"Sergeant, "Coeur said, "I've never been to Oriflamme, but I imagine they're like most other people—some are good, some aren't so good. It's certainly not fair to lump them into a single group, good or bad."

  "Yes, sir. I'll apologize to Snapshot directly. " Maybe it would be better if you wait a bit, "Drop Kick suggested. "When she gets fired up, she can stay that way for a while."

  "Yeah, all right" Gaffer said.

  Coeur then reached for the up button, and the prompt motion punctuated the incident in Coeur's mind.

  Among the people of Aubaine, Coeur knew, anxiety about Oriflamme was not uncommon—even among people who'd never met an Oriflammen. But Coeur wasn't one to believe that Oriflamme and her Centrist allies were a serious threat to the Coalition's future. Although the Centrists wanted a centralized, autocratic government—the very sort that doomed Coeur's Last imperium—the Last imperium had no democratic institutions like the Assembly to allow for public debate of policy. In that forum, Coeur believed, the Federalist opponents of the Centrist bloc would prevail in preserving a loose federal government.

  On a more personal level, though, the crew members of Hornet had their own reason to appreciate Oriflamme—the number of times Snapshot had saved them with her skill at missile gunnery. Of course. It wasn't as if Snapshot didn't have her faults, but the gunner's key role in protecting the fragile freighter inclined most of her mates toward, if anything, excessive positive prejudice— the faith that Snapshot and her missiles would always be there to stand between themselves and any unfriendly contact they might meet in the Wilds.

  Well, anyway, Coeur thought, musing on the last confidential message she'd received from Hammer, just minutes before, if Gaffer got that lathered up by meeting one Oriflammen, I wonder how he'll react to meeting 800 million of them....

  ***

  Big is relative.

  Com pared to a giant system defense"boat" like ANS Kukulcan. or even a front-line clipper, RCS Hornet was a tiny ship, yet standing inside her midship cargo hold, one could not help but feel that one was inside a large vessel. The reason for that was simple; Unlike a warship, whose bills were paid by an owning government. Hornet was designed to make a living for her original owners—merchants who needed a ship small enough to run inexpensively, yet with a sufficient cargo capacity to let them eke out a profit after crew salaries and maintenance.

  What remained for humans, after the top deck amidships was given to fuel and the upper and lower rear hull were given to drives, was clustered forward—the area which gave Hornet her distinctive pickle-fork bow. The starboard horn contained the bridge and crew's lounge, as well as ship's computers, Coeur's stateroom adjacent to the bridge and a short alcove leading to Gyro's laser. Opposite this was the port horn—accessible only by a walk through the cargo hold ore trek aft through engineering— but giving access to Snapshot's turret, a closet-like sick bay with two beds, and individual staterooms for Physic, Deep Six and Newton.

  Ironically, Newton's stateroom was more than twice the size of anyone else's—ironic because the emotionless Hiver could not appreciate any inadvertent stroking of its ego—but it was merely the former abode of the ship's master in residence. Like Scissor, Hornet's last Hiver adviser, Newton reasonably saw this as wasted space and therefore carried on Scissor's practice of using only a tiny portion of the master's cabin as a personal residence. The remaining area was thus freed to serve as a high-quality electronics workshop, and this compartment—looking across to the bridge through a huge picture window—would serve as Newton's regular duty station.

  The only other large crew area was called the loft, although it was in fact the size of a small two-bedroom house. This upper deck section, straddling the base of the tower deck fork, held 10 double staterooms divided into two rows to either side of an open marshaling deck, a roomy area with a sheltered berth for the ship's air-raft forward. Originally intended to house paying passengers in relative luxury during the tedium of a week-long jump, the loft now housed somewhat less fussy travellers: Crowbar, Gyro, Snapshot and the ship's troops.

  When Drop Kick, Coeur and Gaffer arrived in the Mt from the crew's lounge, the other five drop troops were still unloading the gear from their packs onto tables in the middle of the marshaling deck, while Crowbar busied himself at the air-raft forward.

  'Ten-hut! '’ Red Eye snapped, hustling the troopers into an orderly line.

  "At ease, "Drop Kick said. "Troopers, this is your skipper, Coeur D'Esprit."

  'Red Sun's fine, "Coeur said, "or just Red. I just thought I'd pop in to see how you're situated, seeing that we've got a long trip ahead of us. "'

  "Yes, sir, "Red Eye said, "Just give us a target, and we'll hit it for you."

  Looking down the line of troopers, Coeur saw a similar level of optimism reflected in the faces of the corporals and privates.

  More typical of the Marines than the Arses, there was only one woman among them, but there weren't that many people of either sex who measured up to the exacting standards of the RCMC. For Coeur's part, she was just glad she'd have them on her side in any coming combat.

  "Weil, you won't have to be in suspense for too much longer, "Coeur said. "We'll hit space in a couple of hours and make jump point a couple hours after that. I'll announce our mission then."

  "Outstanding, "Gaffer said.

  "So, Crowbar, "Coeur said to the engineer, looking conspicuously unmilitary as he wandered over with his thumbs hooked through his tool belt, "the berthing arrangements work out?"

  "Check. I figure we still want to keep the forward staterooms unoccupied—in case we're ever holed there—so the drop troopers will take the middle three staterooms port. Thai leaves two staterooms for the tankers at the rear and the rest as singles for me and the gunners."

  "And the gear?"

  "AH stowed in good order. Heavy battle dress, four fusion rifles, six gauss rifles and six laser rifles—enough to kick some serious butt."

  The troopers made approving grunts, prompting Coeur to ask a logical question.

  "Not that it matters, but how many of you have actually been in combat?"

  The cessation of grunts revealed the answer.

  "Actually, none, "Gaffer said, "except Red Eye and myself. These are good troopers, though, and we figure they'll benefit from some time in the field."

  "Yes, sir, "Red Eye said, "nothing puls the poop in your pants like being shot at."

  "True, "Coeur agreed.

  Coeur went on to speak with each trooper briefly, asking what pari of Aubaine they were from, how they liked the Corps and such, with an eye toward getting a sense for them as individuals.

  Naturally, Coeur knew there were limits to how acquainted she could get with them—only time would tell her which ones were brave beyond reason, which ones were natural leaders and which ones perhaps were not—but it was still good to think of them as people before she flew them into danger. Eventually she would learn which two were recommended by Gaffer—the corporal Fubar, a triangular plug of a man without much neck to speak of, and Gremlin, a prematurely balding private with an encyclopedic knowledge of guns—and which were recommended by Red Eye—Corporal Widget, a female combat medic with placid gray eyes, and Private Badger, the Sea Gypsy.

  Among the troopers. Badger was probably the least distinctive—his deep tan and light hair were common to many Aubani— but Coeur was intrigued by this private whom, she knew, was intrigued by Snapshot. Before leaving the loft, she contrived to speak with him apart from the others, drifting apart from Crowbar and the sergeants to sit down with Badger as he inspected the heavy fusion gun he would carry in battle.

  "I heard you were interested ingunnery. Is that right, private?"

  "Yes, sir. I try to practice on sims whenever I can."

  "But you joined the Marines instead of the Navy."

  "Yeah, well, I took what I could get. Where I come from. It's harder to get into the Navy than the Marines."

  "Where do you come from, trooper?"

  "Craves island. You probably never heard of it."

  "That's way down south isn't it? One of the Tifelati cities?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Flew over it once. Looked pretty... well, bleak."

  "It is that. People say it's been that way ever since the southern nations raided the island."

  "Well, you know I'm a newcomer to the planet. I don't know all the local history."

  "Take it from me, sir, we're not real popular, even today. The recruiting officer in New Antipode made it clear I was going to be a ground pounder or nothing at all."

  Coeur shook her head in amazement.

  Strange, how every culture seems to need someone to hang its troubles on—even the Aubani.

  'Well, I can't do much about that, "she said, "but I do know my gunners spend a lot of jump time running sims. Since the gunners bunk on this level, maybe you could talk to Snapshot or Gyro about getting some time in later."

  "Maybe I'll do that."

  "Good for you, "Coeur said, slapping him on the shoulder and standing up. "Right now, I better go and get us in the air."

  "Say, skipper; mind if I ask you a question?"

  "What's that?"

  "Well, I’ve never been in jump before. Will we be able to feel it, physically, I mean?"

  "Hm. You mean, like nausea, vomiting, and the queasy feeling that your body's been turned inside out? "'

  Badger's cheeks puffed out. "Yeah, like that."

  "Probably not. But if things get rough, you can always grab a barf bag from the autogalley."

  "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

  Coeur smiled. "Carry on, trooper, I'm sure you'll be fine."

  Chapter Four

  When the time came to launch, It went off very smoothly. Indeed, the only difficulty was Hammer's requirement that Coeur calculate the first jump plot—so that Homed destination would remain secret—even though Deep Six was a much better navigator.

  Coeur kept that concern to herself, though, as she concentrated on getting Hornet underway. Shortly after the ship's various air locks, exterior hatches and forward cargo ramp slammed shut, bay techs detached umbilici for data, power and waste, and the sleek little Hornet slipped out of Maintenance Bay 2 with only a fraction of the thrust she would need to power out of a planet's gravity well.

  Already be ing in orbit gave Hornet a half hour head start on her run to safe jump point, but all the same she could only muster 1G of HEPIaR thrust; under that power, the transit to 100 planetary diameters would still require nearly five hours. Most of the nonflight personnel were strapped in at launch, Newton in its quarters. Physic and the tankers in the lounge and the drop troops in chairs around a table on the marshaling deck. The length of the transit and lack of any sensation of motion, thanks to inertial compensation, tended to have people going about their routine business well before Crowbar engaged the jump drive. For Coeur, aware of the uneasiness toward jumping among the new drop troops, that was the best way to begin a jump: with people hardly aware it had happened.

  "Jump field established, ” Coeur reported to Deep Six. as Hornet crossed the safe jump threshold and the jump drive engaged. Outside the panoramic bridge windows, the boundless spattering of stars against a velvet sky was gone, replaced by darkness and the crackling arcs of jump fire—electrical discharges between the hull and the featureless envelope of the jump field.

  "Affirmative, "the Schalli confirmed, retiring from scrutiny of his array of electronic sensors, rendered useless by jump space. "Crowbar sends primary coolant flow nominal."

  "Outstanding. Looks like you still have your touch."

  "Thank you, sir. However, it was your pre recorded plot that we used."

  "Maybe so, but you executed it very cleanly, I'm sure the next plot'll be sharper with you doing the calculations."

  Out of politeness. Deep Six did not respond to that observation at first, for both of them knew that Coeur was probably correct While jump plot calculation was just a job skill for the human, for the Schalli it was an art.

  "I wouldn't say that, sir. However, I was able to determine that our immediate objective is Phoebus."

  "You are good, aren't you?"

  Deep Six fluttered his muzzle barbels, a Schalli shrug.

  "Well, fine, I've had about enough of this secret-agent stuff myself. Are all stations secured?"

  "Affirmative. All sections send secured from normal space."

  "Good. Then give me ship-wide intercom."

  A moment later, Coeur's voice sounded throughout the ship, echoing in the marshaling deck where the infantry were engaging in hand-to-hand combat drill, and the cargo hold to which Drop Kick and his people had migrated to work on their vehicles.

  "Attention all hands, this is Red Sun. You'll be glad to know that we're safely secure in jump space. The first engineering and bridge watch rotation will commence in three hours.

  "By the way, incase anyone has occasion to look out a window and see all that electricity arcing around the ship, it's really nothing to worry about. We call that jump fire, but it's basically just electrical discharges between the jump Held and the hull of the ship. In fact, the jump fire is actually one of our friends, because by watching it we can determine the stability and proper energy flow to the jump field."

  Coeur paused for a moment, reminded of a not-so-distant memory by the silent lightning outside the bridge window. Seventy-eight years earlier, the wildly erratic discharges of jump fire outside Coeur's imperial Scout cruiser Alnitok were the first sign that a desperate jump from deep inside a gravity well had gone terribly wrong. Already damaged by a Solomani ambush, Alnitok would misjump into open space, and unable to take on more jump fuel, her handful of survivors would be forced into low suspension to preserve their meager resources. It was a horrible time, and, though memories of mat time no longer disturbed her sleep, Coeur could not help but remember it whenever she saw the jump fire close around a starship.

  "Now for what you want to hear—what we're doing out here. For reasons of security, I can't tell you precisely what our mission is yet, but I can tell you that our ultimate destination is Mexit, a planet in Karse subsector. As you can see from the star map I've brought up on your data terminals, Mexit is way the hell in the middle of nowhere. Not just beyond the Coalition, but five parsecs beyond the AO—the official zone our hot operations are restricted to.

  "Again, I can't tell you what we'll be doing there—we'll brief you on that once we dear the AO—but I can tell you at least two things.

  "One: this is going to be a long trip. Using the best course on our old charts, it's still over a four-month journey to Mexit oneway. Along lime to be out of touch with home, true, but look on the bright side—It's imminent danger pay all the way.

  'Two: Mexit is probably a rough place. If you glance at the old library data—and I suggest you do—you'll see that Mexit had a population of 81 billion before the Collapse, had an excellent tech level 15 starport, and would have been a major trade hub for the region. You can bet it's not that nice today. Mexit is in a tight orbit around a main sequence star, with a fairly thin atmosphere. That means its year is short, its weather is nasty, and UV probably bakes the day side if they don't have functioning weather control stations.

  "But it's not all bad news on this trip. At the behest of the C In C, we will be paying a diplomatic courtesy visit to Oriflamme, which is on our way. From what I understand, Crowbar and Snapshot are the only members of this crew who have visited that esteemed hub of the trailing Coalition, so t his should be a learning experience for the rest of us. At the very least, its climate will give us a taste of what we can expect on Mexit.

  "Now, of course, I appreciate that some people on this ship may harbor strong opinions about Oriflamme and the Centrists, but you're probably also aware that I don't tolerate political debate aboard this ship, so I'll spare you a lecture on the differences between our societies. Let's just remember that we're all members of the same Coalition.

  "That is all."

  A brief pause ensued before Snapshot, in the port turret, hopped on the ship-wide intercom.

  "You're not joking, are you. Red?"

  "That's a negative, Snapper."

  "Well, how about that. You all get to see my wonderful homeworld."

  "Yeah, "Gyro said from the starboard turret, "I'm sure it's charming."

  "Oh, it is, "Snapshot said. "Unlike Hell, you can leave when you're sick of it."

  ***

  "I should have guessed, "Gaffer said meanwhile, circling Badger on a rolled-out gymnastic mat in the loft.

  "What, sir?"

  "The damned Oriflammen are probably behind this whole mission, "he snarled, grabbing Badger's forearm, whacking it against his knee to make him drop the bayonet he was holding, and then flipping him over his back to the mat.

  "Oh, "Badger said, after he got his breath back.

  ***

  "Well, how about that, "Drop Kick said to Mercy, who at the moment was helping him re-attach the fasteners on a sensor pod atop the grav tank. "I always figured I'd have to marry Snapper before I'd get to meet her parents."

  "Somehow, "Mercy said, detecting a wry note in the sergeant's voice, "you don't sound like you want to meet them at all."

  "Don't get me wrong—Snapper's my girl—but she does have a temper. Sometimes I wonder if she got that from her parents."

  "Well, just look on the bright side, sergeant; it can't be much worse than being shot at."

  ***

  Coeur could feel a real distance between Gaffer's troopers and the rest of the crew from the very start of the voyage, even though Gaffer managed to keep his political leanings to himself. The crew of 17 was large—too large to comfortably fit around the lounge table, so the reasonable compromise was to have three meal sections for breakfast and supper, one for the morning watch, one for the afternoon and one for the night, with troopers mixed in where convenient. However, the disciplinarian Gaffer preferred to keep his unit together at all times, so the unit took its mess by itself without any of the regular crew.

  Or at least, almost none of the regular crew.

 

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