Steel Walls and Dirt Drops (14 page)

Chapter
Sixteen

AMSF Master Sergeant Twiller Bruce, the Colonel's steward bumped into APES Second-Level Commander Rice Bilideau, Dawg Squad's general supplies clerk. They were alone in one of the Kiirkegaard's storage holds.

"Well, Beans
," Bruce said. "It sure seems like your new boss and the OAIC have finally made a truce."

"
OAIC?" Bilideau asked.

"Yeah. You know: Old Asshole
in Charge, that serious waste of an officer’s uniform, Old-Scrotum-For-Brains, Britaine."

Bilideau
looked thoughtful. "The last word I heard was they weren't getting along."

"Crap!" Bruce said. "That must be a cover for what is really going on. I tell you they just had one of Britaine's quiet, intimate lunches. And you know what I mean by intimate, right?"

"Yeah, I heard he ran our Deuce Vark through one of his lunches. It was a lunch that lasted all afternoon. She came back all smiles and cheery, you know. But, he must have got what he wanted and dumped her fast. She got blocked out of the officer's country faster than a thick turd gets stuck in a plugged toilet," Bilideau said.

"Her and every other thing with female DNA on this bird
," Bruce agreed.

"Except that old
chief master sergeant you got in intelligence. What's her name?"

"You mean Chief Brown? Yeah, I think
he’s scared of her. Hell, most of us are scared of her. She’s tougher'n sun soaked shoe soup. Her nickname is Dead-eye and she got the name on the gun range. I know Britaine thinks with his dick and it is may be hard to tell but I don't think he is that stupid."

Bilideau
nodded, "So, how come you think he dicked McPherson? And why the hell would he? I mean, she ain't much of a looker."

"I don't know about that. She is attractive enough in her own way
," Bruce said.

"Yeah, like my dog's butt!"
Bilideau grimaced.

"Hell's bells,
grunt. I've been Britaine's steward for almost a standard year now. He would boff her for no other reason than the challenge. And I saw them come out all friendly and smiling. I've seen it before. Man, he even put his hand on her ass in front of his security goons. Yeah, he tapped into her goodies for sure."

Forrester shook his head as the young spacer walked away. As always, he was amazed at the amount of information he could gather just by wandering the hallways and indulging in a bit of gossip here and there. He was certain eighty percent of all gossip had a truth at its roots, and fully half of all gossip dealt with mission or command-related issues.

It
only was a few hours since McPherson’s lunch with Britaine. Already the rumor and propaganda machine was generating its usual swill about their tryst. "Not that I care," he tried to tell himself, but he caught himself at his own lie. He wasn't jealous even if it was true. Forrester just liked Misha. She was almost too good for her own good. She had great potential. It would be a shame to see her command collapse because of a mistaken affair with a jerk like Britaine.

Forrester
knew the enlisted crew hated Britaine. Britaine's fellow officers didn't hate him, but universally distrusted him. In the past, Britaine burned too many contemporaries in his climb up the promotion ladder. The hatred, resentment and wariness were almost palatable.

Contact
between spacers and APES was limited, but on a spacecraft, even one this big, it was impossible to hold back any rumor this juicy from spreading into both camps. Forrester was sure he was not the first person outside of the AMSF who heard of what supposedly went on between Britaine and McPherson. As a matter of fact, Forrester already heard the story three times, each time with differing details.

When
Forrester pressed this last spacer about whether it was rumor or truth the man had replied, "It's gotta be true: where there is water someone is gonna get wet."

Forrester
doubted whether McPherson had been seen buttoning up her uniform as she left Britaine's office. He doubted it for two reasons. One: he didn't think she was that foolish or careless. Two: APES uniforms don't have buttons.

Still, he intended to hunt her down.
He might find out a bit of truth if he could be tactful enough. Forrester wasn't an incurable gossip. He long ago accepted himself as a true died-in-the-wool analyst. He would worry at a problem or a puzzle until it unraveled revealing its secrets. McPherson was definitely a puzzle.

Forrester
found McPherson in her day office. She was sitting with her feet on the desk scanning rapidly through data on her glass-pack, flashing images against a blank bulkhead. The room was now spotless since her predecessor had left. He could see she hadn't added one iota of clutter to the room. It was bare and clean as if no one had ever used it. No personal items were visible.

Forrester
tried an old fashioned knock on the hatch frame.

Startled at the sudden noise, Misha looked up. "Well, Sergeant
Forrester. Are you here to beg off of this afternoon's training? Did Charlie Squad run you through the spin cycle, already?

Forrester
smiled. "Actually, I wanted to thank you for the time your people gave me. Taks is a very instructive man to have around."

"Yes
," she said. "Not too instructive, I hope. We don't want all of our APES secrets leaking out to the Marshal Service."

Forrester
laughed, "It is nothing like that, I can assure you. After what you put me through this morning, I am not sure I want to know about any secrets if you have any of them."

"I am sure you've heard the first day of training is always the hardest.
Well, that is hogstuffings; the first day is always the easiest." She smiled. "Keep on coming, Gan. We will make an APE out of you yet."

"
We will not make an APE of me at my age, child. However, I will try to keep up with you folks for most of this trip. Lord knows I can use the exercise." He patted a non-existent paunch.

"So, Gan
, are you on a mission or did you just wander by my office for a social call?"

"A little of both and some of neither
," he replied. "You know how we Marshal Service guys are; we're always spreading rumor and propaganda."

"Ah
," Misha said. "My lunch with Britaine has hit the gossip circuit?"

"Well, now that you mention it, I do seem to have over heard a thing or two
," he said.

"
It was lunch, a bit of idle chatter and some minor business discussions. It was nothing more; end of story," Misha said.

Forrester
frowned. "I am not trying to get into your personal business, Misha. No, don't interrupt. Just accept this bit of advice from a nice meddling old man. Britaine doesn’t have a good reputation with women. Be careful of him. Nothing has to happen for people to think it happened. It is old advice, but try to avoid the appearance of anything wrong, okay?"

"Not okay.
It is none of your business. Nothing happened between Britaine and me," Misha caught herself blushing. "Dammit, Gan, look what you made me do."

"
That is an interesting shade of red." He smiled trying to ease the tension. "He is a pretty sort of fellow, isn't he?"

Misha's blush deepened. She looked for something to throw at
Forrester.

"Easy, Misha
," he laughed. "I believe you. Nothing happened with Britaine. I didn't believe it when I came in here. I am just passing along what I heard. He isn't a very well liked commander and that is putting it mildly. You could get hurt by association."

"
Your warning is taken, mother. Do you want me to clean my room and do my homework, too?" she continued. "Hey! Have you had much time on skid plates? We are giving our rookies training this afternoon at 15:00 hours. Be there?"

Second Jackson looked at the seven newbies gathered around him, four from his Foxtrot Squad and three from Second Portland's Easy Squad. McPherson also saddled him with the sergeant from the Marshal Service.

Jackson thought, "Not a bad bunch of rookies. Hell, I've seen worse."
He said loudly, "Damn sorry looking bunch of FNGs, I swear I haven't seen a worse looking bunch of numb-nuts in all my years. But, maybe you ain't hopeless. For that matter, even if you are hopeless, it doesn’t matter. We are in this together, got it?"

A rousing chorus of
‘roger that’ answered him.

"You!" Jackson shouted
at a trooper. “What are you?" She was a short woman from Easy Squad.

"Trooper Nine Sheila Ramirez, I am
Easy Squad's medical technician," the woman shouted.

Jackson shouted back. "No. Dammit. I didn't ask who you are. I asked what you are. You are a combat grunt
; a malevolent, unpleasant killing instrument. You are one bad ass, tough s.o.b. You are infantry in the Allied Protective Expeditionary Services. You are an APE. You are armored infantry. You are armored, mobile infantry. There is heavy emphasis on mobile and extra emphasis on hostile."

In a calmer voice he said, "Everybody got that? Everybody fights. Ramirez, you are
a med tech second and an APE first. Everyone in this bunch is a rookie, a newbie. And you will be a rookie until and if you survive your first combat dirt drop. We will seal you into your armor, strap you to your skid plate and drop you out the ass end of a cargo pod into the atmosphere of a hostile planet. Upon hitting the surface you will engage the enemy and you will kill it. That is what we do. Are there any questions?"

Without waiting for a response he continued. "Deuce Portland has taken all
the veterans from Easy and Foxtrot. I got the rare privilege of showing you the ins and outs of the skid plate. Pay attention to what is going on around you. You are not mindless robots. If the government wanted robots, they would have built robots. Instead, they wanted you. You're cheaper to build and replace, I guess."

Ramirez said, "Yeah, and easier to fix. I
oughta know." A smattering of nervous laughter died quickly under Jackson's glare.

"True enough
," Jackson said, "But our suits are designed to take damage our bodies can't. And what damage our bodies do sustain, Ramirez will fix. Ain't that right, trooper?"

"Right, Deuce. If you break it, I will fix it. I am good at it
," she replied.

Jackson nodded. "
That is fair enough. Look, people, Third McPherson took you rookies from your normal squad structure for one reason. That is training on your skid plates. We are a mobile force. Our bodies may be conditioned to run fifty kilometers in a day and fight at the end. Our suits let us run five hundred kilometers in a day and fight at the end. But, our skid plates let us ride five thousand kilometers in a day and fight at the end, plus they give us air superiority. They give us high ground. So, we gotta learn to use them and use them right. I know every one of you has had tri wave simulator direct feed education in the operation and handling of the skid plate, everyone except maybe Sergeant Forrester. You have the control operations embedded in your muscle memory. Plus, everyone in this group, including Sergeant Forrester has spent time in the sims practicing operation of the skid plates. You have all spent time in the saddle, as it were."

Jackson continued
, "My job this afternoon is to show you some tricks. There isn't much we can do in this squad bay, due to space limitations. We are going climb aboard, so be careful. Pay attention to what is going on around you."

Jackson frowned at the group. "This is a serious exercise. It may seem like a kindergarten recess game, but in about a week or so we are going to follow Third McPherson onto some
unprocessed mud ball. We are going to get our payback from those Binder bastards for what they did to our brothers on Guinjundst. If we aren't at our best, if we can't do our best, then the Third can't use us to kill those frakking weed eaters. Nothing and nobody is going to get in my way, understand? So, you will get good from the ground up. Are there any questions yet?"

There was a determined silence from the group.

Jackson nodded. "All right, APES. Your skid plates are grounded in place. Get on them."

Suddenly,
he shouted, "Keep them grounded and powered off!" In a normal tone of voice he continued, "Good. We are going to play Simon Sez. Follow my movements and do exactly as I say when I say it. The key to skid plate operations is control."

For forty-eight minutes Jackson called out command after command. The group before him swayed and twisted with him, some catching on faster than others. With their skid plates off and grounded it looked like a modern jazz dance group practicing some weird aboriginal mating dance.
Each movement they practiced could send a skid plate racing, dipping and swirling around the sky.

Much to Jackson's surprise, he
was unable to shake Sergeant Forrester from the routine. The marshal met every one of Jackson's moves, even down to the irregular finger twitches. "Damn," Jackson thought. "Taks said he was good, but I didn't bite. He doesn't look like much, but he is a tougher nut to crack than I thought."

"Take five,
APES," Jackson finally shouted. "Hydrate or die! Water up, APES."

Jackson turned to watch the activity around the squad bay.
Second Portland was working the veterans of Easy and Foxtrot Squads though a series of vigorous exercises. He did a quick check on his veterans in the group. Trooper Four Dashell had a tendency to slack off if he wasn't being pushed, but Portland had his number and was riding him hard.

All around the training bay there were groups of veterans and groups of rookies. The
seconds were pushing everyone hard. He spotted Third McPherson in a far corner with the veterans from Able Squad and Vark's Joker Squad. A small rush raced through his system when he saw McPherson. He was surprised to find he was getting sexually excited just watching her. Jackson shook his head to clear it. He knew she wasn't the prettiest thing around, far from it. Sexually, he knew he would rather be with Deuce Vark. He looked around until he spotted the tall blonde woman with a group of rookies. "That is one fine looking babe," he thought. He looked back at Third McPherson. "No comparison. And DeLaPax is with her. Man, I would kill for a piece of that action." He looked over his shoulder to check on his group of rookies. "Hellfire," he thought. "I think even Ramirez would be a better lay than the boss." He turned back to watch McPherson. He wondered if her being the boss must be what was yanking his crank. Other women might give him sexual pleasure, but Third McPherson was going to give him revenge on the Binders and the thought of that was what was giving him a woody.

He continued watching McPherson as she put her group of veterans into a circle. She put Trooper
Beaudry from Joker Squad and Trooper Juarez from Able Squad in the middle. At some signal he couldn't see from his vantage point, the circled APES attacked the two troopers. Beaudry and Juarez were quickly overwhelmed and went down. He could see McPherson nodding and patting the two men on the back. Beaudry gestured wildly with his hands, obviously showing her what he had done wrong. McPherson grabbed Beaudry in a headlock. She laughed and rubbed his hair with her knuckles. She then spun him around and a well-placed boot pushed him back into the outer ring as the circle reformed.

Jackson said to himself, "Nuggies! I haven't seen someone getting nuggies since I was twelve."

"What was that, Deuce?" Jackson turned to see Forrester standing next to him.

"Nuggies, Sergeant Forrester
.” He pointed into the direction of McPherson. "The boss just gave Beaudry a nuggie and then kicked him in the butt."

Forrester
smiled, "I take it that is not usual conduct for APES?"

Jackson smiled back. "I should say not. I don't know how she knows, but
the big sister act is the perfect approach for Beaudry. He is kind of the loner type, you know. Doesn't seem to fit in, even after, what, maybe forty years in the APES. He has got four times as much time in service as Vark. But, Vark got the promotion to Joker Squad second, not him. For that matter, Spakney's got a ton more time than Vark, but who the hell would want that piece of shit for a commander? Hell, I'd follow Vark into combat just to watch her ass swing and sway."

Jackson pointed. "
Hey! Check this out, I think she is going to take her time in the barrel."

As the two men watched Misha and Trooper Putinova stood in the center of the circle. Putinova was a petite blonde woman from
Joker Squad. At the signal, the circle appeared to collapse as the veteran troopers rushed the two. Misha grabbed Putinova around the chest and whirled about. Putinova kicked with her feet, flailing at any unprotected head, arm, or chest. Two troopers were knocked off their feet and rolled out of the melee. Misha spun Putinova around so the two stood back to back. Misha spun sideways, slamming into two troopers trying to force an opening on Putinova's flank. The force of her drive knocked both troopers to the ground and out of the exercise. Putinova quickly leaped onto Misha's back and vaulted upward, coming down into a group of troopers. None hit the ground, but their planned assault was broken before it began. Misha grabbed Putinova by the uniform collar and yanked her into place so they again stood back to back. The circle of troopers hesitated and watched for an opening. Misha stood on the balls of her feet, arms outstretched, like a wrestler while Putinova slid back and forth from one foot to the next in a rhythm that only she could hear.

Jackson said, "Teamwork Sergeant Forrester. She is teaching them teamwork. If she and Putinova work together the others will have a rough time taking them down. They will have to work as a team to do it."

The two men watched. The attackers feigned a rush from the flanks and then a group drove into Putinova, overcoming her and swarming over Misha. Bodies were tossed and thrown about. No one, no matter how well trained could stand up to the mass rush of half a dozen APES. Misha went down momentarily. She jumped up laughing and slapped the back of Trooper Park of Able Squad who had put her down. Park shrugged it off, but Jackson could see that it hadn't settled well with the little man that he hadn't been able to do it alone.

Jackson saw Misha turn away quickly. Even from this distance her face flushed red. Almost anyone else would have thought it was the rush of activity that pushed the blood to her face, but he had been watching far too closely for that.
Initially, he thought it was Park's silent rebuke of her compliment that embarrassed her, but he saw her eyes glance up. He looked up at the observation gallery overlooking the training bay. He could see Colonel Britaine smiling down at her.

"Damn
," he thought. "What is that martinet doing down here with us working stiffs? Aw hell, he wouldn’t tell anyone why he was watching us even if he had a good reason for being here. That man plays it closer to the chest than industrial-strength pasties on a double-d stripper. Shit, those rumors about him and McPherson must be true. Well, I don't give a rat's patootie. She can play with fancy boy all she wants to, but she is mine when it's time to go to the dance." Jackson turned back to his lounging rookies, "Okay you lazy APES. Back up on your skid plates. We got too much work to do without you lollygagging around all afternoon."