Another fifteen minutes went by before Ysario reported. “We’re secure and set to lift.”
“Thanks. Starting the liftoff checklist.”
Everything was in the green, and we lifted clean. Quick scans showed everything normal. Detectors registered heat from where zone alpha was—low-level, but nothing had registered before. Scary when I thought about it—equipment still operating after being frozen solid for billions of years. I was just as glad to be quartered shipboard.
Concentrated on the return, but couldn’t help wondering if we’d see company before too long. Also wondered about Ktzhugh. Had the feeling there was more about him than he let on. Frigging thing was that there was more about everything than showed.
40
Goodman/Bond
On fourday, Chief Stuval sent me up to the shuttle bay with a slider to pick up some diagnostic equipment the shuttle mechs had borrowed.
A mech appeared from somewhere. His namestrip read KLEZEK. “You the armory tech?”
“That’s right Bond. Chief Stuval sent me up to get the diagnostics…”
“They’re over in the insulated subbay there, past the shuttle.”
Three people stood just inside the lock, wearing space armor, but not hehnets. Two were shuttle pilots. The taller one’s armor was stenciled LIEUTENANT CHANG. Even in armor, she had a good figure, blonde, make a good wife on looks. The other was Lieutenant Braun. Her face was like a porcelain doll, till you got close and realized she was made of endurasteel.
“Are all pilots women?” The man wore the bulkier general armor of the expedition scientists. Those suits fit only roughly and were uncomfortable. He had a temp tag—FTTZHUGH.
“Not all, Professor,” replied Braun. “Lieutenant Lerrys is a very good pilot.”
“Not many people have the skills,” added Chang.
“Need spatial orientation senses, and more men have those than women. Also need the ability to integrate multiple details and coordinate them simultaneously.”
“That’s where most of the men fail,” Braun said.
“What about combat?” asked the professor. “Don’t men have an edge in ferocity?”
Both lieutenants laughed.
I smiled as I edged the slider past the three. I didn’t feel like smiling at the bitches.
“The Second Arm War proved that was a canard,” Braun said. “Covenanters went after the League… Old Earth… I’m sure you know that. The League’s pilots were eighty percent female. The Covenanters were one hundred percent male. Do you recall what happened?”
“The League destroyed all the Covenant fleets. How much of that was skill, and how much was due to the equipment?”
I was glad the professor asked that. I kept listening as I moved the slider past the stem of the shuttle and toward the insulated subbay the mech was opening.
“None.” Chang laughed. “Every bit of equipment that the Covenanters had was newer and better than the stuff the League had. Only significant difference was the pilots.”
She was lying. Old Earth had far more wealth and equipment than we’d had, far more. I tried not to frown as I eased the slider toward the open area between the shuttle and the subbay.
“Surely, in all the years of history, the male hunter-killer—”
“Men are better at killing in packs, and they’re frigging better as commandos and suicide hunters,” Chang interrupted. “They can focus on one thing. In space combat you have to handle multiple inputs.”
“Every woman knows that most men are single-minded,” added Braun.
The lieutenants laughed again.
“You may have a point.” The professor smiled, politely.
“You’d better go back to the ready room, Professor. I need to finish a preflight.”
“I will. Thank you.”
The professor moved away. He didn’t look much like a professor, not to me, even in the overlarge armor. For all his manners, he looked more dangerous than the two bitches. I’d like to have gotten each one of the women alone—for a long time. Then they’d have seen what a good man could do. That wasn’t the mission, though. After I’d managed to set out a signaler, I’d be more than happy to get back to the Worlds of the Covenant and real women.
I began to slow the slider, and turn it toward the subbay.
“Over here, Bond!” called the mech.
The sooner I finished the signaler the better. If only Chief Stuval didn’t watch so closely. That was slowing me down, more than I’d thought. I blocked the slider in place.
“Saw you looking at the pilots, Bond.”
I shook my head. “They’re too hard for me.” I couldn’t say they were fem-bitches, even if they were.
“Too tough for most. That’s why so many pair off.” Klezek laughed. “Anyway… all the paks on the left are the stuff we borrowed from you.”
I pushed the frigging pilots out of my thoughts and got to work on loading and checking the diagnostic paks.
41
Fitzhugh
I’d arrived early at the ready room for the shuttle bay and had found both Lieutenant Braun and Lieutenant Chang. In our brief conversation, I’d definitely gotten the impression that neither cared for male posturing. Since I didn’t care for posturing, including my own, to which I was more prone than I liked to admit, their views didn’t bother me. I had the growing feeling that Chang liked men who were direct, strong without being overbearing. I probably came across as too overbearing, but I had enjoyed conversing with her, few words as we had exchanged.
The shuttle descent to Danann wasn’t in itself particularly uncomfortable, but the space armor in which I had encased myself was scarcely bearable. No sooner had I donned it than portions of my anatomy which had theretofore been perfectly quiescent decided to itch. One can certainly scratch the outside of armor, but doing so with gauntlets presents the risk of damaging both gauntlets and suit—and thus its occupant, in this case, me—while accomplishing nothing in reducing the irritation. I would rather not have had my recollections of precisely how uncomfortable ill-fitted armor was refreshed so personally.
Once we were on Danann, as the heavier gravitational force immediately made itself known, I’d wished I had been even more assiduous in my workouts, although I could not reproach myself for the past few weeks, but few academics, I consoled myself, had been more dedicated over the years. Still, while I regretted my lapses, I would not have desired to have continued in the service merely to remain in top physical condition. The body should serve the mind, not the reverse.
The crew chief announced, “You can release your harnesses and put on your helmets. I’ll check each of you before you enter the lock. Make sure your comm unit is on.”
By the time we finished the necessary debarkation and postdebarkation efforts, more than a standard hour had passed, because the landing area had been relocated to another of the flat frozen lakelike areas, and we had to walk almost half a kay to the temporary quarters and buildings. They had also been moved onto a wide curve in a boulevard or canal between towers. After the briefing, I had deposited my minimal gear upon a nondescript bunk and returned to the external lock to meet my escort.
There Tech Nuovyl waited, smiling blandly. “Do you have any gear, sir?”
“No, Nuovyl. I’m here to see as much as I can, preferably as much different as possible. You can start by showing me the more interesting towers nearby.” My initial tour planetside was three days. Since no one had found anything except the towers and the buildings themselves, as a historian, all I could do was to look at them and try to find the meaning in their construction, placement, and external and internal arrangements. I’d read the latest report by Lizabet Marsalis, the biologist. To date, her team had found no remnants of either flora or fauna. She was hopeful that core samples from a lake bottom might have organic traces, but after billions of years, even in a planetary deep freeze, finding remnants on the microscopic scale was problematic.