by Black, Alan
At the same time, a barrage of needles began splattering across the bulkheads and ceiling around him. The shots from Takki-Homi's position weren't deadly, but their ricochets were shredding any exposed skin. Taks' team to their rear was cutting into his troops like crap through a golden goose. In fractions of a second half of his squad lay bleeding.
Jackson shouted, "Cease fire. Foxtrot surrenders. For Mama’s sake, quit shooting." He threw his needler down and put his hands up over his head. Only three others could follow suit. When the shooting stopped, Jackson thought his best hope was that Kilo could catch Takki-Homi from the rear and turn the tide of the battle.
Gaineretti's head popped up and looked Jackson straight in the eye. Gaineretti's needler pointed directly at his head.
"Easy there, trooper," Jackson said. "I’m not going to try anything."
Gaineretti shouted, "Clear."
Jackson swiveled his head slightly, expecting to see Kilo Squad swarming Takki-Homi from behind. Instead, he saw half a dozen troopers vault over their shield and put their backs to him. Now they were facing the direction Kilo would come, if they ever did.
Jackson wondered why Cauton hadn't ordered Kilo into action, but Peanut cut his thoughts short as she leapt over her barricade and moved in among his squad, tossing weapons back to the other two. Gaineretti and the other trooper moved to the open side of their barricade. The muzzle of Gaineretti's needler didn't leave Jackson's face even when the man climbed over the table top.
At a quick gesture, the other trooper turned his back on Jackson's squad and began watching the open corridor. Two AMSF enlisted people stepped cautiously out of the hatch and began sliding the table down the hallway to the blind corner, setting it up as a forward watch point. The two spacers hurried back to Peanut and gathered all the surrendered weapons. They tossed all but two each back into the hatchway and slammed it shut, but did not spin the dial to lock the hatch. One of them rapped his knuckles on the hatch. Even from his distance, Jackson could hear the mechanism spin and cycle closed to lock from the inside.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Misha sent a short blast of needles bouncing off the metal bulkhead, around a corner and into a cluster of troopers from Moraft's Bravo Squad. She was both satisfied and horrified at the same time to hear screaming coming from around the corner. She didn't want to kill APES. She knew the ricochets would lose their lethal effect, but the needler would still shred skin. She dodged back into a hatchway off the corridor. Return fire splattered against the bulkhead where she had stood.
She stepped into the corridor and re-leveled the needler for another blast when the weapon suddenly clunked empty and spanged the blank cartridge onto the steel deck. Misha stomped her foot and re-aimed the gun. She realized what she had done and ducked back through the hatchway, looking sheepishly at Trooper Na'aranna beside her.
Na'aranna said, "A bit frustrated are we? I think we may be able to find you a spare cartridge."
Misha tried to control the deep red blush blossoming across her face. "Frustrated at the situation, but not with the needler," she admitted. "I was trying to activate the mass driver induction feed on my suit, but I guess I am not wearing my suit, huh?"
Na'aranna said in a matter of fact tone, “I have seen that a hundred times. If you put a bunch of veterans without their suits on an unarmored firing range, they begin stomping their feet so much it looks like a chorus line."
Aggie Raza tapped Misha on the shoulder and dropped a fresh needler cartridge into her hand. "I don't know what you two are talking about. That's never happened to me."
Na'aranna snorted, "You dance around so much you look like you’re having seizures, or in your case, in the middle of an orgasm."
"Moi? Sorry, Nana, but ain't nothing that ever moves me more’n sex!" Raza replied with a mock look of shock.
Misha slammed the cartridge into the open needler, "I get the point, ladies. All kidding aside though, I don't think we’re going to get past Bravo Squad from this direction. Do you have any suggestions that don’t involve us ending up in a med bay or the morgue?"
Raza grinned, "Well, maybe if we just ask them nicely they will surrender. I mean, you don't get if you don't ask, right?"
Na'aranna snorted. "This is coming from a woman who has never said no in her life."
Raza laughed, "Come on, Nana. I say no all the time."
Na'aranna replied, "Yeah, but only when someone asks if you've had enough."
Misha looked at Raza and then at Na'aranna. "Okay," she shrugged. "I don't think it’ll work, but it won't hurt. Trooper Na'aranna, see if you can get Tree and Greek to blast through this comm signal jamming and get me either Moraft or Paradise."
"What?" Raza asked with a real look of shock on her face, "I was just kidding. Really, I didn't mean it as an honest suggestion."
Misha nodded. "I know, but as you said, if you don't ask then you don't get. Plus this way may be cheaper and only slightly less painful than trying to fight our way in."
Na'aranna after a brief conversation with Everridge said, "Tree says Greek will be able to do a round-about patch and you'll be up in a tic." The jamming had been getting worse with each passing hour.
Misha replied, "Thanks. Oh, did he mention anything about the source of this communications interference?"
"Sort of," Na'aranna said. "It was something to the effect of shoving glass-pack comm units into strange orifices on the guy responsible for messing up his airwaves. He and Greek are still baffled about the comms jamming. It doesn't seem to be localized around any one particular spot, but they are both sure it is internal jamming."
Raza said, "My guess is that it’s XO Paradise because it sure as hell isn't us. That crap is more of a pain to us than a help."
Misha shook her head. "I don't know what is causing it, but it’s as much a hindrance to Paradise and Moraft as it is to us. Codes and secure links are all that should be necessary for any conflict this fluid." She snorted. "Sound like a textbook, don't I? All I know is that we aren't causing the jamming and it doesn't make sense for Paradise to do it either. But then, mutiny doesn't make sense either and the S.O.B. is doing that."
Everridge signaled he had a patch through to Moraft.
Misha took a deep breath and tapped her comm unit open. "Mr. Moraft? This is Third-Level Commander Hamisha McPherson. You are participating in an illegal action. Stop all hostile activity, order all APES under your command to stand down and surrender to my legal authority."
Moraft's voice squeaked out of the comm unit sounding tinny and distant. "Look, McPherson. APES are warriors, we don't run from fights. I won't side with a coward whatever the reason."
Misha nodded as if Moraft could see her. "Theda, I understand how you feel. Wait, let me finish. I know you don't know me and you have no reason to respect or feel any loyalty to me."
"Damn straight!" Moraft interrupted.
Misha continued as if she hadn't heard. "But, I’m an APE just like you and I’ve been put here by higher command. You should respect and have loyalty to their decisions."
"Yeah, sure! They left that dickless piece of pond scum Cans in charge so long that this unit is only one step above a pack of wild dogs. Since you haven't seen fit to lead us into this war, I damn well will."
"You know, Theda. I agree with everything you just said," Misha nodded.
"You what?" Moraft's voice sounded baffled.
"You're right. Cans was dickless. And if I can't lead us through a dirt drop then you should. But, most of all, I agree that this unit is only one step above a pack of wild dogs. Considering all of that, Theda, do you think that even if we did get to dirt drop into an LZ we would be in any condition to fight and win?"
Moraft all but shouted, "We would drop and fight. We are APES. That’s what we do."
Misha said, "You’re right with one exception, Theda. We drop, we fight and we win. That's what we do. Are you so sure we could win?"
"I’m not afraid to try, dammit."
"Ne
ither am I. You and I would probably come out of it alive. We're survivors. We're veteran warriors. But, we are also supposed to be leaders. How many APES would die because you and I are at odds?"
"Then get out of my way, McPherson."
"I can't do that, Mr. Moraft, anymore than you can just quit. We have screwed the pooch on this one. I suggest we call a truce, get this overpriced gas bag of vacuum-breather’s nuts and bolts back to Heaven's Station and let the big brass figure out who's right and who's wrong."
"I ain't running from a fight, dammit."
"You wouldn't be running, Theda. The whole op is flushed. We go back together. What do we care who drives this bus?"
"I don't know, Third. It just-” Moraft started.
A man's voice blasted over Moraft's signal. "Shut up, both of you! I am in command of this vessel and it goes where I say. And I say we damn well head back to Gagarin. You APES may turn tail if things go bad, but I’m an AMSF officer and I do not leave my people behind."
Misha sighed, "XO Paradise, I presume?"
"Major Paradise to you, and I’m no longer the executive officer. I have assumed command of the Kiirkegaard. And as such, I order you to stand down and surrender for arrest."
Misha said, "Major Paradise, I figure you’re not in command anymore than Colonel Britaine is at this point. And personally, I don't care which of you pretends to be in command. At this point, going back to Gagarin is a waste of effort. Theda, you can see that, can't you?"
"I don't know, I guess-" Moraft started.
"Shut up, Moraft," Paradise shouted. "You do what I damn well tell you to do. You’re not paid to think. You’re a grunt, you’re paid to do what you're told. And you, McPherson, you bitch, how the hell can you call going back a waste of time? There were spacers and APES dying back there!" Paradise shouted.
Misha said, "Yes. But 'were' is the appropriate verb, sir. What was going down in the Gagarin system has already happened! If the Allied forces won, then all we could do would be to help clean up. If the Allied forces lost, well then going back won't change it."
Paradise snarled, "So, you still advocate turning tail and running? Are you asking me to relinquish my command back to that coward Britaine?"
Misha rubbed her forehead and looked at Raza and Na'aranna. "Major Paradise, I’m not asking anyone anything except to look at our situation. Right now, we are not going to Gagarin or to Heaven's Station. We’re dead in space. As long as this stalemate exists then we’ll stay here until we run out of air, food or heat, whichever comes first. Sir, I agree with you, I’d rather die in battle than become a corpsicle in space."
Moraft said, "Major Paradise, I think she's right. Any battle at Gagarin is already in the history books and we aren't going anywhere."
Paradise's voice crackled through the comm unit. "Shut up, Moraft. One more word and I’ll have you shot and tossed out an airlock with the rest of the garbage. Do you hear me, grunt? I will not give the command back to Britaine."
Misha said, "I suggest we agree to a truce. You keep engineering and we leave Britaine in the flight office. Let's get back to Heaven's Station. The higher command can decide what to do with-
Paradise shouted, "Enough! This conversation is over. Moraft, go do your job and clear my corridors of that coward's girlfriend and her yellow-bellied stooges."
Chapter Fifty-Seven
"Hey, Chief?" Clancy called across the intelligence office. "We aren't getting squat monitoring internal communications. Where the hell is this jamming coming from?"
Chief Brown looked up from the readout on her glass-pack. "Damfino where it’s coming from. Did you run a diagnostic on jammer signal strength?"
Cuffs said, "No, Chief. Why would we do that? I mean we can't pinpoint the location without a good triangulation."
Brown snorted, "Hunh? Are you sure about that? Did you try a shooter or a bump and run? No? I didn't think so. What do you think the DIRT file is for?"
When she got blank looks from everyone in the room, she sighed. "Okay, kids. Remember way back on your first day aboard we downloaded onto your glass-packs a bunch of files for you to study? Yeah? Well think harder. DIRT stands for the Dummies Intelligence Reference Text. I personally wrote it for you dummies, because there are things you need to know and I won't always be here to hold your hands."
Clancy smiled, "Yeah, I read part of it. It was mostly checklists and odd bits of information about obsolete equipment. Sorry, Chief, but it was pretty dry stuff."
Brown smiled back with genuine humor, "Yeah, it is dry. It’s a working reference guide not a romance novel."
Cuffs scanned data on his glass-pack, "What was that? A shoot and run or a bumper? No, um, wait a tic. Here it is. And I quote 'of the three methods for locating a signal generation point, best is the triangulation method.' We know that one from technical training. This goes on a bit, let's see, yada yada yada..."
Brown snarled, "Excuse me, spacer. I wrote that and I distinctly remember writing clear and concise instructions. I do not blather on or write 'yada, yada, yada’."
"Yeah, I know Chief, just trying to get to the salient points." Cuffs said without looking up at the hooting and woofing going on around the room. "What?"
Brown laughed, "Salient points?"
Cuffs said, "Um, yeah you know, Chief. Salient: the important, the prime-"
Brown laughed harder, "Damn, Cuffs. I know what it means. We're just surprised you know what it means and we’re even more surprised that you could use it in a complete sentence. You've been sandbagging us? No. No. Don't deny it, just get back to reading. I love it when I get my own words quoted back to me; just get it right without the yada parts."
Cuffs nodded. "Yes, Chief. Okay, 'a shooter is when a signal is piggybacked along the incoming jamming signal. By sending a signal shooting along the incoming signal, using varying strengths and duration, a technician can monitor the shooter signal return signature or running bounce back, thus determining the strength of the jammer signal. Plotting the strengths along the signal line and matching it to the attached chart you should be able to locate the general vicinity of the jammer signal generation point.' Wheew! That's a load."
Brown snarled, "A load of what, spacer?"
Cuffs replied, "Sorry, Chief. I meant a mouthful. But, yeah I can see where that’d work, somewhat, I think?"
Brown shook her head, "Clancy, why won't this work?"
Cuffs said, "Won't work? I thought you said-"
Brown shook her head and pointed at Clancy. "Speak up."
"Well, Chief. I think we may have too many bulkheads in the way. This would be wonderful to try in space, but in the confines of a vessel, well, the interference factor would be too high to provide reliable data. But, what the hell; it beats nothing. Let's try it."
Brown said, "Don't get your knickers in a knot, girl. Hold on." She pointed a finger at Cuffs and said, "Read on."
"Okay Chief. It says a bump and run is when the searching signal is bounced off a stationary object, such as another spacecraft, a planet or a moon, to provide an additional signal line for the location of the jammer generation point."
"That won't work either," Gan Forrester said.
Startled, Brown jumped. She had forgotten he was sitting quietly in the corner. She thought, "Damn that man is so grey he can hide in plain sight." She said, "Okay, Marshal. Fill us with your wisdom."
Forrester smiled back. "It won’t work for the same reason as the other method, there are way too many bulkheads causing interference. That’s also why we only have intermittent jamming. Even a jammer signal can't be transmitted cleanly through this maze of steel walls and metal bulkheads. Both methods would only have application in open space or near a planetary orbit."
"Correct, Marshal," Chief Brown smiled. "Everyone get that? Good."
Cuffs said, "Damn it, Chief. Why did we have to go to all this trouble to read it if you knew these methods wouldn't work?"
Brown stood up, stretched, and looked Cuffs in the eye, "Fi
rst of all, spacer, don't cuss at me. I am old enough to be your mama, so talk to me civilly. Second. I am not here just to make you snot-nosed brats do your job, I’m here to teach you how to do your job."
"Sorry, Chief," Cuffs apologized. "I didn't mean to cuss. It just slipped out."
"Damn right it slipped out. So don't let it happen again. No cussing in this frakking office, hear me?"
A chorus of raucous calls rang out.
Brown nodded. "Good, just so we have some sort of understanding. Now if we can't do a shooter or a bump and run, what is left? No guesses? That leaves us with a triangulation, doesn't it?"
"Okay, Chief,” Cuffs said, “I'll bite on this one. We are in one place. To triangulate we need to shoot the jammer signal from two locations."
Brown slapped her forehead, "Why me, Lord? Why me? Think, all of you. Are we really all in one place?"
Clancy said, "Yeah, Chief. Except for a couple of guys we have sleeping across the corridor, but that isn't a wide enough distance for triangulation separation."
Cuffs said, "Yeah. That's it, except for…oh, shit, Chief. I mean, damn. Sorry, what the hell am I thinking?! The Major and half our crew is up in the FO. They can shoot the second leg of the triangulation from there. Gods, I am stupid today."
Brown smiled broadly and gave Cuffs a thumbs up. "Good thinking, spacer."
Clancy said, "Yeah, it was good mental work. But you knew it all along, didn't you, Chief? Why didn't you just say so?"
Brown said, "You all have to learn to think on your own. If someone is always there to give you the answer, then the day when that someone isn't there, subsequently you will be well and truly frakked. My goal is to get you all to think three dimensional or to kill you trying."