Steel Walls and Dirt Drops (7 page)

“Excuse me?” Misha asked. “You’re a
'little'?"

Brianna smiled, “Yes,
sir. You know, Daddy’s little girl and Mother’s little helper. My older sister Danielle is in the AMSF. She’s a captain now. She got me assigned to this safe little job on the gate because I am her little sister. I don’t want to be a little anymore. I want to do.”

Misha said, “I know. Believe me, I know. You finish your time in the AMSF then find any APE commander
and enlist with us. In the meantime, find the oldest noncom you can in your outfit. Get their advice, listen to them and learn from them. Ask them who to go to for training in hand-to-hand combat. I assume you are already learning a martial art form as part of your duties? Good! Also, pick a specialty: if you like cooking, then cook. If you are good at physics, begin to learn power mechanics. Don’t waste too much of your time in bars and at parties. By all means, play and have fun, just don't make it a time-consuming habit. And if I can ever do anything, you contact me. I’ve already downloaded my address into your glass-pack. You write and let me know, hear?”

Brianna said. “Yes, Misha, I hear. I’d like to write to you. Thanks, you don’t know what this means to me.”

Misha said, “I mean that now, that’s an order. You write and let me know how things are going.”

Misha stepped into the training bay where all of her squads had assembled. She had ordered an inspection for one hour and she had lost all of that hour. First she spent too much time with Britaine, then bumping into that weird little man Forrester, and finally she spent way too much time with Spacer Morin. However, she realized the time she had spent with Brianna had brought her back to why she had joined the APES in the first place. It cleared her head and she felt ready to tackle her new command. As ragged as it was, it was now hers to mold, form and shape into a fighting unit.

Unfortunately, she might only have a week or so to pound this group into some semblance of a fighting unit before dropping
in combat mode on some hellhole of a planet. Fully twenty percent of her troopers were APES rookies headed for their first dirt drop. Six out of her ten seconds were new commanders, although each was a veteran trooper.

Each squad clustered into rough groups with the
clusters scattered around the training bay. Troopers squatted or sat on the deck as the mood struck them. Most were chatting among themselves, although the tension in the room was almost palpable. Her squad had assembled near the hatch.

Trooper Singletary saw her enter the room and shouted, “Commander on deck.”

Before anyone could make a move to stand, Misha called out, “As you were.” The APES were not an outfit that held to a lot of the old-style rigorous military traditions. No one marched about. No one saluted. No one ever jumped to attention and formations consisted of milling about in the general area of the meeting. Still, it was polite to stand when a higher-ranking APE entered the room.

Misha said, “Okay people. I am sure most of you know who I am by now.
But, in case you have been asleep, or you have just joined your squad for the first time, Third Cans is gone. Enough said about him. Got me?”

Misha nodded at the chorus
of ‘roger that’.

“Good.
Deuce Vark, are we all present?"

"Yes,
sir," Aardmricksdottir called from the back of the training bay where her squad stood. "Some of us are going through a rough detox, but physically we are all here."

Misha nodded. "For the record, I am Third-Level Commander Hamisha Ann McPherson. As of
today, I have taken command of the 1392nd. I am given to understand that a high percentage of the 1392nd are rookies. So, in case you haven’t figured it out, I will tell you, this unit has been a shithole. And that ends now. There are to be no questions, comments or suggestions, unless I ask for them. I am not in the mood to go into combat with a group of mush-for-brain clowns. I am not in the mood to die on some gods forsaken unnamed planet because someone in this room has had their head stuck where the sun don't never shine." Misha momentarily paused before continuing. "We are now under deployment orders. If you expected to get a transfer or to retire, then tough luck, that pig has gone to market. We are in this together. From this point on we get it right and we get it right the first time.

"
Ladies and gentlemen, the first order of business is to correct an error I made. Trooper Tuamma Ottiamig, where are you? Come up front, trooper. You come up here too, Trooper Singletary."

A very tall, slender young
trooper from Misha’s squad stepped up. "Tuamma Ottiamig, sir." Singletary stood quietly next to the young man.

"Very good, Ottiamig
," Misha smiled to put the man at ease. Speaking so everyone in the training bay could hear, "Upon my arrival today I stepped into what should have been my squad bay. Instead, I stepped into enough Treemer crap to fertilize my Grandma's garden for years to come. If you have ever been around when a Treemer lets loose you would know why the locals on New Nippon call them gas-gaggers. I found contraband, including smut, snuggles, snifflers and snowberries. Said contraband has been rendered less than useful. I believe Trooper One Singletary can verify the entire stock of goods has been properly destroyed?"

"Yes,
sir," Singletary replied in a carefully modulated voice.

"Good. I don't know who th
ose items belonged to nor do I care. Everyone understand me, clean this garbage out before any of the seconds or I find it. Woe betide the fool who thinks he knows a better hiding place than I or your seconds. Please return to the squad, Trooper Singletary."

Misha continued. "Further, I found items, both legal and illegal stored in breakable containers. People, this is a mobile unit, emphasis on mobile. We will drop our
mobile squad bays into combat with us. They will become bunkers, pillboxes, tanks and personnel carriers. Have you veterans forgotten combat?" Misha shouted, "No breakables, dammit. I don't want to be walking around on broken glass the first chance I get to climb out of my combat suit. Clean it up and I mean clean it up everywhere."

In a calmer
tone, Misha said, "In my haste to dispose of the aforementioned items, I damaged a musical instrument belonging to Trooper Ottiamig. I wish to rectify that error." Misha handed the Ottiamig the box Spacer Morin had bought for her. The young man unfastened the buckles and brought out a brand-new flute.

"Sir
," he stuttered, staring at the flat shine of the platinum instrument. "This is too nice. It is much better than the one that was broken." He looked up at her and said quietly enough so only Misha could hear, "I don't expect any special favors because of my family connections."

Misha replied just as quietly, "Trooper, we both know that your Uncle Kema is my direct supervisor. I don't give a fart in a windstorm about that. It doesn't have a thing to do with it. I broke the old one. I g
ot you a new one as good or better. I take care of you. You take care of me. Uncle Kema can take care of both of us as he sees fit."

Misha changed her tone loudly enough
so everyone could hear. "Please note Trooper Ottiamig's new flute has an unbreakable case. I don't know how much longer we have at Heaven's Gate. Get the right kind of case if you have legal items you don't want broken. Ask your second if you don't know what type of case to get. That is what they are there for. However, all passes are canceled, so you will have to order it over the net and get it delivered. We have a very short time before we leave station, so put a rush on it. Throw the breakable out or put the item in permanent storage if you do not have or cannot get a case.

"Everyone fall out to your squad bay for immediate inspection." Misha stepped sideways
away from the hatch to let the rush of bodies sweep past.

Chapter
Ten

Misha sat quietly in the back of Kiirkegaard's main briefing room. The room was full of AMSF officers and a few senior enlisted men and women. Britaine was at the dais shuffling through data on his glass-pack, apparently waiting for precisely 1700 hours to begin the mission briefing.

Misha didn't mind the delay. It had been grueling since her speech in the training bay. No one in her command slept while she completed inspection after inspection. She inspected squad bays, munitions lockers, general stores, medical supplies and every piece of APE equipment she could find. A
flood of down-checked items and gig tickets buried her new unit.

She demanded perfection from her
seconds who in turn demanded perfection from their squads. Misha knew there were grumbles over some of her nitpicking, but she knew even the slightest mistake, missing item or bolt out of place could cost a life. Misha had called a general work stoppage while she went to Britaine's briefing. It would only be a few days before this unit dropped into combat, but it wouldn't matter how ready they were if her troopers were too tired to fight.

Misha watched the clock on the
bulkhead slide to 16:59:59. Britaine cleared his throat to speak, but before he could get a word out, Misha jumped up and shouted, "Colonel Britaine, Third-Level Commander Hamisha McPherson of the 1392nd Allied Protective Expeditionary Forces presents her command as ready for deployment." Satisfied she had met the conditions of her AMSF contract, Misha sat down. Britaine was fuming. Misha stifled a chuckle. She knew it was childish, but if the man wanted to fight with her, then she would give him a fight. She would not belong in the APES if she was inclined to be any other way.

Britaine's voice cracked
with anger at his first word, but he spoke clearly. "Thank you, Third McPherson. I am sure the entire spacecraft is relieved to know you are all accounted for. However, the rest of us have other considerations on our minds."

Looking theatrically around the room, dropp
ing his glass-pack into the slot on the podium, he called up a view of the Heaven System. The podium generated a flat holographic image like a marker board or a slide screen hovering in mid-air. Marked on the view was the name of each planet, moon and base. A large red arrow pointed toward the fourth moon of the eighth planet in the system.

He said, "In order of activity, the Kiirkegaard is
to assemble at Heaven System Point 17A to join a flight wing under General Gurand. Assembly is to be completed for departure in four days. However, each spacecraft has been ordered to reach 17A as quickly as possible. I have already alerted operations to prepare us for departure ASAP. For mission security reasons, I have ordered communications to shut down all outgoing traffic." Britaine reached up and tapped the holo-image. The podium registered his hand's interference with the image surface and signaled his glass-pack to call up another view. At first, the view encompassed all Allied Space and its buffer zones. A large blue arrow pointed to the Heaven System. A red arrow pointed to a system in the buffer zone between Allied System and the neighboring Tartar System.

"Altec
," said Britaine. The name blazed into red on the view. "This is our destination.  Normally, Altec is only three jumps from Heaven. But, because of operational security, the flight wing will make four jumps to allow us to enter the Altec System from other than a direct line of flight." His glass-pack rotated the view, showing four quick successive jumps into the target system.

Britaine continued, "
From 17A, it is four days to the first jump. This will allow time to clear heavy traffic around Heaven Three and give the flight wing time for form. We will have one day between each jump through the C1973 and C201 unpopulated systems. Each of these jumps will require no less than one-day standard to re-gather the wing before the next jump. We will then have a very short delay in the Gagarin System to drop off our Marshal’s Service passenger, Sergeant Gan Forrester and wait for the remainder of General Gurand's wing to arrive from various locations. The time delay in Gagarin is unknown, but it is one quick jump to Altec after that.

"At Altec we will deploy the ground forces aboard Kiirkegaard onto Altec Four and then the real work of taking on any space bound Binders found in the system will commence."
Britaine smiled in Misha's direction, so she smiled back. He wouldn't get to her making digs about the work given the APES. He had just told her she had at least nine standard days to work with her new command. That was more than she had reason to expect.

Britaine said, "Update your glass-packs on the relevant
Altec info. In conclusion, I have already ordered the flight office to prepare for 17A departure."

Speaking into the
comm unit on the podium, he said, "Flight office? Execute take off now."

Misha shouted, "What? Dammit, Colonel." She tapped her
comm unit and all but yelled, "1392nd, prepare for flight departure now." She barely got the words out of her mouth before the spacecraft lurched backward, tilted rapidly and then seemed to lurch forward. Normally, the antigravity units could adjust and smooth the ride, but operations must have dialed them down so they could feel the motion. Almost everyone in the briefing room was seated and felt no more than a little bumpiness, but a female chief master sergeant standing in the back of the room was knocked off her feet. She scrambled up without a word and dusted herself off. A nearby junior-grade major started to get to his feet to help the chief, but she waved him back down.

From the panicked looks and frantic
calls, it was clear Misha had not been the only officer or senior enlisted who had not been let in on Britaine’s plans. She wondered if the man was this uncommunicative with everyone or if he enjoyed being the only one in the know. Not telling your own officers about such a move was likely to get people hurt.

Misha knew most of her
APES were sacked out because of the work stoppage and probably wouldn't even wake up. Even so, she also knew the armor repair techs had decided to use the training bay to disassemble and repair a few of the massive combat suits. It was likely to be a mess with pieces scattered everywhere. And anyone not sitting or lying down would be tossed around.

Britaine smiled, "What's the matter, McPherson? I thought
APES were always prepared. Besides, our contract only specifies I have to give you notice of departure. It doesn't say how much notice, does it?"

Misha smiled back coldly, "Not a problem for me, Colonel Britaine. It is your vessel.
It is your business if you want to treat it like an amusement park ride."