by John Ringo
“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 cross-hairs?”
“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.”
“Uhm...” 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 coms 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.
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 s
pecify 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 chit chat. 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, clearly 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 i
s 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 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. “Mis-mounted 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.”