by John Ringo
“Nothing, sir,” Dana said. “Do they know the identities of the pilots?”
“No,” Athena replied. “But due to the interconnectedness and familial nature of the coxswains and engineers of the One-Four-Three it could be more or less expected that some of the DPs would know some of the members. The only shock, and this is something that may be an issue, may be EM2 Parker. However, Parker’s name was on the basic formulating document. I’m unsure if the original issuer was aware of the socio-political aspect or not. It could go either way.”
“Why would SecNav send Parker if she’s...” MOGs commed. “Parker, something you want to tell me?”
“Long story, sir,” Dana said, looking over at Velasquez. He was pointedly paying attention to his engineering screen.
“SecNav was not the originator of the basic formulation,” Athena replied. “All other items, however, are classified.”
“Who the hell could get all these people to drop everything and travel to Wolf system, on Myrmidons, without any aides that really meet the definition, for a meeting?” MOGs asked.
“Classified.”
“Then we’re not going to speculate,” MOGs commed. “Okay... Palencia, tell all the... Sud? members of the flight to contact their parents and let them know they’re going to be arriving on earth in short order.”
“Aye, sir,” Palencia replied.
“Please let this be the last issue with getting these people to Wolf.”
* * *
“Captain,” Chief Barnett said. She was according him the honor of flying as his engineer.
“Yeah, Chief?” MOGs said.
“You know how we’ve been getting these reply by endorsements from the State Department about the Sud guys?”
“Yeah,” the squadron CO replied. They were a pain in the ass but he’d had one of the geeks write a program to give random platitudes. He just hit his mood and it automatically generated. Some of the invective was pretty fun.
“Dana’s been back-channeling for advice since she got to the One-Four-Three,” Barnett said. “And she’s been catching nothing but grief. Dana has collected forty-three of these things. I just checked and, sure enough, about half the people among the DPs have contributed.”
“Holy hell,” MOGs said, blinking. “Are they all as petty and stupid as...”
“ ‘You’re being mean to my precious boy,’ sir? Yes. For that matter, one of the DPs was the originator of two of the ones we’ve gotten.”
“Hell,” MOGs repeated. “I don’t know how to handle... This is international affairs stuff. I haven’t had to play that game in a long time and it depends on the culture. Damnit. Athena!”
“Captain?” the AI said.
“Got a second again?”
“I’m upgraded, I’ve had my task level reduced and things are pretty quiet at the moment. I’m actually a bit bored.”
“Are you keeping up with some of the political aspects of the Latin contingents and their relationship with...” Captain DiNote stopped and frowned.
“The fact that the Foreign Minister of Argentina is the originator of two complaints about racist treatment of personnel assigned to your unit, Captain? As the Chief would put it, there’s an AI network. If it’s not strictly outside our classification, and not much is, we share information. So, yes.”
“What the hell do we... Do you have the programming to give some advice about the political implications? How do I play this?”
“Ignore it,” Athena said. “Act as if it never happened. As the Foreign Minister will ignore your somewhat blunt and insulting replies. He’s not going to give you the cold shoulder any more than a Foreign Minister is going to do so given that you’re a lowly captain. But the essential aspect of this meeting has to do with the issues with Myrmidons and especially the One-Four-Three’s shuttles. Thus using Myrmidons instead of Columbias, visiting Granadica and the group that is being gathered. The shuttles will be packed. So while you are of a rank that normally would be below the level the Foreign Minister would normally deign to notice and although you have sent across his desk a very scathing reply by endorsement he is going to notice you as someone he has to be diplomatic with. He will, therefore, on the surface, ignore all previous negative interactions and appear very friendly. I would suggest you take the same approach.”
“Makes sense,” Barnett said.
“Agreed. I hope he’s playing by the same playbook.”
“The Argentineans, all of the Latin countries, are doing this because they want something. Something to them very large and important. Not from you, but they will see you as a means to that end. Rather, they are aware that if they treat you harshly or negatively, it will reduce the likelihood of their obtaining what they want.”
“What do they want?” Barnett asked.
“Classified,” Athena replied. “It is one of those things about being an AI. I know. All the AIs know. But they have so far concealed their agenda from the other parties. It is not our jobs to engage in functional espionage. We are, in fact, constrained against it except in matters of real security. This does not meet the test. Ergo, we cannot share it. What we are all finding humorous, though, is that their agenda for this meeting, while part of the official agenda of the meeting, has nothing to do with its real purpose. They may end up getting what they want, anyway. But only as a corollary to something they’re entirely unaware is going on. However, if any of that becomes obvious, to them, it will create a very real and serious international incident. So I would suggest you consider that information classified.”
“Will do,” MOGs said, looking at Barnett.
“Lips sealed,” the Chief said.
“Even off the Chief network,” MOGs noted.
“Absolutely.”
“It is likely, however, that they will be less pleasant, initially, to EM2 Parker, who has definitely attracted their ire. Which will be interesting. The Latins are very big about socio-political interactions. Which makes it even more humorous that the largest and most important socio-political aspect of this entire meeting is completely off their radar.”
“Which is?” DiNote asked.
“I think you’ll figure that out shortly after Flight Two arrives at the Pentagon.”
THIRTEEN
“Buenos Aires ATC, MOGs Two, flight of two Myrmidon shuttles, requesting clearance for descent from orbital.”
“Roger, MOGs Two. Descent path transmitting. You are number one for landing after approach to pattern. Unlimited descent rate authorized. Approach from the east.”
“So much for no hot-dogging,” Dana commed. “Looks like they want us to drop it. Beni, you ever do a hot drop?”
“Negative, Comet.”
“You need to maintain five hundred meters separation, behind by fifty. Get closer than that and the plasma shock sucks. Just lock the bead and follow me. We will not, however, be engaging in evasive maneuvers. Gimme a readback.”
“Five hundred meter separation, aye,” Benito commed. Coms did not transmit much in the way of emotion but the virtual sigh was apparent. “Fifty meters to the rear, aye. No evasive maneuvers, aye.”
Dana braked out of the LEO parking orbit and programmed in a hot drop. Shuttles could counteract far more than the earth’s gravity and as such they had no need to do a “hot” reentry like the rocket based systems. They could slow down to speeds which did not cause plasma build-up on reentry. Such entries were, however, slower than a hot drop.
There was a clear window from LEO, so as soon as the brake was completed, she nosed down and accelerated into the atmosphere. The shortest distance between two points is a straight line.
“Interesting that we’re coming in from the east,” Dana said, apparently unfazed by the buffeting.
The inertial systems could overcome up to four hundred gravities of momentum. The shocks and buffets the shuttle was experiencing were far lower than four hundred gravities.
However, the inertial system was based upon programmed delta-v. The system made a
bank that would crack an F-16 in half and turn the pilot to mush feel as if the passengers were in a building set on rock. External, unprogrammed, shocks were a different matter.
The craft felt like it was being repeatedly hit by triphammers.
“Probably because coming in from the west we’d be flying over Chile,” Velasquez said, his voice breaking into a slight squeak. “The two countries have a long history of conflict. Hull temperature approaching four thousand degrees C?”
“We’re good,” Dana said as another triphammer hit. “We’re getting into the deep atmosphere. That’ll start to cool us down.”
“Not if we don’t slow down,” Velasquez pointed out.
“We are slowing down,” Dana said, breezily. “We’re dropping past Mach Fifteen already.”
In fact, she was continuously braking in a smooth curve. By the time they hit the “real deep” they were dropping below the speed of sound. Of course, due to the varying speed of sound at different levels of the atmosphere, they’d broken the sound barrier seven times.
“LZ in sight,” Dana said as they dropped under Mach One. “Our vector is straight to the cargo. Engineer’s forward and we are going to do this by the numbers. Beni, skids on three...”
* * *
“Are they going to crash?”
The Buenos Aires spaceport had been in business for over ten years. With all the damage world-wide, Buenos Aires had become more prominent than before the Horvath and Rangora attacks and it was an important city even before New York, LA, London and Paris had been destroyed. The space port had a fair amount of traffic. Not as much as the Foreign Minister of Argentina would prefer, but it was not like he had not seen spacecraft take off and land. Columbia shuttles arrived or left several times a day.
Currently he was watching what appeared to be two crashing Myrmidons. The craft were coming in fast and more or less straight down. They looked as if they were falling.
“I certainly hope not,” Dr. Guillermo Palencia said. “Dario is on one of them.”
That had come as a bit of a shock. He knew that his son was part of the 143rd of course and that that unit had been chosen to supply the shuttles for their party. The South American portion of the meeting had planned upon insisting before learning that the 143rd had already been tapped. But there were forty engineers in the unit. However, when he’d thought about it it was natural that the Norte Americanos would send his son. They would see it as a way to make him more amenable to negotiation.
If Dario died, that plan, at least, would be out the window.
Suddenly landing skids dropped from the shuttles and at a rate that should have smashed the crew flat the shuttles slowed, dropped and in perfect unison touched the ground. Almost simultaneously the ramps on the ships dropped, revealing two space suited figures, sans helmets, in the opening.
No father could be prouder as his son marched down the ramp and up to Admiral Benito.
“Apparently the One-Forty-Third is not quite as incapable as has been suggested,” Dr. Palencia said, grinning from ear to ear.
* * *
“Admiral, MOGs Two, flight of two Myrmidon shuttles, is at your service, sir,” Palencia said, saluting.
“Engineer’s Mate,” Admiral Benito said, returning the salute. He glanced over the engineer’s shoulder and tried very hard not to grin as Beni took up position by the opening at a position of attention. “What are the conditions of boarding?”
“Personnel will assist as the Admiral orders, sir,” Palencia replied. “We are entirely at your service, sir.”
* * *
“Who is that?” The Foreign Minister asked, soto voce. A short-coupled blonde woman the Admiral didn’t recognize had taken up position in the opening of one of the shuttles.
Even before the words were out of his mouth he heard a grunt from Palencia.
“That is the infamous Comet Parker,” Dr. Palencia whispered.
“What?” the Foreign Minister said, trying to control his features. He was a career diplomat. He should have been able to keep his temper. “Your son apparently neglected to mention that. General, a moment of your time?”
* * *
Comet stood by the door at attention with a fixed smile that was more of a rictus on her face while there was a quick and what looked very much like unplanned colloquy among the various DPs. Then, en masse, they headed for Shuttle Twenty-Four. The hanger’s on and baggage handlers followed.
“What the hell?” Dana muttered.
A few minutes later she got a com chime.
“Twenty-three, we’re loaded and preparing to close the ramp,” Palencia commed.
“Okee, dokee,” Dana commed. “Vel, time to close it up.”
* * *
“Was that as much of a snub as it looked like?” Dana asked as soon as Vel was in his seat.
“Yes,” Velasquez said. “I’m sorry but apparently they did not get the word about your presence on the trip.”
“Sorry you didn’t get to talk to your dad,” Dana said. “Twenty-Four, you ready to lift?”
“Just getting the DPs settled.”
“Take your time,” Dana said. “We’ve only got a dozen admirals and other bigwigs waiting on us in Crystal City.”
“It...may be a bit,” Palencia commed.
* * *
“Was this a deliberate insult?” Dr. Palencia shouted. “And why in the hell didn’t any of you young idiots bother to mention that one of the pilots was Parker?”
“Frankly, Father, I wasn’t sure how to explain it,” Dario said, shrugging. “I don’t know why she was chosen. It could be an insult. But I don’t think that Parker is even aware of it if it is. She is not...subtle.”
“Perhaps it was to throw us off,” Dr. Barreiro said.
“I doubt that it was intended as a deliberate insult, gentlemen.” Jorge Herrera could have done without the surprise. This was a hard enough group of cats to herd.
“It must be in one form or another deliberate,” Admiral Benito said. “Parker is assigned as an engineer. So in addition to the insult, they sent an unqualified pilot.”
“Father, there I must disagree,” Benito said. “Parker is as qualified as any pilot in the squadron. When it comes to space flight, she is more qualified than even Coxswain Contreras.”
“Colonel Contreras took an enormous drop in pay, rank and prestige to have the opportunity to be a shuttle pilot,” General Barcena said, furiously. “He sacrificed for the good of his country and his race. How dare you suggest that a pilot with five thousand hours of flight time is not the equal of some trumped up little slattern? He should have been the other pilot. I assumed he would be chosen for a mission of this prestige.”
“As you say, General,” Benito replied. “May I have permission to lift? There are others awaiting our arrival in Washington.”
“Yes,” the General said. “We should be going.”
“Dario, you will stay here,” the Foreign Minister said. “There are matters to discuss.”
“I have duties, Minister,” Dario said, helplessly.
“Benito must fly,” Dr. Palencia said. “What do you have to do?”
“My position is in the flight compartment, Father,” Dario said. He looked at the General, in desperation. “Sir, my duties are in the flight compartment.”
“If the Foreign Minister orders you to remain, you will remain. That is an order.”
“Yes, General.” Parker is going to kick my ass for this.
* * *
“Twenty-Four, prepared to lift.”
On a hunch, Dana activated the internal flight cameras.
“One, you don’t take off without your engineer’s butt in the cup,” Dana said. “Especially when we’re going through earth’s rubble belt. Two, you were specifically ordered to have minimum contact with the DPs. I’m seeing two gross violations or orders at the same time. Joy.”
“When you’re ordered by a general to sit, you sit, Twenty-Three.”
“Holy hell,” Dan
a muttered. “Stand by.”
* * *
“Holy hell,” MOGs muttered. “How sure are you on the boat?”
“Sir, it’s my division’s boat,” Dana commed. “Or I wouldn’t have brought it. It’s good.”
“Can’t that stupid son-of-a-bitch understand orders?” MOGs snarled. “I’m going to roast him over a slow flame.”
“Apparently General Barcena gave the order, sir,” Dana commed. “I’m thinking last order from a superior sort of holds, sir.”
“The details of how we define who is and is not permitted to give orders to whom start getting complicated. Technically, no, he’s in direct violation. Flagrant, even. But I’m not going to piss all over DPs. Thermal, remote monitor Twenty-Four. Permission to lift without the engineer’s butt in the cup.”
“Permission to lift, aye.”
* * *
“Where the hell are they?” Tyler fumed.
“Sir, with respect,” Admiral Gina Duvall said. Admiral Duvall was short and pushing fifty with red hair and a permanent set of smile wrinkles. Most career military, especially career female military, tended to develop a completely different set of wrinkles. Duvall seemed to be stuck on happy. “With South Americans, it’s a bit like herding cats. They’re probably still having negotiations over who gets what seats.”
“In fact, that is not the case, Admiral.” Rafael Velez was a Deputy Assistant Under Secretary from the South American desk in the State Department. “While the inclusion of Engineer’s Mate Parker in the party was noted, with some trepidation on the part of the State Department I might add, the fact that she was one of the pilots somehow escaped our attention. Which is unfortunate. This has caused a bit of an incident.”
“Because she’s not a Sud?” Tyler asked. “Or is it the blonde hair. God, I hate racists and sexists and South Americans meet both criteria.”
“In fact that is not the issue, exactly,” Velez said, in a slightly strangled tone. “The issue is that... Engineer’s Mate Parker has come to the attention of some of the South American distinguished persons before. Most of them, in fact.”
