Apparently oblivious to the covert attention he was attracting from the recruits, he stowed his pack, snapped his KC-7 onto the rack, and dropped down onto the seat with a grunt. Dr. Sloan shot a single, questioning glance toward the sixty-four faces all staring in her general direction, then took the seat to his right. After stowing her own gear and the doctor’s, Torin took the next empty seat, approving of the major’s choice. “Strap in, people!” Staff Sergeant Beyhn’s voice filled in all the empty places in the troop compartment. “Pay attention to what you’re doing; if you screw up your webbing and go bouncing around during descent, not only will I be annoyed, Gunnery Sergeant Kerr will be annoyed. And you don’t want her annoyed. I’m sure she’d be perfectly willing to hang your skull next to the other one she’s got.” “This would be the Silsviss skull?” Dr. Sloan asked as Torin strapped her in. “Yes, ma’am.” “I hope we have a chance to talk about the Silsviss over the next few days.
