The Hot Gate - [Troy Rising 03]

by John Ringo

  “Sans and Velasquez are over here,” Diaz continued, opening the hatch across the corridor.

  This time at least the two engineers were awake but they appeared to be playing a video game. They were at least using their plants so they were getting some training in those.

  “No! Go to the left...” Sans said.

  “It’s covered!”

  “Hey!” Diaz snapped. “Don’t you get to your feet when a superior enters the room?”

  “Sorry, EM!” Sans said, opening his eyes and jumping to his feet. Velasquez was even quicker, bouncing up with his eyes still closed as he shut down the game.

  “This is Engineer’s Mate Parker, your new NCOIC,” Diaz snapped.

  “Hello,” Sans said, nodding politely. Velasquez just gulped and nodded.

  “Hello,” Dana said, smiling. “I’m sure we’ll get along great. EM, you probably have other duties. Why don’t you leave me to get to know my division?”

  “Very well,” Diaz said. “For obvious reasons, I think you’ll need to keep the hatch open when you’re in rooms with the male personnel.”

  “Regulation Four-One-Six-Three-Zebra states that air-tight hatches are to be closed at all times unless in immediate use, EM,” Dana said, smiling sunnily. “I’ll keep plants on record. Since I can delete but not modify the recordings, they’ll serve as an adequate record, EM. And general guideline is that a person of the opposite sex is not to be alone with a member of the opposite sex unless off-duty, EM.”

  “And I think that you’ll find that larger groups will simply cause more talk, Engineer’s Mate,” Diaz said sternly.

  “Not for long, EM,” Dana said, smiling still. “Regulations are, after all, regs.”

  “We’ll discuss this at another time,” Diaz said. “As you said, perhaps you should get to know your division.”

  “Thank you, Engineer’s Mate,” Dana said, still smiling. “I think we’ll step over to the other quarters, though, to get to know one another. I think a foursome is, at least for the time being, beyond most people’s imagination.”

  Diaz grunted, nodded and left.

  * * * *

  “He’s a real hard-ass,” Sans said. “You’ll get used to it.”

  “Do you think so?” Dana said, smiling. “Let me tell you what a hard-ass is. This is a verbal counsel statement to you both. It’s recorded but internal for this moment. If I ever catch you playing video games, or engaging in any other form of entertainment that interferes with your duties, during duty hours again I will give you a written counseling statement. The time after that, you will have a Captain’s Mast under Article 92, Failure To Obey an Order or General Regulation. Did you understand this verbal counseling statement?”

  “What?” Sans asked. Velasquez just gulped.

  “This is duty hours,” Dana said, still smiling, if thinly. Her eyes weren’t. “During duty hours I suppose that you may engage in preparation for standards tests. But playing video games is not such a preparation. Possibly if you were Marines. Since you’re Naval boats engineers, definitely not training. Duty hours are for working. When you are off duty, you can play games. Did you understand that?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Sans said.

  “The correct form of address is ‘Yes, EM’ or ‘I understand, EM,’” Dana said. “A surly ‘Yeah, sure’ is not sufficient. Start over. Do you understand that you are being verbally counseled not to engage in entertainment during duty hours?”

  “Yes, EM,” Sans said, his jaw flexing.

  “ER Velasquez, do you understand this counseling statement?” Dana asked.

  “Yes, EM,” Velasquez replied.

  “Excellent,” Dana said, still smiling. “This counseling session is closed. Let us proceed to the EM’s quarters so we can get to know each other.”

  * * * *

  Palencia still hadn’t showed up when they crossed the corridor.

  “Did you send him a message?” Dana asked.

  “Yeah, sure,” Vila said. “He said he’d be here in a while.”

  “Ah,” Dana said. “Grab some seats. I have a call to make.”

  She mentally pulled up Palencia’s file and sent a message. When it didn’t pick up she sent a priority override which permitted her, as Palencia’s NCOIC, to open up his plant for a message.

  “Palencia, this is Engineer’s Mate Second Class Dana Parker, your new NCOIC,” Dana commed. “What is your current position?”

  “Uh, Parker...” Vila said. “Were you going to say something?”

  Dana just held up a hand and pointed to her head.

  “What?” Palencia responded. “Who?”

  “This is the new NCOIC for your division. You were messaged to present yourself so we could get to know each other. What is your position at this time?”

  “I’m ... on my way back.”

  “Be aware of three things. The first is that lying to a superior is an offense against the UCMJ. The second is that, as your immediate superior, I can ask Leonidas for your location at any time. The third is that during duty hours unless specifically authorized you are to be in duty areas at all times. Failure to do so is another violation of UCMJ. You can get anywhere in duty areas in five minutes. So you have five minutes to present yourself at your quarters after which you will be considered absent without leave. Do you understand these requirements?”

  “I’m on my way. It may be more than five minutes.”

  “Take your time,” Dana commed. “I’m so enjoying my first day here.”

  “I was comming Palencia,” Dana continued audibly. Palencia was the next most senior person in the unit. She knew better than to effectively chew his ass in front of the others. “He’s on his way. He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

  “Okay,” Vila said. He’d caught the frozen expressions of the other two engineers.

  “To cover a few things, which I’ll cover privately with Palencia when he arrives,” Dana said, “I’m pretty unfamiliar with Latin American culture. But in my culture, there’s a saying. The teacher is no smiles before Christmas and all smiles after Christmas. I don’t see it as the duty of the newly transferred personnel to fix the One-Four-Three, so don’t take this as some sort of global negative. And I’ve been told that it’s best to befriend my team. That it works better with your culture. I’m not really good at that and I don’t see where it enhances our mission. Our mission is simple. Our shuttles deliver the mail. We may deliver parts or supplies or the rubble of destroyed ships. We may deliver mail. We may deliver Marines, express, to an enemy ship. But we deliver the mail. There is no excuse, there is no ‘close enough,’ there is no wriggle room. If the boats aren’t functioning, we can’t deliver the mail and we have failed in our mission.

  “I have reviewed your personnel files. I’m sure in time we’ll all talk about where we’re from, what we miss about home, what we think about the latest TV show. But for right now, the only thing I care about is whether we can deliver the mail. Do you understand?”

  “Yeah...” Vila said, then gulped at her expression.

  “The correct response to that question is... Sans?”

  “‘Yes, EM’ or ‘I understand, EM,’” Sans said.

  “So, Vila, try it again,” Dana said, smiling. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, EM,” Vila said, his eyes wide.

  “Then we have a beginning,” Dana said, smiling more broadly. “So, what is the status of your boat, Vila?”

  “It’s running,” Vila said, shrugging.

  “According to records, it has not had a sixty- and ninety-day maintenance schedule,” Dana said. “Since the only way to know if everything is running is to run the maintenance schedule, then, in fact, you don’t know if it’s running.”

  “It can undock and fly, Parker,” Vila said.

  “That is not the definition of ‘running’ for either the Alliance Navy or, more specifically, me, Vila,” Dana said. “Why have you not performed the sixty- and ninety-day maintenance?”

  “I
don’t have time!” Vila said. “We’ve got to study for these tests, too, you know!”

  “Which you can do in your own time,” Dana replied. “But since it’s apparently on the training schedule, absent challenge from higher, the current schedule for this division is six hours per day on the boats with two hours in quarters for study. And it will be study. And this is how we’re going to work it. Every Friday we’ll have a test of specific items from the general standards sheets. These will be announced on Monday. Absent successful tests of knowledge of task, condition and standard, we will commence retraining beginning at end of duty hours on Friday and continue until all personnel show a fundamental grasp of task, condition and standard.”

  “Friday night?” Sans asked. “But... that’s our off-duty time!”

  “You begin to grasp the point,” Dana said. “It is also, I might add, my off-duty time. And since I do tend to have some sort of a life beyond these nickel-iron walls, you’ll understand if I’m going to be a bit grumpy if you’re not prepared for the tests. You do not want me grumpy. This is me being nice”

  “To work on the boats we have to be in suits,” Vila pointed out.

  “And your point?”

  “That’s six hours in suits,” Vila said slowly, as if to a child. “Every day.”

  “And, again, your point?” Dana said. “I’ll be right there with you in Twenty-Three. And in your boats making sure that you’re actually performing the maintenance and checks. Which means I’ll have to be working twice as hard in those suits.”

  “Six hours a day?” Sans said, incredulous.

  “I’ve done up to sixty-seven hours in suits,” Dana said. “Which is right at the extension of the navopak, obviously. And if you think that most of my time as an engineer was in the comfort of a bay, think again. I spent most of my first six months on the Troy working under the same conditions you have here. So I’m very comfortable in suits.”

  “Do we have to wear the suits?” Sans asked. “I mean, we do most of our work in the boats. They’re sealed.”

  “Yes,” Dana said. “You have to wear the suits. First of all, it’s regulation. Second, it’s simply common sense.”

  “Nothing’s ever... happened,” Vila pointed out.

  The pause didn’t give Dana much belief that “nothing” had ever happened.

  “There’s a very thin skin of steel and carbon fiber around you in the boats,” Dana pointed out. “Bad things sometimes do happen. Especially since what you’re supposed to be doing is finding out if everything works. If you’re working in an internal bay with double pressure doors, you can dispense with suits. Until then, you wear suits. Again, regulation and common sense.”

  The hatch opened and a tall, slender and good looking young man, obviously Palencia, practically ran in. Dana took one look at him and knew damned well what he’d been doing.

  “Sorry it took so long,” the EM said.

  “Not a problem,” Dana said, standing up. “Dana Parker, Engineer’s Mate Second.”

  “Your rate tabs say coxswain,” Palencia said, shaking her hand.

  “I was a cox until this transfer,” Dana said. “They reactivated my engineer rate. So, now that you’re here, we can get into suits and head to the boats. I’ll have to go throw the EM1s out of their office again. Perhaps when we return they’ll have found me some quarters. If for no other reason than they’re tired of getting thrown out of their office.”

  * * * *

  EIGHT

  “The Horvath Polity rejects this position as unimportant and contrary to their just liberation of the Terran system,” the Horvath envoy ground out through its horrible translator. “We further demand reparations for Horvath ships illegally attacked by Terran pirates and the unconditional surrender of the Terran system...”

  “We’re going to have to go this one alone,” Horst commed Ve’Disuc.

  “Apparently so.” the Rangora commed back.

  “What’s the status of dropping the tribute?”

  “Wait for our turn.”

  “Rangoran Empire?” the Ogut referee said.

  “The Rangoran Empire agrees to drop demand for tribute upon the Terran system with Terran agreement to do the same against the Rangoran Empire as well as a binding agreement prohibiting the use of weapons of mass destruction against purely civilian targets, specifically cities and towns, with the understanding that any basing of military forces in or around such cities and towns are not party to this agreement and are legitimate targets of war. Furthermore, legitimate targets of war shall include high government officials of all branches and specifically any persons in or related to the chain of command of their respective militaries.”

  “The Terran delegation requests a short recess while this change in position is reviewed.”

  “Granted.”

  * * * *

  “That wasn’t what we’d talked about,” Horst said calmly.

  “It was a late change,” Ve’Disuc said, his scales rippling. “We just present what we’re ordered, just like you.”

  “We’re going to have to take part of it and leave the rest until we’ve gotten confirmation from Ministry.”

  “Understood.”

  “Does the Junta realize they just put themselves squarely in our crosshairs?”

  “Terran forces are in the Terran system,” Ve’Disuc replied, dryly. “That is a very long way from Rangor.”

  “American forces were in America at the beginning of World War Two, Ve’Disuc,” Horst said. “Which with our technology at the time was a very long way from Berlin. And the only reason the Russians took it was we let them.”

  * * * *

  “Mother of God,” Sans said when she was gone.

  “What?” Palencia said. “She didn’t seem that bad. And damned good looking.”

  “Don’t, don’t, don’t say that to her,” Velasquez said. “She’s a real ball buster.”

  “And you weren’t here for her little speech,” Vila said. “We’re going to be working on the boats at least six hours a day.”

  “In suits?” Palencia asked. “Is she nuts? And when am I going to see Carmencita?”

  “On your off-duty time,” Sans said. “If you make her conditions of training for the week. If not, forget it. And study is on our own time, now. Maximum of two hours per day on duty.”

  “That is... Diaz is never going to go for that,” Palencia said.

  “I think she has Diaz eating out of her hand,” Sans said. “And she’s a hard-ass like he is.”

  “I’m going to complain,” Palencia said.

  “I’m going to do what she said,” Sans said, waving at Velasquez. “We’d better get in our suits.”

  * * * *

  “Sorry about this,” Dana said, walking out of the engineering office in her suit. She had her gloves and helmet off but was otherwise ready to space walk.

  “That was fast,” Megdanoff said.

  “What do you mean?” Dana asked.

  “I mean... that was fast,” Megdanoff repeated. “Did you do your checks?”

  “Yes,” Dana said. “And I examine my suit daily. I found this in a seal when I went to put it on,” she added, holding up what looked like a dust bunny. “They do seem to get everywhere. Well, time to go round up the posse.”

  “Urn...” the EM1 said delicately. “Knock?”

  “Oh, absolutely” Dana said.

  The quarters were not far and Dana knocked on Palencia and Vila’s hatch, then commed.

  “You decent?”

  “No!” Vila shouted.

  “Mental note,” Dana said, actually recording it to her to-do list. “First training cycle on task, condition and standard for suit donning.” She paused and thought about it. “Second training cycle on use of corns and implants. God almighty, this is going to be a pain in the butt.”

  * * * *

  Dana hung in the pencil corridor, one foot hooked into a rung by Twenty-Three to stabilize her, her helmet and gloves floating about a foot
from her head in micro and her hands behind her head as she watched her division carefully working its way down the corridor to their boats. Just from their discomfort in micro she knew how much they’d been working on the boats.

  She made the immediate decision that they were going to have to start at the very basics. It was unlikely that the boats had even had a proper daily PMCS much less the thirty-, sixty-, and ninety-day cycles.