by Pam Uphoff
"No, ma'am. But I thought perhaps one crawler should be exclusively for the women, so how many . . . "
"Seven."
"Right." Ebsa glanced at Pie and Howl, then Acty. "Shall I see about a nine bunker, so Howl and Pie can guard that crawler?"
"Yes. Add that to your list." Acty was starting to look stunned.
Hasn't he got any field experience? "Yes, sir. I'll get the main vehicle requisition in tonight. Then start working up the supply list."
"Good."
Ebsa nodded, looked around at the group. "Are there any allergies, dietary restrictions or medical issues I need to know about before I order food?"
One thin man raised his nose and claimed to be a vegetarian.
There's always one.
He tapped out a few notes, including "Can they protect themselves, or will they need armed escorts every time they venture out?" which Acty promptly asked them, starting a storm of protests at the very idea of killing a poor dinosaur.
Ebsa eased away and circled around to the Action team. Garnered eight cold stares.
He kept his voice down. "Clearly these guys aren't safe without a keeper. But when you do, inevitably, kill a dinosaur, bring me some nice big roasts, eh?"
That got him laughs, and a clout on the shoulder. "You got it, Kid."
Acty hauled him apart, a look of half-panicked desperation in his eyes. "What the One Hell is a 'squishy?' They keep referring to them . . . "
"It's those collapsing rooms. Everything folds up, and it all slides together so it'll fit through the gate. You build up a dirt foundation, and it opens up into a good sized room with, usually, a shower, toilet and sink. They probably have one for a kitchen and dining hall as well. Sometimes the furniture is packed inside too, if it'll fit."
"Oh. Of course. It's just, I've never heard the term 'squishy,' before."
Ebsa grinned. "It's officially frowned on. Field expandable modules or something like that, officially. Relax, you're doing fine. Just keep ordering me to put it on the list. We'll, umm, look at the budget tonight and see what we have to shave down."
"Budget. Yeah, budgets I can do. One! Whoever sent you to us knew what they were doing."
Trying to save this poor desk jockey. Probably. Hoping I'd finally get eaten by a T-rex, possibly. "Thank you, sir. Umm, when we break for lunch, try to mix us in with the scholars. Get all chummy, so they ask us for help when they need it, not when they desperately need it."
"Chummy" wasn't a good description for what happened at lunch, but they were friendly enough that when they shifted to a workroom, Chief Ignu projected his plans on the wall.
Ebsa got claustrophobic just looking at them. "So . . . ten meter panels with two meters buried. Is that enough bracing? Perhaps packed dirt or rock in behind them in a berm? In fact, some spots for a lookout would be useful . . . "
The Chief looked down his nose. "Just leave it to the experts, sonny."
Ebsa shut his mouth until he saw the movement numbers. "Umm, ten flats, three crawlers, bulldozer, plus our five or six crawlers . . . what does the arrival area look like? We don't want to jam up anywhere." He pulled out his computer. "What's the world's designation? The Catalogue ought to cover that . . ."
"EM 0945."
Empty World, Mesozoic . . . Oh crap that's the number of . . .
"The same world they showed on the vid." The Chief grinned. "I daresay there will be an all new T-Rex in residence."
"I . . . see. Well. That arrival area is in a forest. Let me see when it was last visited." Ebsa tapped for information. Winced at the date. Not visited since we left, a bit less than two years ago. We cleared a lot, but it's been growing ever since. "Could have two-year-old trees in the way. And a few big ones that will have to be dodged, further back. That was just a three crawler expedition."
He got a couple of sharp looks.
The Chief looked over his shoulder and shrugged. "We're used to driving over obstructions like small trees. You'll see. The bulldozer goes through first."
I trust it goes fast, the gate time is expensive.
"The report says they cleared a road obliquely to the left as you leave the gate. There shouldn't be anything more than two-year-old trees or deadfall, that direction."
Lifted eyebrow. "We'll be the judge of that."
Acty nodded. "We've got a week to iron out details."
Ebsa took lots of notes. Started looking at what equipment was immediately available.
All in all, a good day, after a bad start.
My first honest-to-One Exploration Team. I need to beat them into shape and then get assigned to them permanently. So this short-term assignment is going to come off spotlessly. And then get myself posted to them permanently.
Back at the warehouse, Ebsa looked around, and sighed. Headed for the kitchen and grabbed a trash bag. Cleared the table, and hit the most obvious trash laying around. We need some team pride, some morale. This needs to be our space.
"Oh look, we have a servant." Pie looked down her nose.
Ebsa set his teeth in what probably didn't look like a smile. "So, whose turn is it to fix dinner, or do you lot just free range snack?"
Glares. He sat down and pulled his comp out. "So, I checked out the crawlers available, and I recommend grabbing these three specifically. One lab with a docbox. One electronics and communication center. Two bunks in each. One non-standard bunkhouse. Ten bunks rather than the usual eight, and double the bathroom space. Minimal kitchen, in consequence. All the women can stay there, and not have to share the lav with men."
"Good plan." Howl looked over at Pie. "What? You don't have brothers? Trust me, this is good."
"Three more crawlers, standard models, for the rest of us, the academics, and the Action Team. We'll have five spare bunks, three if we can't afford the Electronics crawler."
"Scratch one of those." Acty was looking at his own comp. "We've just gotten our eighth team member assigned. One! Right out of the jail. A disgraced Action Teamer . . . formerly with Team Twenty-nine." He leaned and thumped his head on the table. "Just shoot me."
"Hmm, at least he isn't going to disappear after a week. Really, Acty, we need someone who can shoot."
Both women shot glares his direction. Pie hissed. "He's right out of jail! He'll be more dangerous than the dinosaurs!"
"That depends on who it is. I have a friend who has a talent for getting into fights . . . " Ebsa turned as the door thumped shut behind him.
The man walking into the light was dark-haired and disheveled. Tall, muscular, balanced. Wearing cheap fabber gear. His expression was stony, as he eyed them all. Hung up on Ebsa.
"And here he is. Hey, Ra'd. How's it going?"
"It is suddenly looking much better. So . . . what's up?"
"Dinosaurs."
"Sounds good. How about pointing me at a shower and loaning me some real clothes?"
The rest of the team sat in aghast silence as Ebsa strolled off to raid his footlocker. They were close to the same size, so those pants should fit, that shirt, socks, his running shoes . . . He snagged his shave kit and walked back out.
" . . . old Directorate School chums. So, when are we going Across?"
Ebsa grinned. "He doesn't bite, people. But he does shoot very, very, well."
Silence.
Ra'd took the clothes and stalked off.
The team looked at Ebsa.
Pie crossed her arms and glared. "I recognize him from the vid. The man doing injury assessment. And you? You knew which way they cut the road from the gate."
Ebsa shrugged. Shoved up his left sleeve to show off the scars. "Yes, I stuck my arm in a T-Rex's mouth. No, I don't quite believe I did that either. Hysterical panic, I think. Like I said earlier. Sometimes you have to kill one. I just hope the construction crew can get the walls up fast, and we can keep the outings to groups, with one or two of us always on watch and armed."
"And that man's name isn't Ra'd."
"Yes it is. His Oner designation is Wqlw W
ithione Nicholas Makkah. His upbringing is not standard. He is honest and honorable. He will not rape anyone. He will get into fights over things he thinks are important. Just . . .be straightforward and he'll defend you with his life."
They stared at him blank-faced.
Sigh. "I'll go fix dinner." It was a piss-poor kitchen, nothing but the automat for ingredients, a few dirty pans and utensils. One hot plate. He tapped in orders to the automat, then cleaned everything while it assembled the ingredients. Pathetic substitutes, but at least the "rice" came cooked and he could concentrate on the rest of the meal.
"Mamas lock up your daughters."
Ebsa turned at Pie's voice.
"A man who can cook."
"Well, I hate to call it that, with this crap for ingredients, but it'll do until I have a shopping budget."
She crossed her arms and frowned at him. "You're taking over, aren't you?"
Ebsa shook his head. "Nope. I'm advising my Team Leader who has been abruptly kicked out of his comfort zone. You too, I think."
She shrugged. "We're drivers, Howl and I. We haul small special loads all over the Empire and out to Target Worlds. We don't do Dinosaurs."
"Oh good. All these crawlers, I was wondering who could drive them well enough to not scrape the gate."
"Heh. If you and Ra'd can drive, you'll only need one or two more drivers."
"We're not experts. I've driven one gate, I think Ra'd did one as well."
"Oh. That's not going to be pretty."
"Yeah." Ebsa turned his head at a change in the background noise. "I think the predator must be out among the lambs. Grab a couple of plates and maybe we can start turning this into a team." He filled dishes quickly and carried three of them out, returned for the last three. Set one in front of Pie, one for Ra'd, and sat down between her and Ra'd with his own.
Everyone but Ra'd was looking at their plates in surprise.
"That smells . . . good." Ultimate eyed his plate as if expecting it to disappear.
"Umm. I didn't think that thing could turn out anything that tasted like this!" Ijdu dug in.
"Sweet and sour ersatz chicken." Ebsa shrugged, and took a bite. "It's all right, but I like it better with real vegetables."
Ra'd swallowed. "His mother's this killer chef, down in Montevideo. One of those posh places where you have to reserve a table a week ahead of time to get in."
Ultimate savored a bite. "Umm. Do you have any unmarried sisters who can cook?"
"No sisters at all. Sorry."
Ra'd grinned. "Guess who just got assigned to be the camp cook."
Ebsa snickered. "We've been recognized, by the way. We got several hours of mission planning earlier, including a vid assembled from all the surveillance recordings the crawlers had of a certain dinosaur encounter."
"Ah, so they know you're insane. Don't worry though. He's insane in a nice way." Ra'd waved at the group. "How long have you been together? Last I heard from Ebsa he was trapped in a desk job."
"Just got the new orders this morning. I grabbed my gear and gleefully fled."
Acty shrugged. "The rest of us? Four days. So, welcome to Team Forty-eight. Apparently the only people they could spare from their desk jobs. Or in the case of Pie and Howl, from their delivery trucks."
"Excellent. Professional drivers. How many crawlers are you taking?"
"We've requested six. No telling what we'll actually get." Acty eyed Ra'd. "Action Team Twenty-nine will be with us the first week, then returning."
"Twenty-nine, figures. Well, even I can stand them for another week. If they're a problem, let Ebsa or me know. We're, umm . . . "
"Experienced in dealing with bullies of the action team variety." Ebsa shook his head. "I'd say something like, 'Gee it's been nearly a year since I've been in a fight. I miss hanging around with you.' But these guys would get the wrong idea."
Pie and Howl swapped looks. "Yeah. We just might."
Ebsa cleared his throat. "So, we're going in what? Five days?"
"If it looks like we'll have all of our supplies by then." Acty smiled faintly. "So, what are you going to tactfully steer us into doing until then?"
"Ooo, less than a day, and they've got you pegged." Ra'd grinned. "So, what are we going to be doing?"
"As soon as we get a crawler, we should go down to the practice track. All of us need to practice driving through their gate-sized ring. We're a bit short on drivers, unless the action team . . . " Ebsa looked back at Ra'd.
"I know they've done smaller vehicles. I, umm, only lasted six months with them. I stepped on a lot of toes."
"No surprise there. Anyhow, hanging around here I might even manage to pick up some managerial savvy . . . Umm, like how far ahead of time do we request a gate time? And do you do that or is that the job of an administrator type?" Ebsa looked over at Acty. Poor sod looked blank. "I suppose it varies according to how territorial the administrator is."
Acty forced a smile. "You're right. I'd better check so I don't land in Obso's black book."
They finished eating in near silence. Then Acty disappeared into his room.
By the time Ebsa'd cleaned the kitchen, Ra'd had the others at work detrashing the garage.
Ebsa scrubbed the table and eyed the overhead lights. Maybe a bit of maintenance, later.
Acty returned looking relieved.
"You'll be pleased to know that most of our equipment requests have been approved. We will have a squishy lab on a flat, that will become part of the permanent facilities. We will not have an electronics crawler, but we'll have a comm hub, which will also become part of the permanent setup. Once the permanent gate is up, they will install a laser relay so we will have solid communications home as well. Our gate is scheduled for five days from now—the fifth of Jumada—at twenty-two hundred. We'll pick up the first crawler the day after tomorrow. We can check it out in the morning, and we have an afternoon slot at the training grounds." He huffed out an amused breath. "I have actually managed to impress the administrator. Now if you'll excuse me, today started very early, and tomorrow probably will as well. Good night."
Okli nodded. "Me too."
The women drifted off with vague waves. At least they weren't treating Ra'd like a slavering rapist.
Ultimate stood and took a step away, turned back. "You are going to save us from this cluster fuck, right?"
"Yep." Ebsa tried to sound confident. I'm sure as the One Hell determined!
I-do shoved back from the table. "Good, because we spent four days floundering in terror until you showed up."
Ra'd watched them until their doors were all closed. Then he eyed Ebsa. "That bad?"
"Yep. They are completely clueless. So. This is our opportunity to create a solid working Exploration Team, and hopefully get assigned permanently to it."
"Optimist. I doubt Action will let me go, even now that they're combined into a single subdirectorate. So . . . since I don't believe in coincidence, how did you manage to get me out of the pit of doom?" Ra'd looked almost amused. "Nanny."
"Eavesdropped on some boss types. Didn't quite call in an old favor, but Senior Administrator Kael recognized me. She was fighting tooth and nail to not assign an Action Team to this mess, and a snide mention was made of someone beating up half his team mates." Ebsa shrugged. "I leaped to the obvious conclusion, and innocently asked if the troublemaker could shoot, because we really needed a shooter . . . "
"And Senior Admin Kael-the-Bitch gladly gave me the boot. And I beat up the entire team. But only four of them were hospitalized. Now I just need to gnaw through the leash and maybe I will be free."
Ebsa nodded. "Listen up, Ra'd. No fights with the Action Team. We only have to put up with them for seven days."
"Yes, Nanny."
"If they need beating up, just sit back and watch me take care of them."
A razor sharp grin. "With pleasure."
***
The second organizational meeting was intensely practical. Right down to the total
number of forks. Which had Ebsa ordering more. And other things as well. The BA 20 raised eyebrows, and the rounds—penetrating explosive fragmenters—had Administrator Obso choking faintly.
Ra'd looked over at him. "How do you think Ebsa killed that T-Rex? Exploration Leader Ajha said it was absolutely necessary on any World with animals this large."
"Ajha . . . " Obso blinked at him. Frowned around the room and finally focused on back Ebsa. "That was you two?"
"Yes. On that expedition Ajha had seven Teamers to mind five scholars. We need those rounds, and that gun. We need at least two of them. Three, if the Teamers don't have one."
"Bloody hell those guns are expensive. You can have one." He tapped at his comp. "Those rounds are sixteen rials each. Please use them sensibly. Frugally."
Ebsa did not say out loud that that was a rounding error for the total cost of an expedition like this one.
Then he had to argue further for a supply of real spices. Obso rolled his eyes, and signed off on that as well. Then on to other consumables. Fab refills, stocks of paper goods. Linen for the beds in the eighteen squishies. Towels. Cleaning supplies . . .
Lots of details for the builders, which they mostly already had thought of. Ebsa was relieved by their obvious experience and preparation.
My team is the least experienced of any of the others. Even the Academicians have done field work before.
The Action Team got tired of glaring at Ra'd, got bored and disappeared for a very long lunch.
Ebsa prodded Acty into suggesting to the Administrator that they send out for sandwiches.
The Action Team showed up right after delivery, making Ebsa wonder just why they'd been hanging around the entrance of the building.
Ra'd is going to have to watch his back.
Chapter Two
17 Jumada 1405 yp
Gate City, North America
"That's a bit of a wreck."
Ebsa eyed Acty, then looked back at the dents in the crawler. They look . . . familiar.
The mechanic bristled. "Do you have any idea how short on equipment we are? If the Powers That Be will stop panicking over their precious Special Super Secret Project—which everyone knows has to be those weird Helios people—or wait six months instead of trying to instantly field every team in existence and some that aren't," he glanced meaningfully at them, "we could properly supply those teams. We can supply you with everything you need. What is available right now is the crawler we decided to use for spare parts, rather than try to repair."
