by Vance Huxley
Bobby checked that he’d got five green lights, one from every squad member, and tripped his own. Mickey contacted Control to report the capsule ready for launch and Bobby let his mind drift. He smiled quietly as Bells flicked Magpie about the size of his connection being bigger, while she pointed out she was happy with her usual one, thanks. Then she told him that with the practice she got in barracks, hers didn’t hurt much. They didn’t actually say Magpie was female, not on the air, but Magpie and Hood took a certain amount of flickin now Mickey knew. They dished it out as well.
Losing their legs had only stopped Hood and Magpie for two weeks, once Mickey knew her strategic secret. Maybe having Mickey in the same quarters slowed them up a bit, but they’d both come out from behind the screen one morning with happy smiles. After that Mickey ignored their held hands, and them always helping each other when clipping and unclipping the metal. Magpie came out in a tight blouse, briefly, just to set his mind at rest she really was a woman. Then she’d given Mickey a comprehensive knife fighting lesson to stop any bright ideas about pooching. She put red paint down the edges of her practice blade and if the marks had been real, he’d have been jointed.
The radio broke Bobby out of his reverie. “Brace for lift-off. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill.” Bobby opened his mouth to object and saved his breath. The six of them were nicely boxed up and helpless.
Instead he tongued the internal squad com. “Relax because you all know the drill. Make sure you’ve actually tightened and clipped everything this time. Management have done it this way to make sure nobody gets nervous and runs at the last minute. Personally I’m pleased all the training is over.”
“At least we won’t get cold feet.” Bells sniggered. “Did you pack your short skirt and stockings, Magpie?” Bobby opened his mouth to tell him to watch it over the coms, but it didn’t matter who knew now.
The packs had been sealed for months, after the contents were checked by neutral observers. “You can wonder about that for six months, Bells, and if I’ve brought frillies or just tight and tiny. It’ll stop you pining for Les Putes.”
“Coms silence for lift-off.” Everyone cursed Mickey silently for being a stiff-necked dick. “Though now I’ll be wondering as well, Magpie.” Bobby mentally apologised for what he’d thought about the Super, because the round of giggles and sniggers settled everyone nicely. Then he found himself too busy remembering to breathe properly as the capsule shook and he found out just why that damn machine pummelling him had been training. Lift-off!
Spaced
“Please exercise strenuously. There are only four more exercise periods before final deceleration burns.” The calm, polite woman’s voice penetrated Bobby’s drugged haze. He worked the muscles of his throat and swallowed water to ease the pain. Five or six month’s experience, he’d lost count of actual time, dictated he drank as much as possible as soon as he woke. That way he could drink more before he slept. About halfway through the exercise a chime would announce mealtime, and Bobby would drink his food as well but from a different spout.
“Hrrrm.” Bobby drank again to loosen his vocal chords. “Count off, Basteds.”
“Basted one.” Mickey coughed. “I know, drink more.”
Hood’s voice sounded clearly. “Basted three.”
“Basted four.” As usual Siflis sounded dopey.
“Basted five.” Bells growled his reply, he always woke up in a foul mood. “Another bledrin headache.” He also seemed to have more headaches than anyone else.
Magpie sounded sleepy. “Basted six.” Since the drowsiness affected her and Siflis most, and Hood seemed least affected, Bobby thought body-weight might account for it. He’d given up worrying after a month, or maybe two. Now he didn’t care why as long as everyone woke up each time.
“Basted two here, take five to get plenty to drink, and get the kinks out.” Bobby took his own advice. As the acceleration increased and his body gained weight, he drank more water and eased cramped muscles. Then he flexed each joint and gently worked any that ached more than usual. Within the five minutes Bobby knew they had reached one gee, simply because he stopped getting heavier. “Start now, and count. Muscle stretches first this time.”
“Please sir, one of mine won’t stretch. Can Magpie give me a hand?”
His mouth muscles stretched as Bobby smiled, because sure enough Magpie came straight back. “If I could reach you Bells, I’d use a knife instead and solve your problems.”
“Please sir, that’s threats of violence against a fellow Trooper.”
Mickey’s voice cut in. “First off Magpie isn’t a fellow, and secondly if I could reach with a knife I’d help her.”
Bobby hoped Mickey kept this relaxation. He’d still be baggage in real strife, but at least not a distraction or interference. He smiled quietly and wondered how many would lose their bets if Beebi’s Basteds brought their officer back alive. “Now we know why our weaponry is locked down. Everyone drunk enough for now?” The affirmatives rolled in. “Then give it everything because we’ve nearly made it. You heard Aggie, only three more chances to get fit.” Siflis had complained about being nagged every time he woke up, so the electronic voice became Aggie the nag. He’d also complained bitterly that riding a spaceship didn’t come anywhere close to the vids and games.
“It doesn’t feel like six months?” Hood really didn’t sound sure and neither did the rest, though most thought it felt like more than the planned time. They’d all lost count of the waking periods, and weren’t even sure if they were woken every day.
* * *
The three remaining one hour sessions weren’t long enough to get fit, but dragged out for ever because they all wanted the trip over. They all went to sleep after the last session with real anticipation, at least partly at a change to their routine. Aggie confirmed that as they woke up again. “Deceleration burn starting in five minutes. Burn will maintain one gee for six hours, then cease for an eight-hour rest period. That will be repeated twice more for a total of eighteen hours deceleration. The final rest period may include capsule manoeuvring so please ignore unexpected g-forces. Be prepared for capsule separation at the end of the third rest period. These instructions will be repeated.” Bobby blinked rapidly until his eyes lubricated. Had the bledrin thing woken him early, or had the extra effort put into the exercises last time made him tired?
“Hrrrm.” Bobby snapped out of his reverie and cleared his throat, then winced. He’d forgotten to drink first. He got it right the second time. “Hrrrm. Basted two alive and more or less awake. Count off.”
“Basted one. Do you feel more tired? Never mind, later.”
Hood hadn’t been affected. “Basted three. Wakey, wakey.”
“Smug Basted. I’m Basted four.” Siflis yawned loudly. “Has Aggie started early?”
“Maybe, because she interrupted a wonderful dream. This Diva…” A storm of protest drowned Bells out. “All right, Basted five to all boring Basteds.”
“Basted six. What did Aggie say? I missed some of it because I was having the same dream and just about to say no and laugh.”
“Did you hear that, Hood, she’s teasing other men.”
“Just you, Bells, no men involved.” Hood coughed. “I’m dry. Did we sleep longer?”
“We don’t know how long we sleep normally.” Mickey coughed as well. “I’m relieved. I half expected the water to run out. At least there’ll be plenty at the target.”
“There will? Did I miss an update?” Bobby’s brain had woken up now and he cudgelled it into action. There’d be water waiting?
“Ice.” Mickey paused. “I’m sure there’s lots of ice in the Kuiper belt or anywhere out here. We grab a piece and use the lasers to melt it.” He chuckled. “I’ve been worrying about water for at least two months and still haven’t worked out how to get it inside my suit.”
“Take the connections from here, the capsule. We can screw them back on if we ever get back.” Siflis coughed. “If I don�
�t feel better soon I won’t care about dying.”
“We can’t put anything into the tubes in space, the pressure goes the wrong way and the air will go out.” Mickey still sounded worried.
“Crush the ice. Stick a plastic bag full of it around the end of the pipe and Gaffer tape it into place. We’ve got plenty of tape.” Magpie laughed, because they all carried half a dozen rolls of tape to repair their suits.
“I haven’t got a plastic bag. Who brings a bledrin plastic bag into space? How will we get food and water?” Bells had finally realised there might be a real problem.
“I do. I brought my strategic underwear in their plastic bags.” Magpie sniggered. “If you don’t fancy drinking from my knicker bag, hard luck.”
“I fancy it. I’m going to have dreams about your knickers and all that water.”
“I’ll have a laser, so be careful or I might warm up the wrong thing.” Hood sounded pissed, though by now he should be used to Bells and Magpie flickin each other.
“We’ve all got lasers. May the power be with you.” Bells had seen some space vid where the characters fought with laser swords, and expected theirs to work like that in space. Being told they wouldn’t by every single instructor hadn’t stopped him hoping.
“You won’t have any power if you don’t exercise.” Bobby sighed because he didn’t fancy this either. “We’ve got three sessions of six hours to get fit, so make the most of it. We will work like hell for the whole six hours. We’d better or the other squads will trample us. Unclip your arms properly and let’s get started.” By the time Aggie gave them the ten-minute warning before sleep, Bobby could barely move his arms. They really had weakened terribly despite the exercise periods. He hoped the rest of the squads were in the same position. Bobby fell asleep smiling because even if Bells got close to Les Putes, in his present physical condition he wouldn’t be able to do much about it.
* * *
By the end of the last exercise period, Bobby thought he might be able to put up some sort of fight. Although shattered physically and sore from the waste connections, somehow the three long periods awake left him feeling more alive. For the first time in six months or so the drugs didn’t keep him asleep. As he half-roused for the third time Bobby felt pressure as the spacecraft manoeuvred. The previous twice had been when the couch massaged his buttocks and shoulders which it must have been doing for the last six months. Bobby drifted back off and woke slowly but fairly clear-headed rather than in a haze of drugs.
At least his throat wasn’t as dry. Bobby took a drink, then remembered what would happen today and drank more. “Basted Two. Remember, drink all you can. There’ll be water in the packs, but we don’t know when we’ll get resupply.”
“Eat, drink and be merry. Basted one here, and I’m not merry because it’s drink, and drink. Worst still there’s no hint of booze in either drink. Shite, did Aggie give us a shot, I feel buzzed?” Mickey did sound a bit over-happy.
“Maybe it’s just because we slept properly, naturally without being put out.” Bobby didn’t want Magpie thinking that she’d been given uppers, not the way she felt about drugs. She’d go viral, and then Hood probably would. “Let’s hear you, Basteds.”
“Another cheerful Basted, number four. It’s not an upper, just feels more like a good night’s sleep.” Bobby smiled, he would bet Siflis had thought exactly the same about Magpie.
“Basted three feels like shite.” That surprised Bobby because Hood usually seemed most awake.
“Basted six does, but that’s normal and so is Hood waking up in a shite mood.”
“You should know. Basted five here and I feel up for something. Hey, do you think Les Putes woke up feeling this good?”
“They’ll be putting on their sexy underwear, short skirts and fishnets just for you, Bells.” Magpie sniggered. “The ones with a sheath for the gelding knife.”
“Enough, warm-up exercises right away and drink, drink, drink.”
“Yes Daddy.” Though everyone went silent after the round of laughter so they were drinking.
“Wha…?” Bobby spluttered and then coughed to get his throat cleared. The small vid-screen at eye level had lit up for the first time since leaving Earth. It showed a huge block of ice lit by a bright light. The wall of ice continued either side as could be seen when the camera zoomed back out. The rest of the picture looked pitch black at first with tiny, hard points of light until Bobby’s eyes adjusted. Then he could see a large blacker object occluding the lights as it moved slowly and ponderously across them. The black mass surrounded the circle of illuminated ice, and then tiny ripples of reflections showed it to be a stupendous iceberg.
At least Bobby assumed huge and stupendous, based on the light beam. Mickey must have wondered as well. “How big is that thing?” He cursed. “If that’s the target, we are so pooched.”
Bobby had opened his mouth to point out there could just be a transmitter attached someplace, when a series of bluish glows in the iceberg lit up from one end to the other and gave an impression of the true scale. A smaller block of ice tumbled between the camera and the iceberg reinforcing the idea of huge. “Those lights are under a lot of ice.” Siflis had to be right because the muted, diffuse light couldn’t happen out in space. As the lights grew brighter the whole exterior of the ice block turned pale blue, which concealed whatever lay underneath.
“This object is transmitting. Please dictate your impressions as report Outreach One.” Aggie’s impersonal tones came as a dash of cold reality.
“While you do that, systems checks and keep drinking.” Bobby gave the recorder his impressions between sips. He tried the food inlet but without success.
“Capsule launch in ten minutes. All capsules will be launched together. Please remember the capsule has minimal manoeuvring fuel, and that you will be released from your habitat five minutes after breakaway. Survival inputs and voiding connections will be transferred to your suit backpacks one minute before release. Your screens will show your relative positions and the direction and dimensions of the target object. You are expected to uphold the finest traditions of the UKs Armed Forces.” The anthem began to play.
“Drink but don’t piss.”
“I’m bursting….” Magpie stopped. “Why not?”
“Pee after we get cut off. The backpack will turn it into water again, allegedly. Remember?” Bobby didn’t fancy that, but at least there’d only be his liquids in the pack. His mind shied away from what he’d just drunk and where that came from.
“I was just thinking I could murder a curry, but not second time round.” Bells laughed. “Worse still, think what it would do to the air supply.”
“Mickey, have you got radar yet?”
“No, it should show up in front of you as well. I hope it starts up before release because I want to get clear of the rest.” Mickey had the manoeuvring controls, with a secondary set in front of Bobby in case the officer carked it.
“Try and find a chunk of ice to hide behind. I don’t trust the rest.” Bobby waited for the laughter to die down. “Not like that. I don’t trust their capsules either. One of them might have managed to arm the bledrin thing.”
“Run, hide, watch. Then nip in and steal the silver.” Everyone heard Mickey’s long sigh. “No rehearsals for this bit, and no sitrep or map.”
“Because it would be uneconomic to send out a camera probe. Fifty-four Troopers is cheaper.” Siflis sounded bitter, but Mickey didn’t pick him up on it so he probably felt the same. Some of the usual antagonism between Supers and Troopers had abated on this trip, because this one really was in the same shite.
Bobby felt the click as his weapons lock disengaged for the first time. He couldn’t draw it properly, but reached his laser wrong-handed, across his body, and raised it far enough to check the charge. “Check the charge on your laser pistol. Mine’s green so here’s hoping.” Within minutes all five reported the weapons charged. “Remember, the spacesuits are laser-proof so don’t waste the charge.
The face screens will darken so don’t try to blind anyone. Bells, don’t try sword fighting.” The noise wasn’t quite a worded protest, but the rest laughed. Bobby really did wonder, again, if they’d all been given an upper.
Though his mood soon darkened. Between the private lectures about grabbing the good stuff and the lack of a co-ordinated plan including all the squads Bobby still expected the next bit to be a bloodbath. The most he could plan for was to survive the initial chaos, then weigh up the situation.
* * *
“Two minutes. Please stop using the inputs and outputs until the capsule is disconnected.”
“You were right Mickey. We’ve been fed from the big rocket.”
“But Aggie didn’t say not to drink after release, so the capsule really must have some aboard.” Hood sounded relieved.
“Good point Hood. Mickey, I reckon we should stash the capsule, maybe fasten it to an ice block so it doesn’t drift off. Then we can find it again, just in case?” Bobby eased off giving Mickey direct instructions in case the dick started to get official.
“If we can nudge one gently, then melt the ice surface a bit?” Mickey sounded uncertain. “It’ll freeze again and that might glue them together. If the block is near enough that thing, there should be a bit of gravity to keep it close.”
“Could work. Good thinking.” Bobby needed all six of them thinking hard, and Mickey had officer training so he might come up with solutions the others wouldn’t. “Bells can use his laser for melting, just so he can see what it does.”
“Yesss.”
“I’m full, so I’m taking off the water connection to my backpack now. Shite, it’s leaking.” Three voices shouted at Magpie to use Gaffer tape. “Got it. I just wondered how we’d be released. If the bledrin thing spits us out, we might not get back to collect anything.”
