East of the Sun, West of the Moon tcw-4

by John Ringo

Bus was gliding past on a parabolic arc at the end of his tether. Herzer considered that for a moment, then carefully removed one of the hand magnets. He tied a quick knot in a spare safety line and flicked the magnet towards Van Buskirk’s back.

  The magnet, unfortunately, missed. But he thought it was a viable technique.

  He reeled himself in, retrieved the line and worked his way over to the ladder up to the support building.

  The large building was actually a floating dock over the old quarry. It had an open bottom and under it was a large mock-up of portions of the ship where the team was supposed to train for microgravity conditions, including combat. So far, Herzer was pretty sure they weren’t going to be able to fight worth a damn. He knew he sure as hell couldn’t get a feel for it. The only fighter they had that seemed to have a clue was Van Buskirk. Fighting in microgravity was entirely different from normal fighting and nothing that Herzer had tried in the hour-long test had worked. Bus had gotten three strikes in on him, on the other hand.

  When he reached the surface he let one of the support crew help him get his armor and helmet off. The armor was standard lorica, carefully padded to prevent wear and laid over the suit and helmet base. The “helmet” was actually a solid piece that lay across the shoulders and dipped down on the front and back to the middle of the chest and just above the shoulder blades. The original design had included a bubble helmet but Herzer had insisted on a metal helmet similar to a barbute with only a heavily constructed clear eye-slit on the front. Goggles could be dropped over the eyeslit when the user was in the bright sunlight of space. Underneath the user wore a fitted cloth cap that buckled under the chin and to which the communicator interface and water tube could be attached.

  The first thing that had to come off was the hand-cranked support pack that cooled the user and fed him air. So while the rest came off, Herzer had to deal with rebreathing his own exhaled breaths in the helmet. But the lorica came off quickly and then the helmet was unbuckled from under his arms and lifted over his head.

  “I hate that part,” he muttered.

  “Not much to like about any of this,” Bus admitted. “And you look like a lost cow in the water.”

  “We’re going to have to be really careful where we fight,” Herzer said, shrugging. “Blood Lords are good at about three to one on orcs. I don’t know how well we’ll do against the scorps, but I figure pretty well if they’re more or less the same as those we fought in Washan. We only lost one Blood Lord there and I killed three of the damned things. The elf is another question.”

  “Use the guns,” Bus said, shrugging. “Stand off and pump him full of darts if we can.”

  “There’s that,” Herzer said, nodding. “If we can. They don’t normally stand still to be killed. Well, let’s get the rest of the teams on this tomorrow. We’ll get the hang of it sooner or later.”

  “You’re overmuscling,” Bus said, shrugging. “You’re used to using your full strength in combat. You have to wait until you have a very solid platform or have already established movement in the direction so you’re compensating against it. It takes practice.”

  “And we’ve only got two weeks,” Herzer replied tightly. “Like I said, we’re going to have to be careful where we engage. Now let’s get out of these damned monkey suits.”

  “Just think,” Bus said as they walked to the changing room, “the next time you get it on, you’ll be with Megan.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Herzer said, groaning.

  “Oh, good lord,” Megan said, looking at the handful of antiblister and sealing agent. “Do you know what this looks like?”

  Megan was sitting on one of the benches in the microgravity training changing room, her suit crumpled at her feet and her stare fixed on the slippery substance in her hand. It was whitish and viscous and looked just like…

  “At first I thought it looked like… something guys produce,” Herzer said, taking a large bottle of the material and squirting it into the suit boots. “Then I realized what it was. They just got a bunch of sexual lubrication cream and told us it was sealing agent.”

  “It’s not that,” Evan argued, stuffing his feet down into the suit and wriggling them around to get the cream he’d already poured in squished around. “I’ve tested it. It really does a good job on minor seals. And getting in these suits would be hard without it.”

  “I’m not covering myself in a sexual aid,” Megan said definitely.

  “It’s that or have blisters,” Herzer pointed out. “Put it in the suit, Megan. Stress point, remember?”

  “I do,” Megan said, rubbing the viscous fluid on her leg and wincing. “I am not ever going to enjoy this process.”

  “How are you doing, Geo?” Linda asked as the old engineer walked into the engineering quarters day-room.

  They’d been training on microgravity for the last four days, nearly sixteen hours a day. Everyone was getting better in the unusual environment but they had a long way to go. And the training was clearly taking it out of the oldster; he looked worn to a nub.

  Since they spent the whole day with their respective teams, she and Geo had taken to meeting in the evenings in the day-room to talk about the engineering aspects of the mission. She found it fascinating to simply sit and listen to him talk about physics for hours, but she was also careful to keep the meetings short. The old man needed his sleep. And, for the same reason, anything else was out.

  “Tired,” Geo admitted, smiling. “But very much looking forward to getting to the ship. I’m pretty sure I’ve figured out how to adjust the Tammens to perform intermediate fields. Together with a neural interface from the computer mains, it will mean Megan, at least, will be able to directly manipulate the fusion plant outputs. That’s bound to be useful.”

  “Won’t that mean going to each of them and modifying them?” Linda asked, waving him to one of the day-room seats.

  “There are two spare Tammens listed in Maintenance,” Geo said, shrugging. “And there are four high-energy plasma coils running down the midline for the main thrusters. If we install a field shunt, we can run the full power of all four to the two field generators and draw off at least sixty percent of the fusion bottle power. Four of the Tammens, for that matter, are in the rear section that Herzer intends to secure. If we can modify them, and set up more field shunts in Engineering, we’ll be able to get full draw. That means we’ll have effective control of the latitude thrust of the ship as well as permitting Megan to use direct power. The way I’ll set it up, Reyes won’t be able to steal it, either.”

  “That’s going to be useful,” Linda said. “Definitely bring it up with Herzer, though, so he can include it in his planning. Now, you were trying to explain those binary linking equations last night…”

  “So where were you last night, Tao?” Van Krief asked as she heard the westerner’s door shut.

  “Washan,” Tao called though the connecting bathroom.

  “Escort duty again?” Van Krief asked, disparagingly.

  “And picking up another intel packet,” Tao said, walking through the bathroom and looking at her with a raised eyebrow. “What’s eating you?”

  “Well, I’m getting ready to go get killed in deep space,” Van Krief answered with a frown. “Destrang is hanging around the War Department thinking deep thoughts. And you’re… swaining.”

  “Wanna switch?” Tao asked, chuckling. “Seriously, this gig is going to be hell to my career. I feel like I got transferred to the protocol office. And if you think you’re bitchy about it, you ought to meet Meredith. She can be really caustic.”

  “No, I don’t want to switch,” Van Krief said. “Among other things, I’m the wrong sex.” She paused and thought about that for a moment then shrugged. “Okay, I’m interested in the wrong sex.”

  “I’m not going to complain about trying to keep up with Shanea,” Tao said, shrugging in return. “Although it’s pretty damned hard. The girl… never mind. But, yeah, it’s my job right now. And how the hell do you w
rite that on an efficiency report?”

  “ ‘During the previous six months this officer has performed the hardest and longest missions to the highest possible standards. His stamina and skill are a wonder to the command,’ ” Van Krief recited sonorously.

  “Very funny,” Tao said but he had to chuckle. “I don’t get what’s eating you about it. Give.”

  He looked at her as her face worked and then shook his head.

  “You’re still carrying a torch for Herzer?” Tao asked, amazed. “For God’s sake, Mo, give it up.”

  “I guess I have to,” the little blonde said bitterly. “It’s not like I can compete with a Council member, is it?”

  “Herzer didn’t fall for Megan because she was a Key-holder,” Tao pointed out. “And you’re a subordinate, Mo. Face it, you’ve spent most of your time around Herzer as one of his troops. Good commanders, and he’s a very good commander, don’t screw the help. You know that!”

  “I nearly had him once,” Van Krief said, tightly, then shook her head. “God, listen to me. I should be running, not chasing.”

  “Bingo,” Tao said. “And concentrating on your mission, not mine. And certainly not that you’d like to be doing with Herzer what I’m doing with Shanea.”

  “It’s more than that,” Amosis said, angrily. “You can tell that that little harem bitch is just stringing him along. He’s not getting any; you know that, right? So what’s wrong with me? Why the hell would he stay in that relationship when…” She stopped and shook her head.

  “Oh, Christo, Mo,” Tao said, just as angrily. “Drop it already. You’re his subordinate. He’s head over heels for Megan. She’s in love with him. You’re out, girl, six different ways. Get over it.”

  “I guess I’ll have to,” Van Krief said, plumping up her pillows and lying back on the bed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some reading to do. I have a very complicated mission to prepare for. And Herzer’s bound to jump my ass if I don’t know as much about the ship as he does.”

  “You go, girl,” Tao said, suddenly tired. “And be careful.”

  “Hey, Paul,” Herzer said, as Satyat passed on his way to class. “Getting the hang of wrench turning in micro?”

  “Getting there, sir,” the engineer said, giving him a half salute and getting prepared for the next question.

  “What are the tools to disassemble the helium injector on the main ion cannon?” Herzer asked, pausing.

  “Fourteen- and eighteen-millimeter hydrospanners,” Satyat said, screwing up his face. It was always a different question and somehow Herzer always hit you with one you weren’t prepared for. “Proton injection shield, four-millimeter punch and… Shit.”

  “And a crowbar,” Herzer said, smiling faintly. “The lid’s got a magseal all the way around and you’ll have to pop it at the lower port quadrant if you’re on the starboard injector or the starboard on port. If you have a screwdriver, you can try to pry it off. But you’re going to have a hard time. And don’t use the punch; it’s too thin and it’ll probably ruin the punch.”

  “Got it,” Paul said, shaking his head. “Do you actually know all of our jobs or do you just study for certain questions?”

  “Guess,” Herzer said, nodding as he walked off.

  “Do you ever get any sleep, Herzer?” Edmund asked as his avatar appeared in the commander’s office.

  “Not much,” Herzer admitted, tossing the form he was studying to the desk. He glanced at the chronometer on the wall and blanched when he realized it was three AM. “I’ve scheduled a rest day for just before the mission; everyone’s getting pretty stressed out. And you’re one to talk, boss. I’ve at least got you by a century or so of youth.”

  “Thanks for mentioning it,” Edmund said, sourly. “But I’m on the west coast, three hours behind you. And I’m getting ready for bed.”

  “What are you doing out there?” Herzer asked, his forehead furrowing.

  “Looking at a new collier design,” Edmund said. “The builders think they can get about twenty-five percent more stores on her over clippers for about a ten percent reduction in speed. She won’t be able to keep up with the fleet, but if it works it will be perfect for cross-ocean and mid-ocean resupply. The Navy’s in tight with the east coast designers, though, and they’re balking at changing designs. I’m trying to figure out if it’s worth the pissing match.”

  “Life, and the bureaucratic pissing match, goes on,” Herzer said, chuckling. “Speaking of which, Megan told me that Aikawa wanted the Icarus mission. Especially after the first team got killed.”

  “He had a point,” Edmund admitted. “Ishtar and Aikawa have been doing the majority of the fighting to this point and they’ve won. But I’ve looked at their warmaking style and, frankly, I’m not impressed. I guess when we invade we’ll see who’s better. But winning counts for a lot. However, they gave Sheida the mission at least in part because most of their elite forces were either decimated by the wars or are still engaged. Frankly, Aikawa’s shuren warriors might have been better for space fighting than the Blood Lords. But they’re so overextended it’s not funny. So we got it. Just do the job and leave the Council to its discussions. If you win, nobody will have any reason to bitch. So what are you working on at three AM?”

  “All the paperwork I can’t keep up with during the day,” Herzer said, sighing. “And the training is not going well, anyway. I don’t think I’ll ever figure out microgravity combat.”

  “Maybe we should have sent mer-men,” Edmund said, seriously. “You know that’s what they fight in all the time, right?”

  “Not exactly,” Herzer replied. “They have something to push against: water. In microgravity you don’t have diddly. I don’t think they’d do any better except at situational awareness. And they couldn’t move in the grav areas at all. No, we’re just going to have to either figure it out or avoid it. We’re doing okay when we’re on the hull and can use our boots, but in full microgravity we’re still pretty lost. Except Van Buskirk; he’s got the moves down from ER before the Fall.”

  “It’s not going to go better if you can’t see straight,” Edmund said. “Drop the paperwork and go to bed. I don’t suppose things are going any better with you and Megan?”

  “No,” Herzer said, shrugging. “But at least here we’re in different beds.”

  “Lighter, Jacklyn,” Van Buskirk signaled as the computer tech soared past him. He was parked in the middle of the underwater cylinder at the end of his safety line, working his team through a fast traverse of a microgravity environment. Of course, there was fast and then there was fast. Too fast to get to your grab point was too fast.

  The response from Jacklyn Pledger was a gesture that was universal. The gesture, however, imparted spin and made her miss the crossbar she was aiming for. Fortunately, it was a complete miss since at the speed she was going it would have been bruising to impact.

  Bus pulled, lightly, on his safety line, which got him headed in the general direction of the computer tech. He judged his snatch finely and managed to get a hand on her ankle. A very slight tug sent him “up” towards the top of the cylinder but it also spun Jacklyn towards the nearest wall.

  He grabbed the cross-member she had been aiming for and turned to watch the shapely computer tech’s landing. The water had slowed her speed so she didn’t break her wrists when she hit the wall and managed to get her feet under her. As Bus watched she turned clumsily around and began gesturing.

  He didn’t get all the gestures, but the general gist was apparent.

  “Agreed,” he signaled, waving to the team on the far wall and the safety divers. “Call the exercise. Surface.”

  “Fisk this shit,” Jacklyn said, peeling out of the skin-tight suit. “I am done. I am not going in that tank one more time!”

  “Calm down,” Bus said, trying not to stare at the liquid-covered body. The antiblister liquid that filled the suits was remarkably similar to the sort of jelly used for sexual lubrication, which had originally occasioned s
ome bawdy jokes. At this point it was just another pain to be borne since while it made getting the suits on easy, it made taking them off damned hard. At least it had been.

  Jacklyn cursed luridly as her hands slipped on the suit and she stood bolt upright, shaking from head to toe.

  “I AM SO FISKING OUT OF HERE!” she screamed, quivering.

  “Jackie, let me help,” Linda said, getting a grip on the slippery suit and yanking it down over the other girl’s arms. “Just take a deep breath. We’re all tired.”

  “I can not keep up this pace, okay?” Jacklyn said, turning to the captain with tears in her eyes, holding the suit up to cover her breasts. “I’m not a Blood Lord, okay? I was a computer nerd. I liked playing with old systems. After the Fall I was a damned waitress! I can not keep going in that tank hour after hour! Get us a God damned break, Bus, or I swear I’ll quit and FISK the bonus!”

  “Same here,” Michelle said. The pilot had long brown hair with touches of blonde streaked through it from the sun and a face the near side of beautiful with slight epicanthic folds and high cheekbones. Her green eyes were shadowed and baggy, though. “I’m as dialed in as I can get with the shitty ‘simulators’ we have. And I’m not going into that damned lake again, either. I’ll do the mission, but I’m done with training sixteen hours a day. There’s a point where it’s overkill and we’re past it.”

  “Ditto,” Linda said, her face firm. “I’ve talked to the other engineers and we’re all worn out. The pace is especially killing Geo. He’s trying to keep up with all us youngsters and, tough as he is, he hasn’t got the stamina. He has to have a break. We all do.”

  “I’ve got the message,” Bus said, yanking his suit down to his waist. “I’ll bring it up, okay? That’s all I can do.”

  “Tell Herzer he can kiss my ass if I’m going into that lake one more time,” Jacklyn said, frowning.

  “There’s going to have to be at least one more exercise,” Bus said. “We haven’t worked as a group, yet. Can you handle it once more?”