The Hot Gate: Troy Rising III-ARC

by John Ringo

  “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 it’s 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 then 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 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 go 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.

  “I’ve been working with these guys for a year and I still don’t really understand what positively motivates them. Negative motivation I know chapter and verse. The CO seems to get it but he’s just charismatic and friendly. Frankly, you probably should have played the ‘I’m just a poor pitiful little girl’ game from the beginning but it’s too late for that.”

  “You got all that in, what, three hours?” Dana asked.

  “They also back channel a lot,” Megdanoff replied. “That’s the one part I do seem to be tapped into.”

  “So is this an official counseling statement on cultural interaction, EM?” Dana asked, thinking furiously.

  “No,” Megdanoff said, sighing. “This is absolutely unofficial. From my official point of view we’re all best friends and the birds are great. Remember the bit where you talked about not wanting to go to the memorial service? This is a
bout that. Or seeing a promising career just as shot to hell.”

  “I have a hard time believing they’d sabotage my bird because I...dissed their machismo or whatever,” Dana said, shaking her head.

  “These cultures are all about...face if you will,” Megdanoff said. “It’s about their concept of honor. And I do mean all. There are some really strong cultural reasons for that in their home countries and that goes for all of them and all their countries. Like I said, these are all kids from ‘good families.’ Some nobody farm girl is not allowed to disrespect their kids because that is disrespect to the family. Rank has nothing to do with it, survival has nothing to do with it. Palencia. Take a closer look at his file. He’s got a bachelor’s in engineering from the University of La Paz. His primary hobby is listed as polo. You know how much money it takes to be a polo player even in Argentina? In his country a nobody farm girl is just a casual lay.”

  “That explains the athleticism,” Dana said. “Hell, I’d probably like him if he wasn’t such a prick.”

  “And he’s saying the same thing about you, I’m sure,” Megdanoff said.

  “So what do I do?” Dana said.

  “That’s the problem,” the EM replied. “I really don’t know. Like I said, if I’d caught it ahead of time I’d have suggested, up to you, playing the poor-poor-pitiful girl. Let them carry the tool bag and such. ‘Could you please check the relay again? I’m afraid something bad might happen if it goes bad!’ Bat your eyes. Too late for that.”

  “I’d say that’s a hell of a way to run a railroad but it’s more like I’m not sure you can run a space navy that way,” Dana said, shaking her head. “I mean, seriously. These boats are not up to standard and up to standard is close enough to breathing vac.”

  “They’d rather lose boats than honor,” Megdanoff said. “They’d rather lose lives than honor. Think of it that way. Know why there are only kids from good families working as, face it, wrench monkeys?”

  “Why?”

  “The 143rd is the combined contribution of all the countries. They’re paying for the boats, personnel and maintenance. Supposedly to, and I did not use this word, ‘our’ standard. But from their point of view, they are their boats. And they’re the most advanced weaponry any of those countries possess. This is the absolute top of their line. They’re trying to field a combined Constitution Class. Different name, mind you. But the same ship. It’s one hell of a lot of money to them. The US has fielded fourteen. So this is their best and their brightest. Seriously. They’re not stupid. And one more thing.”

  “Go,” Dana said.

  “They are, and I am not understating this, absolutely fearless,” Megdanoff said, shaking his head. “Various reasons but you guys had it relatively easy with Station One. And from what I heard, that was bad enough. But we had lots of problems with integrating with the support ships.”

  Dana remembered what taking the station had been like. If they hadn’t had support from the Constitution and Independence class ships they probably could never have boarded it. The Troy could have blown it out of space easily enough, it had destroyed over thirty warships in the system, but taking it would have been another issue. On at least three occasions the support ships had blow away resistance that would have been a major issue to both the Marines and the boats.

  Taking it without effective support? That would have been double tough.

  “And that has been another point of contention,” Megdanoff said, sighing. “They feel like they were left in the lurch. That the Americans got better support because the ship crews were all American. Truth was, again between you and me, the chain of command simply didn’t get the way you did that sort of interaction. They were too hierarchical about it. By the time they requested the fire, because it had to be approved through a dozen layers, they’d already taken the casualties. It was cultural, again. But you can explain that until you’re blue in the face and they won’t listen. That would be...”

  “A violation of honor?” Dana said, nodding. “Okay, I get it. I’m screwed, blued and tattooed. Which means there’s only one way forward. Changing course at this point would just make me look like, well, a pussy. So that means I have to play the same game just with some minor variations. Which means we have to discontinue this evolution and go to another one. Where can we keep the tools where they won’t get stolen?”

  “Good luck,” Megdanoff said. “There are plenty of tools and parts. There’s no particular reason to steal them. It’s like a game to them.”

  “Okay,” Dana said. “I’m good at those sort of games.”

  “What are you going to do?” Megdanoff said, nervously.

  “We’re going to play for the rest of the day,” Dana said. “Like I said, I’m good at games.”

  NINE

  “They will figure out where they are hidden,” Palencia commed.

  “Sure they will,” Dana said, finishing the lashings on the toolbag. “But are they as questioning of their suits as you were?”

  “Admittedly, yes,” Palencia said. He still sounded a bit nervous being out in the main bay.

  “Then they can feel free to boldly go out onto the exterior of the hulls to get our tools,” Dana said. “And if their suits were as screwed up as yours, they can feel free to suck vacuum. They’re not my people. You are my people. And now we are going to go play.”

  * * *

  “Where the hell did you come from?”

  The speaker was an American. Dana tagged him and shook her head.

  “From the One-Four-Three, Sergeant First Class,” Dana said, smiling. The null grav courts weren’t full but they were close. And from the looks of things the only thing the Pathan Marines knew how to play was jungleball. On the other hand, they didn’t play it very well.

  “You’re not authorized in this space, little lady,” Sergeant First Class Mat Del Papa said.

  “If you’ll consult the schedule, Sergeant First Class, you will note that three of the null grav courts currently under use by your Marines are scheduled for the One-Four-Three.”

  “Who never use the courts, miss,” the SFC said, patiently. “And, just an FYI, we try really hard not to mix in girls with the Pathans. It’s a straightforward religious insult to see a woman dressed the way you are.”

  “In my issue PT t-shirt and issue shorts, SFC?” Dana said, smiling. “Since I’m, you know, a member of the Navy with a rank, Sergeant First Class?”

  “That’s the way you wanna play it?” the SFC asked, his face blank.

  “I’ve been playing games all day, Sergeant First Class,” Dana said, her smile fading and her eyes going from blue to gray. “I’m about sick of them to tell you the truth. A nice round of jungleball will do three things. One, it’s a game I know not flailing in the dark. Two, my men need training in micro. Three, it will cement that while I’m a split, I’m not a pussy, Sergeant First Class.”

  “These guys barely play by jungleball rules, Engineer’s Mate Parker,” Del Papa pointed out.

  “Any weapons?” Dana asked.

  “No. We’re pretty careful about that one.”

  “Then it’s all good,” Dana said. “Which court?”

  “Four,” the SFC said, shaking his head. “If you’re really going to do this.”

  “Palencia, you’re going to have to talk to them I suppose,” Dana said.

  “Talk to them?” Palencia said. “I barely like carrying them. I talk to those Islamic assholes as little as possible.”

  “Ah, the joys of being in an Alliance,” Dana said, putting in her mouth guard as the door to the court opened up.

  “Sergeant First Class, what is this...this doing here?” one of the Pathans asked, pointing at Dana.

  “This is Engineer’s Mate Second Class Parker, Sergeant Charikar,” Del Papa said. “She and her division are here to play null ball.”

  “Her dress is as a whore, Sergeant.” The Afghan Marine was tall and, to Dana’s surprise, had blue eyes. “She should not even be allowed into our
presence. It is an insult to God.”

  “Nonetheless, her unit actually is scheduled to use this court,” Del Papa said. “And she and her team wish to play nullball. Since they didn’t bring anyone else, I suppose they need to play your team. Or you can cede the territory to her and wait for another and they can...play with themselves.”

  “This is a deliberate insult,” Charikar said. “Our liaison will be informed of this incident.”

  “Hey, what’s another reply by endorsement?” Dana asked.

  “Says you,” Del Papa said, putting in his mouthpiece.

  “You going to ref?”

  “Wouldn’t miss this for worlds,” the Green Beret said. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “My guys are about to find out how to work in micro,” Dana said. “I’m about to get my mad out. Pretty much covers it.”

  Five of the Pathans spilled out of the court, making way for her team. She was used to guys looking at her in her PT uniform. She was in shape and not particularly ugly. What she wasn’t used to was expressions of loathing.

  “Is that really a woman?” one of them asked soto voce.

  “You’ve seen them here,” a lance corporal replied. “They are whores.”

  “You call our NCOIC a whore one more time and you’ll lose teeth,” Sans snarled.

  “Then tell her not to dress like a whore, infidel!”

  “Whoa!” Del Papa said. “Marines, keep your comments to yourself. Suds, do the same. You want to fight, you’re about to get your chance.”

  “This is insane!” Palencia whispered to Dana as they walked onto the court. “These are animals.”

  “Time to be a better animal,” Dana said, rotating her neck. “Look, you’re about the only one that has any ability in micro. These guys play by grabbing on and wrestling. And, apparently, biting. Keep moving and break their hold. Just let me carry the ball.”

  “I thought you weren’t supposed to carry in null-ball,” Velasquez said, nervously.