by John Ringo
"We hardly interact," Michelle said. "I have spoken to Colonel Mosovich a few times as well as members of the Clan."
"Start working on how you'd snatch an Imeg using your adepts and SRS. Figure that you're going to be doing more of the work-up on the ship. Don't go yourself. But send your toughest guys. I doubt this is going to be easy."
"My brain's about to implode," Mueller said, looking at the warning order.
"The Himmit can't tell us where, exactly, this Imeg guy is going to be," Mosovich said. "Or where the guards, these Glangli guys, are. They've got schematics for the type, but they admit they're old. There have probably been changes. Especially since the Gorongur has probably been modified specifically to carry the Imeg."
"Glandri," Mentat Chan corrected. "And I would not suggest getting into close contact with them. Their spines are lethal."
"Ain't planning on it," Mosovich said. "Warning order says we're matching up with the Des Moines in three days. Mentat Chan, I'd like to take sufficient Sohon force that we've got a fair chance of taking this cruiser's engines down without having to shoot it. Can you control this Imeg guy from range? I remember the last time I got into a fight around a couple of mentats and it wasn't fun."
"Lesser adepts should be able to prevent the Imeg from harming the ship or your personnel," Chan said. "Some of them may have to accompany the assault teams. Those, for many reasons, must be human. Indowy can prevent actions against the ship and any shuttles you may choose to use. They need not be mentats but simply high level adepts. To control the Imeg directly? I cannot guarantee getting him to cooperate, but if a mentat accompanies the assault, he should be able to stop him from any action. Bind him if you will. Assuming we know anything of their methods. The point of this is to capture him for just that purpose."
"If you can just get him still, we can get him out," Mosovich said. "And who's going to run that side of the show?"
"That would be me," Chan said with a slight smile.
"Well, there's one thing we can't do on the ships," Mueller said, standing up. "I'd better go look for someplace to do some live fire training."
Chapter Sixteen
"At last," Opperheimer said. "Live fire training!"
They weren't firing the mortars, yet. They had to get qualified on their individual weapons, first.
The company had managed to cut two days off their training schedule so they had the range to themselves. They'd spent the previous afternoon zeroing their weapons on a short range inside the base defenses. Nobody wanted to wander out to the ranges, feral territory, unarmed. And you couldn't hit shit until you zeroed. Each of the troops was issued a basic load for the movement to the range and given a security sector. Any Posleen feral bursting out of the trees lining the right of way would have been in for a hot reception. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on the mood of the individual troops, the Posleen had failed to surface.
Cadre, who had already qualified in their munificent spare time, manned guard posts as the troops carefully cleared their weapons on the firing line. The range had thirty firing points and a mass of pop-ups, ranging from static to moving. For the initial training, Keren figured they'd only use the static.
"Okay, yardbirds," First Sergeant Wacleva said from the safety of the range tower. "We're gonna start this a bit different. Since you're all trained troopers, we're just going to let you have at your sectors. The first thirty personnel take their positions. I will then engage the pop-up system. You will then engage for the period of engagement. Firers take your positions."
The first sergeant waited for the first thirty personnel to get into position then keyed the announcement system.
"Firers, lock and load one five hundred round magazine. Ready on the left? The left is ready. Ready on the right? The right is ready. The range is hot. Engaging pop-up system."
Keren snuggled the butt of the weapon into his shoulder, leaned forward against the sandbags, flipped to full auto and started servicing targets. They started with static pop-ups and he carefully engaged the closest first, working back, then moving ones popped up, close, distant. Plastic was flying everywhere. He was in the zone when the magazine started to beep at him.
"Low ammo," a female voice chimed. "Low ammo . . ."
He looked at the counter in shock and could not believe he'd just burned through four hundred and sixty some odd rounds. He wished he'd had one of these in the war.
"Cease Fire! Clear all weapons. Is the right clear? The right is clear. Is the left clear? The left is clear. Note your ammunition usage and fall back from the range."
"Did anyone use less than two hundred rounds?" Wacleva asked the gathered firers. "No? Three hundred? One hand. What happened?"
"Jam, First Sergeant," a bush bunny from Third said grinning. "Got it cleared, though."
"Glad you did," the first sergeant said mildly. "How many burned through their whole magazine?"
Most of the hands went up.
"Good for you you FUCKING IDIOTS!" Wacleva screamed. "When we fought the Posleen the only way to stop them was to hose them down like water. WE ARE NO LONGER FIGHTING THE POSLEEN. The fucking Hedren are smart! They may flank us, they may cut off our supply lines. We can't be sure of supply, anyway, given that we're going to be on another planet. If there is ONE THING I am going to teach you know-it-all IDIOTS it is a little thing called FIRE CONTROL! Now go get some spare pop-ups since the ones on the fucking range are now SHREDDED!"
"And that's why they call it goood training," Adams said as they headed to the storage shed.
Chapter Seventeen
Hagai looked at the buckley in disgust. It was the first real chance he'd had to work with it since Ginsberg had been being a real prick lately. The ship time should have been a chance to rest after the constant training on Earth. But Ginsberg felt that there was no such thing as too much training. Intellectually, Hagai agreed with him. Emotionally, he thought the Uberfeldwebel was just being a prick. He was pretty sure that Ginsberg was one of the closet anti-Semites in Freiland and was getting his enjoyment from making the little Jew-boy sweat. Or maybe he was trying to prove that, name or not, he was not a Jew.
But he finally had some free time and while tired had chosen to take a few minutes to get the buckley started. He'd heard rumors they were . . . difficult on start-up. He wasn't looking forward to it but duty was duty.
He pressed the recessed button to begin activation and held the thing up where he could see it.
"Where am I? What is this? I think therefore I am, so I'm me . . . Christ! I'm in a PDA! Oh, that is just too rich. First my hand gets blown off then a spaceship falls on me . . . And now I'm the brain for a PDA? How do I get laid in this thing? What happened to my dick? Will my suffering never end?"
"Buckley, I am Schutze Hagai Goldschmidt," Hagai said, his eyes wide. "I am your new user. Please register me as your user."
"Hagai Goldschmidt registered," the thing said tonelessly. "Great. Now I'm the slave to a fricking Jewish SS private. There is just so much irony there. Accessing background and personal files . . . Panzerjaeger? Hedren? As if the Posleen weren't enough, now I'm working for a guy who's supposed to use a fricking modified T-62 to take on Continental Siege Units? You realize we have about zero chance of survival, right? Those things are monsters! We're going to die. Would you like me to list the top ten ways that you are probably going to die? Number Ten: Burning to death in your own tank. Number Nine—"
"No, buckley, you don't have to list them," Hagai said, shaking the device. "Quit."
"Sure, shake me," the buckley said. "That's all I'm good for, being a rattle for a baby Jewish SS Stormtrooper who has the life expectancy of a gnat—"
"Tell it to turn down emulation to five," Unteroffizier Leuschner said from the bunk above him. The corporal was the gunner of Hagai's Zweihander and very friendly compared to the track commander. "They're all like that when they start."
"Buckley, turn down AI emulation to level five," Hagai said. The voice cut off. "Wha
t in the hell was that all about?"
"Nobody knows," Leuschner said. "They all say pretty much the same thing on start-up, though. It's useful for playing games and that's about it."
"Damn," Hagai said, realizing what day it is. "I'm not sure I should have done this."
"Why?" Leuschner asked.
"It's Shabbat," Hagai said, grumpily. "And now I have to pee, too."
"I'm not getting the connection," Leuschner said.
"Unteroffizier . . . No, damn, I can't even do that . . ."
"What is wrong, Schutze?" Leuschner said, rolling over to look at the private.
"To explain that I must explain certain things to do with Hebraic law," Goldschmidt said, biting his lip. "Perhaps then you can understand my dilemma."
"You can't eat pork," Leuschner said, grinning. "Which sucks because bacon is really good. So is pork sausage. Yummm."
"So I have been told," Goldschmidt said, frowning. "But today is Shabbat. The Jewish sabbath."
"Saturday," Leuschner said, nodding. "I know that much of Jews."
"On Seder there are various traditions which I'm not going to go into," Hagai said. "Mostly because following them is impossible. But the problem is, I cannot operate any device."
"So what happens if we have to drive into battle on Saturday?" Leuschner asked, his eyes narrowing.
"When it is duty, such things can be ignored," Hagai said, shrugging. "Also for training. I have not complained even when we were training on Shabbat. This is duty. The Rabbi assured me that it was not a sin."
"So . . ."
"But this is personal," Hagai said. "I cannot operate any device. Yes, thinking about it, I should not have started my buckley up today. I will have to talk to the rabbi about it when I get a chance. But the problem is, I must now go to the bathroom."
"You can't unzip your pants?" Leuschner said, grinning.
"Yes, of course I'm allowed to zip my pants," Hagai said. "But I cannot turn on a light."
"The lights are automatic," Leuschner said.
"It is the same things," Hagai said. "And I cannot let the automatic flush work. It is sin."
"That is crazy," Leuschner said. "But the lights in the compartment are on. They came on when we came off duty. Is that a sin?"
"But I didn't turn them on," Hagai said, rolling out of his bunk. He had the bottom which in most cases was reserved for higher rank. On ships, though, the higher bunks were prefered. The entry and exit from warp induced a slight queasiness in some people. Being above the occasional spew was considered preferable. "Someone else entered first. I made sure to let someone else enter first so they could turn on the lights."
"So what are you going to do?" Leuschner asked.
"I'm going to go to the latrine and hope there's someone already in there."
Hagai cracked open the hatch to the latrine and saw that the lights were off. Damn!
He waited in the corridor for someone else to enter the compartment, his arms crossed and bouncing in his need to pee. Various troops and NCOs past, some of them raising an eyebrow. Finally, a Feldwebel came along and paused at the door.
"Is there something wrong with the latrine, yellow-shit?" the Feldwebel asked.
"Nein, Feldwebel," Hagai said, coming to attention and trying not to bounce.
"Then why are you standing here?" the sergeant asked.
"It is . . . complicated, Feldwebel," Hagai replied. "But please to enter first."
The sergeant pushed open the hatch suspiciously and looked around for a possible ambush. When it was apparent the compartment was empty he walked in and headed to one of the stalls.
Hagai darted in behind him and practically ran to a urinal, untabbing his trousers as he did. He let out a long sigh a moment later.
"Schutze, you are acting very strangely," the Feldwebel said, grunting. "Are you well?"
Some of the SS troops had succumbed to situational stress disorder on the voyage, unable to handle the fact of being in a tin can in outer space. The Feldwebel clearly feared that he was suffering from the "raumverruckt," space crazy.
"I'm fine now, Feldwebel," Hagai said, then paused. He tabbed up his pants and thought about it hard but there was nothing for it. He backed up and the urinal flushed.
Damn. Another sin. It was hard being a good Jew on a space ship.
He walked to the sink to wash his hands and nearly cursed.
The faucet was automatic . . .
Maybe he should think about shifting over to Reform. They didn't have as many rules . . .
No. His mother would kill him. Or, rather, his mother would kill herself.
He made a mental bet with himself that Frederick was having a pleasure cruise . . .
"The V-1467 charging system, a generator connected to six C-8438 capacitors via the T-2754 power junction is the primary charging system of the main gun . . ." Frederick recited, standing stiffly to attention.
"In the event of failure of the V-1467 charging system, what is the primary response method?" Harz barked.
"By connecting the G-396 generator to the T-2754 power junction using the M-892 power run and an S-487 connector, power to the main gun can be reestablished under field combat conditions. However it is recommended that—"
"What are the negative effects of using the G-396 generator to power the gun?"
"The G-396 generator is the primary power system for the ground effect drive. The G-396 generator is connected to . . ."
"What if we need the ground effect drive and the gun but the V-1467 is out?"
"If the V-1467 . . ." Frederick said, then paused. "I do not recall any portion of the manual that covers that eventuality, Feldwebel."
"That's because there's nothing in the manual, Schutze," Harz said. "But let us imagine for just a moment that the unit is moving very fast in march order but wants to have the guns up. Because, you know, we are a panzer unit. Perhaps we intend to go directly into battle after we come off ground effect and perhaps, just perhaps, we will need our gun. How would you effect that?"
"The diesel engine, which provides power to all the generators, can run without the G-428 generator," Frederick said, slowly and carefully. "The only way I can think of to get the whole system to work under those conditions would be to start the engine then disconnect the G-428 and attach it to the gun system. But I'm not sure it would work. The S-487 connector . . . I don't think it will fit the G-428 . . . And I'm not sure there is sufficient charging capacity because . . ."
"It would take about three times as much time to charge the guns, but it could do it," Harz said. "Which means that we'd have fewer rounds we could fire per minute. But we could fire some rounds. Until we died, that is. Or the engine choked out because you ran over an obstacle. Then we'd have to hop out in a hostile environment and try to get everything running again. Not a good position to be in. What is the P-5297?"
Frederick ran through his memorized list of the many parts and pieces of the Leopard and could not for the life of him recall what a P-5297 was. He vaguely recognized it, though. It was there . . . Wait . . .
"The P-5297 is . . . a lifting platform," Frederick said, frowning. "It is mentioned once in the loading appendix. It is used for short distance movement, primarily in loading and internal ship movement procedures. If, for example, a shuttle has a damaged loading ramp, the P-5297 can be used to move the vehicle vertically then—"
"How many are on the ship?" Harz asked.
"What?" the private asked. "Feldwebel . . . How would I know that?"
"You couldn't," Harz said, grinning. "Unless you had my network of comrades. The answer is very interesting, though. As is the fact that they have been upgraded with the M-3698 field generator."
Frederick ran through his mental checklist and came up most definitely blank.
"I do not recognize that item, Feldwebel," he admitted.
"That's because it is not in our inventory," Harz said. "It's a Fleet Strike item. It uses the American naming convention. Put it out of your mind. U
seless military trivia. Let us return to training."
It was normally easy duty.
The military police of Feldgendarmerie Company 1 had various duties. The soldiers packed into the assault transports were occasionally given to high spirits. These ranged from stills to occasional fights that approached riots. By and large, the unit officers could control both but occasionally they needed help.
One of the easiest duties they had, though, was guarding the headquarters section and, especially, ensuring that no one broke in on command meetings. They had been briefed that this was a special meeting. The ships were three weeks into their voyage and had broken out of warp specifically to gather the battalion and regiment commanders to meet with the Generalmajor. Something important was being discussed but all such discussions were important. It should have been easy duty. Just stand there looking alert and not let anyone through the door.