Lyke was sweating, too. The big man’s exposed arms dripped with it. His jumpsuit looked as though someone had thrown him in the deep end of a pool. Dickerson couldn’t wait for the test to end.
He heard a sound behind him and turned to face it. The rear cargo door trembled slightly. “Lyke,” he said. His squad mate turned to him, eyebrows raised. “They’re getting ready to bring in the heavy stuff. Assuming we ever get this shit sorted. Sounds like the grav-plates just went off.”
“Shit,” Lyke said. “They know just how much more we have to put away? This is ridiculous.”
“Welcome to the S&R Black Company, rookie.” Lyke twirled his middle finger in the air before flipping Dickerson the bird. Dickerson laughed. “Gunny?” he said through an open channel. “We’re still working on the provisions. We’re not ready for the heavy stuff yet.”
The pause before Cartwright answered wasn’t a good sign. Gunny didn’t just blow up; he built up a huge head of steam before detonating like a nuke. “Yahweh, Allah, and Christ fucking wept. Hurry the hell up, Dickerson. I want to get into space sometime this month.” Gunny’s voice was controlled, but a solar flare of rage floated just beneath the words.
“We’re working as fast as we can, Gunny. But this is a lot of—”
“I don’t give a good donkey damn, Dickerson. We have an entire pile out here waiting for you to finish your damned job.”
“Maybe if we had some help,” Dickerson mistakenly said aloud.
Pause. “Are you aware your comms are on?”
Dickerson face-palmed before answering in a respectful, contrite voice. “I am now, Gunny.”
“Good,” Cartwright said. “Because I’d hate to think you say things behind my fucking back. I’m sending you incompetents some help. If we weren’t on a clock, I’d send everyone to the rec area to catch some THC while you two assholes spent the rest of the day in there. Now quit whining and get shit done.”
“Aye, Gunny,” Dickerson said. He turned to Lyke. The young Private was laughing. “Go fuck yourself.”
Lyke held up his hands. “Sorry, man. You really need to remember when you’re on the comms.”
“No shit,” Dickerson said and turned back to the last crate of provisions. He finished sorting the last few pouches and filling up the cabinets. Once he was finished, he turned back around and faced Kalimura.
“Corporal,” Dickerson said.
“Dickerson,” she said. Her brows furrowed. “Gunny tells me you’re having problems getting everything loaded.”
“Not exactly problems. More like there’s too much.”
“Excuses, excuses,” she said, her mouth twitching into the ghost of a grin. “I brought some help.”
Her squad appeared at the cargo bay door and marched inside, the four of them looking as though they were trying to keep from laughing. “Great,” Dickerson said, glaring at the newly arrived non-rates. “You organizing this shit show?”
Kalimura nodded, eyes glittering with mischief. “What do you need?”
“Arms and brains. But I’ll settle for your squad anyway.”
“Fuck you, Dickerson,” Carbonaro said with a laugh.
“All right, marines,” Kalimura said. “Let’s get to work before Gunny blows a gasket.”
They all pitched in. Eventually, even Copenhaver and Murdock leant a hand. When Gunny finally boarded the ship, they had everything stowed but the support vehicle and the z-g skiffs. He stood with his arms crossed, lips set in a thin line, as he inspected the cargo bay. Seemingly satisfied, he made his way through the rest of the ship.
The eight non-rates worked together to load the Rays and the SV-52. Even with the grav-plates off, it took an hour to get the vehicles situated. Once you were in space, moving around large equipment was simple, but if it wasn’t properly stowed, when S&R Black fired its nuclear drives at full thrust, the g-forces would knock it around inside the cargo bay, possibly damaging the hull or simply breaking expensive equipment. Therefore, diagnostics had to be used to inspect every fasten point, every cable, and every connection to make sure nothing broke loose. The Rays were relatively easy. It was the SV-52 that required all the effort.
At least the life-support checks had finished. Dickerson cooled inside his sweat-drenched jumpsuit. In a few more minutes, he’d be downright cold. His bio-nannies were already adjusting his metabolic rate to combat the cold. Little fuckers did a good job of increasing or decreasing the rate based on temperature, but if you were too hot, the only thing they could do was make you sweat.
Once they’d finished locking down the SV-52, Kalimura gathered the non-rates in the galley’s cramped space. They stood at ease, talking in hushed voices punctuated by the occasional laugh. Dickerson didn’t have anything to say. He was goddamned exhausted and absolutely certain Gunny was going to pop in and raise hell. That was his job after all. Pity he’s so good at it, Dickerson thought with a smirk. Well, at least he knew what he was doing.
At last, Gunny returned from his tour of the ship. The marines stiffened a bit when he entered the galley, a cup of coffee in his hands. He sipped from the z-g mug and glared at Kalimura and the non-rates. “Everything stowed, Corporal?”
“Aye, Gunny.”
“You’re absolutely sure? I don’t want to repack this shit once we leave Neptune.”
She didn’t turn to the marines or look for help. That was the right move. Dickerson knew he’d undress her right then and there if she so much as showed a hint of doubt. “Gunny, these marines worked their asses off, and did a good job. If you find something not to your liking, then it’s my fault.”
The galley fell into a suffocating silence while Gunny considered her statement. Dickerson fought the urge to smile. She’d played that very well. Not only did it leave Gunny nowhere to go, but it also told the non-rates she was in their corner. About goddamned time your figure out that’s how to lead, he thought.
“Is that so?” Gunny asked.
“Aye, Gunny.”
Cartwright glared at her for a moment, took a sip of coffee, and then his eyes softened a bit. “According to my chronometer, it took us six hours to load Black. Six hours of humping, diagnostics, sorting, and counting. I allotted eight hours for this task, so you marines beat my estimates. Next time, you’ll get seven hours and I expect it to be done in five. Understood?”
“Aye, Gunny!” the marines yelled in return, Kalimura louder than everyone else in the galley.
“Good. Go get some chow. Dismissed until briefing at 1700.”
“Hoo-ha-BLACK!” they yelled.
“Get the hell out of my hangar.”
Kalimura turned to the marines. “You heard the Gunny. Dismissed!”
The non-rates turned and filed out of the ship, sorted by rank. Kalimura stayed behind. Dickerson wondered if she had something to say to Gunny in private, or maybe she was waiting for him to say something to her. Either way, he’d love to have access to their chat. Oh, well. Time to shower and eat.
Chapter Twelve
The officer’s mess was practically deserted. Dunn wasn’t surprised. He and Taulbee sat at an empty table, cups of steaming coffee in their hands. Dunn covered his mouth, loosed a loud yawn, and smiled. “Sorry. Long night.”
Taulbee’s bloodshot eyes told the same tale. “No problem, sir.”
“Now, what’s the status on my ship?”
Taulbee rolled the cup between his hands. “I’m sure Portunes updated you on the cargo delivery.”
Dunn nodded. “Yes, he did. Quirinus as well. Sounds like Kalimura did a good job. As did Cartwright’s squad.”
“Well, we always know Gunny will get a task done, and done right. I think we can start entrusting the Corporal to do the same.”
“Point taken,” Dunn said. He took another sip of coffee. “Still think she’s leadership material?”
“Yes, I do,” Taulbee said. “Gunny says she operated with a completely different attitude today. Less arrogant, less cold, engaged more with the company as a w
hole.”
Dunn smiled. “Was beginning to think we’d have to dump her after the mission. Glad I don’t have to.”
“As am I, sir.” Taulbee connected his block to the table’s built-in holo-display. A diagram of S&R Black appeared. He pointed to the cannons and the cargo bay. “So we’re fully loaded. Before we go into stasis, we should make sure all the weapons have ammunition and that the rescue gear is prepped.”
“I looked at your plan for the tow,” the Captain said. “Considering we have no idea what shape the ship will be in, I think you did a good job. Whose squad do you have in mind for hooking them up?”
The Lieutenant's face brightened into a grin. “I figured we’d give Corporal Kalimura a shot at it. She’ll have time to practice before we reach Mira.”
“Practice? She’s had plenty of time in the sims.”
“True,” Taulbee said, “but you know as well as I do that the real thing is completely different. Plus, this is a much larger ship than we’re used to towing.”
That was no lie. Mira, even if she was only partially intact, was at least five times the size of the largest mining ship S&R Black had ever retrieved. Dunn wasn’t sure an S&R had ever attempted to tow a craft that large.
“The good news,” he said, “is we should be able to construct a new scenario for the sims based on our little excursion.”
Taulbee nodded. “Exactly, sir. The bad news is we don’t have one now.”
“Wouldn’t matter. We have no idea what state Mira is in. And even if we did, we still wouldn’t know what stress fractures she has on the hull, or other structural damage. It’s going to take inspection and eyeballs.”
“My thoughts too,” Taulbee said. “But she should be able to get her squad out there with the skiff and perform those tasks. At the very least it will be great experience for her. Plus,” his eyes glittered with mischief, “Dickerson needs to be reminded of what real work is.”
Dunn chuckled. Dickerson. His biggest problem child and the best combat specialist in the company, even better than Gunny. He had an attitude that nearly always bordered on insubordination, and a record guaranteeing he’d never see an NCO rank again. The officers tolerated him, though, because of his skills and his ability to rally the troops when shit went bad. On Mars, he’d saved a lot of lives by ignoring or outright disobeying direct orders. Instead of receiving medals, he’d ended up in the brig.
“That would be good, but he’s in Cartwright’s squad.”
“Right now, he is. I talked to Gunny. We’re going to switch him out.”
Dunn raised his eyebrows. “Why would we do that to her?”
“We do it,” Taulbee said, “because Gunny suggested it.”
“No shit?” Dunn said.
“No shit, sir. Gunny seems to think Dickerson will mind her and can help shore up that team a little bit.”
“Who’s moving to Gunny in exchange?”
“Private Niro. Gunny doesn’t want the Corporal teaching him any bad habits,” Taulbee said with a straight face.
Dunn belly laughed and then Taulbee joined him. “That sounds like our Gunny.”
“Aye, sir. With your permission, we’ll announce the change in assignment before we leave station.”
“Of course,” Dunn said. The two men fell into an uneasy silence as they sipped their coffee. Dunn thought for a moment and then placed his mug on the table. “James? When would you drop the bomb about Mira?”
Taulbee considered that for a moment. “Captain? Have you ever dreamed in stasis?”
Dunn shook his head. “Not really. Or rather, not that I remember. I imagine I did. Don’t we all?”
“I remember some of them. Fragments, mostly. When I first traveled from Mars to Titan Station—” He let the sentence die and then shook his head. “Before I left Mars the first time, I’d heard all the stories of stasis couch failures. I was also terrified of a possible hull rupture. That was right after the Levinson incident.”
That struck a chord. Dunn felt a prickle of gooseflesh at the name. It was almost as famous as Mira. Levinson was a civilian transport that left Mars for Titan Station. During the journey, the AI malfunctioned or lost control, it was never established which, and strayed too close to the asteroid belt. One of the smaller rocks punctured the hull. The collision may have caused the computer systems to fail, or perhaps the AI had gone insane. Either way, the stasis cycles were ended. All the civilians aboard woke from stasis just in time to encounter decompression without a suit. Some of the bodies were still unaccounted for, and probably floating inside the same belt that destroyed them.
“Anyway,” Taulbee said, “I had dreams of drowning and of being thrown out of an airlock.”
“Damn,” the Captain said. “Did the AI wake you?”
Taulbee shook his head. “No. But I remember them. I didn’t come out of stasis or resume conscious thought. They were just little scenes that played out with no rational or intelligible narrative threads. Just a bunch of images and feelings colliding and meshing.”
Dunn tapped his fingers against the mug before taking a sip. “That’s a little disturbing.”
“Tell me about it, sir. I guess my point is this. If you tell them before we hit stasis, they’re going to be thinking about the Mira the entire way there. The fact they’re in stasis won’t matter. The subconscious is going to be turning that one thought over again and again.”
“Good point,” Dunn said. Taulbee still had a look of fear in his eyes. “James, are you afraid you’re going to dream about Mira?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. I guess I am, sir. She’s tumbling in space without power, doesn’t respond to hails, and has appeared like a wraith from the farthest journey humankind has ever attempted.” He looked around to make sure they were alone before leaning forward. “She shouldn’t be here,” he whispered. “If the brass is so afraid that her very existence will set off solar unrest, we should just blow her up and pretend she never came back, sir.” When he finished, he leaned back in his chair. “Sorry if I spoke out of turn, sir.”
Dunn was speechless. He realized his mouth was open in surprise and closed it. He took a long breath before responding. “We’ll discuss that when we see what’s what, James. I guess I understand where you’re coming from though.”
Taulbee waved a hand in the air. “Sorry, sir. I should keep those kinds of thoughts to myself.”
“I’ve known you a long time, Lieutenant. I’ve come to respect your opinion, especially when it concerns strategy and tactics. You go with your instincts and sometimes, well, most times, you’re right. I don’t always agree with you, but I always listen.”
“Yes, sir. You do.”
“I’ll take what you said under advisement,” Dunn said.
“Thank you, sir.”
Dunn looked absently at his empty mug. “I need more coffee.”
Taulbee downed the rest of the black liquid and clinked the mug on the table. “I could use another cup,” he said.
The two men rose from the table and headed to the dispenser in silence. Dunn suddenly didn’t want to talk to Taulbee anymore. He, too, wondered if he’d dream of Mira on the way to Pluto. The thought terrified him.
Chapter Thirteen
Kali rounded the corner and headed to Gunny’s quarters. He’d sent a message to her block requesting “a few moments of your time.” She’d laughed at the message. Whenever he sent one to her block, or a general announcement to S&R Company, he was always terse, but polite. That was a far cry from the simmering rage pot he normally was during training, PT, and the like. She wondered if his usual style of interacting with non-rates was a front. But it didn’t matter. He was a gunnery sergeant—they were allowed to have their secrets.
The hallway was quiet. S&R Red, the company that shared Black’s portion of the barracks, was out training or at the mess or Yahweh only knew where. Everyone on the station knew S&R Black was heading out into deep space, they just didn’t know where. Most probably didn’t care, but Red had be
en asking questions. She’d overheard one of their marines talking with Dickerson in a quiet voice. The marine, a pretty woman of about thirty standard, had stood outside Black’s coffin room, her shoulder leaning against the hatch frame, while she spoke to him inside.
Kalimura had excused herself, walked through the hatch and to her coffin. She hadn’t managed to catch a single word of the conversation save for “Kuiper.” The visitor had looked both intrigued and a little scared. Maybe that’s his girlfriend, Kalimura had thought. Didn’t matter. Dickerson was allowed a little station board romance, assuming the two of them didn’t turn it into a problem.
After packing her personal items, ensuring she had everything she needed for the journey to Pluto, she’d sat in her coffin studying Kuiper Belt facts. Reading the words, staring at the pictures and videos, had calmed her. She’d been close to falling asleep when Gunny’s message hit her block. Now she was anything but calm.
Gunny’s quarters were in the senior NCO portion of the barracks. While Kali’s coffin was embedded with the non-rates, Cartwright had the luxury of private quarters and an oversized coffin. If you were at the rank of corporal or below, you shared space. Above that? You rated better quarters, not just because of your rank, but also to have privacy to discuss command chain problems, or to plan in private without the need of briefing rooms. She knew that’s why he’d called her. Something was up. The only question was what.
Kali crossed the divider separating the NCO/Officer portion of the barracks and took the hallway marked “NCO.” Gunny had only sent the message a few minutes ago, but she already felt as though she was late. After loading the ship, she’d taken a shower and clothed herself in a fresh jumpsuit. That was routine for her and she was glad for it. The idea of walking into NCO country while wearing a stained and rancid uniform was simply asking for trouble.
Derelict: Marines (Derelict Saga Book 1) Page 9