East of the Sun, West of the Moon

by John Ringo

  * * *

  "Fisk this shit," Jacklyn said, peeling out of the skin-tight suit. "I am done. I am not going in that tank one more time!"

  "Calm down," Van said, trying not to stare at the liquid covered body. The anti-blister liquid that filled the suits was remarkably similar to the sort of jelly used for sexual lubrication, which had originally occasioned some bawdy jokes. At this point it was just another pain to be born since while it made getting the suits on easy, it made taking them off damned hard. At least it had been.

  Jacklyn cursed luridly as her hands slipped on the suit and she stood bold upright, shaking from head to toe.

  "I AM SO FISKING OUT OF HERE!" she screamed, quivering.

  "Jackie, let me help," Linda said, getting a grip on the slippery suit and yanking it down over the other girl's arms. "Just take a deep breath. We're all tired."

  "I can not keep up this pace, okay?" Jacklyn said, turning to the captain with tears in her eyes, holding the suit up to cover her breasts. "I'm not a Blood Lord, okay? I was a computer nerd. I liked playing with old systems. After the Fall I was a damned waitress! I can not keep going in that tank hour after hour! Get us a god damned break, Van or I swear I'll quit and FISK the bonus!"

  "Same here," Michelle said. The pilot had long brown hair with touches of blonde streaked through it from the sun and a face the near side of beautiful with slight epicanthic folds and high cheekbones. Her green eyes were shadowed and baggy, though. "I'm as dialed in as I can get with the shitty 'simulators' we have. And I'm not going into that damned lake again, either. I'll do the mission, but I'm done with training sixteen hours a day. There's a point where it's overkill and we're past it."

  "Ditto," Linda said, her face firm. "I've talked to the other engineers and we're all worn out. The pace is especially killing Geo. He's trying to keep up with all us youngsters and, tough as he is, he hasn't got the stamina. He has to have a break. We all do."

  "I've got the message," Van said, yanking his suit down to his waist. "I'll bring it up, okay? That's all I can do."

  "Tell Herzer he can kiss my ass if I'm going into that lake one more time," Jacklyn said, frowning.

  "There's going to have to be at least one more exercise," Van said. "We haven't worked as a group, yet. Can you handle it once more?"

  "Maybe," Jacklyn said, looking at the others. "But not day in and day out. I'm done with repeatedly hacking systems underwater. I'll play memorization games with the other techs, but the most you're going to get is one or two more exercises and no more than a couple of hours in the water. I need to get my head together about space. You're the one that's always pointing out it's not the same."

  "I'll see Herzer," Van said. "This evening."

  * * *

  "Commander Herrick," Captain Van Buskirk said as he entered Herzer's office. It was after training with only a week to go and Herzer was knee deep in signing papers.

  "Hey, Van, why so formal?" Herzer asked, carefully setting his fountain pen down so it wouldn't spill all over the papers.

  "Cause I've got an issue," Van said, frowning and coming to a position of parade rest. "With all due respect, sir, I think we need to wrap up training soon."

  "We've got two rest days built in at the end of the week," Herzer said, frowning. "You want to knock off before then?"

  "I'd like to have this be the last day of microgravity training, sir," Van replied, seriously. "The Blood Lords can keep up the pace, but the techs and pilots are right on the edge of mutiny. They're all exhausted. Yes, I know that after they knock off you're up to the wee hours still. And they know that. It's probably the only reason they haven't mutinied yet. But they're worn out. I especially strongly recommend that Geo be taken off the training schedule. There's nothing he really needs to learn at this point. He's still only marginal in microgravity, but if you want him on the mission at all you'd better back off. Or he'll be dead."

  "Point taken," Herzer said, quietly. "And I already heard the same from Massa. What about you?"

  "Me, sir?" Van asked, raising an eyebrow. "I've got the administrative load of my company to handle so I've been carrying pretty much the same load you have. But I'm a Blood Lord and I'm used to that. We get selected for the ability to just keep going. The techs were selected purely for their knowledge. They're not us."

  "Point again," Herzer said, sighing. He glanced at the training schedule on his wall and nodded. "Okay, we'll have one exercise tomorrow. Move up the group move through micro to tomorrow afternoon. In grav rehearsal in the morning then in the tank in the afternoon. After that, we'll dial back. Morning classes only, afternoons and evenings off. Two days off entirely then one for prep. Then we go." He looked down at the suddenly irrelevant paperwork and shook his head. "And with that, I'm going to bed. Have Roscoe redo the training schedule in the morning."

  "Good call, sir," Van said, smiling faintly.

  "Any more suggestions, captain?" Herzer asked, lightly. "I just realized that, as a commander, you have far more experience than I do. Don't you?"

  "I've had a triari and my company for over a year," Van said, dropping his position of parade rest and settling in a chair. "You've been, what? A line infantryman, a militia advisor, an XO to a mer contingent, a dragon wing XO and a basic officer instructor. Notice anything missing in that?"

  "Command," Herzer said, grinning thinly. "I've noticed and had a word about it with...someone."

  "Now, there's another point to it," Van said, carefully. "In every line segment you've been in combat. I haven't seen an orc since Raven's Mill. So there's something to be said for your career track. But you learn stuff in leadership positions that you've missed. Like there's such a thing as overtraining. So, yeah, you need some command time, bad. Frankly, you needed a company but you're past that at this point. You're looking at a battalion in one of the legions, next."

  "If I can get it," Herzer pointed out. "There's going to be a lot of counterpressure from the personnel weenies because I haven't had a company command. Or wing command, for that matter."

  "Oh, I think you have enough pull to overcome that," Van said, dryly. "But that's going to create another problem. People are going to see you as having gotten your position because you're Edmund's bag-boy. Not to mention Megan's...friend."

  "I doubt the troops will think that," Herzer said. "But, yeah, another problem to load on. One, however, that I don't have to think about until after this mission. Any suggestions?"

  "For this time, yeah," the captain said. "One of the last two days, we need a team party. Let everyone blow off steam. Probably not the second day, save that for hangovers."

  "Add it to the training schedule," Herzer said, grinning. "And I'll keep the rest in mind. Now, it's time for both of us to hit the rack. Big day tomorrow."

  Chapter Twenty

  There were three large cylinders in the lake, designed to simulate portions of the ship's microgravity areas. The mission was simple; the teams had to move from one end of the three cylinders to the other. The opposition force were the reinforcing Blood Lords who had full suits and had begun training in microgravity conditions.

  Herzer had most of the team's Blood Lords leading off in a loose formation. The Blood Lords had gotten to the point that they could move down the cylinders in a more or less coordinated fashion.

  Herzer unclamped his safety line and bounded lightly off one wall headed down the cylinder to the far side. He'd learned that if he felt he'd pushed off hard enough, it was too hard. On the other hand, the water definitely imparted resistance, which they wouldn't face on the station. Generally, in large movements, you had to exert as much as possible to make them.

  They were nearing the end of the first cylinder and they'd yet to run into opposition. He'd sent Barchick forward as point. The female Blood Lord was one of the better of the soldiers at handling themselves in micro. On the ship they'd have communicators, but they were using hand signals in the tank and they'd probably use them most of the time on the ship. Herzer still was
n't positive New Destiny couldn't intercept their transmissions.

  Barchick paused at the end of the first cylinder, peering towards the second. The cylinders weren't connected and there was a small area of open water between the two with the second cylinder sitting on the bottom of the quarry at about a forty five degree angle to the first. Crossing the juncture was one of the tougher maneuvers of the exercise.

  Barchick waved that the way was clear and then attached a safety line. She was using one of the hand magnets to stay in place and as soon as the safety line was clamped she released the magnet and used the safety clamp to push herself across the open area.

  When she was half way across, a line of bolts drifted through the water towards her.

  The Blood Lord corporal didn't even see the bolts and there was no way for Herzer to warn her before they impacted. The bolts were blunted but they threw her off course and Herzer could tell that some of them impacted on unarmored portions, which would score as a kill.

  He waved the first Blood Lord team forward, taking up positions on the inner side of the cylinder. There was a plan for if they got attacked at one of the junctures and now was the time to figure out if it worked.

  First they attached safety lines to the inner side. Then, when the group was formed, they sprung for the far side of the juncture.

  The safety lines were only thirty meters long and the point that they were aiming for was more than fifty meters away. They also had sprung off hard. The water would tend to slow them but they'd do the same thing in microgravity. The point was that the entire team suddenly appeared in the opening, moving fast and making for very hard targets.

  As they reached the end of their tethers, the combined forces swung them inward towards the far wall. Herzer could see a group of fighters grouped there and the team was headed right into their midst.

  There wasn't much control in the situation but he did manage to get his feet down towards the approaching bulkhead before he hit. He'd engaged his mag boots so he clamped with one, at least, the other taking a moment to get down.

  The team had flown through a cloud of bolts in the crossing but nobody seemed to be hit. On the other hand, half of them had landed on their side or back and were now floating in the water instead of clamped down and prepared to fight. Lines had also gotten tangled and two of the team were bound up like a spider's prey.

  Herzer ignored the unavailable members of the team, concentrating on the bolt thrower. It was one of the newer crew-served versions that had a clamping base. At the moment it was skewing to engage the floating Blood Lords and ignoring the ones that had managed to clamp to the wall. It was also protected by a solid line of fighters bearing pikes.

  Herzer drew his mace then paused. He detached his previous safety line rather than trying to retrieve it and got out his second of three. That one went onto the wall of the cylinder then he undid his mag boots and bounded off in the direction of the waiting wall of pikes.

  Passing well over the pikes he, again, followed a parabola to the wall, but behind the defenders and also behind the crew served bolt thrower.

  The bolt thrower had "killed" at least three of the floating Blood Lords but now the crew slowly tried to turn it to engage the new threat.

  Herzer didn't give them time to pin him down. He was about six meters from them, a slow walk with the boots, but he had another weapon. He removed one of the hand magnets, now attached to a line similar to the safety lines but lighter, and carefully threw it at the crew.

  The magnet missed to the side but when lightly retrieved it stuck to the armor of the gunner.

  As soon as the magnet was in place on the shoulder of the gunner, who didn't appear to notice the device, Herzer slid one foot forward and the other back to brace himself and gave the line a sharp tug.

  The first reaction was to cause the gun to swivel away from him as the surprised gunner tried to maintain control. His grip slipped, however, and he went spinning off into the depths of the tank, arms flailing wildly.

  Herzer dropped that line and plucked off another, spinning it towards the assistant gunner who was frantically trying to get the gun lined up on him. This one missed entirely but when it bounced back at the end of the line the line itself coiled into the gun mechanism.

  Herzer gave it a tug and was pleased to see the gun swivel away again. Better still, it seemed to be snug. He leaned down and carefully released his boots and then used a gentle tug on the line to start himself towards the gun.

  The assistant gunner tried, again, to get the gun lined up on him but Herzer was moving rather fast for microgravity and he passed the gun before it could get more than half-way slewed. As he did, he leaned down and lightly tapped the assistant gunner on the helmet with his padded mace.

  The action caused him to pause and spin towards the wall of the cylinder, especially when he hooked the rubber pick into the gunner's neck.

  As soon as his feet were down and clamped, landing behind the assistant gunner who was now trying to turn and draw his mace at the same time, Herzer extracted a fake punch and laid it on the AG's neck right at the seal.

  "Kill," he signaled with his hand, showing the AG the punch.

  "Agreed," the AG signaled, spreading his arms.

  The pikemen had turned to engage the threat at their rear but they had more problems than that. The rest of the Blood Lords had gotten into formation and were advancing from the front. The pikes presented a formidable wall that was difficult to pierce given their armor and weaponry. So they didn't bother. Instead, they, too, took magnets and tossed them into the formation. When one stuck they would find a solid handhold, there were metal rings sticking out of the walls at intervals, and give a good, swift, tug. This, generally, meant the magnet sprung loose. Sometimes, however, the target lifted off the walls and came sailing in their direction.

  The pikes, at that point, became a two-edged sword. They could be used to fend off the walls and redirect the floating soldiers. But as weapons they were less than useless. And they made handy hand-holds for the Blood Lords facing them. Generally, two Blood Lords would grab one of the pikes as the pikeman floated past and then use it to throw them at the far wall. Hard.

  Herzer used a slightly different technique. The pike wall was trying to form to stop him but he wasn't about to give them time. He strode forward as fast as he could until he gotten to the line of rotating pikemen and then began swinging his mace upward.

  When the padded mace hit the pikeman's armor, and often crotch, it tended to knock them off the wall. And it didn't displace him at all. As they floated upwards he sometimes turned the mace around and struck them with the pick in various vulnerable spots.

  Before long the formation of pikemen were so many targets, floating out of control. At which point two of the Blood Lords strode over to the bolt thrower and started some target practice.

  One of the safety divers drifted down and waved at Herzer, signaling that the engagement was at an end. Herzer had lost four Blood Lords to over twenty of the enemy, a fair exchange rate.

  The rest of the team moved forward at that point and Herzer reconfigured them. The lead Blood Lords, that had engaged the enemy position, rotated back and the support team forward. The techs were behind with a small group of Blood Lords at the rear for security.

  As they began moving again, Herzer considered the engagement. It wasn't a realistic test in his opinion. Among other things, it assumed he had all six teams, including the pure Blood Lord team, at his disposal. He doubted that would be the case. But it was as good as it was going to get and it allowed everyone to show that they could move in the environment.

  At the far end of the second cylinder was a notional engineering and computer task. The task was reprogramming one of the latitudinal thrusters and locking it out so that Reyes couldn't get control. That involved both software changes and rerouting one of the control runs. While the computer techs got to work on the programming change the engineering techs started taking apart the junction box.


  Herzer had the forward team move to the edge of the cylinder with the backup team on the side "over" the task area. With them "up" in that position they could watch for threats and respond from their position towards the threat axis.

  When the computer techs were done and the engineers about half done, a group of divers approached. The divers simulated the scorpions in the engagement and were moving along the upper wall.

  Since the task was on the starboard wall and the back-up team on the port, the "scorpions" were intermediate to the two.

  Herzer recalled half the forward team to move to interpose between the task and the scorps then sent the "back-up", which had already engaged once, to carry the fight to the scorpions.

  The divers were required to "crawl" along the wall and if they were moved off of it it was considered a kill. Nobody knew if scorps could figure out how to get back to the walls but it was assumed they couldn't. However, it was expected they would be hard to knock them off; they'd probably have magnetic clamps on all eight "feet."

  Captain Van Buskirk, who was with the forward team, bounded across the cylinder to join the team about to engage the scorps and then waved for them to follow him.

  First he bounded to the "down" wall of the cylinder, so the scorps were approaching from "overhead", then up to confront them.

  The divers maneuvered to the port side, trying to screen around him and get to the techs. Bus, however, was carrying a portable bolt thrower and engaged the scorps with it as the rest of the team spread out to the side.

  The bolts were blunted but it was apparent that they were painful as they impacted in the divers' sides. Three of the divers, there were about a dozen, turned to the side and, jinking to avoid the bolts, charged Van Buskirk.

  As they approached, Bus dropped the bolt thrower, which drifted away behind him, and pulled out his mace. He swung it at the end of its tether and got up a good turn of speed so that when the first diver got to him and he swung at the diver the guy, prudently, backed off. The mace, padded as it was, was still not something you wanted hitting a face mask.