believe anyone would come in at such an angle and speed. As medic, Mac actually rode backwards with his back to the