Steel Walls and Dirt Drops

by Black, Alan

  “Good,” Taks said. “Set-to with whomever you got, no matter whose squad they're in. She’s early so scramble to unshamble. Every APE not on board the Kiirkegaard is to head to the delta deck gate. Cut across the maintenance bay and get onboard through the cargo hatches. If the vacuum-heads yell about you being on their turf, just ignore them. I’ll straighten it out with the load master later. Move it, APES!”

  Chapter Three

  Misha stepped off the slide-walk and turned toward the AMSF main gate leading to the military's principal decks.

  Misha knew her uniform, boots, hair, eyes and even her teeth were spotless. She changed from her blood-red utility jumpsuit into the dress uniform just a short time ago in the transport pod coming up from Heaven Three. She deliberately delayed a hundred meters short of the gate. She had stood gate duty on many stations and knew what it was like to have any commander catch you unprepared. The delay should have given the gate guard time to spot her and be ready to greet her.

  Each APES unit deployed to an AMSF spacecraft regardless of size was required to assign a trooper to the main gate. Officially, it was to vouch for APES with the AMSF guard on duty, thus eliminating the need to carry passes, authorizations or any other sort of bureaucratic red tape. After all, APES were just tenants and passengers on Allied Mobile Space Force vessels.

  On a large station like Heaven’s Gate, APES were deployed on any one of a dozen or more spacecraft. A lot of troopers from a lot of units would be on gate duty at any given time. Her delay at the mirror should give the troopers on duty time to sort out who she might be and which trooper should be on his feet and at the gate to greet her.

  Unofficially, gate duty was designed to have a friendly face greeting returning APES. It was also a time to meet troopers in other commands, tell war stories, trade gossip, make new friends and network. However relaxed it might become, most troopers made sure the right trooper was available at just the right time so a returning APE wouldn’t even break stride passing through the gate. Delaying an APE at the gate was traditionally bad form. Delaying a command level APE at the gate, even seconds and thirds, might land a lazy trooper on a punishment detail: scrubbing toilets, shuffling mobility pallets, or scraping the bottom of the combat skid plates.

  Misha had no desire to start her new command by jumping down the throat of the first trooper in her unit she met. She was more than a little surprised to see that only an AMSF spacer stood to greet her. She could see small clusters of APES troopers behind the gate, many of them looking decidedly nervous. However, none of them stepped up to the gate. The spacer, a young, absolutely tiny woman, glanced behind her at the knot of troopers and shrugged helplessly.

  Misha halted at the gate entrance, neither remaining outside the area nor stepping in as her bulky size blocked the gate entrance. Misha shrugged back and said, “Third-Level Commander Hamisha Ann McPherson reporting for deployment aboard the AMSF spacecraft Kiirkegaard.” She handed the young woman her glass-pack. The spacer slid the glass-pack into the slot on her command board and pressed the big green 'go' button.

  The glass-pack was a leaded crystal rectangle about three inches by two inches and only an insignificant fraction of an inch thick. Data was stored at a molecular level and transferred by light code at light speed. Each subset of stored data was encrypted and buried behind a maze of firewalls, thus insuring that when a user dropped the glass-pack into a slot the reader could only access authorized data for the specifically requested data transfer.

  Misha’s glass-pack, like everyone’s, contained her whole life, private, professional and archival. It held enough copies of books, plays, and movies to stock a small planetary library. It held all of her photo-images and mail from home. It held her financial and banking records, small as they were. It also held her orders the Kiirkegaard deployment orders and the orders authorizing her to take command of the 1392nd.

  Glass-packs could automatically transmit appropriate codes without inquiry or comment, but certain military traditions remained sacrosanct. Reporting to a new duty station had its own set of rules having nothing to do with any available technology. Faster than either could have requested the data verbally, the command board queried the glass-pack, which responded equally fast with the appropriate answer.

  The command board’s resident hologram image was a twelve-inch high AMSF General in full-dress uniform. It popped into existence and hovered a few inches above the board. Speaking loud enough for every trooper in the area to hear and in a clear well-modulated voice, it said, "Welcome aboard, Third McPherson. Proceed to hangar E-315, please.” The little man blinked out before Misha could say thank you.

  The diminutive spacer said, “Yes, ma’am. Let me locate your trooper.” She handed Misha back her glass-pack.

  Misha smiled to put the young girl at ease. “Thank you, Spacer Second Class. It is second class, is it not?”

  The girl blushed. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen, even accounting for the delayed aging GerinAid injection. She was obviously on her first term of enlistment and just out of boot camp. “Um, yes ma’am. It's Morin, um…Spacer Second Class Brianna Morin.” The girl almost saluted, but halted her arm midway up, remembering at the last moment that APES don’t salute. Instead, she started to turn to the troopers behind her. Misha stopped her.

  “Spacer Second Class Morin, it is ‘sir’,” she said.

  The girl looked confused. “Pardon me, ma’am?”

  “In the Allied Protective Expeditionary Service all commanders of third-level and above are called sir not ma’am. Second-level commanders are called mister. Gender does not matter. It is hard to tell the sex of someone encased in a combat suit. It might do you well to remember that. Who knows, Spacer Morin, you may want to become an APE someday!”

  “Me, ma’am? I mean, sir,” the spacer stammered. “I’m way too small to be a fighter type.”

  Misha replied, “Well, when I was a first-year rookie, the second-level commander of my squad was just about your size. Deuce Saheed kicked my butt every day of the week. Size, just like gender, does not always matter. Now you may find me my trooper.”

  Misha had deliberately delayed beyond all reason and was beginning to get a tad bit peeved. If she delayed at the gate it was her business, but she should not be delayed by others. Not even a newbie rookie trooper should have been left standing this long. The girl turned and motioned frantically to a trooper lounging in a chair off to one side. The man came over, not on the double as Misha would have expected, but quick enough she held her tongue.

  Misha glanced behind her. A line of APES and spacers was starting to back up, waiting their turn to gain entrance. Misha was glad she had sent all of her gear on ahead by cargo pod. At least, she wasn’t carrying her bags. Still, she completely blocked the entrance to the main gate.

  “Sir?” the trooper asked.

  “Sir what, Trooper?” Misha asked. “Has the hearing standard been relaxed for the Thirteen Ninety-Second?” She looked the man in the eyes. In them, she saw boredom, not apprehension, not worry, not confusion, just boredom. “Are you or are you not assigned to the 1392nd currently deployed aboard the Kiirkegaard?”

  “Yes, sir, it is now McPherson’s Second,” he said, still not motioning for her to move through the gate.

  Misha bit back the growing anger. To be delayed was one thing; this was close to being a deliberate insult. The calm showing on her face belied her raging emotions. She looked the man up and down. He was a good looking, dark-haired man with the frame of an ex-athlete who did not work out as hard as he could, but still looked fit. He was older than her, but far from going gray.

  She said, “Beyond any reasonable doubt, I am sure you heard me tell Spacer Second Class Morin I am that very McPherson.”

  The trooper started to reply, "But Trey, you aren't here officially until tomorrow and-”

  Misha cut him short. “Trooper, you will call the Kiirkegaard, get the second in charge to send out your replacement, then you will escort
me to the Kiirkegaard. Do you understand?” Without waiting for a reply, she continued. “You will do it now.” Misha could barely keep a calm face as the man reached up and turned on his comm unit to make the call. The insult was becoming incompetence. Never had she heard of anyone shutting down their comm unit when on duty. That was the equivalent of sleeping on the job. Fuming, she listened as the man called into the APES detachment aboard ship. She held her temper in check, knowing that pounding someone in your command on the very first day would be very bad form.

  “The call’s in and Second Moraft is on her way,” the trooper said. “It’ll be just a tic, sir. I’ll grab my gear and be back before they get here.”

  “Freeze, Trooper,” Misha all but shouted through gritted teeth. “I will stand right here. You will stand with me.”

  “But my stuff-” the man whined.

  “Trooper, upon returning to your squad, you will report to your squad's medic for a hearing exam.” Misha interrupted and leaned in close to the man’s face. She was a foot taller than him, so she bent slightly, causing the trooper to crick his neck upward to stare into her face. Speaking so softly only he would hear she said, “Trooper, know this: I will take no more crap, sass or back talk from you. I do not want to hear anything other than ‘yes, sir’ or ‘no, sir’. Do not test my patience further.”

  Misha heard a shout from behind her, “Hey! What’s the hold up? I got duty in fifteen.”

  Misha looked behind her at the ever-growing line of men and women waiting a turn at the gate. She swiveled her head back around to the trooper. She could sense his dismay as she stepped a fraction closer to him. Eyeball to eyeball, nose-to-nose, not a drop of sweat separated the two, she hovered over him. Neither Misha nor the trooper blinked. Her anger grew and she could see the realization in his eyes that he had pushed the wrong person.

  Misha caught sight of Spacer Morin in the corner of her eye. The young spacer glanced at the growing crowd at the gate and back to the two APES.

  “Um, sir?” Morin asked in hesitation. “Third McPherson? Would you care to wait for your escort inside the gate office where you might be more comfortable?”

  “No thank you, Spacer Morin,” Misha answered without taking her eyes off the trooper before her. “I am fine here.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I mean sir. But, the Kiirkegaard is way around the tarmac. And…well, the traffic at the gate?” More shouts from the line interrupted the girl.

  “Yeah, move it up there.” “Come on, we ain’t got all day.” “Hey, Beaudry! You got a new girlfriend?” Misha realized that until this moment she hadn’t known the trooper’s name. Not that it mattered, a person would not remain anonymous for long in a unit of only 121 people.

  Taking her eyes off Trooper Beaudry, Misha turned only her face toward the girl and said, “Thank you for your concern, Spacer. I am sure that I will be fine right here. Don’t worry, Brianna. Here comes the cavalry. You have done fine. Let your boss handle it. That is why he gets to wear the fancy uniforms at officer’s parties.” She smiled and gestured towards the hatch of the gate office. A young second lieutenant was bustling toward them.

  The lieutenant pulled up short. Misha could see his eyes bug-out at the Aries Ribbon on her chest. She knew how he felt. Before she had an Aries medal of her own to wear she had only seen them on recruiting posters and then only on ancient and scarred veteran warriors.

  The man swallowed, obviously nervous. “Third, we must clear the gate. I am sorry, but I must ask you to step into the holding area until we can resolve whatever is, um, what is, I mean, you know…” The man trailed off as the growing crowd behind Misha became louder and more profane.

  Misha spun on her heels and faced the queue of men and women. “Silence!” she bellowed. “You will behave like adults or you will be treated as children.” Smiling, she turned back to the man. “I am in no mood for more insults, Lieutenant. I am sure if we work together we can run this crowd through the gate faster than a hot knife through warm butter, if you get my drift.” She tapped the man’s officer tab, a single gold bar.

  “Y-y-yes, ma’am,” the man stuttered.

  Misha shook her head in amazement. Spacer Morin hid a smile behind her hand. Misha saw the girl had the grace to blush at the officer’s gaffe. Misha shot her a wink that said, ‘Well, what are you going to do?’ She decided she was not in the mood to instruct any more people in the manners and customs of her outfit, not even to instruct an officer of a sister service who should know better.

  Misha said to the lieutenant, “Call me Third or Trey if it suits you, or even Misha. Now, shall we clear this deck?”

  Before the man could respond she shouted, “All right. All APES on gate duty form a double, gauntlet style line to the outside curve of the gate. Move it!” Troopers scrambled to fall into place. Beaudry started to move, but Misha put a restraining hand on his chest. “Not yet, Trooper Beaudry,” she said. “Lieutenant, if you would be so kind, form your people to the inside curve. We should be able to clear the decks, toot sweet.”

  Misha turned to the restless queue seeking entry. “All right, ladies and gentlemen. APES form a single line to your left. Spacers form a line to your right. Anyone who is from the Marshal Service or a civilian on official business kindly step to the holding area on your right. We will not hold you there for long and the lieutenant will personally see to your entrance.”

  She turned to Beaudry, “Trooper, you will take your place in the gauntlet. Admit anyone from the 1392nd, but you will instruct him or her not to leave this area. Move!”

  The queue dissolved and as if by magic, coalescing into two ragged lines and a cluster of individuals in the holding area.

  “Everyone is to expedite entrance,” she shouted loud over the crowd noise. “Please have your glass-pack out and ready if you require documents to prove admittance. Once you have gained entrance, please move out of the area to make room for those behind you. All you APES, no yakking. Just clear the gates. Do it now!”

  Misha stepped to the side and watched the lines surge forward as if a dam had broken open. The APES line was moving at double time. She nodded approval as a trooper motioned another APE to stand behind him. The man’s glass-pack was in his hand waiting for review. He was obviously checking into a new command, just as she was. A trooper from his unit set him aside to get the line clear. Even seconds and thirds were getting into the act, moving quickly and encouraging the others around them. She almost winced when she saw a fourth caught up in the rush move through the line. The man smiled in approval as he went past.

  The AMSF lieutenant was staring google-eyed at the rush of people. Misha tapped him on the shoulder and gestured pointedly toward the holding area at the small knot of people waiting patiently for his attention. The man rushed forward like a fish moving upstream now that he had a purpose he could grasp.

  Misha felt a presence behind her and turned to face an older woman in the red utility APES work uniform with a second-level commander's X on her collar. The woman was out of breath, a true indication she had given up on her daily exercise routine some time ago. She looked old for APES service with gray streaks in her hair, GerinAid notwithstanding.

  “Second Moraft, sir, reporting as ordered.”

  Misha said, “Mister Moraft, are you the second in charge of details today?”

  “No, sir, that would be Second Aardmricksdottir, but she got jammed up. I volunteered to come down in her place. I brought Spakney to cover for Beaudry,” Moraft said.

  “Thank you, Mr. Moraft. I appreciate your efforts, but it doesn’t look like Beaudry has had anything to do.” Misha pointed to where Beaudry stood alone. No other member of her command stood near him. “It appears we had a trooper on gate duty when there were no members of our unit off ship. My comm unit is not channeled to the 1392nd, so if you would please call Second Aardmricksdottir to do a roster count and if necessary issue an immediate recall signal. We will not need Beaudry or Spakney on the gate if we don’t have anyone unaccounte
d for.”

  Chapter Four

  Misha left Moraft and Trooper Spakney on gate duty waiting for any stragglers. She herded Beaudry along the corridor passing by half a dozen ramps leading to various military spacecraft. The space around most ramps was liberally littered with crew lounging around, laughing, talking and just breathing station air. The Kiirkegaard ramp space was empty except for four armed AMSF security guards standing duty. The AMSF required a ship’s guard on duty at the main hatch when in a port other than a military installation, but most captains ignored the rule on Heaven’s Gate as it was about half military. Having armed guards was a bit much, but at least the Kiirkegaard’s captain had not requested APES in a combat suit as back up to the guards as he might have done in some backwater civilian ports.

  She slowed her march into the ship to report in, but Beaudry skittered around her and past the guards without a glance in their direction. She shrugged and followed. It was the ship captain’s business if he did not need or want people reporting in and out. The glass pack in her pocket would automatically report and timestamp her entry onto the ship without any human contact.

  She expected Beaudry to continue leading her to APES country aboard the Kiirkegaard. She knew from her orders the ship was a huge mothership with massive flight decks for numerous squadrons of FACs, their fighter craft. Any newbie could get lost in two turns along its twisting corridors. Beaudry seemed to slow down with each passing step. He did not appear to be lost or deliberately dragging his feet. The man just did not seem to be in a hurry to get anywhere.

  Misha was not concerned about getting lost. She had been aboard dozens of AMSF spacecraft and they always warehoused their APES in approximately the same area. Besides, if she even thought about getting lost, she could pull up the basic ship’s schematics on her glass pack. Specific schematics would be classified, but she would be able to get enough of a rendering to find her way to APES country. She scooted around Beaudry and picked up the pace. She could feel him struggling to keep up with her without running, but she refused to look behind her.