Megan stepped up to the forms and spread her feet apart.
“Bit more,” the dwarf said, looking her over appraisingly. “That’s about right.”
The forms were attached to sliding blocks and the dwarf adjusted them to the distance of her stance, then nodded.
“Please step in the forms and disrobe,” he said, stepping away as she did so.
The forms already had plaster in them and Megan stepped into the material cautiously. It squished up between her toes and she worked them cautiously, then took off her robe and handed it to Herzer.
“Please spread your arms out and down,” the dwarf said, taking one hand and positioning her arms. “Spread your fingers wide,” he added, splaying her hand. “And try to hold that. Try not to breathe in and out too deeply.”
Two dwarves came up with rubber forms in their hands. They were vaguely blister shaped and Megan frowned at them as two more dwarves stepped forward and, removing strips of plaster-impregnated cloth from the forms, they began to wind the cloth up her legs.
“What are those?” Megan asked.
“They’re for where the catheter bag and water blister go,” Herzer said as one dwarf slapped the adhesive-covered water bag on her back and the other slid the catheter bag form onto her inner thigh. High.
“Watch your damn hands,” Megan snapped, looking down at the dwarf.
“You want this in the right spot, mistress, or not?” the dwarf asked, smoothing down the edges of the moldable-rubber device. She wasn’t sure if the dwarf was a he or a she; both sexes had beards.
“Just watch the hands,” Megan said, caustically.
She stood still as the dwarves, more now working on her body and arms, starting with fingers, constructed what was to all intents and purposes a whole body cast. Solid gobs of plaster were slapped in her underarms and she nearly swore when more was thrust into the area between her buttocks.
“Not much fun,” Herzer said, soothingly. “I know, trust me. I had to have… parts sort of…”
“Glued,” one of the dwarves said with a snigger.
“Glued up,” he finished, frowning. “That was lots of fun to remove, I’ve got to tell you. There’s still bits drying in places. And the discussion about… which way to glue it wasn’t funny.”
“You left some hairs, here,” one of the dwarves said, looking up at a very intimate spot in her crotch. “It’s going to smart when we take this off.”
“Just get it over with,” Megan snapped as the dwarf took a handful of plaster and smeared it on. “God, I hate this,” she added, closing her eyes.
Finally the cast was fully formed and the dwarves took rods and inserted them into hard points on the wrists, then into holders on the floor.
“Can I relax now?” Megan asked.
“Just lean your hands on the rods,” the chief dwarf said, nodding. “It will take about ten minutes to fully set. Then we’ll cut you out.”
“You okay?” Herzer asked, coming around in front of her. He’d been circling the working dwarves, giving baleful looks to any he suspected of ogling. But, really, the dwarves had been fully concentrated on the job. Or at least making a good show of it.
“Fine,” Megan said, turning her head awkwardly to look at him. “Just feeling… rather vulnerable. I don’t like that.”
“It’ll be over soon,” Herzer assured her.
“I’m wondering,” Megan said. “About the crotch and butt region. There’s no way to prevent air pockets there…”
“You’ll wear a sort of underwear,” the chief dwarf said, going over to one of the benches and picking up a rubbery pair of underpants that looked suspiciously like a chastity belt. “It will fit… closely in your crotch and between the buttocks and it has soft-plastic seals along the edges. There’s a viscous fluid in it that will harden under vacuum, sealing anywhere along the edges that leaks and displacing any air in the region. You’ll have the same stuff on your skin under the suit; it’ll take care of any minor bubble areas.”
“This is just so much fun,” Megan said, shaking her head.
After watching the clock for what seemed an interminable time, the chief dwarf finally stepped forward and rapped his knuckles on the cast.
“It’s good,” he said, nodding at the helpers. “Start taking it off.”
The cast had to be sawn off in pieces, using small hand saws. That took about thirty minutes but finally all the cuts were made and the parts started coming off, starting from the top.
“Ow!” Megan snapped as the first part came off over her head. “I didn’t even know I had hairs there!”
“You were supposed to shave everywhere,” the supervisor said with a sigh. “I don’t know how many times you people were told that, but…”
“OW!” Megan shouted as the crotch portion was removed.
“Think of it as a whole body wax,” Herzer said, trying to be soothing.
“Did you get all your hairs?” Megan snapped back.
“No,” Herzer admitted. “And, yeah, that hurt like hell. But not as much as getting the glue off of parts…”
Chapter Eighteen
Herzer took a seat in the front of the stands just before the opening of the first space combat class. The stage in front of him had some of the props Peterka had used, including a pick mace, a small buckler, some metal plates with straps attached and suit parts on a table. The mangled suit of armor was standing next to the table. Just as he sat down, Van Buskirk strode out onto the stage and took a position of parade rest.
“Welcome to Icarus Base and all that,” the captain said, looking at the assembled group of Blood Lords. Fifteen of them, mostly from his own company, had been designated as members of the five “first in” teams; those that had techs associated with them and were guaranteed to fly. In addition, a sixth “Blood Lord pure” team had been assembled under Sergeant Graff. The fifth “first in” team leader was Lieutenant Mike Massa, his Third Platoon leader.
Massa was medium height with brown hair and eyes and the burly look commonplace among the Blood Lords. The lieutenant was newly promoted and about to be rotated out of the platoon leader slot. An experienced fighter, he had been among the group of Blood Lords that had assaulted the enemy camp during New Destiny’s abortive invasion of Norau. A sergeant at the time, his actions in first taking and then closing the north gate had led to a field promotion and a tour through Officer’s Basic then to Van Buskirk’s company.
There were another sixty volunteers from Raven’s Mill who had responded to the “mission involving a high level of risk” call. It was unlikely that there would be sufficient suits made for all of them by the time the fuel shuttles started landing, but they would form the reinforcement corps for the mission.
“You all know the nature of the mission and you’ve previously been briefed on the plan,” the captain said, looking around at the short company of elite infantry. “This is about how we’re going to do it.”
He picked up the pick mace off the table and swung it around in a figure eight.
“Listen to me very carefully,” Van Buskirk said, continuing to swing the mace. “Space is an unforgiving, unremorseful, coldhearted, murdering bitch. Remember that. If you keep that thought in the front of your brains from the time the shuttles take off until you’re back on the ground, we might not be sponging you out of your armor!” He ended the opening with a snarl and then swung the mace, hard, into the armor. The spike punched into the shoulder.
“That soldier is now dead,” Bus said, wrenching the mace out of the armor and tossing it on the table. “You’re used to having to hit a vital point and of only protecting vital points. To fight until you die or drop, no matter how many minor wounds you take. Look at Herzer; he’s covered in scars from ‘near misses.’ ”