﻿<strong>Malcolm Mercer<br/>Thursday, 7/18/11 -- 8:11 AM<br/>McLemore's Auto Service<br/>"So Much for the Red Carpet Treatment"</strong><br/><br/>"Wow, I figured you guys would be able to hear<em>better</em>since you took the helmets off. I said I'm coming with you, G.I. Jane; I'm just going to follow behind. I realize I'm not a big bad corporate rent-a-soldier, but even you guys have to agree it makes more sense not to put us all in that made-in-Taiwan deathtrap you're standing next to. And since I'm assuming there are only gonna be more of those things out there between us and this basecamp, I'd rather be riding something built for speed than fuel economy. So<em>I will follow on Lucy whenever you are ready,</em>" Mal said, carefully enunciating his last sentence to make himself understood.<br/><br/>As he waited for them to finish packing their gear away, Mal straddled his bike and started the ignition, one boot catching the clutch to kick-start the machine. He smiled as the bike revved to life on the first try; his repairs the night before seemed to have done the trick. He slipped his own helmet on and looked over at the soldiers, ready to follow them to salvation -- or to bolt on his own, if they really hated his jokes that much and decided to get trigger happy.<em>'One of these days, I've really got to learn to keep my mouth shut,'</em>he thought anxiously as he waited for their reaction.