Along the sides of the Wyvern were pouches for spare gear or ammunition while the back held the primary ammo storage, americium reactor power system and a “bail-out bag” with the Marine’s ground-mount fighting gear.
Wyverns were entered by backing into the “belly” of the humanoid armor while the hatch opened down into a ramp. Two grab points were mounted on either side of the hatch to assist in entry. Berg turned around and grabbed the padded stanchions and in a practiced move lifted himself backwards and up into position. He slid his legs backwards to the curved calf pieces and could tell immediately that they were out of position. So were the bicep pieces. Even the foot pads were out of place.
“I’m usually pretty close to standard for one of these things,” Berg said.
“This was Harson’s,” Lyle whispered. “He was short.”
“Oh.”
Fitting the Wyvern took forever. Berg had been fitted twice before, once at his first duty station and again at FOT, but only at FOT had anyone taken the pains that Lyle did. It took nearly ten hours, a matter of adjusting the various control points that retransmitted the actions of the wearer’s whole body.
“Try the right middle finger,” Lyle said, stepping back.
Berg moved it up and down.
“Shiny. Rotate. Weapons mount. Look at the red ball.”
Berg tracked his head around to look at the light.
“Tracking,” Lyle said, as the light began to move.
“Shiny. Bite check,” Lyle said.
Berg clamped down on the bite-trigger of the Wyvern. The trigger was mounted on the right molars and required a certain degree of pressure to engage, preventing an “accidental discharge” by a casual bite. Just as special operations troopers tended to get carpal tunnel from continuously training with pistols, Wyvern operators tended to get TMJ. They also tended to talk through their teeth like Northeastern society matrons.
“Shiny. You’re done.”
“Finally,” Berg said.
“Hey, all you have to do is stand there,” Lyle said, smiling with a slight grimace.
“You okay?” Berg asked.
“Pain is weakness leaving the body,” the armorer replied. “Try stepping out.”
Berg flexed across his body while leaning forward and the control points dropped away. It wasn’t a computer generated response but a function of the way the control points were mounted. They wouldn’t break away in action — at least Berg had never heard of a case of them doing so — but with one focused “shrug” they all opened up. He stepped out, stretched, then lifted himself back into the compartment. Placing himself into the waiting control points, including sliding his hands into the gloves, he thrust backwards and was “wearing” the Wyvern again.
“Tomorrow we’ll go through the movement diagnostics,” Lyle said. “That’s it for today.”
“You take care, man,” Berg said, stepping out again and hitting the control to close the Wyvern’s belly. “Is it keyed to me, yet?”
“Tomorrow,” Lyle said. “See you at 1700.”
“All hands! All hands! Secure in quarters. Damage control parties to suits. Prepare for system entry.”
“Grapp,” Berg said. “I gotta scoot!”
“Like I said, see you at 1700.”
“Oh, joy,” Jaen said. “This is gonna be shiny as hell.”
“You gotta figure they’ve figured out how to get around that grav thing,” Onger said. The First Platoon team leader rolled into his rack and grinned. “Don’t mean I’m not sealing up.”
Berg hit the close button but left the door clear.
“Marines, this is the first sergeant,” the communicator over his head announced. “They think they’ve got the whole system entry thing fixed. It should be an easy ride. But same thing as last time; keep sealed up until the all clear. That’s all. Semper Fi.”
“Two-Gun, got any idea what ‘fixed’ means?” Jaen asked.
“Nada,” Berg admitted. “I mean, I was pretty good in high school physics and I read a lot. But that doesn’t make me an astrogator. It’s up to him.”
“Know anything about that guy?” Jaen said.
“Not a thing,” Berg admitted. “Lieutenant commander, right?”
“Yeah,” the team leader said. “Used to be a physicist. Got himself a commission just so he could be on the mission. You know that SEAL that bunks with Top?”
“I heard about him,” Berg said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him. No, he was down in the Wyvern bay one time, somebody said he was a SEAL.”
“He and the astrogator were in on the first gate openings,” Jaen said. “Apparently they went some pretty strange places, Dreen worlds and Mree. Cool, huh?”
“Wait,” Berg said. “He’s not Dr. William Weaver, is he?”
“You know about him?”
“Holy grapp, Jaen,” Berg said, grabbing his stubbly hair. “I can’t believe you don’t. The guy was given a Freedom Medal because they don’t give the damned Medal of Honor to civilians! That means that SEAL is Chief Warrant Officer Todd Miller and he did get the Medal! Jesus!”
“Really?” Jaen said. “Go figure.”
“Jesus, Sergeant,” Berg said. “Just Google William Weaver and start reading. It’s seriously derring-do maulk. I had no clue he was a navy officer. I mean, that guy’s one of my personal heroes.”
“Normal space drive at maximum,” the pilot said. The young man wasn’t quite sweating. “Three-zero KPS established. She will no go faster, Captain!”
“There’s a differential speed of nearly four-zero-zero kkps between E Eridani and Sol system,” Bill said. “We’re going to be screaming to catch up for about an hour.”
“Our heat is way up,” the XO inputted. “I’d say that we only have about thirty minutes more at maximum power before we’re going to have to cut power to chill.”
The problem the ship was having wasn’t going to go away. While star systems moved in a circle around the galactic center at an apparently similar rate, “apparently” was only on the basis of looking at them from a long way away. In fact, their relative rate of motion was hugely different. Just as the center of a wheel moves faster than the outer rim, relatively, stars closer to the galactic axis tended to move faster than those “outwards.” And even stars on the same relative point outwards from the center moved differently.
In the case of the jump from Sol to E Eridani, the ship was having to speed up to “catch up” to the local speeds, relative to Sol. More speed in normal space meant more power from the ardune reactor and the electrical transfer system, both of which pumped out enormous heat.
“I think we’re in too deep,” the CO said. The ship had stopped at three astronomical units from the star. “We’ll micro-jump to the edge of the system. Going this fast, relatively to the local system, we could run smack dab into a planet or a moon before we see it. Where’s that gravity wave zone, Commander?”
“About one thousand AU, sir,” Bill replied. “There should be plenty of room at about thirty AU. Farther out than that gets us into the Kuiper region and there could be literally thousands of small planetoids like Pluto floating around.”
“Set course for thirty AU out from the star towards Sol,” the CO said. “We’ll do a chill then start the adjustment over again. XO.”
“Sir.”
“Do up an SOP on that. Enter the system at a distance, slow down and chill, then get deeper in.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We learn as we go, gentlemen, we learn as we go. Commander, where’s my heading?”