The answer, to Jesse’s great disappointment, was a resounding NO. While they waited, the team’s two pilots came into the shared quarters, having been chased away from flight training while the ship prepared to maneuver for real. The Ruh Tostella did power up and detach from the star carrier’s docking platform, and did fire its normal-space engines to get clear of the star carrier before that vessel jumped away to drop off the second part of the Ruhar Task force. But the Toaster simply hung dead in space, while the giant Jeraptha ship created a powerful jump field and disappeared in a flash of gamma rays, taking the other Ruhar warships with it. “That’s it, then?” Jesse clenched his fists. “We’re just gonna wait here while the rest of the task force goes into action?”
“Colter,” Irene admonished the soldier gently. “This is a training ship, mostly run by cadets. You didn’t think they’d take this bucket into a real engagement, did you?”
“We’re carrying real weapons,” Jesse retorted before adding a “Ma’am.” While it was true that most of the ordnance carried in the ship’s magazines were training equipment that was oddly painted almost the same shade of blue the US military used to designate inert practice weapons, Jesse had seen genuine warshots on a tour of the ship’s portside aft missile magazine. He also knew the ship’s maser cannons and railgun batteries were capable of inflicting real punishment to an enemy. If needed, the Ruh Tostella could be transformed from training ship to light cruiser in a couple days of hard work. “Do you know what’s going on?”
Irene blew hair out of her eyes, then retied her flyaway ponytail. “Two hamster ships practicing a stealth recon mission found something odd, debris from a Ruhar civilian ship at a remote rendezvous site. If the commodore or the beetles thought it was really serious, they would have reported it in before sending ships to investigate. My guess is the civilian ship suffered an engineering failure, and the commodore thinks this is a perfect opportunity for realistic training. The Toaster isn’t going with the task force, in case there is any real danger.”
“Out here?” Shauna fiddled with the controls, expanding the view on the display. “This area was chosen for training because it is quiet.”
“It’s quiet now,” Irene stood and traced a fingernail along a line on the display. “Until recently, this line was the border of Thuranin-controlled space. If those little green MFers have second thoughts about ceding this territory to the Jeraptha, this sector could get hot real quick,” she bit her fingernail in a girlish gesture that got Derek’s full attention. “But I doubt it. If the task force thought the Toaster could be in a hazardous situation, we would be at action stations, and we’re not.”
Shauna automatically looked up at the Threat Condition indicator above the door. It showed yellow because the ship was maneuvering, but no external threat was anticipated. “How long until we know?”
Irene looked to Derek, who answered. “The ships on recon duty took three jumps to get back here, so they’ll take that many to return to the site they want to investigate. Then the commodore might want to use the opportunity for fleet maneuvers. A couple days, at least. Our training will be restricted in case the Toaster needs to move in a hurry, so no space combat exercises outside the ship,” he looked at Jesse, “and no flying around in dropships for us pilots. I’m sure the crew will think of something to keep the cadets busy and morale up.”
Irene was unfortunately correct, all the fun training was on hold while the Ruh Tostella waited for the task force to return. For the two pilots, there was no zooming around in dropships, so they used their time in a simulator, training to fly starships. Perkins mostly used the time in the ship’s Central Control Center, a combination bridge and CIC, learning as much as she could about space warfare tactics, command and control, and anything else she could absorb. Shauna, Dave and Jesse were bitterly disappointed, because they had been scheduled to perform a live spacedive from orbit to the surface of a planet, and now that phase of the training might be cancelled because the task force had a tight schedule and the cadets needed to return to school. They had been intensively training for three weeks to qualify for a real spacedive, and now they might never get the opportunity. All three of them had been looking forward to the spacedive, because several of the hamster cadets had already done it, and the three humans were eager to show they could do anything a hamster brat could do. And because no one could be considered to be Spaceborne Army without having made a real dive from orbit to the surface of a planet. And because they all wanted something to brag about when they returned to Paradise. And because, dammit, a spacedive from orbit just sounded like a whole lot of fun.
Nert was also glum about having the fun parts of training put on hold, but he was excited to finally have the humans join him for lunch in the galley closest to their assigned quarters. The Ruhar cadet had been inviting them to lunch since their first day aboard the ship, but their different training schedules had never allowed them the time. Dave and Jesse slapped together sandwiches and walked forward, warily looking through the door. Nert had suggested they arrive late, when lunch was winding down and fewer Ruhar would be jamming the tables there. He knew the humans felt awkward about being aboard an alien ship, and his fellow cadets would openly gawk at the humans as curious objects. Nert wanted the two Mavericks to wear their medals, reminding the cadets of how this group of primitive aliens had saved thousands of lives on Paradise, twice, but Dave explained the cadets might resent the humans for showing off, so the medals stayed tucked away in their cabins. “Hello, Misters Cornpone and Ski,” Nert beamed with delight as he saw his two friends standing in the doorway. He was thrilled to use nicknames for the team, although Jesse had cautioned him that while it was acceptable to call the three sergeants by the first names or nicknames, the three commissioned officers should be referred to be their ranks or last names. That had confused Nert, as the Ruhar military did not have a distinction between types of officers. There were no sergeants, warrant officers or petty officers in the Ruhar military. When Dave had tried to explain why sergeants were ‘non-commissioned’ officers, Nert had asked why an experienced Staff Sergeant should have to take orders from a Second Lieutenant who had zero experience. Dave had ruefully replied that he had the same question, but that’s the way it was.
“Hey, Nerty,” Dave used the nickname they used for their liaison officer. “Looks like the place is still plenty busy,” he looked around to see most tables were lined with cadets sitting elbow to elbow. “Should we come back later?”
“No, please, come in,” Nert gestured eagerly, his expression anxious and eager. “I have a table for us,” he pointed to a corner where one lunch tray sat by itself.
“Ok,” Jesse shrugged and walked in, nodding to acknowledge the staring hamster cadets. The three sat down and the humans took out their peanut butter sandwiches, chosen because they didn’t want to eat anything that might smell offensive to the Ruhar.
“I am sorry,” Nert shook his head and looked down at his food. “The Slusho machine is broken,” he pointed to another corner of the galley where a stainless-steel machine had a piece of yellow tape across it.
“Oh, Ok?” Dave was confused. “What is that?”
“Slusho is a drink you humans may consume without harm, I checked,” his chin bobbed up and down with frantic seriousness. “It would not provide any nutrition to you, but,” he grinned, “my mother tells me Slusho has no nutritional value to anyone.”
“I like it already,” Jesse grinned back. “What’s that you’re drinking?”
“Oh, no,” Nert paused from gulping down a greenish-yellow fluid that fizzed like a soda. “This is Slurm, my favorite. My mother says I am addicted to it, but it is just delicious. I-” he covered his mouth with embarrassment as he shook with a loud burp that drew attention from Ruhar at nearby tables. “I am sorry,” the cadet looked stricken.
“Hey, Nerty, don’t worry about it. I get the same reaction from a Coke, and man I wish I could have a Coke right now,” Jesse closed his eyes, i
magining an ice-cold soft drink rather than the ship’s recycled water they were stuck with. “That’s a, uh, we call it a soda, it’s fizzy like that Slurm stuff you’re drinking.”
“I think you humans can drink Slurm also, here, try it,” he held the cup out toward Jesse.
“Ah, thanks, Nerty, but we should wait for an Ok from the Colonel.”
Nert sipped his drink more slowly and asked about their orientation tour that morning, while they ate. The galley was clearing out, as cadets had to report to their next training session. Another shift of cadets came into the galley, getting food and staring intently at the three sitting by themselves. Dave noticed none of the incoming cadets joined their table, instead squeezing in where they could at other tables. “They don’t want to sit with us strange aliens, huh?” Dave whispered.
“Oh,” Nert was crestfallen. “Do not be insulted, Mister Ski. I am not,” he frowned and looked at the table. “I usually eat by myself. I am not, popular in this crew, I mean, with the cadets in my school.”
“They’re just jealous that you’re famous, you saved two giant transport ships from being blown up by Kristang commandos,” Dave patted the cadet on the back.
“No, I was not popular before that either,” Nert sounded miserable. “I have never been good at making friends, and it is worse now.”
“You are great at making friends with us. Is that Bifft asshole making trouble for you?” Jesse looked around the galley but did not see that particular cadet. Jesse had been around Ruhar long enough that they no longer all looked the same to him.
“He is not helping,” Nert admitted. “Bifft is very popular, he has a group of friends who are,” he looked up while trying to think of the correct word in English. “They are much admired at the academy.”
Dave and Jesse looked at each other. They knew at Nert’s age, being popular was the most important thing in the entire universe. They needed to think of a way to make Nert cool to his fellow cadets. “Hey, Nertster,” Dave winked while the young alien unhappily sipped Slurm through a straw. Dave held out a fist and Nert bumped it with a questioning look. “Don’t you worry. I got an idea.”
The next night, the Mavericks were seated at the back of a large briefing room that was being used for a sort of talent show that evening, as part of the adult crew’s effort to keep the cadets busy and entertained while the battlegroup was away. Perkins had requested for her team to be seated at the back because that way, her people were not on display unless the Ruhar turned around and stared openly. When a few cadets did that, a reprimanding look from officers straightened them out quickly.
The talent was mostly musical, with Perkins finding that she actually enjoyed much of the alien selections. The Ruhar had stringed instruments like guitars and violins, horns sort of like trumpets, and a keyboard. She did not see anything like the clarinet she had once tried to play when she was young, and she was grateful not to be reminded of too many hours sitting inside practicing when she would rather have been outside.
A three-person band just finished performing a pop tune that sounded a bit like an old Beatles song, and Perkins was surprised to see Nert stand and walk onto the stage by himself, a goofy grin on his face. The crowd murmured when they saw Nert step up the microphone, and that instead of having a musical instrument in his hands, he carried a large cup of some fizzy liquid. “What is he doing?” Perkins whispered to Irene, who shrugged because she had no idea.
“Don’t you worry, Colonel,” Dave whispered back with a wink as Nert began quickly chugging his drink.
“What the hell did you do?” Shauna hissed at Jesse, loudly enough that several Ruhar in front of them turned around to see what the commotion was about.
Jesse squeezed Shauna’s hand. “Watch. It’s gonna be epic.”
“If you embarrass Nerty,” Shauna squeezed back hard, and she was not being friendly.
“This is a human song,” Nert explained to the audience. He tipped back the cup to finish drinking. Then he burped the song loudly into the microphone. “Bur-happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday to you uuurp,” he finished with a sheepish grin, unsure of himself.
For a split second, there was complete silence in the room. Then, because of Nert’s goofy grin and because the cadets were, after all, teenagers, the hall exploded with uncontrollable laughter. Some cadets laughed so hard they fell out of their chairs, and that prompted another round of laughing. Nert made a short bow, having been coached not to overreach, and stepped down from the stage, making his way back to his chair. He was greeted by backslaps and many raised pinky fingers in a gesture that was the Ruhar equivalent of a thumbs up.
Before he sat down triumphantly, he pointed to Jesse and Dave then mimed a high five, the two men returned the gesture. In a move they had planned, the two humans held their hands out and bowed repeatedly toward the beaming cadet as if worshipping an idol. That gesture was picked up by a group of five other cadets and the wildly-grinning Nert bowed back, accepting the adulation.
“That was your idea?” Perkins asked with tears of laughter rolling down her cheeks. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you might have said no,” Dave explained. “If you did say no, you would have been wrong, Ma’am.”
“I can see that,” Perkins agreed as she watched the seated Nert continue to accept backslaps and admiring gestures from the audience, including a couple very amused officers.
“You did that, for Nerty?” Shauna whispered into Jesse’s ear, now squeezing his hand with distinct affection.
Jesse nodded. “It was Dave’s idea, we coached him. He needed a way to show he can be cool, you know? The poor little guy was sitting all alone in the galley.”
Shauna pulled away from Jesse’s ear to look closely into his eyes. “That was a wonderful thing to do. Jesse Colter, I may be falling for you.”
Don’t say it don’t say it don’t say it, Jesse warned himself. Do not blow it by saying those three words right now. Instead of fatefully risking a premature reply of ‘I love you’, Jesse listened to his inner voice of reason and merely nodded while gently squeezing her hand. At that moment, he could not remember ever being so happy.
The laughter settled down to sporadic chuckles as the next act set up their instruments on the stage. Perkins’s gaze swept the room, taking in cadets still pointing to Nert and chuckling with approval, until she saw Bifft and his crew. That senior cadet was glaring pure hatred at Nert, talking to his crew in a low voice, and he smacked a fist into a palm.
This could be trouble, Perkins thought to herself. Since her people had just given Bifft another reason to hate Nert, she felt responsible. “Dave,” she began to whisper, then coughed at the realization she had used the sergeant’s first name because that seemed so natural. “Sergeant Czajka, I need you to keep an eye on that senior cadet,” she said with a meaningful glance toward Bifft. “He might be trouble for Nert.”
Perkins’ instincts were right, after the talent show Bifft and his friends confronted Nert in the passageway, and was not deterred by Jesse and Dave standing next to their alien friend. Bifft’s jaw was set and he squeezed a fist in anger while he jabbed a finger at the two humans. “It is an insult that I am stuck aboard a vessel of war, with you primitive humans and treacherous Kristang. Our leaders indulge their pets too much.”
“Ah,” Jesse waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “Don’t you worry about it, Biffty. We know you being here is an insult, but we don’t let it bother us none.”
“Wha-what?” The senior cadet sputtered. “It is not an insult to you. It is an insult to my people.”
“Hey, man, whatever turns you on,” Dave shrugged.
“Turns, me, on?” Bifft repeated slowly as he ran back the translation, confused. Then, thinking he understood, the pink skin of his face grew red under the light fuzz of fur. “I do not get sexually excited!”
“Not ever?” Nert spoke up before Dave or Jesse could reply. “Well, with a face like that, it’s best not to get
your hopes up.”
Dave did not know which reaction was more extreme; the uproar of laughter at Bifft’s expense, or the murderous look of hatred that the embarrassed senior cadet shot toward Nert. Even the three cadets in Bifft’s crew could not help laughing at their leader’s plight, and Bifft ground his incisors before spinning and attempting to stomp dramatically away, squeezing through the laughing crowd in the passageway. Except the toe of one boot tripped on something, sending Bifft crashing into the door frame. His dignity completely gone, Bifft ran around a corner. His three companions recovered as best they could, their shoulders still shaking with laughter, and hurried out the door.
“Nerty, man, day-um!” Dave held a hand. “That was classic!”
Nert slapped Dave’s hand, and offered a high-five to Jesse. “Thank you,” Nert said simply, having been coached not to ruin the moment by grandstanding.
“What is this?” Another cadet asked, holding up a hand hesitantly.
“This?” Nert slapped the cadet’s outstretched hand, more gently than he had done with the two humans. “This is a human gesture of joy and approval. They call it a ‘high five’,” he explained, and counted off his five fingers. With a grin he added “If Kristang did this, they would call it a ‘high four’?”
“Ha!” Jesse grinned back. “You are on fire today, Nerty!”
For a second, Nert froze, not understanding the term, then he smiled as his translator earpiece explained it to him.
Dave noticed the Ruhar cadets were tentatively giving high-fives to each other, hesitantly tapping palms. “Jesse, let’s show them how it’s done, huh? Hey, uh, cadets, let’s say your friend,” he pointed to Jesse, “just scored a point to win a game. You give him this. Up high,” the men slapped over their heads, “down low,” a slap at waist level, “behind the back,” they spun to complete the gesture. “And finish with this,” they jumped high and slapped hard enough that Dave’s hand stung from the impact.
Mavericks (Expeditionary Force Book 6) Page 14
