by John Ringo
"Where's the other problems?" Tyler asked, trying not to grimace.
"Stuff just . . ." MOGS said, shrugging in frustration. "The problem is we can't track down any one point. Sometimes it's internal grav, but the inertics seem to work just fine. Just . . . you'll get funky gravity in some spots on some boats. Comes and goes."
" ‘Funky gravity' can be a real problem," Tyler said, frowning. "I remember some of the problems Boeing had with their first grav systems. Gravity vortexes can be . . . critical issues."
"None of it has really been critical so far," DiNote said. "Except the relay issue."
"Okay," Tyler said. "Hard to track down and inconsistent problems. That's fun. And the relay issue. And things need more redundancy."
"I'm pretty sure there's going to be a full report," DiNote said. "That's just off the top of my head."
"I've found that these sorts of conversations and screaming at people is often more useful than a carefully prepared PowerPoint," Tyler said. "So I'm going to go scream at people. As soon as we have fuel again, I'll get Granadica started on some really good relays. And I'll get some people to look at the problems with the gravity systems. That may take some skull sweat but I know some people with really good skulls."
SEVENTEEN
"Beor, that was genius," To'Jopeviq said. "The lack of fuel will hold them up for at least six months. There's no way they can get that gas mine finished before we arrive in force. They don't have enough fuel to finish the mine!"
The trade embargo had gone into effect only shortly before the war against the Glatun. You could never really trust the official reports, but things there seemed to be going well. The current plan would free up some forces to attack Terra in no more than six months if all went well. To'Jopeviq was still having a hard time agreeing with his analysts on what would be necessary to attack the human system. The Aggressor battleships, two steps down in throw weight from Assault Vectors, were much more powerful than Devastators with heavier screens and more throw weight. Avama was convinced that the simple appearance of a Rangora fleet would have the humans asking for a negotiated surrender. Toer was insisting that anything less than multiple AVs, which was pretty much out of the question, was too little.
Either way the trade embargo was sure to cripple the humans.
"Thank you," the Kazi said. "Unfortunately, you are not my rating officer."
"Tell me who it is and I'll send him a letter of commendation," To'Jopeviq said. "I start to understand the problem with deciding what will work with humans. I don't think they can make up their own minds."
"There is that," Beor said.
"There is a study off their own hypernet," To'Jopeviq said. "Avama sent it to me showing how ‘peaceful' they are. I don't know what cloud he is currently floating on because it involves a piece of land they have been battling over since their pre-history."
"Forty thousand years?" Beor said.
"They haven't had writing that long," To'Jopeviq said. "No, but at least five thousand. The first battles are only written about in their religious tracts. And as far as anyone can tell, it's been a battleground ever since. But the study showed that whereas if the people of the region were offered financial incentives to make peace, they rejected them. If they were offered purely ceremonial concessions, they were more willing."
"Ceremonial concessions?" Beor said.
"That each group would give up things that they saw as their ‘rights' in the conflict," To'Jopeviq said. "They refused economic concessions but would consider territorial concessions based on points of honor."
"It sounds like they need a good eugenics program," Beor said. "There are some very stupid humans."
"It seems that way," To'Jopeviq said. "Part of it, though, might be that one of the groups was already subject to a eugenics program. That explains the fierceness of battle but not the stupidity. And they really are stupid. Their history is replete with groups giving up important, even strategically vital, terrain for peace only to have to battle to get it back when the aggressor, naturally, didn't accept just part of the prize."
"Who won?" Beor asked.
"What?"
"Well, did the side that gave up the strategic ground win or lose in the end?" Beor asked.
"Hmmm . . ." To'Jopeviq said. "I'm just starting to look at their history. Just their military history is a big chunk . . ." He paused and looked at some recent wars in Terra's history. "They have had some long-drawn insurgencies . . ."
"Look for par war," Beor said. "More or less equal sides."
"Last big one was what they refer to as the Cold War," To'Jopeviq said. "The battles were mostly between insurgencies. The two major players were the Soviet Union and NATO. Lead group of NATO was . . . The Americans again."
"Did the Americans give up territory?" Beor asked.
"Repeatedly," To'Jopeviq said. "And they lost virtually every insurgency. And they lost the spy war. They got their butts thoroughly ki . . ." He stopped. "They won?"
"Interesting," Beor said. "Previous major war?"
"World War Two," To'Jopeviq said. "Hot war. USSR and Americans are allies against an axis of three enemies. Along with a minor group called the British. British were early in the war. Gave up territorial concessions for peace. Got their butts kicked, of course. The Americans lost almost all their overseas possessions. USSR was deeply invaded . . ."
"And they won?" Beor said.
"Damn," To'Jopeviq said. "I can see why the Horvath concentrated their bombardments on the Americans."
"How many people did they lose?" Beor asked.
"Millions," To'Jopeviq said. "And more to the plagues. Here's a good example of how stupid humans are. And especially these Americans. They entered a plea to the Glatun to intervene because, get this, the Horvath were using weapons of mass destruction against the civilian population!"
"That is funny," Beor said, hissing. "What else do they expect anyone to do. Destroying your enemy's will to fight is the whole purpose of war. What's their current status? After the bombardments?"
"The most powerful country on the planet by a long shot. I'm starting to see a pattern . . ."
"You think? Do they have enemies?"
"Pretty much the rest of the planet," To'Jopeviq said. "There are a few countries that don't actively hate them, but not many."
"I see an opportunity here . . ."
The was a quiet, almost hesitant, tap at the door.
"Come," To'Jopeviq said.
"Uh, we have a little bitty problem," Toer said, sticking his head in the door.
"Which is?"
"The humans have retaliated and cut off their hypercom connection," Toer said. "We don't have any up-to-date information anymore."
The good part about this job had been the almost total lack of information control on the part of the humans. Much of it was, obviously, disinformation. There was no way that any group could be as free with military secrets as the humans and especially the Americans. There were full specifications for their ships available on many "security" sites such as Janes. Which just meant that the specifications were false. The Horvath did that sort of thing, over-stating the ability of their craft.
The humans were clearly doing the same thing. Many of the abilities of their systems were clearly false. The only way they could have drives and lasers as powerful as listed was if the Glatun had given them access to all the Glatun's most advanced technology. And the Glatun were not that generous.
But by sifting through the lies, it was possible to get some clue as to their actual ability. Even Toer had finally agreed that the SAPL could not be as powerful as listed—it had that much raw power but there was no way that the humans could have mirrors that actually handled seventy petawatts—and the new Thunderbolt missiles could not have the drives or penetrators listed. But there were still nuggets of truth to be teased out.
Now all of that was gone.
"Well, we know they cannot complete their projects on Troy without fuel," Beor sai
d. "And they don't have fuel. So we'll have to do our projections on that basis. Take that into your calculations."
"What if they find a source of fuel?" Toer asked.
"Then we will be wrong," Beor said. "But we won't be wrong."
EIGHTEEN
"We waited until we were sure we had enough fuel to do the tanker," Nathan said, proudly. "Isn't she a beauty?"
"It's a blimp," Tyler said.
And that was just what it looked like. A half formed blimp at that. The spiders which had woven the pipes for the now operating, if slowly, gas mine were now spinning the tanker. They were about half done which meant that it looked like . . . half a big, silver, blimp.
"That's just the inner bladder," Nathan said with a slight pout. "We're going to insert it in the hull to prevent bleeding."
"Ah," Tyler said. "Where's the hull?"
"We're spinning it up," Nathan said. "Out system. Once it cools enough we'll send it in-system to pick up the bladder. Seal the end, put on some valves and we're good to go."
"Time?" Tyler asked. "The SecDef is getting antsy that his pretty little fleet is still docked. And then there's the rolling blackouts on earth."
"By the time the first tank on the mine is full, the tanker will be ready," Nathan said. "Month or so. I'm figuring the gas mine takes longer to get into full operation than the tanker."
"Well, it's already pumping enough to fill up Granadica and get back on track," Tyler said. "We're going to need her twin. Fast."
"You know, I haven't asked," Nathan said. "But this is going to be a lot of fuel. Where are you going to put it?"
"Someplace very very safe," Tyler said.
"CM," Dana said, sticking her head in the Flight NCOIC's office. She had her arms wrapped around her and she was shivering. "Is it the power shortage that has the AO freezing? I was just wondering." She didn't have any real cold-weather clothes on the Troy. A sweater under her flight-suit was the best she could do. And that wasn't cutting it.
Even with all the work done on Troy using the SAPL, the battlestation was well outside of the life zone. The sun's rays couldn't keep it above freezing.
That was, normally, handled by heating elements woven into the external portions of the crew areas. The crew areas were, essentially, self-contained, space stations within the battlestation. They were surrounded with insulation and the temperature maintained by the heating coils.
Which apparently weren't working.
"I was wondering the same thing," Glass said, blowing on his hands. "I tried turning the thermostat up but I didn't get anything out of it. And it's not like we can start a fire. Well, we could but it wouldn't be a good thing . . ."
"Is there somebody we can check with?"
"Colonel Helberg, Captain DiNote."
"Helberg, Captain."
"I'm getting some concerned inquiries regarding the temperature regulators in the Squadron area."
"Ah, that. Yes, it's a precautionary measure. Should be cleared up in short order."
"Precautionary measure?"
"We're about to do some major work in your AO with the SAPL. It was feared that there might be a high degree of thermal transfer. Lowering the temperature in your sector reduces the possibility of excessive thermal transfer as well as increasing the rate of cooling."
"So . . . it's freezing now, but pretty soon it's going to get really hot? Could you be more precise about ‘thermal transfer'?"
"We're hoping for simply warm. But we'll probably do a precautionary evacuation of your Charlie Flight areas."
"I could have used some coordination on this, Colonel."
"Things have been somewhat complex lately, Captain. I apologize."
"I'll tell my people. Oh, may I inquire, purely for curiosity's sake, what you mean by ‘major SAPL work in my AO' given that SAPL can gut battlecruisers like a trout?"
✺ ✺ ✺
"They're making the what?" Dana said.
She'd pulled a blanket off her bed and was wrapped in it for the briefing. She didn't care if it wasn't regulation, she was cold dammit!
"The primary phase one fuel tank," Glass said, blowing on his hands. "They were going to do it just before the fuel shortage. Since it requires a lot of support, welding and bots they had to wait til they had enough fuel to continue. Then, apparently, they didn't get the word around. The heaters still work. They're just turned off to chill the zone."
"Cause they're going to do what, exactly, with SAPL?" Moose said. "Cause it's, like, SAPL isn't it? The beam that cuts through the Troy faster than a Rangora assault ship?"
"All hands! All hands! Stand by for address from Squadron CO!"
"I wish they'd just use the 1MC," Moose said, gesturing at the box on the wall with his chin. He had his hands in his armpits. "The voices! The voices! They're talking to me again!"
"Starting in thirty minutes, we will begin an orderly evacuation of the Charlie Flight AO. Alpha and Bravo AOs should be unaffected. Permission is granted for all personnel to fall in on suits to observe SAPL operation in main bay. Viewing area will be shuttle launch tubes. Operation is inflation of armoring for Phase One Primary Fuel Station. Design documents downloading on acceptance. That is all."
Dana hit the link for the design documents and started to giggle.
"Oh, that's just . . ." Moose said.
"Wrong?" Glass finished for him. "And I'm glad the CO gave permission because this I gotta see."
"And I can control the heat in my suit," Dana said. "I hadn't wanted to use it since it uses power. But if we've got permission . . . Request leave to fall in on space-suit, CM!"
"Granted," Glass said. "Briefing's over! Fallout and fall in on your suits."
"I'm cranking mine up to tropical," Moose said.
The first time Dana had seen all the shuttles of the 142nd outbound it had been a wonderful sight. Since then she'd been to a couple of Squadron formations which were just a pain.
But they were funny as hell scattered all over the docking tube in the main-bay. You could tell the engineers from the cox in an instant. The engineers spent half their working time in suits and were perfectly comfortable in EVA. Most of them were floating upside down, sort of drifting near the shuttles if not on them, to give room for the . . .
The Coxswains, on the other hand, by and large had qualed on their suits but weren't exactly experts. They were mostly holding onto bits and pieces of shuttles and trying not to go Dutchman in the main bay. Not that you were going to go far.
"You seem to be experiencing some issues, CM," Dana said.
Like a lot of the engineers, she'd placed herself near a coxswain, in this case Glass, but in a position that, to the coxswain, seemed to be inverted. Her helmet was drifting about a meter above the flight NCOIC.
"Just getting adjusted for a better view," Glass said, his feet rotating "upwards."
"I don't think you can see anything from that position, CM," Dana said, reaching down and gently giving his head a tap. "You can do this in a nullball court. What's the problem with the main bay?"
"No references," Glass said. "I mean, yeah, there are references, but between trying to control the suit and trying to get references . . ."
Dana drifted her suit down, using her plants to control the navopak, and grabbed his legs.
"Taking your boots down to latch point," she said.
"I can maneuver . . ." Glass protested.
"And I think we need to work on your suit quals, CM," Dana said, bringing his boots into contact with Thirty-Nine. "Lock it down, CM."
"Locked down," Glass said, crossing his arms.
"I think we need to work on all the coxswain's quals," Dana said, chuckling.
"Agreed," Glass said with a sigh.
"Maybe make them do some real work on the boats," Dana said. "Yours could use some polish, CM."
"You are about to cross a line, CM," Glass said.
"Aye, aye, Captain Crunch," Dana said, giggling.
"All hands," the CO commed. "
Stand by for SAPL fire."
Tyler didn't want to use the Starfire for this but he did want to see with his own eyes. And the precise spot they were putting in the tank wasn't in view from his quarters.
So like what appeared to be about ninety-percent of the base, he'd gone out into the main bay. Since his suit wasn't any different from the generic ones, for once he could sort of blend in the crowd.
And it was quite a crowd. He knew there were upwards of four thousand people already on the Troy but it was rare you saw them all in one place.
You could tell the ones that practiced in EVA from the ones that didn't. Tyler had to put himself in the latter category and it was obvious as he bumped into another space suited figure.
"Sorry," Tyler commed on the local channel. "I'm usually working in an office."
The local com didn't even have a personal identifier so the guy had no clue who he was.
"No problem," the man said. "You might want to lock down your boots."
"It'd be above me if I did that," Tyler said. He gently corrected his position and got into a better configuration to see the shot. "That okay?"
"Good enough," the guy said. "Can you hold that?"
"Working on it," Tyler said as he started to drift again. "I had it . . ."
"Troy has pull," Butch said. "You get used to it. Try doing salvage in a spinning destroyer."
"I spend as little time in EVA as I can," the clerk said. "I don't like sucking vacuum."
"Nearly did that one time," Butch said. "Was drawing helium off one of the ships and got hit by a gush. That and the hose cracked my sled."
"Sierra Seventeen," the clerk said. "That would make you . . . James . . . Allen. Probationary welder. Good job you did out there."
