“Bingo,” Tao said. “And concentrating on your mission, not mine. And certainly not that you’d like to be doing with Herzer what I’m doing with Shanea.”
“It’s more than that,” Amosis said, angrily. “You can tell that that little harem bitch is just stringing him along. He’s not getting any; you know that, right? So what’s wrong with me? Why the hell would he stay in that relationship when…” She stopped and shook her head.
“Oh, Christo, Mo,” Tao said, just as angrily. “Drop it already. You’re his subordinate. He’s head over heels for Megan. She’s in love with him. You’re out, girl, six different ways. Get over it.”
“I guess I’ll have to,” Van Krief said, plumping up her pillows and lying back on the bed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some reading to do. I have a very complicated mission to prepare for. And Herzer’s bound to jump my ass if I don’t know as much about the ship as he does.”
“You go, girl,” Tao said, suddenly tired. “And be careful.”
“Hey, Paul,” Herzer said, as Satyat passed on his way to class. “Getting the hang of wrench turning in micro?”
“Getting there, sir,” the engineer said, giving him a half salute and getting prepared for the next question.
“What are the tools to disassemble the helium injector on the main ion cannon?” Herzer asked, pausing.
“Fourteen- and eighteen-millimeter hydrospanners,” Satyat said, screwing up his face. It was always a different question and somehow Herzer always hit you with one you weren’t prepared for. “Proton injection shield, four-millimeter punch and… Shit.”
“And a crowbar,” Herzer said, smiling faintly. “The lid’s got a magseal all the way around and you’ll have to pop it at the lower port quadrant if you’re on the starboard injector or the starboard on port. If you have a screwdriver, you can try to pry it off. But you’re going to have a hard time. And don’t use the punch; it’s too thin and it’ll probably ruin the punch.”
“Got it,” Paul said, shaking his head. “Do you actually know all of our jobs or do you just study for certain questions?”
“Guess,” Herzer said, nodding as he walked off.
“Do you ever get any sleep, Herzer?” Edmund asked as his avatar appeared in the commander’s office.
“Not much,” Herzer admitted, tossing the form he was studying to the desk. He glanced at the chronometer on the wall and blanched when he realized it was three AM. “I’ve scheduled a rest day for just before the mission; everyone’s getting pretty stressed out. And you’re one to talk, boss. I’ve at least got you by a century or so of youth.”
“Thanks for mentioning it,” Edmund said, sourly. “But I’m on the west coast, three hours behind you. And I’m getting ready for bed.”
“What are you doing out there?” Herzer asked, his forehead furrowing.
“Looking at a new collier design,” Edmund said. “The builders think they can get about twenty-five percent more stores on her over clippers for about a ten percent reduction in speed. She won’t be able to keep up with the fleet, but if it works it will be perfect for cross-ocean and mid-ocean resupply. The Navy’s in tight with the east coast designers, though, and they’re balking at changing designs. I’m trying to figure out if it’s worth the pissing match.”
“Life, and the bureaucratic pissing match, goes on,” Herzer said, chuckling. “Speaking of which, Megan told me that Aikawa wanted the Icarus mission. Especially after the first team got killed.”
“He had a point,” Edmund admitted. “Ishtar and Aikawa have been doing the majority of the fighting to this point and they’ve won. But I’ve looked at their warmaking style and, frankly, I’m not impressed. I guess when we invade we’ll see who’s better. But winning counts for a lot. However, they gave Sheida the mission at least in part because most of their elite forces were either decimated by the wars or are still engaged. Frankly, Aikawa’s shuren warriors might have been better for space fighting than the Blood Lords. But they’re so overextended it’s not funny. So we got it. Just do the job and leave the Council to its discussions. If you win, nobody will have any reason to bitch. So what are you working on at three AM?”
“All the paperwork I can’t keep up with during the day,” Herzer said, sighing. “And the training is not going well, anyway. I don’t think I’ll ever figure out microgravity combat.”
“Maybe we should have sent mer-men,” Edmund said, seriously. “You know that’s what they fight in all the time, right?”
“Not exactly,” Herzer replied. “They have something to push against: water. In microgravity you don’t have diddly. I don’t think they’d do any better except at situational awareness. And they couldn’t move in the grav areas at all. No, we’re just going to have to either figure it out or avoid it. We’re doing okay when we’re on the hull and can use our boots, but in full microgravity we’re still pretty lost. Except Van Buskirk; he’s got the moves down from ER before the Fall.”
“It’s not going to go better if you can’t see straight,” Edmund said. “Drop the paperwork and go to bed. I don’t suppose things are going any better with you and Megan?”
“No,” Herzer said, shrugging. “But at least here we’re in different beds.”
“Lighter, Jacklyn,” Van Buskirk signaled as the computer tech soared past him. He was parked in the middle of the underwater cylinder at the end of his safety line, working his team through a fast traverse of a microgravity environment. Of course, there was fast and then there was fast. Too fast to get to your grab point was too fast.
The response from Jacklyn Pledger was a gesture that was universal. The gesture, however, imparted spin and made her miss the crossbar she was aiming for. Fortunately, it was a complete miss since at the speed she was going it would have been bruising to impact.
Bus pulled, lightly, on his safety line, which got him headed in the general direction of the computer tech. He judged his snatch finely and managed to get a hand on her ankle. A very slight tug sent him “up” towards the top of the cylinder but it also spun Jacklyn towards the nearest wall.
He grabbed the cross-member she had been aiming for and turned to watch the shapely computer tech’s landing. The water had slowed her speed so she didn’t break her wrists when she hit the wall and managed to get her feet under her. As Bus watched she turned clumsily around and began gesturing.
He didn’t get all the gestures, but the general gist was apparent.
“Agreed,” he signaled, waving to the team on the far wall and the safety divers. “Call the exercise. Surface.”
“Fisk this shit,” Jacklyn said, peeling out of the skin-tight suit. “I am done. I am not going in that tank one more time!”
“Calm down,” Bus said, trying not to stare at the liquid-covered body. The antiblister liquid that filled the suits was remarkably similar to the sort of jelly used for sexual lubrication, which had originally occasioned some bawdy jokes. At this point it was just another pain to be borne since while it made getting the suits on easy, it made taking them off damned hard. At least it had been.
Jacklyn cursed luridly as her hands slipped on the suit and she stood bolt upright, shaking from head to toe.
“I AM SO FISKING OUT OF HERE!” she screamed, quivering.
“Jackie, let me help,” Linda said, getting a grip on the slippery suit and yanking it down over the other girl’s arms. “Just take a deep breath. We’re all tired.”