The Hot Gate - [Troy Rising 03]

by John Ringo

  Palencia wasn’t bad in micro; he seemed like he was probably naturally athletic and of course had more time in space. The ER was clearly a noob. The other two just were awful. It occurred to her that from the looks they didn’t even play null ball. Then it occurred to her that five was a null ball team and the training schedule didn’t specify what type of training.

  She commed Twenty-Three open and wordlessly pointed at the hatch.

  “I think I need to make one more thing clear,” Dana said as she flipped herself into gravity again. She was careful to do a perfect plant and caught her helmet as she landed. “I’m afraid you think I’m being a hard-ass just to be a hard-ass. I’m not. Or that I’m being a hard-ass because I’m a gringo. Last thing on my mind. I’m being a hard-ass for a bunch of reasons. The first, as I noted earlier, is that it’s our mission. The second is that it’s important. The third is because I was raised to believe that if you’re going to do something, you should do it to the very best of your ability. Since I’m now responsible for this division, I’m going to do my level best to make it the very best division in the squadron. I intend to excel. You can feel free to try to interfere with that intent. You can try to play games. You can try to prevent that standard. Feel free. I am a master of playing games. Let’s play!’

  She toggled the hatch shut and put on her helmet and gloves, performing if not the world’s fastest check of seals then very damned close.

  “You might want to put on your helmets and gloves,” she said as she commed the hatches shut.

  “What are you doing?” Palencia asked, hooking on his helmet without a seal check.

  “Preparing to pump down,” Dana commed.

  “What?” Vila asked. He still didn’t have his helmet on and quickly donned it. The others just came out as a series of muffled shouts.

  “First of all,” Dana commed. “Learn to use your coms. I can’t hear what you’re saying.”

  “We weren’t really prepared to deal with vacuum,” Palencia commed.

  “The Tr... Thermopylae is a very big place and most of it’s pretty safe,” Dana commed. “But bad things happen. Especially to engineers who are working on their boats. There is no such thing as being unprepared for vacuum. If you are unprepared for vacuum in this job you might as well kill yourself right now. Because we are going to be in vacuum. A lot. If you came down here unprepared for vacuum that is a definitive statement that you haven’t been doing the job. Again, this isn’t a gringo thing or being a hard-ass. I’m trying to keep you alive. You’re my people, now. I’m responsible for you. If one of you dies from a bad seal it reflects badly on me. If you can’t even bother to check your seals, if you can’t be bothered to maintain your suits, please go breathe vacuum under someone else. So, let’s play. Is everyone sealed?”

  “This is very unwise, EM,” Palencia commed.

  “Why so?” Dana asked. “According to his record everyone is trained in suits and micro. You signed off ER Velasquez as trained in suits. And he’s signed off by you as micro trained when he can barely make it to the boats. He’s nearly completed all the conditions to be an engineer’s apprentice. Are you saying that some of the division are not sufficiently versed in suits or have not maintained them to a standard that they can survive vacuum?”

  Dana waited a moment for a response then unsealed her helmet.

  “Perhaps we should have a class on suit maintenance and task, condition and standard of donning same to start? What do you think?”

  * * * *

  “Where’s the crowbar?” Dana asked. The suits hadn’t been in really bad condition. The design was pretty good and could take a certain amount of crud. But they also hadn’t been in great condition. She’d spent some time giving a class in how to properly maintain a suit, a class she suspected she’d have to repeat several times, then proper inspection and donning. When she was sure they were to condition she’d pumped down. Now she was trying, as subtly as possible, to determine their actual knowledge of the boats. She’d already figured out she couldn’t trust a damned thing the records said.

  “What crowbar?” Palencia commed. She’d kept the boat pumped down, just to make the point.

  “You guys don’t mount a crowbar?” Dana asked, aghast.

  The last thing you did before certifying a new boat for use was weld brackets over the starboard tool locker and mount a crowbar. Knowing the true significance of the crowbar was sort of an ad hoc proof of having been “made” as an engineer. Generally, you were informed of The Significance of the Crowbar around the time you were about to make EM3, similar to an Army or Marine Corps corporal.

  “There’s one in the kit bag,” Palencia commed.

  “Well, sure,” Dana said, opening up the tool locker. There wasn’t a kit bag. “Where’s the bag?”

  “Uh, in my quarters, Miss,” Velasquez commed.

  “EM or, if I’m in a good mood, Parker,” Dana replied. “And why is it in your quarters, ER? Standard regulation Six-One-Four-Three-Eight-Seven-Alpha states that the shuttle’s tool bag, with all listed tools, will be maintained in the starboard storage locker unless it is in use.”

  “So the tools don’t get stolen,” Palencia commed on a private channel.

  “The boats lock, EM,” Dana commed back. “Quarters don’t lock.”

  “You can get around the locks,” Palencia said. “If you just leave the tools lying around they disappear. So we keep them with us”

  “Which means they’re disappearing as we speak?” Dana asked.

  “Probably.”

  “Deal with that if we have to,” Dana said. “Okay, enough chitchat. ER, you’re going to remain on this boat. We’re going to restart with the daily checks on each boat. I’m going to be doing secondary check on each boat as you complete. But to do some of those we need tools. So first I’ll be going back to check on your tool boxes. And see if they’ve disappeared.”

  * * * *

  Which they had. Or there were simply tools missing from earlier. No real way to tell. What was immediately apparent was that the tool kits were incomplete.

  “Leonidas, sorry to bother you again,” Dana commed.

  “Not busy at the moment, EM Parker,” the AI commed back. “What is your request?”

  “Did any personnel enter the quarters of my division after we left here at 1037?”

  “Yes,” Leonidas replied.

  “And you can’t tell me who because they’re not my subordinates,” Dana said.

  “Correct,” Leonidas replied. “But if you’re wondering where the tools went, you might ask EM1 Megdanoff to repeat the query. However, the bifurcate assembly tool was missing before the latest disappearance. I think EN Vila left it in the number fourteen portside inspection panel of his boat.”

  “Roger. Thank you.”

  “One query, EM Parker?”

  “Go, Leonidas?” Dana said.

  “Is it permissible to use your handle of ‘Comet’?”

  “Roger, Leonidas,” Dana commed.

  “Based upon the quizzical nature of the response gestalt, you would like to know why. I am named after one of history’s most famous warriors. It is in the nature of a salute, the proper address of a noted warrior.”

  “I am not a ‘noted warrior,’ Leonidas,” Dana said uncomfortably.

  “I am sure my namesake would have said the same, Comet. Leonidas out.”

  * * * *

  “Parker, could you meet me up at the head of the corridor?” Megdanoff commed.

  “Be there in a sec, EM,” Dana said. “Palencia, this relay isn’t tightened.”

  “I thought it was,” the EM3 said.

  “Since it wiggles when you push it,” Dana said, smiling, “it’s pretty apparent that you never even put your hand on it, EM. Repeat the task, condition and standard for checking the four-one-six-eight starboard upper grapnel power relay.”

  “Visually and manually check the relay for cracks, dents, corrosion or other signs of gross damage,” Palencia said, clearl
y reading off his plants. “Press on the relay and twist to ensure that it is in good physical contact. Connect the—”

  “Okay, now when you read it actually do it,” Dana said, straightening up. “Start the check again. I hit that on my first spot check. I don’t want to know what else is wrong. And note that the starboard upper grapnel is deadline until this is fixed.”

  “EM...” Palencia said.

  “Do it,” Dana said. “I’ve got to go talk to the EM1.”

  * * * *

  “Your tools,” Megdanoff said, handing her a cloth bag.

  “Except the split installer, which was in the port fourteen,” Dana said, looking in the bag. It looked complete.

  “Parker,” Megdanoff said. “I don’t want you to think that this is in any way a reflection on your sex...”

  Dana stood there looking at him quizzically for a moment. He was clearly marshalling his thoughts. Or maybe consulting his plants.

  “And what am I doing wrong, EM?” Dana asked.

  “Why is Twenty-Two deadline?”

  “Four one six eight is marginal,” Dana said. “Mismounted and it looks as if it’s been that way for a while. Which means it’s probably not going to pass the full power test. So far, the way it’s looking, all the birds are going to be going down for a couple of days, maybe only a day. They’re all behind on maintenance cycle for one thing, which sort of automatically deadlines them. I’m surprised they weren’t deadlined already.”

  “Parker, we’re trying very hard to maintain an up condition, here,” Megdanoff said, carefully.

  “EM, with all due respect, the bird is either right or it’s not,” Dana said, just as carefully. “These are my people. They have to fly in those birds. With respect, again, I neither want to deal with the accident review nor the memorial service if one of my guys buys it because the bird isn’t good.”

  “Neither do I, Parker, but...” Megdanoff pulled at his short hair for a moment. “Parker, there’s more to this than I think you’re looking at.”

  “I am always interested in new information, EM,” Dana said, her eyes wide. She even blinked them.

  “You can quit that, right now,” Megdanoff said, flexing his jaw. “There’s a lot more than you understand about this unit. You’re looking at us and going ‘this place is so screwed up no wonder it couldn’t find its butt with both hands.’”

  “The fact that two of my people were playing video games, one was asleep and the other was off post getting laid did sort of make an interesting first impression, EM.”

  “And now you’re saying they’re lazy,” Megdanoff said.

  “Not at all, EM,” Dana said. “Leave it at developed bad habits.”

  “Which is a reflection on me,” Megdanoff snapped.

  “Not really,” Dana said. “I’d say it’s a reflection on Diaz but I don’t really have a handle on him yet. He flew off the handle at the two juniors for playing games but at least they were awake. He more or less ignored that Vila was asleep. And I’m pretty sure he knew where Palencia spent his time.”

  “Okay, I’ll try to lay out the problems that I know about of going at it as ‘Me Hard-Ass Space-Bitch,’” Megdanoff said. “And that’s not intended as an EEOC thing, I hope you...”

  “Don’t have a problem with the B word in that context, EM,” Dana said. “I’m going to try to get my guys to quit calling me ‘senorita,’ though. Better than ‘puta,’ I suppose.”

  “Here’s the problem,” Megdanoff said. “Problems. First of all, they’re going to do absolutely everything possible to shove a knife in your back. And they’ve got ways you can’t even imagine. For one thing, you may not realize it but most of the people in this unit are politically connected at home. Even Velasquez comes from what they refer to as ‘good family.’ And every one of the countries they come from seem to have an absolute stream of bureaucrats that exist to do nothing but complain about their treatment. And those complaints don’t come to the squadron. They go to the American State Department who then sends ‘reply by endorsement’ forms to Department of the Navy. So each and every time you bust somebody’s chops, the Secretary of the God damned Navy is going to have to ‘reply by endorsement’ as to why you told Sans if you ever caught him listening to music in his quarters on duty he’d be up for a court-martial.”

  “Which was not what I said,” Dana said, blanching slightly.

  “I know that, you know that, the Secretary of the Damned Navy knows that!” Megdanoff said, pulling his hair again. “Did you record?”

  “Yes,” Dana said.

  “Then we’ll send the recording,” Megdanoff said. “When we get the reply by endorsement. Which will take about a week. And it will dutifully be sent back. And then there will be another query asking if we’re accusing their precious people of lying. And that will have to be replied to. All of it going through Department of the Navy. Eventually, they’ll get so tired of having to push paper because of one low-rate EM that they’ll find somewhere that low-rate EM isn’t going to cause them so much trouble.”

  “Even if that low-rate EM is right?” Dana asked.

  “Think about it,” Megdanoff said, tilting his head to the side. “How many reply by endorsements do you think the Secretary of the Navy is willing to reply to before he starts to recognize your name? And do you really think he’s going to care that you’re trying to just keep your boats in top shape when the first time he sees the replies it’s always from some high ranking member of the Argentinean government who has a perfectly justifiable complaint? Such as telling Sans he can’t listen to music while studying for his quals?”

  “You’re serious,” Dana said, thinking about the scene in the boat with the suits which was, actually, sort of pushing the line. “The Secretary of the God damned Navy?”

  “As a heart attack,” Megdanoff replied. “And the Secretary of State. I had the same attitude when I got here. I was going to straighten their shit out. This is me, now, saying you need to tread a bit more lightly. That’s one reason. Second reason. I know what you want out of this division. You want it to be the best damned division in the squadron, which, by the way, would not be hard. I’ll freely admit that. Four birds that actually worked and weren’t just signed off as working would make you the best division in the squadron. But here’s the problem with ‘best division in the squadron.’ Do you know that top members of South American soccer teams live under pretty much continuous death threat and have to have body guards?”

  “Why?” Dana asked, shaking her head. “I mean, are they into drugs or...”

  “Because they’re good,” Megdanoff said. “Because they stand out. Because they can turn a game. Because if you want competitive, you haven’t seen competitive until you’ve seen Latin Americans. Get their competitive streak going and they have a simple answer. If it’s easier to make you fail than work to beat you, they’ll make you fail. You fail, they win, game over. One way or another. We tried the same thing when we first started and have barely gotten them to quit sabotaging each other’s boats! I think we lost a couple in Eridani because somebody had futzed with their nav controls.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Dana said, shaking her head.

  “So when Persing, who is, yes, an amiable moron, said that you need to respect their culture you took that as bullshit. Which at a certain level is true. Just respecting a culture for pure multi-culturalism is not about getting the mission done. Which is the only and always bottom-line. But respecting the little niggling issues about their culture like not having your boat sabotaged to get you out of the way or not having your career sabotaged to get you out of the way is, actually, sort of important.”

  “Engineer’s Mate,” Dana said, “I know all about ‘cheerful and willing obedience to orders’ but I’m not sure I’m willing to fly in these boats if that’s the standard under which they have to be maintained. I know way too much about how they can screw up in the best of conditions.”

  “Which is why I have it arranged that I never g
o out in the boats,” Megdanoff said. “The only gringo in the unit who does is the CO. And we check his boat very carefully. Besides, the guys like and respect him. That is the key. If they like and respect you you can get them to do the job. They also just automatically respect rank. But at this point, you had that run-in with Benito, who’s sort of a leader among the junior enlisted in the squadron, you’re coming across as a hard-ass bitch, you’re playing the competitive game and, last but not least at all, you’re a girl. And while I come from the background that I don’t give a damn, they do. That tool bag is just another coffin nail. You used the entry and tracking system. By doing that you essentially broke the omerta. You dissed the honor of the guys who had successfully stolen those tools by using an underhanded trick.

  “You’re hurting their feelings. You’re bruising their egos and wimping their machismo or whatever. ‘Women aren’t allowed to talk to our people that way’ is probably going to be the subtext of the first reply by endorsement.