If you think you know somebody who resembles any of the characters here, congratulations, but you're wrong - any similarity between the characters in this story and any real person is purely coincidental, since all of these characters are figments of my imagination.

This is my story, not yours. Don't sell it or put it on a pay site. You can keep it and/or give it away with all of this information intact, but if you make money off of it without my permission, you're breaking the law and pissing me off.

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"Why the fuck we gotta take orders from a Frog?" Private First Class Pete Reyes asked, standing in the shuttle's open cargo bay with the rest of the combined task force, his helmet touching that of Spec2 Marcia McDonald so no one else could hear.

"Cuz the fuckin' Euros had the fuel we needed to complete our mission, Dumbass!" McDonald replied. "The suits in Washington worked it all out, now shut the fuck up!"

The group in the bay, wearing vacuum suits, was evenly divided between Europeans and Americans. It was probably a one way mission, but until their countries got more shuttles into orbit, they were on their own. Better to complete the mission with a mixed bag of troops than to sit and wait for help that might never come.

A red light came on at the end of the articulated arm which had been extended to make room in the cargo bay for the soldiers. They had rigged a light at its end to ensure that it was mounted where everyone could see it. Space suited figures on both sides of the bay made last minute checks of their equipment. Squad leaders passed thumbs up signals to their platoon leaders who passed them up to Captain LeBlanc. LeBlanc said "All go" into his mike, listened to the acknowledgement, then unhooked and carefully stowed the umbilical.

The Shuttle rolled so that the cargo bay was aimed at the enemy vessel, then fired steering rockets that slowed its motion relative to the alien ship, while continuing to match its speed. The suited soldiers, tethered to nothing but each other, continued on the shuttle's former trajectory, straight toward the black hulk that blotted out the stars in front of them. A boot clipped the edge of the bay and one of the European soldiers began a slow spin, his motion gradually dragging his squad off the vector traveled by the others. The squad leader, not understanding the vector mechanics involved, tried to use his gas-jet steering gun to force his squad back toward the main group. Instead, he managed to impart angular momentum to the string-of-beads formation, setting the clipped-together squad spinning like a propeller.

McDonald, a veteran spacer, unclipped her safety line without waiting for permission. With radio silence in effect, it would take too long. Working the inertia of her arms and legs against each other, she got twisted around to face the errant group. With judicious squirts from her own steering gun, she took off on an intercept course. By the time she reached the pinwheel of soldiers, they had separated from the main group by at least a hundred yards, and if not reeled in, would hit the hull more than klick from the rest of the assault force. She hit the line in the middle, decelerating with her steering gun, and pulled herself along the still spinning string to the squad leader's position. Taking the squad leader's steering gun, she alternated blasts from both to stop the spin and stabilize the chain of soldiers, then adjusted the line until it was pointed in the right direction. She allowed the idiot whose boot had caught on the shuttle bay to keep spinning. His momentum was keeping the line stretched out. Clipping onto the squad leader, she started the errant squad on a course that, instead of bringing them back to main group, which would have disrupted the entire formation, would land them about ten yards away by the time both groups reached the hull. The entire squad would pile up on top of the Squad leader, but no real damage would be done, and as far as the American was concerned, he deserved it for being such an incompetent spacer.

Unclipping from the European squad leader, McDonald took both steering pistols to keep the Euro squad leader from screwing up again, and headed back toward the main group. As if it was a maneuver she performed all the time, she smoothly decelerated into her former position in the formation, accepting the proffered end of the safety line from her neighbor, Reyes.

The shuttle pilot and co-pilot watched in hope and anxiety as the suited figures, starkly outlined by the sun's glare, drifted toward the alien vessel. Major Sanford Carlson blinked his dry eyes inside his vacuum suit as his ship drifted away from its precious cargo. When he opened them again, the drifting spacesuits were gone! Was this a trick of the light and shadow of space? If it was, it was fooling the video cameras, as well!

He turned, dumbfounded, to stare at his German co-pilot. "What the hell happened?"

"I do not know!" Captain Helmut Richter answered. "They were there. Now they are not! It is astounding!"

President Wang, at the head of the table stared dumbfounded at the video screen at the far end of the room and echoed the Pilot's sentiment. "What the hell just happened? Where are our troops?"

The stunned faces around the table told him that none of the others knew any more than he. Suddenly the room was a flurry of activity as everyone aroung the table reached for a phone.

Technicians scrambled to get test equipment hooked up to the video feed, while frantic voices demanded answers. The phone in front of General Horton was the first to blink with an incoming call. The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of staff answered and listened, a stony expression on his face.

"Goddamnit! Even on star Trek it takes a few seconds to 'beam' somebody up! How the hell do two platoons of soldiers simply vanish in the blink of an eye?" No one answered as President Wang shot his gaze fiercely around the room.

Finally, he slumped in his chair. "All right, keep working on it. How're the plans for the joint launch coming?"

"Not too well, sir." Neal Porter, Secretary of State answered. "I'm beginning to think the politicians should step back and just let the engineers figure it out. There's so much wrangling over prestige and privilege that actual progress is minimal. I'm beginning to think we're going to need some sort of enforcement clause in the treaty if we're going to get anything..."

"Mr. President!" General Horton stood with the handset of the phone in his hand. "We've found the missing spacemen!"

"What? Where?!"

"They appeared on the apron at Cape Kennedy, Sir, still wearing their vacuum suits." The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs looked as perplexed as everyone else in the room. Something occurred to him, and he spoke into the cell phone, then listened for a moment.

"You're sure?" He asked whoever was speaking.

"Sir," General Horton turned back to the President, "as nearly as we can tell, the men appeared at Kennedy at exactly the same time as they disappeared from the vicinity of the alien craft, only..."

"Only what, General?"

"Two of them are still missing, Sir." The General continued. "The joint group leader, Captain Armand LeBlanc of the European contigent, and a Specialist McDonald of the US contigent."

"The bastards are thumbing their noses at us!" Wang roared, then turned his malevolent gaze on the Secretary of State once more. "I don't care what it takes! Get those goddamn space-fighters or whatever the hell they are into space soonest!"

"It's rather a delicate diplomatic problem, Sir." Neal tried to calm his superior by reminding him of the way relations with other countries were handled. "We need to work it out so that each of the countries providing materials, facilities, people, expertise, etc. each get their fair share of the glory. That takes time..."

"We don't have time Neal!" The redness of the President's face suggested he was well on his way to a heart attack. "Every fuckin' day those goddamn arrogant aliens attack and do a little bit more damage. The casualty figures are always light, but they're mounting day by day, and so are the pressures from our constituents! Whatever it takes to cut through the Goddamn red tape - that's what we need to do! No more excuses! I don't give a rat's ass if China's feathers get ruffled a little, or if Pakistan's soldiers have to sit in the back of the shuttle. Get them into space where they can do some good! We'll smooth out the diplomatic stuff after we've kicked these alien assholes out of our system!"

"Yes, Sir." Porter replied, "If I may suggest, Sir... Perhaps a partnership with the Chinese is the answer. Between the two countries, we can bring everyone else into line. The only real problem is overcoming the paranoia on both sides. If we could set up a meeting between you and the Chinese Premier..."

"Do it! But Neal," President Wang said, "just so we're clear, why not go through the UN?"

"Because the UN has become such a quagmire of political intrigue and bureaucracy that it's a wonder they get anything done." The Secretary of State replied. "About the only thing we can count on them for is the humanitarian programs they've already got in place."

"All right. Do what you've got to do. Fuck! Give me a good, old-fashioned terrorist threat over this shit any day!"

The others, embarrassed to hear the President of the United States using such language, sat in silence, trying not to meet each other's gaze.