Steel Walls and Dirt Drops (19 page)

"No. He knew exactly what I meant
," Chang pointed at Second Jackson.

"Mister Jackson?" Misha asked.

"Yes, sir," Jackson nodded. "I know what he wants. I wouldn't do it before and I still won't let him proceed."

"See!" Chang shouted. "Insubordinate. And those
containers are stacked willy-nilly all over the cargo hold. They are stacked every which way. They could break loose and tear a hole in the hull if we have to maneuver quickly. That is deliberate sabotage." He had a smug look of success on his face.

"Mister Jackson?" Misha asked.

"Sir, all the containers and bins in question is our mobility equipment. They are stacked and locked into place with tensors at full strength. The gear is stacked per APES squad use, with each squad's equipment stacked with the rest of that squad's equipment. Major Chang wants them stacked according to size and shape, completely disregarding their functional needs as combat mobility equipment."

Misha said, "Major Chang, your charge of sabotage stem
s from the fact that these goods could break loose because they are stacked with a smaller container under a larger container and look completely unbalanced. That they could tear a hole in the hull if they break loose, is that correct?"

"Yes, isn't that enough?" Chang replied.

"Actually no, sir." Misha said. "They are currently held in place by combat strength tensors. It would take a direct missile hit to tear those containers loose from the deck. Our tensors have four times the strength of the Kiirkegaard's deck tensors. I must agree with Second Jackson about moving the gear from their standard APES configuration. I must point out our contract says this equipment is and must be stored according to our requirements."

"But it
is sloppy. Just like the rest of you APES," Chang said.

"Actually, Major. It just looks sloppy. They are grouped as needed by our squads when we drop onto a planet. Each squad's equipment is dropped together. If it w
as stacked any other way, we would have to sort through the containers to find what we needed. That would be unacceptable under combat conditions in a hot landing zone."

Chang looked around at his dwindling cluster of spacers. He realized, as many of them had, that he was fighting a losing battle. "Well, Second Jackson was rude and uncommunicative. He should have told me what his
objections were instead of just refusing my commands. And he called me a vacuum-breather. That is disrespectful to my rank and position."

"Yes, Major Chang.
Name-calling and disrespect of rank are distressing," Misha said pointedly. Chang's face flushed. "Perhaps we can do without the security forces at this point, sir?"

Chang nodded and waved at security. They melted away.
"At the very least, I demand a formal apology."

She turned to Second Jackson. "Mister Jackson, were you rude and discourteous to a
flight officer of this crew?"

"Yes,
sir, I was." Jackson looked sheepish.

"Mister Jackson, I expect my
seconds to be more diplomatic and understanding in inter-service cooperation," Misha said.

"Yes,
sir," Jackson nodded.

“Mister Jackson, you will immediately record a formal apology to Second Watch Commander Major Chang. You will specifically note any and all name calling that went on in this corridor. You will also note the exact time and place of the incident and all insults give and taken. You will attach a copy of all relevant time periods as copied from your glass-pack. You will copy Colonel Britaine and me.
You will transmit your apology immediately.

“
Oh, I am sorry, Major Chang, we do seem to be in the middle of your second Watch. Are you supposed to be on the flight deck at this time?”

Chang looked stricken. Misha could see he just realized that not only had he lost the argument, but that copies of him calling her Britaine's whore would be sent to his
boss, and that he had left his post in the flight office for an extended period of time. He turned and dashed down the corridor speaking rapidly into his comm unit.

Misha ordered, "Everybody
scatter back to wherever it is you are supposed to be. Jackson, you stay put."

"You showed him, Trey
," Jackson said when they were alone.

"Shut up,
Second. This is hard enough taking over this command and going into combat on such short notice without you screwing around with the spacers. Try to be diplomatic next time. And I am serious about that apology."

"Come on, Trey. He was riding me from the top."

"I don't give a rat's ass, Mister Jackson. You had better learn control and discipline. I don't have time to mediate childish disputes, got me?" Misha said with a cold edge in her voice.

"Yes,
sir. Point taken. Sorry," Jackson said.

Chapter
Twenty-Seven

"Hey, Deuce Jackson," Trooper Wilderman from Dawg Squad said. "She reamed your butt out good in front of the vacuum-heads."

"Yeah, so what?" Jackson said. He was seething inside. He didn't like anyone talking to him like he was an idiot. Now this loser Wilderman was getting on his case."

Wilderman said, "So nothing? You just took it like a little mamma's boy."

"Shut your hole, Wilderman. I wouldn't take that crap from anybody but McPherson. And do you know why, you puke?
I will take it from her because I lost a brother at Guinjundst. McPherson kicked ass at Guinjundst and the next time we drop dirt, we are all going to kick some Binder ass; you included. You understand, or do you want to continue rubbing sandpaper across my bad side today?"

"Roger that, Mister Jackson.
Understood," Wilderman backed away.

"Listen, pencil
dick," Jackson shouted at the retreating trooper. "She could march me naked, painted purple into the high court chambers on Heaven Three and I wouldn't give a damn as long as she leads me to where I can kill them weed-eating sons-of-bitches."

Gan Forrester looked around the APES commander's day office. The front room was furnished as an office with a desk, two straight back chairs and a dataport. There were no pictures or personal items of any kind in sight. The backroom was a bedroom. It had a wall locker and a standard APES bunk with blast shutters. The bathroom had a shower, toilet and sink. It was actually so small that the toilet inset into the shower. A voice behind Forrester startled him.

"Convenient, isn't it?" McPherson
asked. "You can sit while you shower."

"And spotless, too
," he replied. "I didn't hear you come in behind me. I hope you don't mind; I decided to take you up on your offer and move in."

"Please be my guest or rather the guest of the
APES," she said. "I just had it cleaned and sanitized. The last occupant left behind a mess."

"I hope I won't be putting you out?"
Forrester asked.

Misha shook her head. “I won’t be using this often enough to matter until we drop dirt. Then I expect to be rather busy in here.”

"Really? You're planning on taking your office with you?"

"Actually, Gan, you are standing in the middle of our mobile combat command center. Right
now, the locks have it clamped to the deck plates, but it is sitting on its own combat skid plate. The whole room drops out of the back end of the Kiirkegaard along with the rest of us and all of our other gear. It is automatically targeted to drop onto our LZ." She tapped her knuckles lightly on the steel walls. "These walls are armored steel, not at all like the composite bulkheads of the spacecraft around us. It is not pretty, but the armor here could hold against a whole squad in APES quality armor. So, it is a good thing you won't be going into the Altec system with us, because I’ll need the room back by then."

"This is really a nice double function design.
I’d like to go on to the Altec System even if it means giving up my private accommodations. Just for a bit of sightseeing, you know. But, the big bosses tell me that I can't go that far," Forrester replied. He thought he might be able to work something out to go on to Altec after he conferred with his contact on Gagarin. He stored that thought away for later. The Binders pulled something new on Guinjundst besides using biological and chemical warfare. Whatever that something was APES command was keeping it very close to their collective chest. The Marshal Service would like to know what it was. Still, if he couldn't get any information from Misha between Heaven and Gagarin, then he wouldn't get much more going on to Altec. His contact on the Kiirkegaard would have to fill him in on what went on in Altec.

Forrester
said, "So, you really are bunking in the squad bay? Doesn't that lack a bit of privacy?"

“Yep. However, the squad bay gives me more privacy than I had growing up. Sure the APES sleep in the same room, but each bunk has blast shields that work very effectively as privacy screens.
The toilet and shower stalls have some exceptionally durable locks. Believe me; nobody sees anything that I don’t want them to see.”

Forrester
smiled. He could imagine what would happen if someone were to try something with this woman. He could see why some men, and women for that matter, would be tempted to try. He admitted that she wasn't the most beautiful woman in the Allied Systems, not in the classical sense of beauty. She exuded a powerful presence, though. Sometimes power offered more attractive appeal than mere physical features. He could see why this woman challenged Britain. Britaine had charm. McPherson had a raw sort of charisma. He said, "Whatever the reason for the offer of the bed, I appreciate it. Lieutenant Holdgren snores loud enough to wake the long deceased, and AMSF bunks don't have those nice blast shutters to cut the noise."

"Just one
tiny little thing, Gan. Keep it clean. The last tenant before me left it in somewhat of a mess."

Forrester
nodded. He had met Third Cans briefly when he came aboard. The man actually asked about a second career with the Marshal Service. He had also heard Misha had sent Trooper Beaudry back three times until he had the room spotless to her criteria.

McPherson smiled, "Oh, by the way, Gan, the rumors about Britaine and me must be dying down.
The rumor is that you took me away from him; that you and I are doing the wild, horizontal hanky-panky."

"What?! I haven't heard that."

"What's the matter, Gan," McPherson smiled sweetly, without a touch of sweetness in her eyes. "Not as funny as when you were teasing me about Britaine, is it?"

"Who the hell would think you
’d have anything to do with an old man like me? That's silly."

"Not as silly as Britaine and me. What's the matter, Gan? Aren't I good enough for you?"

"Wait. It's not that. It's just that…well…how the hell did that rumor get started anyway? Look, I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't move in here."

McPherson shrugged. "Nope, go ahead and move in. The damage is done. Besides you might want the privacy for your other girlfriend."

"Pardon me? What other girlfriend?"

"Come on, Gan. I am not a
Marshal Service investigator like you, but it only took me fifteen minutes to track the rumor back to its source."

"Wait a minute, Misha. I am not an investigator. I just shuffle data at the headquarters building."

McPherson just looked at Forrester.

Forrester
cursed himself thinking he must be getting sloppy in his old age. Of course, he knew Misha was not your average knuckle banger. She was much smarter than most people gave her credit for being. That was why his boss had assigned him to contact her. Still, a rumor might bring them closer together; give them the chance to struggle against a common rumor and forge a personal bond. Maybe it would be a good thing. He looked at Misha looking at him.

"Okay, I am not admitting anything
," he said. "I do like a puzzle as much as the next guy. But, Misha I do have to tell you that a rumor might cause me problems."

"Yes? And rumors have been so good to me so far, is that it?"
she asked.

"No. I
’m sorry, that is not what I mean. Look, I’m married. Okay? A wife may not hear everything that goes on in her husband's life, but rumors like this can hurt. So please tell me where this rumor came from?"

McPherson nodded. "I didn't know you were married. Sorry, I wouldn't have kidded you about it. I tracked it back to your little friend in sickbay. Remember
that med-tech Staff Sergeant Jèsusa Rezzi?"

Forrester
sighed in relief. "Okay, that one. Good. I can fix that."

McPherson smiled, "Well, I
’m glad you’re happy. Can you fix the rumor about Britaine and me? As it stands right now, the whole spacecraft, for all I know the entire flight wing, thinks that I’m sleeping with both you and him."

McPherson’s
comm unit beeped. "Third McPherson here," she said.

"This is Colonel Britaine. Please meet me in your training bay as quickly as possible, if you please."

Forrester watched Misha roll her eyes upward. He wondered what Britaine was up to now. At least, he wasn't asking for another private meeting. That might be a good thing. On the other hand, meeting with him in front of other APES might damage her command more than another unsubstantiated rumor.

She frowned, "On my way, Colonel."

Forrester asked, "More problems?"

"
I won't know until I get there. Unless you know something you aren't telling me?"

He laughed, "We don't have time for what I know that I
’m not telling you. We will have to meet sometime over dinner and swap secrets. Is that a deal?"

"Not a chance,
Marshal Forrester."

"Maybe for a little pillow
talk after?"

Misha laughed,
"After? No, not after, Gan. Maybe over, as in over my dead body."

"Now you are talking,
girl, at least I have a chance. You let me know where and when."

"I don't know. Let me check with my calendar and your wife."

"You sure know how to hurt a fragile ego, don't you? Seriously, I won't move in if you think it is a bad idea."

"No, Gan. You move in here. Wear it in good health. It
’s a bad idea for me not to know where you are. This way, I can keep an eye on you."