Troy Rising 3 - The Hot Gate (14 page)

“A violation of honor?” Dana said, nodding. “Okay, I get it. I’m screwed, blued and tattooed. Which means there’s only one way forward. Changing course at this point would just make me look like, well, a pussy. So that means I have to play the same game just with some minor variations. Which means we have to discontinue this evolution and go to another one. Where can we keep the tools where they won’t get stolen?”

“Good luck,” Megdanoff said. “There are plenty of tools and parts. There’s no particular reason to steal them. It’s like a game to them.”

“Okay,” Dana said. “I’m good at those sort of games.”

“What are you going to do?” Megdanoff said, nervously.

“We’re going to play for the rest of the day,” Dana said. “Like I said, I’m good at games.”

“They will figure out where they are hidden,” Palencia commed.

“Sure they will,” Dana said, finishing the lashings on the toolbag. “But are they as questioning of their suits as you were?”

“Admittedly, yes,” Palencia said. He still sounded a bit nervous being out in the main bay.

“Then they can feel free to boldly go out onto the exterior of the hulls to get our tools,” Dana said. “And if their suits were as screwed up as yours, they can feel free to suck vacuum. They’re not my people. You are my people. And now we are going to go play.”

* * *

“Where the hell did you come from?”

The speaker was an American. Dana tagged him and shook her head.

“From the One-Four-Three, Sergeant First Class,” Dana said, smiling. The null grav courts weren’t full but they were close. And from the looks of things the only thing the Pathan Marines knew how to play was jungleball. On the other hand, they didn’t play it very well.

“You’re not authorized in this space, little lady,” Sergeant First Class Mat Del Papa said.

“If you’ll consult the schedule, Sergeant First Class, you will note that three of the null grav courts currently under use by your Marines are scheduled for the One-Four-Three.”

“Who never use the courts, miss,” the SFC said, patiently. “And, just an FYI, we try really hard not to mix in girls with the Pathans. It’s a straightforward religious insult to see a woman dressed the way you are.”

“In my issue PT t-shirt and issue shorts, SFC?” Dana said, smiling. “Since I’m, you know, a member of the Navy with a rank, Sergeant First Class?”

“That’s the way you wanna play it?” the SFC asked, his face blank.

“I’ve been playing games all day, Sergeant First Class,” Dana said, her smile fading and her eyes going from blue to gray. “I’m about sick of them to tell you the truth. A nice round of jungleball will do three things. One, it’s a game I know not flailing in the dark. Two, my men need training in micro. Three, it will cement that while I’m a split, I’m not a pussy, Sergeant First Class.”

“These guys barely play by jungleball rules, Engineer’s Mate Parker,” Del Papa pointed out.

“Any weapons?” Dana asked.

“No. We’re pretty careful about that one.”

“Then it’s all good,” Dana said. “Which court?”

“Four,” the SFC said, shaking his head. “If you’re really going to do this.”

“Palencia, you’re going to have to talk to them I suppose,” Dana said.

“Talk to them?” Palencia said. “I barely like carrying them. I talk to those Islamic assholes as little as possible.”

“Ah, the joys of being in an Alliance,” Dana said, putting in her mouth guard as the door to the court opened up.

“Sergeant First Class, what is this…this doing here?” one of the Pathans asked, pointing at Dana.

“This is Engineer’s Mate Second Class Parker, Sergeant Charikar,” Del Papa said. “She and her division are here to play null ball.”

“Her dress is as a whore, Sergeant.” The Afghan Marine was tall and, to Dana’s surprise, had blue eyes. “She should not even be allowed into our presence. It is an insult to God.”

“Nonetheless, her unit actually is scheduled to use this court,” Del Papa said. “And she and her team wish to play nullball. Since they didn’t bring anyone else, I suppose they need to play your team. Or you can cede the territory to her and wait for another and they can…play with themselves.”

“This is a deliberate insult,” Charikar said. “Our liaison will be informed of this incident.”

“Hey, what’s another reply by endorsement?” Dana asked.

“Says you,” Del Papa said, putting in his mouthpiece.

“You going to ref?”

“Wouldn’t miss this for worlds,” the Green Beret said. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“My guys are about to find out how to work in micro,” Dana said. “I’m about to get my mad out. Pretty much covers it.”

Five of the Pathans spilled out of the court, making way for her team. She was used to guys looking at her in her PT uniform. She was in shape and not particularly ugly. What she wasn’t used to was expressions of loathing.

“Is that really a woman?” one of them asked soto voce.

“You’ve seen them here,” a lance corporal replied. “They are whores.”

“You call our NCOIC a whore one more time and you’ll lose teeth,” Sans snarled.

“Then tell her not to dress like a whore, infidel!”

“Whoa!” Del Papa said. “Marines, keep your comments to yourself. Suds, do the same. You want to fight, you’re about to get your chance.”

“This is insane!” Palencia whispered to Dana as they walked onto the court. “These are animals.”

“Time to be a better animal,” Dana said, rotating her neck. “Look, you’re about the only one that has any ability in micro. These guys play by grabbing on and wrestling. And, apparently, biting. Keep moving and break their hold. Just let me carry the ball.”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to carry in null-ball,” Velasquez said, nervously.

“This is jungleball,” Dana said, rotating her jaw. “First rule of jungleball is technically no weapons. Real rule is do whatever you have to do to win. Now let’s beat up some Pathans.”

“And grav…off,” Del Papa said, releasing the ball upwards. “Game on!”

Dana pushed off from the wall and intercepted the ball before the first of the Pathans could get near it. A hand snaked out at her and she slammed the ball backwards and grabbed the Afghan’s wrist. She had enough velocity that they immediately went into a spin. Three more were closing on her, clearly intending a little four-on-one smack-down. Or knowing Pathans something much more personal. She spun the lance corporal into them and then bounced off the resulting tangle. That had four of them out of action for a moment. The only one remaining was Charikar who was closing on her, not the ball. She bounced off a wall, caught one of his ankles and went into a flat spin. By bouncing off the still tangled Afghans she managed to get a major rotation out of his body and slammed him into the pile. Hard.

“Call me a whore you flea-ridden, balless faggot?” Dana said. “Your mother was a whore in Peshawar who serviced only Jews.”

“And that’s goal!” Del Papa shouted. “Return to your sides.”

“What?” Dana said, looking around.

Palencia came bouncing back by her from the Afghan’s goal, grinning.

“You may be having fun but we have a game to win. Where did you learn that insult? It sounded like a direct translation.”

“It’s amazing what you can find on the hypernet.”

* * *

“Ooo,” Sans groaned as they walked out of the court. “That last round was a nightmare.”

Del Papa was just shaking his head.

“Did you have to send half the team to the infirmary? There’s getting your mad out and getting your mad out.”

“They were trying pretty damned hard to send me to the infirmary,” Dana said. She had a bite on her leg that was going to need to be looked at. “I was just returning the favor.”

“You’re not going to get them to respect you by being more Billy Bad-Ass than they are,” Del Papa said. “Quite the opposite.”

“I’m not trying to get the Pathans to respect me,” Dana said. “I don’t need them to respect me. I like Marines, generally. Get along with them great. USMC at least. These guys? Apparently this whole damned station runs by jungleball rules. Okay. I understand there’s a MASSEX in a couple of weeks to try to figure out this whole boarding thingy. Sergeant, I control your air, gravity and inertia. And as screwed up as everything else is on this station, I could kill a whole load of them and not only get away with it, because I am a very good engineer, but apparently it would be shrugged off with a, variously, manana or In’sh’allah. Sergeant, they should be sending me expensive chocolates.”

“I’ll keep that firmly in mind,” Del Papa said, chuckling. “And try to make sure I get a different boat.”

“Sergeant,” Dana said. “It wouldn’t even be a boat from my division.”

* * *

“Are we going to have to do that again?” Palencia asked when they were back in the squadron area.

“Every damned day,” Dana said. “One hour of weights and one hour of jungleball. Until you make my standards of micro activity. Vila, you’re going to have to make yourself scarce, as in in the squadron area but not in your room, while I have a private chat with Palencia.”

“Yes, EM,” Vila said, his eyes widening just a bit.

“Quiet chat?” Palencia asked.

“We’ll have to hold that until we’re, well, private,” Dana said, smiling and batting her eyes.

* * *

“Leonidas, Comet,” Dana said as soon as the hatch was closed.

“Go Comet,” Leonidas said over the 1MC.

“I need a high level lock on a recording,” Dana said. “To clarify, if the question ever comes up officially as to what was discussed, there is a recording. If there are simply rumors and low-level personnel are curious for prurient reasons, the recording cannot be opened.”

“You’ll need a high enough level lock-out,” Leonidas said. “I cannot interfere in chain-of-command.”

“Send a standard query to Chief Elizabeth Barnett,” Dana said. “That way the only person who can open it is one of the officers or the Squadron Chiefs.”

“Sent and…agreed,” Leonidas said, with a tone of curiosity.

“Thank you, Leonidas,” Dana said.

“You are welcome, Comet.”

“You have a good relationship with the AI,” Palencia said, curiously. “I don’t think that I have heard him more than twice.”

“I get along with AIs,” Dana said. “It’s a knack. Since they don’t have gonads, I figure it doesn’t have anything to do with my pheromones. Grab a seat, Palencia. We need to chat.”

“About?”

“I got a…not so much a dressing down as a cultural lecture from Megdanoff,” Dana said. “Apparently, everything I’ve done since hooking up with the division is wrong. And wrong in a really big way. Thing is, I get that I’m stepping on your culture, but I also know space. And while there may be a…fatalistic attitude about that in your culture, in my culture everything I said goes. I don’t want to go to your memorial service. I especially would like to avoid being the centerpiece of one. And the way the birds are, that’s more than likely. You’re an engineer, what I call a ‘real’ engineer. You’ve got to know that.”

“My bird is fine,” Palencia said, shrugging. “The air, gravity and drive work.”

“The grapnels don’t,” Dana said. “I’m not disagreeing, I’m trying to get a handle on this.”

“We rarely use them,” Palencia said, shrugging again. “So I don’t pay as much attention to them.”

“You guys don’t work the scrapyard?” Dana said.

“Rarely. And when we do, well, most of our grapnels don’t work so we don’t.”

“Is that a deliberate two-fer?” Dana asked.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“If your grapnels don’t work, you don’t have to work the scrapyard?”

“Still not quite getting your meaning,” Palencia said. “Perhaps it is the translation?”

Human implants were derivatives of the highest tech Glatun systems. They took into account accent and colloquial meaning where translatable. The only reason Palencia wouldn’t understand her was if he really could not understand the question or was simply avoiding it.

“Okay,” Dana said. “Do I just not know how to ask you questions?”

“There are questions and questions, EM,” Palencia said.

“Questions I can ask and questions I can’t ask?”

“More should avoid asking.”

“I guess I’m looking for cultural cues here,” Dana said. “I really don’t know how to handle your culture and I’m getting that. I’ve been told that it’s not even a good idea to try to be the best division in the squadron.”

“We already are the best division in the squadron,” Palencia said, shrugging. “I assumed that was why you were assigned to us.”

“What?” Dana said. “How? I don’t get it. I’m sorry, that’s not translating or something.”

“We have the highest marks in the squadron,” Palencia said. “We have repeatedly been at the top of the inspections. It is one of the reasons that we were so shocked by your approach. It was, yes, an insult to our competence when we felt we had already demonstrated it. And, as I said, I assume why you were placed with us. I’m sorry I had not realized who you were. Your reputation, as a pilot at least, proceeds you. What I found surprising was that you had no particular commendations for your many actions. You have a general NavCom and you were promoted rather fast, but no medals for valor.”

“I was just doing my job,” Dana said, shrugging.

“You were doing an excellent job,” Palencia replied. “You should have been given a medal for the station boarding at the very least. I think if I’m reading correctly that you were the first shuttle on the ground.”

“Second,” Dana said. “By maybe a second if that makes any sense. Thirty-One was there about the same time. They…didn’t make it off the LZ.”

“Again, getting your wounded ship back to pick up more Marines and then returning to the boarding action?” Palencia said. “There should have been a medal involved.”

“I’m not really big on medals,” Dana said, shrugging.

“Then you are mad,” Palencia said. “How else do people know who you are? What you’ve done?”

“You do,” Dana said, then slapped her forehead. “Damnit. Cultural.”

“I…do not understand,” Palencia said.