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what their military advisors had been telling them for years: that a corps of specially-trained and conditioned fighting men and women was needed specifically for these sorts of operations.
     
    A classified Executive Order was issued establishing a secret Combined Joint Special Operations Task Force, reporting only to the Secretary of Defense and the president. Containing elements of all four military branches, no expense was spared in the outfitting of these teams, their budgets so deeply buried by experts in red tape and secrecy that not even Congress could find them.
     
    An experimental team was formed — a prototype for those that would come after — and began training in the new expanded AEGIS facilities at Fort Carson, Colorado.
     
    Fort Carson, Colorado — Present Day
     
    “Atten-tion!” The shouted order was followed by the sound of many pairs of combat boots coming together in perfect synchronization. I squared my shoulders, took a very deep breath, and opened the door. The very tall, very loud soldier commanding this group made his way over to me. He looked me up and down like a prize fish and shouted once more as I managed to collect my wits and close my mouth.
     
    “Parade rest!” Moving as one, the team shifted to the more relaxed stance, and I straightened to some semblance of attention. I did not insult this man or the other soldiers by saluting, however. I knew that much.
     
    “Blake, isn’t it?” the soldier asked, his voice lowered to what seemed to pass for conversational volume for him. I could tell that he wasn’t thrilled with my presence. For that matter, neither was I. He was graying at the temples, well over six feet tall, and built like Mr. Universe. I swallowed hard and introduced myself.
     
    “Yes, sir. David Blake, reporting as ordered. I wasn’t told who I was to report to specifically, sir.” I lowered my voice to prevent accidental overhearing. “Is this… is this AEGIS, sir?”
     
    He looked at me again, and I could tell he was mentally sizing me up, wondering if I was worth giving a damn about. I hoped that he thought so, or my stint with this group was going to be even harder — and quite possibly much, much shorter — than I thought. Never make an enemy your first day, kiddo , I remembered my father saying. Suddenly, the soldier stuck out his hand and smiled.
     
    “Colonel Maxwell, at your service. Welcome to Fort Carson. Glad you could join us.”
     
    Relieved, I smiled back and shook his hand. “I know I’m late, colonel. I don’t have any excuses; I’m simply not used to military bases just yet and I got a bit turned around.”
     
    The colonel snorted. “You will be.” He looked thoughtful. “You know, you may not remember this, but we met once.”
     
    I frantically racked my brain trying to remember where I might have met the man. He smiled as the memory finally came to me and my eyes widened. There was only one other time I’d met anyone from the military as anything other than a lab-rat for Army doctors and psychiatrists. It had been nearly six months since that morning, but I could still see the steel-and-rubber construction of the man who had so casually stopped his squad of soldiers from shooting me dead where I stood.
     
    “Yes, sir,” I said. “I meant to find you, after, but they wouldn’t let me talk to anyone, sir. I was sequestered for four months. I can only assume that you got me to the medic, sir?”
     
    He nodded. “Yeah, I ordered the squad to carry you. You remember Jenkins?” I laughed and smiled as the colonel continued. “That was that boy’s last mission.”
     
    My face fell, and the colonel shook his head, grinning. “Nah, he’s fine, but I think the sight of them nasties made him want to crawl back to his mamma’s skirts. He’s pushin’ paper somewhere in Greenland now, last I heard.”
     
    I smiled in a rictus grin. “Well, sir, you and I both know what that sort of experience will do to a man. I’m just