by John Ringo
“Looking forward to it,” Diaz said. “They need a good mechanic down there. I reviewed your record as an engineer and could find no fault. I’m looking forward to working with you.”
“Thank you,” Dana said, feeling slightly confused.
“Ponce, could you run Parker down to her boat?” Megdanoff said. “After she retrieves her suit. Parker, I’ll check on the quartering issue. I know where it’s emanating but it’s something we’re going to have to figure out. You can’t be up in the BNCOQ if you’re going to be part of the unit.”
“Agreed, BM,” Dana said. “EM Diaz, it will take me about ten minutes. My apologies.”
“Completely understood, miss,” the engineer replied. “I’ve got paperwork to catch up on, anyway. I’ll be here.”
* * * *
SEVEN
“We have received an interesting analysis of our opponents from Rangor,” Under Envoy Zho’Ghogabel said.
“Interesting in what way?” Envoy Ve’Disuc replied. The negotiations were going nowhere but they often did for long periods. It was all about patience. Being the drop of water that wore away the stone.
“It is long,” Zho’Ghogabel said. “The most important part, for us, is that we’re talking to the wrong people. I now understand the problem of doing anything with Danforth. There is also a change in position from the Junta.”
“Really?” Ve’Disuc said, sitting up.
“Separate from all other discussion points,” Zho’Ghogabel said, sending on the report with the orders highlighted. “Simple tit for tat. And one the Terrans have already brought up.”
“We can use this for more than a tit-for-tat,” Ve’Disuc said. “This could be a real breakthrough. I must contact the Ministry.”
* * * *
“Come,” James Horst said. He didn’t even look up from his computer. He knew who it was.
“James,” Ve’Disuc said, bending through the door.
“Envoy Ve’Disuc,” Horst said, spinning around in his chair. “I think the couch will take you.”
“Thank you,” the Rangora said, sprawling onto the human couch. The furniture for the various delegations had been brought from their home planets. “I think we may have a real breakthrough.”
“That would be interesting,” Horst said neutrally. “Which is?”
“Aliens are alien,” Ve’Disuc said.
“If you’ve finally figured that out it really is a breakthrough,” Horst said, snorting.
“We did not understand some things that you do,” Ve’Disuc continued. “And we based your reactions to war on our reactions to war.”
“Again, congratulations on your amazing insight that we view these things differently,” Horst said.
“I do recognize human sarcasm,” Ve’Disuc said.
“I see one of the race that blotted out most of my family and friends in an unprovoked attack,” Horst said.
“Are you by any chance a... Jacksonian?”
“Ah,” Horst said, nodding. “You found Meade’s essay. Congratulations, again. I said there was a point to opening up the hypernet system. Despite the fact that you keep trying to hack us through it.”
“That is performed by renegades—”
“Can it,” Horst said. “Or save it for the negotiating table. What is your point?”
“That question remains,” Ve’Disuc said.
“And I’m considering whether to answer it,” Horst said. “Can you reveal why you want to know the answer?”
“To be able to evaluate your relative political power,” Ve’Disuc said. “We have been having a hard time understanding why two Americans are relatively junior to a Pole. America is your world’s hyperpower. Still. Despite the damage from the war which has fallen on the United States more heavily than the rest of the world. Why have a Pole as the primary negotiator? Now we realize that different tribes within both polities have different roles depending upon whether their polities are at war or peace. Our initial analysis was that you were the... the term you use is ‘eminence gris.’ If this was a Japanese negotiating team, that would be assured.
“But now we discover that none of you may, in fact, have any political weight at all. Danforth assuredly has none. And we have, as yet, been unable to identify the exact nature of similar tribal spreads among the Poles. To understand what we are doing, to negotiate in truth, we have to understand humans and their politics.”
“Well, you’re still not there,” Horst answered. “But, yes, I’m one of those rare Republicans in the State Department. And Eklit is from a similar faction in Poland. If truth were told, I have a better time communicating with Eklit than Danforth. We understand each other.”
“Republican is synonymous with Jacksonian?”
“No, but it’s close,” Horst said. “The basis of the Republican party is Jacksonians as the basis of the Democratic party is Wilsonians. There are members in both.”
“The Republicans are your war party,” Ve’Disuc said.
“I’m sure the Democrats think so,” Horst said with a snort. “But not as you would understand it, no. Get that thought out of your head. Have you been looking at the Second World War or First World War?”
“The... Second was part of the analysis, yes. References.”
“Look at the political party of the President in both wars.”
“Democrats. So... You don’t have a war party?”
“No,” Horst said.
“But you have a war tribe.”
“No,” Horst said, snorting again. “Seriously. No. Okay, close, but not quite the cigar. Jacksonians are about much more than war. They are, in fact, the basis of our small business community as well. Wilsonians and Madisonians tend to be in control of large businesses. Were. There are so few of both groups left they’re practically a vanishing species. If you’re trying to figure out if what we agree to is binding, yes. At least on Alliance countries, and there are no Terran polities with space warfare capability other than Alliance countries.”
“On binding agreements,” Ve’Disuc said.
“Anything said here is decidedly nonbinding.”
“Understood,” Ve’Disuc said. “You brought up an agreement against nonmilitary-based attacks upon civilian population.”
“The wording would have to be precise,” Horst said. “But an agreement upon no weapons of mass destruction attacks on nonmilitary targets was one of our early negotiation points. We took it off the table because we realized you could barely get the concept. Aliens are alien.”
“We have some interest in resuming that dialogue.”
“Be great,” Horst said, surprised. “Why?”
“We are starting to understand you.”
“What do you want as a quid?”
“Drop your tribute stipulation.”
“I’ll... put that for consideration to the Alliance Foreign Ministry,” Horst said. “They’ll want the reverse.”
“We can probably agree to that,” Ve’Disuc said. “What do you think in general?”
“Frankly?” Horst said. “We don’t believe you’ll stick to it. I don’t believe you’ll stick to it. And we’ll probably agree anyway. Because we do understand you and know that anything we negotiate with you is essentially nonbinding if you think you can get away with breaking it.”
“That makes negotiations hard,” Ve’Disuc said.
“You think?” Horst said sarcastically. “What about the Horvath?”
“This is a mutual agreement,” Ve’Disuc said. “The Horvath may enter into it or not.”
“Let me talk to Eklit.”
* * * *
“When someone wants to make this large a change in negotiation position, I want to know why,” Piotr Polit said.
“Does it matter?” Harry Danforth said. “If we’d had this at the beginning of the war, we’d still have New York and Paris!”
“Interesting priorities,” Horst said. “And while I think we’ll probably agree with it, I agree with Eklit. This much of a cha
nge, not to mention agreement to our earlier proposal out of the blue, means something is changing in the background. I’d like to know what.”
“Ve’Disuc said it,” Danforth argued. “They’re starting to understand us. To understand that we consider all life precious.”
“So they’d assume that we wouldn’t bomb their cities, anyway,” Horst said.
“We’re not in a position to bomb their cities,” Danforth said disparagingly. “Not that we would, anyway.”
“Do you think so?” Piotr said. “Have you ever heard of Dresden? Tokyo? Hiroshima?”
“We don’t fight like that, anymore,” Danforth said. “And those tragedies taught us why we shouldn’t.”
“At one level I agree with you, Harry,” Horst said. “And on another, disagree totally. I’m not going to get into it, though. I still want to know what’s happening.”
“And it’s not up to us to figure it out,” Piotr said. “I will send a report to the Ministry. James, send one to the American State Department as well. My recommendation is to accept the proposed changes. And add that we would dearly like some hard analysis of why they have changed their position.”
“I’m starting to feel like we’re making real progress,” Harry said.
“I’m starting to feel like we’re flailing in zero g,” Horst said.
* * * *
“There is microgravity beyond this point,” Diaz said delicately.
“I saw the signs, EM,” Dana said, grabbing the safety bar.
The shuttles for the 143 rd were attached to the same “pencil” docks that the 142nd had used the first three years Dana had been with the unit. The pencil docks jutted from the inner wall of the main bay and shuttles were docked onto four sides. The main section was under microgravity. The engineers, therefore, had to perform many of their checks in microgravity. Furthermore, since there was always a chance that something could go wrong and one of the boats be holed or broken off the docks, they had to work in suits. It was a pain in the butt but one that Dana was used to.
“As a coxswain, I’m not sure how much experience...” Diaz continued as Dana flipped herself into micro and started swarming down the corridor.
“Coming, EM?” Dana asked when she was halfway to her boat.
Dana had been mildly embarrassed by her first exposure to micro on Troy. Since that time, however, she’d had thousands of hours in suits in not only micro but fluctuating grav conditions. As a former gymnast she also had excellent spatial awareness and was simply brutal at null grav ball. Micro was not an issue.
“Uh... yes,” Diaz said, for once nonplussed. He grabbed the safety bar and pulled himself into micro much more cautiously.
Dana took a small perverse pleasure from puncturing the phlegmatic NCO’s attitude. She’d appreciated his greeting her as a positive, as compared to the constant negative attitude she’d encountered from even the Americans in the 143rd. By the same token, he seemed to think she was some sort of glass doll or something. Or a brainless Barbie. It wasn’t direct, probably wasn’t even conscious, but he tended to be a bit condescending. As if with a dancing bear, it was not so much that she could do engineering well as that she was a girl who could do engineering.
Dana wasn’t sure she could ever get the Latins to accept her as simply “a guy with tits” as Chief Barnett put it. But she also wasn’t going to be condescended to. There might be better pilots and engineers in the 143rd but she fully intended to be one of the best.
She stopped at Twenty-Three and looked around. The other three boats in “her” division didn’t seem to be occupied nor were they out of dock.
“Where’s the rest of the crew?” she asked.
“Participating in training,” Diaz said. “Leonidas, authorization code four-one-eight-seven-nine-alpha. EM2 Dana Parker assigned NCOIC Division Two, Bravo Troop. Shuttle Twenty-Three primary engineer.”
“EM2 Dana Parker assigned NCOIC Division Two, Bravo Troop, aye. Assigned Shuttle Twenty-Three primary engineer, aye. Authorized entry, inspection and repair shuttles twenty-one through twenty-four, aye. Welcome to the 143rd, Comet Parker.”
“Thank you, Leonidas,” Dana said, keying open the hatch.
“What are you doing?” Diaz asked.
“Starting my inspection of the craft, EM?” Dana said.
“Now?” Diaz seemed surprised, even shocked.
“That would be my normal action at this point, EM,” Dana said, wrinkling her brow. “Do you have an alternate requirement, EM?”
“I was going to introduce you to the rest of your division,” Diaz said. “I assumed you’d like to meet them.”
“Very well, EM,” Dana said, closing the outer hatch on the shuttle. “Lead on.”
* * * *
“This is the quarters of Vila and Palencia,” Diaz said, opening the door again without knocking.
They’d changed out of their suits on the way. Generally that was done in quarters. Dana had had to use the engineering office while Megdanoff made himself scarce. She definitely needed quarters in the squadron area.
Dana, now that she had legal permissions as NCOIC of the Division, had accessed the basic personnel files for her team. According to the records, Dario Palencia was an engineer’s mate third class and Cruz Vila was an engineer first class assigned to Twenty-One and Twenty-Two respectively. The other two members were Ricardo Sans, an engineer’s apprentice and Diego Velasquez, engineer recruit. It was, from her experience, a pretty good mix. Palencia had about a year’s less experience than she did, and all of it as an engineer, which was to the good. Both he and Vila had been engineers in the action at Station Two during the Eridani incursion and Palencia had picked up a NavCom, Naval Commendation Medal, with V device for valor.
All Dana had gotten out of the same action—even after getting a boat back to the Troy with half her thrusters knocked out by a near miss from a missile—was a transfer.
The only person in the quarters, though, was Vila, who appeared to be asleep. He probably wasn’t accessing training materials since he was snoring.
“Where’s Dario?” Diaz asked.
“Don’t know, sir,” Vila said, rolling out of his rack. “He said he had something to pick up.”
Dana boggled again, not so much at the casual attitude as at the use of “sir.” NCO’s were addressed by their rate, not “sir,” which was reserved for officers. Then she realized that Vila was using Spanish, naturally, and the actual word used was “senor.” It still was odd and even uncomfortable.
“Send him a message and tell him he needs to get down here to meet the new division engineering NCOIC,” Diaz said. “And you’re supposed to be studying, not sleeping.”
“Yes, sir,” Vila said, rubbing his eyes. The engineer first class was in the “short” category and had a distinctly “Incan” look. Taking a quick look at his dossier again, Dana saw he was from Ecuador. She tried to ignore that the room was trashed.
“This is Engineer’s Mate Second Class Parker,” Diaz said. “She’s your new division chief engineer.”
“Hello,” Vila said, blinking in surprise. “We weren’t expecting someone so good looking.”
“And I wasn’t expecting a full crew of engineers,” Dana said. She’d halfway been expecting the compliment and ignored it. “According to your records you performed ably in the battle of Station Two. I look forward to working with you.”
“Thank you,” Vila said, shaking her hand a bit too warmly. “Feel free to stop by any time.”
“Oh, you can be sure I’ll be dropping by,” Dana said, smiling fatuously. She was starting to get a feel for how this was going to go. She wasn’t so sure that her natural reaction—which was to kick their ass in every possible way—was the right response.
“Palencia’s probably over at that damned mall,” Diaz growled as he closed the hatch. “I’ll talk to him about it.”
Dana accessed the watch schedule for the division and found that it simply said “Training and Maintenance” for most
of the cycles over the next week.
“What sort of training are they doing, EM?” Dana asked curiously. There wasn’t even a note on what specific training was to be done.
“Studying for qualifications, of course,” Diaz said.
“Ah,” Dana said noncommittally. Studying for quals was done on your own time, not “work” time, in the 142nd. And, as far as she could determine, every other U.S. Navy unit.
Since the shuttles required nearly constant maintenance to keep them in top shape, she was starting to get the drift of why the 143rd was constantly deadlined.