Troy Rising 3 - The Hot Gate (19 page)

* * *

“EM2 Parker reporting to the squadron commander,” Dana said, saluting. Her hair looked like crap and her suit was covered in some goop from one of the power relays. But it said “at earliest convenience.” Which is mil-speak for “right damned now.”

“Parker,” the CO said, distractedly. “How goes the maintenance.”

Captain Higgins got along with the Latins very well. It took Dana a while to figure out why. Finally she’d pieced most of it together. He was big, physically and in personality, an Annapolis grad, ergo from their perspective from the “right” class, and was very respectful of their culture.

Which meant he’d been playing the game their way from the date of taking command. Make things look good and they are good.

Right up until the Alliance Navy ordered, and monitored, MASSEX where every little niggling item that had been glossed over and covered up came home to roost. Well, not every item. The birds had been so broken it hadn’t been terribly apparent how bad the coxswains were. Dana felt a bit bad about that last part. She’d ended up conning the division to their LZ and screaming at division coxswains that weren’t meeting her standards of flight safety and quality. Which made them look marginally competent.

The Latins loved Captain Higgins. Still. Dana wished she was his rating officer. He’d be…somewhere very unpleasant and unimportant. Somewhere she’d heard about a post called Diego Garcia but she wasn’t even sure where it was. But since it was apparently a Latin post it would be right up his alley.

“The division’s birds are all nominal, sir,” Dana replied. “Twenty-Four was down with a bad transformer. That has been rectified.”

“Good, good,” Higgins said, looking at something on his screen. “Tell me you have ‘dress uniform or formal uniform suitable for a high level official function.’ ”

“Yes, sir,” Dana replied.

“You do?” Higgins said, looking up.

“I have my dress uniform, sir,” Dana said.

“That will have to do,” Higgins said. “Is it pressed?”

“It is pressed, sir,” Dana said, frowning.

“How do the birds…look?” the captain asked, nervously.

“Sir?” Dana said, confused. “They look like shuttles, sir.”

“What is their physical condition?” Higgins said. “Are they clean? How scratched up?”

“Sir…” Dana said. She wanted to say “It’s my division, sir.” “There is some scuffing due to use, sir. But they are squared away. Well, Twenty-Four will be as soon as Sans finishes cleaning up.”

“Okay,” Higgins said. “And your cox rating is still up to date.”

“Yes, sir,” Dana said. “Sir, what is… Does this have to do with the MASSEX?”

“I don’t know what this has to do with,” Higgins said, his face firming up. “EM2 Parker you are on TDY orders as of 1300 this afternoon. You will take two Myrmidon shuttles from your division, with yourself as one of the coxswains for some reason, configured with passenger seats, and proceed to the Pentagon landing field in Crystal City there to take on a ‘high level DP delegation.’ EM3 Palencia is also specified. You choose the other engineer and cox. You and Palencia are required to have suitable wear, dress uniform or formal uniform. I’m going to require that all personnel have suitable dress. And you have to have… Definitely get your suit cleaned before you leave. But you need to leave as soon as you have made arrangements.”

“Aye, aye, sir” Dana said, her eyes wide. “This is an independent tasking, sir?”

“Apparently,” Higgins said. “You rendezvous deep space with two more shuttles from the Troy. I hope they have more senior personnel aboard. But you need to get cracking. Get your suit cleaned, choose your additional engineering personnel and which shuttles from your division are in best possible condition. I’m going to assume that the really high level DPs are going to fly with the senior people which means the 142 shuttles, of course. But the aides and assistants are terrible gossips. After the MASSEX I don’t need them gossiping about the visual appearance of our shuttles as well.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Dana said, still confused. She shook her head. “We’ll find out what it’s about eventually, sir. Sir, permission to…” How are you supposed to say it?

“Permission to withdraw, granted,” Higgins said, looking up. “Parker…”

“I won’t pee in the potted palms, sir,” Dana said, smiling in a rictus. “But I really do have a lot to do to get this done.”

“Go,” Higgins said. “Run.”

“Yes, sir,” Dana said. “Sir, one request.”

“Anything you need,” the CO said.

“Please… Could you make sure that…” Dana was trying to figure out how to put it delicately.

“That people don’t get in your way?” the CO asked. “I understand.” He put a finger on his temple and looked off in the distance. “Raptor, Hang-Man. Comet has been assigned a high level mission by DNav. She has the parameters of the mission. You need to run interference. Right. That would be the sort of interference, yes. Hang-Man out.” The CO looked up. “See Raptor.”

Coxswain’s Mate First Class Paul “Raptor” Kelly was the Flight NCOIC for Bravo Troop. Dana was sort of in his good graces in that even if his boat hadn’t made it out of the main bay, “his” coxswains had all been able to find the LZ and get their loads delivered. Of all the “Norte” personnel in the unit, he was the only one not taking major heat rounds. And he was more than aware that a good bit of that had been one bitchy ass engineer and former coxswain.

“Your orders are downloaded,” the CO said. “Now…run.”

* * *

“Palencia,” Dana commed, headed out of the CO’s quarters at a trot.

“Go, EM.”

“Drop everything. When Diaz freaks, tell him it’s a direct order from the CO. Raptor should be on the way down there to run interference. Everybody close up what they were doing, as long as the birds are up, and get in Twenty-Four. I need that transformer fluid cleaned up pronto. And then the bird needs to be cleaned from top to bottom. And I mean spotless. Then Velasquez and Sans get started on Twenty-Three. GI party the hell out of it.”

“What’s going on?”

“No time,” Dana said. “I’m going to have to get them to clean my suit as well. And yours. We’ve got a high priority mission.”

* * *

“Comet, Raptor.”

“Go,” Dana said as she hit the grab bar and entered the corridor. “Make a hole you Sud idiots!” she sent over the local channel. Bodies scattered. Fast. Quipu had lasted about a day as a handle. They called her Muerto Minisculo, the tiny death, in micro. The rest of the time it was Hielo Angelica, the angel of hell.

“What’s the mission and plan?”

“High level DP mission,” Dana said. “At least a week TDY. Two birds. I’m specifically designated, by Department of the Navy no less, as a coxswain not an engineer. Palencia is specifically designated as part of the party. Dress uniform required for myself and Palencia. CO has added all personnel have to have dress uniforms. I need our suits and the birds GId and I need another cox. I’d like Benito. If he has a dress uniform.”

“He’s not one of your coxes,” Raptor pointed out.

“I know that,” Dana said. “But he’s actually a good cox even if he’s an asshole. Sorry, Raptor, but only Contera is even marginal and we both know it.”

She flipped through the hatch of Twenty-Four to see Palencia, his helmet off, in a screaming match with Diaz.

“And I need you down here to handle Diaz,” Dana said. “Because I’m about to boot his ass out of my boats. Physically if I have to.”

Dana flipped her helmet shield up and screamed.

“CAN IT!”

“You cannot just shout at me…” Diaz said.

“Why not?” Dana yelled. “You yell at each other all the time! And I’m on short time, here. I just got tasked, directly, by the squadron commander. If you have issues with that, you need to take it up with him!”

“By Captain Higgins?” Diaz said, blinking.

“Yes,” Dana said. “Raptor is on his way to help. Palencia, Velasquez, Benito and myself are all on TDY as of 1300. Which means we have to have this bird cleaned up, and Twenty-Three, and be packed by 1300. We’ve got a deep space rendezvous to make with the One-Four-Two at 1335. So we have exactly no time for this. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” Diaz said. “I did not understand…”

“That is because the CO jumped the chain of command,” Dana said. “Because we’re on short time and it was quicker. Not your fault. Go check with Chief Alegria. He should be in the loop by now. But we need to get started on cleaning this bird up.”

“Why this one?” Palencia asked. But he’d learned. He was already working on where some of the transformer fluid had squirted on the starboard bulkhead.

“It’s the newest and we just got done performing all the checks,” Dana said. “I know it’s good, despite the little issue with the transformer. And once we get this stuff cleaned up, it’s also visually the best. Velasquez, I need you to clean down my suit.”

“Yes, miss,” the EA said.

“Yes, EM,” Dana said with a sigh.

“Uh…” the EA paused with his rag in the air when it finally dawned on him where he was going to have to rub.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Dana swore. “Just clean the damned suit, EA!”

“Yes, Engineer’s Mate!”

“Diaz, OUT OF MY BIRD!”

“Yes, EM,” Diaz said, snapping to attention.

“Vel, did you seal Twenty-Three when you left?” Dana asked.

“Yes, EM,” the EA said, rubbing at a spot on her suit. “And I set a telltale.”

So far it didn’t appear that anyone had tried to sabotage their ships. But Dana wasn’t taking any chances.

“As soon as you’re done with the suit, get back in the shuttle,” Dana said. “And start doing the pre-flight checks. When we get done with this one, we’ll start on Twenty-Three. When we get into Twenty-Three, you’re to head to your quarters and start packing. I hope you can pack very quickly. Palencia, you too. Dress uniforms and sufficient uniforms and linen for a week. You’ve got that. I know.”

Dana had not only been cracking down on their maintenance. Aware that it wasn’t the “done” thing in the modern military, she had nonetheless taken it upon herself to make them clean the pigsties they called rooms to her satisfaction. And she wasn’t easily satisfied. That included clean and pressed uniforms. Neatly hung, slight angle, one inch apart, dress right dress. They also weren’t allowed to fall behind on their laundry.

Going back to a “regular” squadron where she couldn’t be such a controlling bitch was going to be rough.

“These shuttles leave at thirteen hundred,” Dana continued. “Not at thirteen thirty or thirteen hundred tomorrow. Thirteen hundred this day. That gives us two hours.”

“What about lunch?”

One thing that Dana had cracked down on, right at the first, was lunch. Lunch had a special meaning to Latins. To the “lower classes” it basically didn’t exist. To the “right” people it was a three hour meet and greet.

They had compromised. They had as long as Dana took.

She ate like a sparrow. Small amounts and fast so the other birds didn’t get it. Three older male cousins. Like a lot of their compromises, the rest of the division didn’t like it. But they were also tired of jungleball.

“You’ve got helmet chow,” Dana said. “No time. And by the time we make earth all your suits have to be pristine. But you can have permission to work on them enroute.”

“There isn’t enough time,” Palencia said. “Is this how your Navy often operates?”

“You hope to have plenty of time to plan and you do what you have to to complete the mission,” Dana said. “So, yeah. Get over it. And there’s enough time. If we all work hard and as a team. Which is why we plan and prepare and learn little things like teamwork. So more scrubbing less bitching.”

“Leonidas,” Parker said. “EM2 Parker with a flight of two requesting vector to the Big Dark.”

“Roger, Comet,” Leonidas said. “Downloading flight path. Please observe all navigational hazards. Be aware of SAPL activity in main bay. You are cleared for exit to deep space. Main door is open.”

“Thank you, Leonidas,” Parker said. “Engineer, undocking sequence.”

“Undocking sequence, aye,” Velasquez said.

“And we are off into the wild black yonder,” Dana said as the docking clamps came away. It had been a while since she’d had control of a bird and she missed it. “Twenty-Four, follow me.”

“Roger, Comet,” Benito replied.

Thirteen hundred on the dot. They’d had enough time for her to work in a shower and fix her hair. Gear was stowed. Birds were in form.

“This is how things are supposed to work, Vel,” Dana said. “On mission and on delivery. Is any of this sinking in?”

“Oh, I see your points, EM,” Velasquez said. “And I’m still unsure we can change. I’m trying to figure out if I can change. It is not easy.”

“Understood,” Dana said. “Closing my helmet for a second.”

“Roger, EM.”

“Benito,” Dana commed.

“Benito.”

“Beni, I’m not sure what the hell is going on,” Dana said. “But it looks like high level actual real politics politics.”

“That would seem to be the tenor of the orders.”

“What I’m saying is…this is probably not a good time for screwing around. No matter what culture.”

“You stay in your corner, I’ll stay in mine.”

“Not sure that will work, either,” Dana said. “We’re going to have to present the front of being one big happy team. And from the POV of the flight, I asked for you, specifically.”

“Why?” He was clearly surprised. “And why could you ask?”

“Because I was put in charge of this team by Department of the Navy. At least until we make rendezvous. I don’t know why, so don’t even ask. Thing is, I asked for you because you’re a good driver. I trust you to fly the bird. Don’t… The term we’ve got in America is don’t cut off your nose to spite your face. That’s all I’m asking.”

“I will seriously consider it,” Benito commed. “But if you mean being a bad driver, as you put it, this is actually one of those things where our cultures are congruent. Being a good pilot is… You’re either a good pilot or you’re not. I’m not going to bend the bird.”

“Since this is a DP mission, there’s also not going to be a way to show off,” Dana said. “We’re not going to be hot-dogging it. Very definitely not going to be hot-dogging. Issues?”