“Of course you can,” Tirdal replied, his voice still deep and slow, unstressed. “When we get closer, however, the local life and environment will cloud your senses, whereas mine will get clearer. I’ll find individuals, and be able to tell their mental state, as clearly as I can feel your physiological frustration over not getting ‘laid’ the last night before we left.”
There was a moment’s pause, then an embarrassed chuckle all around that shut off quickly as they each realized how open they were to the Darhel’s powers.
Thor changed the subject quickly.
“What’s the local gravity, Sarge?”
“Er… one hundred and twelve percent of Earth normal, Thor,” Shiva replied.
“Guess that explains it. It feels about like home.”
“You’re from Ridloe? Yeah, I guess it would be.”
“Reminds me of Talin,” Gorilla commented.
“That’s where you won that pig screwing contest, right, Gorilla?” Ferret asked.
“Pig wrestling,” Gorilla corrected him.
“Sure. I know what I saw.” He made a squealing sound. There were more chuckles.
“You can try it next time, Ferret,” Gorilla said, easily. It was an old joke. “Those genetically altered razorbacks are vicious.”
“Nah,” he replied, no witty answer coming to him. It had been a mean pig, and Gorilla hadn’t even been drunk. He’d just decided to try the local entertainment and after a few muddy rolls and grapples had tossed the pig against the wall, stunning it and making people leap back, beers sloshing. Even the locals had been impressed.
Talk tapered off again. No one asked Tirdal any more questions. They were afraid of the answers.
Oh one hundred was officially lights out. Gun Doll and Gorilla stayed awake a bit longer, but the others started closing their eyes and trying to sleep right away. The process was made harder by the tight quarters that allowed no movement, the mostly upright position that was not comfortable nor natural for humans, and the lack of activity so far. Spasmic twitches betrayed bodies that were not fatigued enough. Still, rest of some kind was necessary. They’d be going for hours, perhaps days once ashore. Fitful sleep was better than no sleep, even if annoying.
There were various drugs, systems and training techniques that had been used over the years to “induce” sleep, not to mention ones that obviated the need for it, removed “boredom” reactions, removed such problems as claustrophobia and otherwise reduced the strain of DRT travel methods.
The problem with most of them, the exception being Hyberzine, was that they had long-term deleterious side effects. By and large the DRTs avoided the pharmacopia available to them and just “toughed it out.” And they only took Hyberzine during the extended travel involved in moving from star system to star system.
Maybe some of the pharmacopia would have been appropriate, but there were too many horror stories of drugged troopers losing it on missions to be willing to take the chance.
Chimed tones woke everyone at 0700. Shiva followed them with his own gravelly call.
“Rise and shine, boys and girls. It’s another spiffy, action-packed DRT day. A day without pain is a day without sunshine! First, we’ll start with a rousing breakfast of eggs Benedict and Celebes Kalosi coffee—”
“Ah, hell, Sarge, give it a break!” Thor snapped. He’d finally gotten to sleep about 0400, tossed and turned in his literal rack and was not feeling rested. He wanted more sleep and wasn’t going to get it.
“Everyone acknowledge and I’ll stop. Dagger?”
“Yo,” was the reply, sounding a bit strained.
“Gun Doll?”
“I’m here,” she said, following it with a yawn. It was almost sultry under the rasp.
“Ferret?”
“Yeah, if I have to.”
“Gorilla?”
“I hear you.”
“Tirdal?”
“I am awake,” he replied. He sounded as alert as ever.
“Okay, well, we don’t have eggs Benedict, but we do have hot chow, and we won’t be using any once on land. So dig in while you can. Only twenty more hours of plastic chow and comfortable racks.”
“ ‘Comfortable,’ the man says,” Ferret griped. “I think there’s a conspiracy between the Army and the Navy to make these damned pods as painful as possible, so we’ll be glad to get out of them even if it means dying.”
“So the secret’s out,” Shiva replied. “Guess we’ll have to kill you on this mission to keep it under wraps.”
The usual complaints continued as each pulled a “rat,” or ration pack, from his or her ruck. Once opened, the meals were self-heating, a catalyst in the pouch warming the surface. With a little stirring, the contents were piping hot. If a bitching troop is a happy troop, morale was high indeed.
“Anyone want to swap for tuna with noodles? Anything?” Gun Doll asked.
“I got chicken with rice,” Gorilla replied. “That work?”
“Please,” she said, relieved. Tuna with noodles was appropriate for interrogating prisoners. It wasn’t food for people. She could smell Gorilla’s revolting chamomile tea, too, but said nothing. If it helped him relax, that was good, and she’d tolerate it. What kind of masochist drank chamomile tea?
Tirdal had Darhel rations. The packaging was obviously different.
“Darhel can’t eat human food, Tirdal?” Bell Toll asked. He’d thought they could.
“We can,” Tirdal said. “There’s a few enzymes we have to avoid, but most of what you eat, I can.”
Thor asked, “So why the special rats?”
“It’s designed for high energy and is strictly vegetarian,” Tirdal replied. “We avoid meat.”
“Can’t? Or won’t eat it?” Dagger asked.
“I can and have, but prefer not to,” Tirdal said.
“Afraid to hurt an innocent cow?” Dagger pushed, apparently wanting a reaction.
“Hand me your meat patty,” Tirdal said in response. He clearly intended to take up the gauntlet.
“Sure,” Dagger agreed, tossing it. Tirdal caught it and, after a brief meditative pause, took a bite. His face as he bit was as expressionless as they had ever seen it but his teeth were obviously designed to cut flesh; they sheared effortlessly through the unrehydrated patty, rather than ripping it like human canines. He chewed slowly, swallowed, and tossed the rest back to Dagger. “Satisfied?”
“No problem,” Dagger said. “Just wondering.” He hadn’t been the only one. One of the training segments for DRTs was a survival course where one ate bugs, snakes and anything else that happened across one’s path. If Tirdal couldn’t or wouldn’t eat meat, he’d skated the course no matter what his records showed.
But Tirdal had clearly been distressed by the act. Or at least it was clear to Dagger. He wasn’t sure who else had caught it. Useful to know. It went along with that story that Darhel couldn’t kill. That’s why they’d blackmailed humans into fighting the Posleen for them. No matter what anyone said, the Darhel was a second-rater.
“Come on, Dagger,” Gun Doll put in. “You know I can eat anything you put in front of me. I just don’t like the taste of mammals. Icky.”
“Just wondering,” Dagger said again.
No one commented on the huge volume Tirdal packed away, like a teenager with late-night munchies. Perhaps he ate fewer but larger meals, or smaller daytime meals. Perhaps he was nervous and eating to compensate. It might be that he had a higher metabolism; he had mentioned that the food was “higher energy.” Or maybe he was just a pig. It wasn’t anything important, and no one felt friendly enough to inquire, especially after Dagger’s hazing made everyone feel awkward.
The team spent the morning reviewing their data and doing isometric exercises in place. The pod was too small to allow more than two troops to move around at a time, and even then, there was too little room to do anything other than walk circles. The cramped confines were one of the things they’d trained for. That didn’t make it pleasant. They were only too glad to walk those circles, around and around in front of teammates who either ignored them or stared through with dopey eyes, seeing but not noticing. After lunch, most of them brought up displays of open space to fight the growing claustrophobia one couldn’t avoid after hours in a closet. Gorilla had even kept his screens up while eating and sleeping.