“I’d kill for a good run,” Berg said, grunting as he thrust down on the lifters. “Weights just don’t do it for me.”
“You can run around the missile compartment,” Crowley said, curling right then left.
“Third’s down there doing Wyvern sims,” Berg pointed out. “I’d sort of be in the way.”
“Do the third level,” Drago said, wiping sweat off his face.
“What? And deal with missile watch? I swear the guy that’s on most of the time is gay.”
“Well, you know, Two-Gun,” Crowley said, grinning. “You got a real pretty mouth.”
“Go suck duck dicks, Crow,” Berg said as the door to the small gym opened.
“Good morning, Marines,” Runner said, grinning. “Mind if I join in?”
“Certainly, Master Sergeant,” Staff Sergeant Summerlin said.
“Runner or Steve will do,” Runner said, walking over to the Nautilus, just about the only machine not in use. “I was supposed to be here last night but the eminent Dr. Paul Dean had me analyzing Saturn data.”
“Why’s he still analyzing Saturn’s data?” Berg asked when nobody responded. “I mean, we’ve been to one world and I’m pretty sure we’ve surveyed several more…”
“We’ve collected at least spectral data from over ninety worlds so far,” Runner said, adjusting the machine and rolling into position. “Dropped probes on four more that looked interesting. And, of course, picked up all that data on Dean’s World. But we’ve just started on ‘serious analysis’ of Saturn’s data. That will, according to Dr. Dean, occupy us for the better part of a year. At least, occupy him. As soon as we’re back on Earth he can spend all the time in a lab he wants.”
“You sound unhappy, Master Sergeant Runner,” Crowley said, grinning.
“Dr. Dean is a classic California Liberal One Each,” Runner said, grimacing as he slammed the Nautilus pads together. “One who quite detests jingoistic myrmidons. That would be us. Or anyone else who has ever worn a uniform in anything other than the Red Army.”
“Jesus Christ,” Drago said. “What the grapp is he doing on a Navy ship?”
“He is, in case I hadn’t mentioned it, a quite brilliant planetologist,” Runner said, finishing his set and moving over to the leg machine. “A revolting son of a bitch of a pinko communist, but a great planetologist.”
“Maulk, I thought we had problems,” Jaen said. “All we’ve got to do is figure out what the potential implications of a baryon are.”
“Okay, I did not just hear a Marine say that,” Runner said, sitting up and looking over at the sergeant.
“You’re right, you didn’t,” Jaen replied, lying back and lifting up the weight bar. “You heard a Space Marine say that.”
“Point,” Runner said, grinning. “You guys have been studying particle physics?”
“More like memorizing some of them,” Berg said. “We don’t even touch the math. I don’t even touch the math.”
“Two-Gun’s the platoon’s tutor,” Staff Sergeant Sumerlin said.
“Two-Gun?” Runner asked.
“He’s the master of two-gun mojo,” Drago said, grinning.
“Two-gun mojo doesn’t work,” Runner said definitely.
“I only did it once,” Berg protested. “And it was on orders. I don’t do it in combat.”
“But he did it magnificently,” Jaen said. “Blew them little centipedes away.”
“You really two-gun mojo?” Runner said, interested.
“No, I don’t,” Berg replied. “I hold one gun in either hand, but I only fire one at a time. Empty that, switch to the off-hand while I holster, reload and switch.”
“That actually sounds doable,” Runner admitted.
“I’ve only really mojoed once,” Berg said bitterly. “It’s not like I make a habit of it.”
“Wait, you really mojoed,” Drago said. “Like firing two at once?”
“I am not talking about this!” Berg said.
“It’s okay, Two-Gun,” Jaen said, grinning. “Jeeze, he’s worse about this than he is about Weaver.”
“What’s he got against Commander Weaver?” Runner asked. “Bill’s a pretty good guy.”
“Wait,” Berg said, sitting up. “You’ve met him?”
“Yeah,” Runner said. “Pretty good guy for an egghead. Hell of an accent, though.”
“Oh. My. God,” Berg said, theatrically, slumping back down and grabbing his weights. “He has met William Weaver…” he sang.
“That’s right, Two-Gun, ham it up,” Drago said. “We all know you want to have his babies.”
“Commander Weaver’s an interesting character,” Runner said.
“We’ve heard,” Summer said. “At length.”
“Well, it’s not like I’m reciting the biography of Linda Sweet,” Berg said. “I mean, he was up close and personal with the Dreen.”
“And fighting the Dreen is a stone bitch,” Runner said. “Got that T-shirt.”
“You were in the Dreen War, Master Sergeant?” Jaen asked.
“I’ve been in seventeen years,” Runner said. “Do the math.”
“Sorry, Master Sergeant,” Jaen replied.
“Ah, that’s okay,” Runner said, moving to the next machine. “It’s just not something I like to talk about. We lost most of my team doing a recon of a Dreen infestation the first time we hit one. I’ve done… Maulk, I don’t know how many entries I’ve done on them since. We got detailed to do a lot of internal recons after the gates were closed. Did one on the Bekaa Valley infestation after they dropped the nukes. That was grapping hairy. Think ‘radioactive insane Dreen.’ ”
“Grapping ouch,” Drago said.
“Didn’t lose a man that time,” Runner said. “But it was… ugly. Really grapping ugly. Maulk I’m not ready to talk about. So, yeah, I was in the Dreen War. So was Chief Miller and, of course, Commander Weaver. Both of them got some pretty serious rad damage from it. And I think they’re the only two survivors with the SEAL team that put the bomb through the gate in Kentucky. Still fun guys to have a beer with. So, you guys are the Space Marines, huh? That anything like Space Cadets?”
“Intruder Alert! Intruder Alert! Second Platoon to Wyverns! First and Third to ground mount!”
“More like mushrooms,” Berg shouted as he headed out the door.
18
“Stable orbit around Procyon established,” the pilot said tiredly.
Six weeks after the surprising moon of E Eridani Beta, and three weeks after refilling their air tanks, Dr. Dean was looking more and more visionary in naming the planet after himself. In six weeks of star hopping the crew of the Vorpal Blade had seen a huge number of stars ranging from very pretty to very plain, gas giants by the scores, rings to make Saturn blush with shame, rocky planets by the dozens, moons, lots of moons, some of them with something resembling an atmosphere.
What it hadn’t found was another planet with so much as a scrap of life or anything resembling breathable air. Most of the rocky planets resembled either Mars, Venus or Earth’s moon.
“What’s Runner say?” the CO asked.
“He’s got one gas giant in the life zone,” Bill replied. “But Procyon’s a short lived star. I doubt life’s had a chance to take hold.”
“Got to check,” the CO said brightly. “Vector?”