The wry smile sharpened. "I don't suppose you could use a hand bringing them in line?"

Zechs sobered just a little, knowing he was essentially green meat, thrown into somewhere entirely new. Swaggering in with arrogance wasn't a good way to make friends. But. Was he really there to make friends?

He certainly wasn't there to make enemies. Zechs explained, "I was part of a unit called Specials, of an already elite military force. Ego and independence were overwhelming traits. But without the ability to work together in battle, soldiers quickly die."