Steel Walls and Dirt Drops

by Black, Alan

  "Unofficially, you have my nephew in your squad. He is my youngest brother's boy. I was very concerned when the assignment into Third Can's squad fell to him. I don't know what stroke of fortune put him in your hands. Please note that I am not asking for special treatment. Quite the opposite, push him hard. He has a lot of promise. He has my natural and superior skill as a warrior." Misha could see the laughter in Kema's eyes. "However, he has my Brother Jimmy's lazy streak. Jimmy is a Deuce in the 1151st. I would be appreciative if you kept me up to date on his progress, simply as a matter of courtesy. There are no favors asked or given, comprende?

  "That's it for now, Third. You take care and we will link up soon." Ottiamig waved a hand and disappeared, like the Cheshire cat leaving his smile until last.

  Misha dropped her glass-pack into the second reader slot and ordered a copy of the message dropped into her official files buried behind a dozen firewalls and safety pass-codes. She then ordered the reader to wipe and destroy all data on the glass-pack and she pocketed the blank glass-pack. She might as well give it to Qualls for reuse in the squad's communication supplies.

  She compiled a brief report containing all information on the unit transfers, the AMSF reconfigurations and the Binder signal data. She broadcast the report to her unit with a copy to her files for transmittal to command at the first opportunity. As a courtesy, she cc'd Colonel Britaine, Chief Master Sergeant Brown and Gan Forrester. She also made a mental note to ask if Chief Brown could tell her what 'cc' meant.

  Misha was sure she would be learning from the best if she could get Chief Brown to teach her how to kick her people’s collective asses into high gear. She didn’t want to kick ass, but to kick it up a notch and kick it into overdrive. Still, whatever the outcome she was in the mood to kick someone and her own squad was just about all that was left unless she took on the whole spacecraft.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Misha’s intention was to restart her squad's general inspection where she had left off earlier. All of her seconds had reported their inspection results. There were quite a few down checks and gigs, but overall they were good ratings. Her own squad had done much better than she had expected. It was almost perfect. Still, she liked a hands-on approach, whether it gigged her troops or offended her seconds. Whatever her intention, someone was going to get angry at her. Mentally, she shrugged knowing it was that kind of month.

  Earlier, she had been inspecting each trooper's armor and weaponry. She was not concerned with the typical military spit and polish inspection criteria. Her objective was combat readiness. She didn't care if it was dirty as long as the dirt didn't interfere with the item's effectiveness. In truth, most of the veteran's combat suits had a haphazard mixture of graffiti, scratches, smudges and combat tattoos. Misha had been inspecting Quall's suit when she received the call to join Britaine’s briefing. Then the jump warning alert sounded causing another flurry of activity further delaying her inspection. After Qualls, she had only Metzler and Singletary left to complete.

  Taking up where she left off, Misha stepped up to Trooper Tammie Qualls's suit locker. She smiled as she noticed someone had been puttering around inside the H.E. launcher controls and had repaired the small glitch she had seen earlier. Qualls stood quietly to the side as Misha dug through the various suit systems. She could see a slight sheen of sweat begin to glisten on the young woman's upper lip. Misha mentally shook her head. Qualls might make a good trooper some day, but she had to toughen up. She rattled too easily. Misha popped open the suit’s comms compartment. Everything was in order as one would expect for a comms tech. The slot for the glass-pack, extra comm gear, IFF signal relay, squad channel ID relays… she froze.

  Slowly Misha looked at Qualls and said, "IFF."

  Qualls looked confused, but snapped to quote the APES manual. "Sir! Yes, sir! IFF is Identity Friend or Foe. It is a broadcast...?" Qualls's voice trailed off as it became apparent Misha wasn't listening. "Third? Is there something wrong?"

  Misha replied and slapped her hand on her forehead. "Wrong? Have you ever put a jigsaw puzzle together?"

  "Jigsaw, sir?" Qualls asked. "Sure, we used to do them all the time as kids. Doesn't everybody?"

  Misha clasp her arms around the trooper and laughed. "Yes, on every human planet we do jigsaw puzzles. You know the feeling you get when you put in the last piece of the puzzle? Well, you just did that for me."

  Misha turned to the rest of the squad. "Singletary, finish the inspection on Jigsaw here, on Metzler, and just for good measure run a check on Slezak’s gear, too. I know you just did it, but do it again. DeLaPax, since you are the senior armor repair tech, do an inspection on Singletary’s suit and then check mine. Peace, do you have the 1392nd's override and lockdown codes for all the lockers or do you need me to cycle open Slezak's and mine for you? Got it? Good. Something has occurred to me that I have to take care of before the next jump."

  Misha closed her fist and pumped her arm up and down, "Good inspection, APES. We are looking excellent." She realized she still had an arm around Qualls's shoulders. "You too, Jigsaw, this has been a good inspection." She gave the woman a squeeze of encouragement and then let go.

  She tapped her comm unit to broadcast unit wide "McPherson here. All right, APES. Check your glass-packs for newly downloaded comms and intel reports. I downloaded some new data. Furthermore, the AMSF has gotten a data dump from Heaven's Gate, so there should be mail from home. I want you to check your intel reports first before you check with Mama to see if the cat had kittens."

  Misha hurried through the hatch and down the corridors to the intel shack. She avoided the elevators and bound up ladders. When she heard the alarm to prepare for the jump into the Gagarin system, she turned her hurried jog into a sprint, shouting at spacers to clear the way.

  The jump alert sounded one hour before everyone needed to be strapped down. That was plenty of time to reach her goal safely and get belted into a jump position. It should be enough time to fill in the intelligence crew, notify the Kiirkegaard's command center and get notification to the rest of the squadron. When an obstinate knot of spacers blocked her way, she blew them to all sides as she barreled through them.

  The vault hatch to the intel shack was shut and locked. Misha hit the buzzer and banged on the hatch panels. She knew banging on the panels could not be heard from the inside, but it made her feel better.

  "What? Who? Oh, Third McPherson. Sorry, we’re locked down for jump. Better get to your bunk." Spacer Clancy's perky blonde holo-image appeared on the intercom.

  "No can do, spacer," Misha shouted with excitement. "Get this hatch opened quickly and get me a direct line to Britaine." She banged on the hatch with her fist near the visual input node. The pounding fist caused Clancy's holo-image to involuntarily duck. "Chief Brown, are you in there? Get me in quick. I’ve gotten a handle on the anomaly."

  The hatch made a few banging noises and slowly rotated open. Misha grabbed the vault hatch and all but tore it out of the hands of the two male spacers. She spun and slammed the hatch shut behind her.

  Clancy shouted across the room, "Hey! When we get ready for jump that hatch automatically closes. We can only open it by hand after that. This had better be good."

  Misha smiled and said, "Nice to see you too, Clancy." One of the spacers from the hatch was heading back to the comms collector. He apparently vacated the crash couch there to help open the hatch. She hooked her thumb at him. "Find another seat, junior. That one is mine."

  The man whined, "Hey, what gives? And the name is Cuffs not Junior."

  Misha sat in the seat and began buckling in. Cuffs stood behind her looking bewildered.

  Chief Brown said, "Listen to the lady, Cuffs. Find a seat. Use the astrometrics console." She looked up at Misha. "This had better be good, grunt. This is no time to be playing who's the boss."

  "I know. We've got fifty minutes until jump. Run the Binder signal anomaly again. Just do it, Chief. Buzz, get us a line to the command and control center a
nd see if you can get them to wangle a line to Gurand."

  Krandiewsky said, "I can get us a line to the flight operations office, but Colonel Britaine won't take a call from intel this close to jump."

  "Not even if we can show him that the Binder anomaly is an IFF signal? The Binders didn't have drones or probes in Allied space; those were scout ships expecting a Binder fleet to show up. Why else would they send an IFF signal toward an incoming fleet?"

  Cuffs said, "Come on McPherson, everybody knows the Binders don't use any signals we can recognize. They haven't used anything we can tell is an IFF signal."

  Misha called up the last two signals, laying them side by side on the visual display. The base signal, while different was obviously the same pattern of rapid inquiry then pause.

  Krandiewsky called out, "Kiirkegaard flight operations on line, Third."

  Brown said, "Okay McPherson, I see the pattern you've got." She had duplicated the communication collector's visual display of the two signals on her desk’s monitors. "But, what makes you think this is IFF?"

  Misha called out to Krandiewsky, "Put it on the speaker, Buzz. Turn the volume up. She dropped her glass-pack into the data reader and called out a series of codes.

  Over her shoulder, she spoke, "Chief, I am tagging the standard APES identify friend or foe signal on the overlay next to the two Binder signals. Even taking into account the species differences, this is amazingly similar; too similar to be anything else. Please tell me I am wrong?" She shouted into the air. "Flight ops, prepare to receive data."

  Chief Brown said, "It's too similar. It looks like it is human in origin. Cuffs is right, as far as we know the Binders don't use IFF routines. I know it is Binder, but it reads like human."

  Misha cursed under her breath knowing she was close to disclosing classified information. Chief Brown was right, but it didn't change the situation. "Maybe the Binders took a page from our operational actions. I can’t say yet, but it shouldn't matter." In the background of the intel shack she could hear Brown cursing the signals.

  "Major Krandiewsky, please relay this signal to the operations office, ASAP," Misha said. The tone of her voice left little doubt it was a command even though she used the word please. In every respect, the Major out-ranked her and she knew it. But, she decided due to the time factor she would act now and take the flak later for being rude to a sister service senior officer.

  A voice from Flight operations boomed over the speakers, "Intel, what the hell are you doing? Get this crap off our screens. We have to jump in forty minutes."

  Misha ordered, "Shut up and listen. This is a visual display of Binder signals collected in this and the last system the squadron was in. I believe that this signal is IFF. Patch this data through to-"

  The voice shouted, "Shut up? Who do you think you are telling to shut up, spacer? This is the Executive Officer, Major Paradise. Identify yourself."

  "This is APES Third-Level Commander McPherson. If the Binders are in system and sending IFF, then they are looking to meet up with a fleet of their own. Patch this data through to General Gurand and get Colonel Britaine on the line."

  "APES Commander? McPherson, you don't cut any ice with me, I don't care who you think you are or who you are sleeping with. I don't take orders from you," Paradise said.

  Brown spoke up. "Major Paradise, this is Chief Brown. I think the Third is right. We may have a problem here."

  "Think? May have? Major Krandiewsky, what kind of a shop are you running down there? Get this shit off my screens." The XO disconnected the line with a thump.

  "Sorry, Third," Brown said. "I could have handled it better from my end."

  Krandiewsky spoke up, "No, Chief, this is my fault. Third McPherson doesn't have any official status here. We should have our ducks in a row before making any calls."

  Misha nodded. She knew she should have handled the call better herself. "That is your decision, Major. But, if we do have a specific enemy incursion into Allied Systems, then we are just about to jump into what? Do you know? I don't either, but I know enough about combat to know we shouldn't be moving forward and leaving the possibility of an enemy force at our back."

  "Maybe you should have brought this to our attention earlier so we could have had time to investigate. You put us in deep kimchee with the XO. I am not going to put my career or the reputation of anybody in this office on the line based on an unconfirmed theory," Krandiewsky said. "Please get out of my shop, now. You have about thirty-five minutes to reach your bunk for jump."

  Misha stood quietly. She pulled her glass-pack and dropped it back into her pocket. She was fuming, but she maintained her calm as she waited for Clancy and Cuffs to cycle the hatch open.

  She stood in the empty corridor. With only thirty minutes to jump, everybody would be at their duty stations or strapped into their bunk. It would take only a few minutes to get to APES territory. Still, she thought, it was only a few minutes more to Britaine's command and control center. She would not have time to get back to her bunk before the jump if she went to the CNC and she might be trapped in a corridor for the jump if she couldn't get past spacer guards or locked hatches. The inertial dampers would keep her from turning into jelly, but she could take damage banging around loose on metal bulkheads.

  She turned and raced down the corridor to CNC. As she ran, she called all of her seconds and Singletary, filling them in on as much of what was going on as she could. She also told them to roll into a stand-by mode as soon as the jump sequence ended. She skidded to a stop in front of the CNC hatch. It was locked in the open position. A lone spacer was already strapped into his crash netting by the hatch. It was a standing unit. He had locked his needler into a side flange to leave his hands free to strap himself in tightly, making him effectively useless. Misha nodded as she bolted past him and into the room. Everyone was in the final stages of buckling down. She spotted an empty crash couch three consoles from where Colonel Britaine sat staring at her. She wasn't surprised to see every eye in the place was on her.

  "Ten minutes to jump, Third," Britaine said. "I do say that this is very unusual, but you had better strap in quick. We will resolve what you are doing here after the jump."

  She sprang toward the couch and began strapping herself down. She looked around at the group of officers in the center. Their faces reflected everything from open hostility and anger to disgust. She even noticed Britaine's normal insincere smile had turned sour.

  "Colonel, I apologize for the intrusion," she began, "but I have information on the Binder anomaly that you and General Gurand should know-"

  Britaine interrupted. "Be quiet, Third McPherson. In addition to your unbelievable rudeness in coming here, you are about to divulge classified information. Not everyone in this room is cleared for that information."

  "Sir, I understand that, but this may be critical data," Misha insisted.

  "Not another word, McPherson. You are not in my command, but you have intruded, uninvited, into a restricted command and control center. You have undone yourself. Be silent, Third. And if you are quiet enough, the noise you hear will be your career dissipating."

  Britaine spoke into a comm unit. "Security to the CNC as soon as possible after the jump and be prepared to take Third McPherson into custody." He looked coldly at her. "Be armed and prepared for resistance."

  A voice said calmly, "Jump in nine minutes."

  Misha gritted her teeth. There was nothing else she could do until she could get to someone who would listen. She was confident Britaine couldn't damage her career too badly. He might be able to get her busted back to common trooper, but that wasn't her biggest concern.

  She thought about the signal. Chief Brown was right. She dropped her glass-pack into a reader and called up the signal data for further review. The signal was definitely of Binder origin, but it had human fingerprints all over it. It was Guinjundst all over again. She hoped this time the outcome would be different.

  The Kiirkegaard launched into the jump with a
lurch forward and a slow spiraling crawl. A jump wasn't so much an action as it was inaction, but it didn't feel that way to a human body. The spacecraft jump point generators punching a hole through a fold in space caused the lurch. The spiral was the spacecraft corkscrewing through the hole. In reality, the craft didn't move. Space folded and wrapped itself around the spacecraft. The human body reacted to the change in space itself and to the changes in relative speed. A spacecraft could not exit into new space at the same speed it left the old space. Internal spacecraft inertia could slam a human body to mush in a fraction of a second, but with the use of inertial dampers, a body felt the jump like it was a quick atmospheric change accompanied by a twisting of light, all mounted on an out of control amusement park ride.

  Misha watched the visual displays in front of her. She was at a command module configured with a variety of displays. With the proper sequence of commands, she would be able to view the status of each departments. As they were practicing a combat insertion, the majority of the screens were set to show communications, other wing vessels and any possible enemy spacecraft.

  Upon hitting normal space again, Misha stared as multiple SOS signals from the planet and dozens of spacecraft flashed across her screen. Holo-images appeared, cried for help and blinked out. One image was of a civilian claiming to be the planetary governor of Gagarin demanding protection. His signal faded, replaced by a woman who said she was a cargo-hauler commander calling for assistance to repel boarders. Her signal didn't fade, but ended abruptly in a flare of light only to be replaced by another call for aid.

  Another screen showed hundreds of spacecraft in the Gagarin system. A dozen spacecraft were clearly marked by the computer as Binders. The system colored them a glowing red. The Kiirkegaard's IFF system marked all human spacecraft as green or blue. Green was the color given to AMSF spacecraft and blue was known civilian. Unknown spacecraft were marked yellow. The visual display marked Gurand's squadron designation as they jumped into the system. Most of the craft already in the system were showing green. One screen showed an AMSF spacecraft blinking into existence after the jump. The Kiirkegaard's IFF recorded it as green and marked it as a spacecraft assigned to Gurand’s wing. Suddenly, it flared and disappeared.