After the first week in jump, when Hornet passed through blighted Phoebus, bought fuel and returned to jump space bound for Spires, the Hiver Newton began to visit the drop troops at their afternoon mess.

  "I observe that there is room at the table, "it said, plodding over from the autogalley with what appeared to be a tray of strange-smelling corndogs. "May I Join you?"

  "Pull up a chair, "Red Eye suggested.

  Newton did just that, using its tail to maneuver a Hiver chair up to the five drop troops at the table, a group missing only Badger. Shaped somewhat like a mushroom, the chair supported Newton's central carapace, where the 1-liver's brain, internal organs, and closed digestive tract were located.

  "To absent friends, "Gaffer said, as soon as Newton was situated.

  'To absent friends, "the other humans and Newton replied.

  "Say, Newton, aren't you supposed to be on drive watch? "Gaffer asked, suspiciously.

  "Negative. Physic, our doctor, has expressed concern with her deficit in shipboard skills and therefore has taken over monitoring the power flow to the jump governor."

  "Oh, great, "Fubar said, hunching his massive shoulders.

  "She does have some experience, doesn't she? "Widget asked, halting a forkful of pressed algae on the way to her mouth.

  "Affirmative. Dr. Takagawa has studied all the appropriate manuals to my satisfaction."

  "You know who else would be great for that job? "Gremlin said, running a hairy hand over his balding scalp. "Badger. I mean, he always wanted to be in the Navy anyway."

  "That's true, "Red Eye said, looking toward Gaffer. "What do you think?"

  Gaffer, whose scowl betrayed the answer he was about to give, nevertheless stopped himself when he realized that the young Hiver was staring at him intently with all six of its eyes.

  "Something the matter there. Newt?"

  "Forgive me, "Newton said. "Given my lack of experience telling humans apart, I was attempting to determine whether or not you were the individual Badger being referred to."

  Gaffer ignored the stifled snickers from around the table.

  With exaggerated slowness, he finished chewing his mouthful offish flakes, set down his fork, and elegantly dabbed at the corners of his mouth with his napkin.

  "Sorry, "the first sergeant said, "I'm not the private. He's off training with Snapshot."

  "I understand, "Newton said. "However, I believe you were about to make some sort of comment."

  "Yes, I was. I was going to say that Badger is already degrading his efficiency enough by drilling with Snapshot. He doesn't need to take on a drive watch to make him even more distracted."

  "I believe, "Red Eye said to Newton, "that it's the first sergeant's opinion that a soldier needs to be totally focused."

  "Damn right, "Gaffer said, tucking away his napkin. "You lose your focus in battle, you get whacked like that. " Which point the first sergeant punctuated with a sudden snapping of his fingers, making the attentive Newton start with surprise.

  "Aren't we supposed to be able to take over any position on the ship? "Widget asked.

  Gaffer sneered derisively.

  "That's why we have computers, corporal. The only job they can't do is down in the dirt."

  After discerning the probable meaning of that metaphor and waiting to see if any further sudden noises were forthcoming, Newton offered a mild refutation.

  "Actually, first sergeant, the modern starship is not very automated. The need to prevent Viral contamination from spreading inside a starship requires that every station function autonomously without central computer control."

  "Yeah, "Gremlin said, "and isn't it true that you Hivers have warbots that can outfight human soldiers on the ground?"

  "I am afraid that is not my area of expertise, "Newton said.

  "Hey, what is this? "Gaffer asked, "Screw the Sergeant day?"

  "Sorry, sir, "Widget and Fubar said.

  "Machines outfighting men, "Gaffer grumbled. "Yeah, I'll believe that when I see it."

  ***

  "Good shot. You missed your calling, young man."

  In Snapshot's missile turret, a bemused Badger smiled, the afterimage of a simulated explosion through his gun sight still fading on his retinas.

  "Thank you, sir. I've never seen your trick with the Whiteout dazzling before."

  "Probably against training safety regulations, "Snapshot said, from the laser turret on the opposite side of the ship. "Most things that work are against some kind of regulation."

  "More so on Aubaine than Oriflamme?"

  Snapshot chuckled. "You've got to be kidding—Oriflamme is the original source of all red tape in the universe."

  "Sounds swell."

  "Yeah, well, they'll get better once they improve their computer technology. Ready for the last simulation, private?"

  "Ready as I can be, "Badger said, suddenly coming back to crisp attention.

  "All right, here's the situation. Hornet has come out of |ump near an asteroid belt with a residual velocity of 100 K. The bridge has multiple hot bogies on the port quarter, unknown heading, unknown Vee."

  "Understood."

  "Stand by, then. I'm engaging the sim."

  The actual simulation, when it began, was as much fun as Snapshot had ever had in a turret. While Badger stared through the heads-up sight of the missile turret, one hand on the missile release lever, one on the trac-ball controller, Snapshot selected which parts of the simulator program to feed him—a program accurate down to digitally sampled and synthesized voices of Coeur, Deep Six and Gyro in Badger's headset.

  Badger was an excellent raw talent—that Snapshot conceded—but he was obviously not experienced. That was the weakness she targeted in this final program, throwing a holdful of red-herrings in his face while all the while a real menace angled for the kill.

  "Multiple targets bearing 115, "digital-Coeur announced, "gunners, lock weapons."

  "Laser standing by, "digital-Gyro reported.

  "Missile control locked-on, "Badger seconded.

  "Time to intercept?"

  "Uh—two minutes."

  "Very good. Fire ready missiles."

  "Readies away! Running hot, smooth and normal."

  A minute passed, then a minute and a half.

  "Belay that detonation! "digital-Deep Six said. "Target Gamma is a Coalition lifeboat! ''

  "Fikk! "Badger swore, struggling to avoid detonating his missiles near the small craft. "What about the other contacts?"

  "Other bogies are missiles, "digital-Deep Six answered, "maneuvering at 1G."

  "What the hell? Where did they come from?"

  "Contact astern! "digital-Gyro snapped, "bearing 275! Damn, I can't bear on it!"

  Sweating, Badger suddenly perceived the problem. A scout ship was just now powering up off their port quarter aft, well outside the covered arc of Gyro's laser. Coeur would try to flip the ship over in time to bear on it, but Hornet was not a spry vessel and Badger could not tell if she would make it in time. His only choice was to flare the engines of his deployed missiles and hope they could close to good range in time.

  "I've picked him up! "Badger said, "Just give me a few seconds."

  "Target is painting us with director-band radiation, "digital-Deep Six said, his implacable calm eerily like life.

  Truly lost in the simulation, Badger now visualized his missiles—seven-tonne cylinders extending x-ray generating rods from their warheads—closing toward minimum firing range. In seconds they would be 30, 000 kilometers from the scout, and Badger would fire off the missile's nuclear warheads—warheads that would pump the missiles' laser rods and spear the little scout with sealing beams of x-rays.

  But he was a fraction of a second too late. The scout discharged its own laser—deadly accurate and more than powerful enough to punch through Hornet’s flimsy armor. Badger's controls flickered, then went dead as the screams of dying crewmembers faded in his headset.

  "Gotcha, "Snapshot said.

  Badger fell back in the missile turret's couch, exhausted.

  "Whew! I'd say I was dose, "Badger said, "but I know that doesn't count when it's for real."

  'No, but don't feel so bad. I did sort of load up on you."

  "Ever been that hairy?"

  "It'S always hairier, "Snapshot said, "when it's for real."

  A silence fell as Badger considered that.

  "Say, private, "Snapshot said, "We've been spending a lot of lime in the sims these last two weeks. Do you suppose we should back off a bit? Take a break maybe?"

  "I hadn't thought about it. sir. I know it’s instructive from my end, but I guess I hadn't though about how much work it is for you. Alter all, there's just you, Deep Six and the skipper manning the bridge watch."

  "Actually, that's not what I meant. I’ve been talking to Drop Kick, and he made it sound like your sergeant was riding you a little bit—giving you extra PT and making you scrub the head all the time."

  "Oh, that's nothing. That's just the way the sarge is. He figures if you're a grunt, you're a grunt, and that's it."

  "Geez. I know who I'm not going to tap as a relief gunner."

  "Well, Snapshot, you have lo understand Gaffer. I hear his great-grandparents emigrated to Aubaine from Promise during the Collapse, and they brought a military tradition that's a little alien to the planet."

  "I don't know about that. I've seen Aubani fight."

  "Well, you know what I mean. It's one of those families that's been knee-deep in battles all the way back to the Ramshackle days."

  "The what?"

  "The Ramshackle Empire. It’s what they called the one before the last empire"

  Snapshot made a sort, amused snort. For a boy from a backward Sea Gypsy city. Badger was surprisingly well-educated and self-motivated.

  Not, she thought, the kind of boy who deserves to get walked all over by some lug with a chestful of medals.

  "That might be so, "she said. "But someone ought to straighten him out."

  "Actually, "Badger interjected, "I'd rather you didn't You're right, It'll be better if we cut back on the drill. Say, once or twice a jump."

  Snapshot fumed, but felt he was right. Right or wrong, it was a long way to Mexit, and it was no use for her and Gaffer to be at each other's throats before they even got there.

  "You seem pretty perceptive, private. Get that from your family?"

  "Wouldn't know, sir. My parents died when I was a baby, and I was raised by friends of the family."

  "Nice friends?"

  "Negative. Kicked me out on my bum when I was 17."

  "Gaia. Sound like jerks"

  "I find it's better not to judge. Look ahead— that's my motto."

  "Well, I'll tell you one thing. Badger. You give me a new appreciation for my parents."

  "On Oriflamme?"

  "Yeah. A teacher and an engineer in Dobroye. Maybe you'd like to see them when we go there."

  "What about Drop Kick?"

  "Oh, I see plenty of Drop Kick. He won't mind if you tag along."

  Badger grinned.

  "In that case, I'd very much like to visit your family."

  "Outstanding. Then what do you say we call it a day?"

  "Yes, sir. Badger out."

  ***

  A few minutes later. Snapshot stepped out of Gyro's turret and walked across the adjacent corridor to the nearest wall-mounted iris valve. Opening quietly, its mechanism scrupulously maintained by the Marines, it admitted her into the cargo bay and into the presence of Drop Kick, sitting alone at his work table,

  "Hey, Snapper, "Drop Kick said, lifting up his welding goggles. "How's it going?"

  "Swell, "Snapshot said, slipping onto the bench beside him and combing her fingers through his close-cropped hair.

  "Uh-oh, "Drop Kick said, "you must want something."

  "What? Can't a girl inspect a guy for parasites? "she replied, grinning, making a fuss over inspecting his ear.

  "Well, yeah, "he said, smiling at the tickling attention, "but I

  still think you want something."

  "Well... yes."

  "Okay. What do you need? Another voltage regulator for your autoloader?"

  "Actually, no, it's nothing like that. I was sort of wondering if you'd mind having Badger tag along when we went to visit my parents."

  "I don't know. Is it likely to happen?"

  "Actually, I sort of already asked him."

  "You what?"

  "Well, "Snapshot said, "it didn’t sound like you were that excited about meeting my parents anyway. I didn't think you'd mind."

  Drop Kick's broad chest rose and fell with a heavy sigh.

  "Denise, ifs not that I don't want to meet your parents. It's just that I'm a little nervous about it, and I'd rather not do it with a private lagging along."

  Snapshot expelled a breath, fluttering her lips.

  "Well, fine. But Badger seems like an okay guy, and I thought it would be nice to do something with him—you know, to show that somebody cares about him. I know I couldn't take it if my superior treated me the way his does."

  "You know, it's a little hard to comment on that, "Drop Kick observed, "because I'm every trooper's superior on this ship. But for what it's worth, nobody put a gun to Badger's head and made him join the Marines. And what's more, he doesn't seem half as concerned about his being mistreated as you are."

  "Well, of course he doesn't seem concerned about it. He's a good Marine."

  "Right. He follows his orders without complaining about them."

  "So I guess what you're saying is I shouldn't try to gel between Badger and Gaffer."

  "In so many words, yes."

  'Well, you should be happy, then. Badger offered to cut back on our training together and I agreed."

  Drop Kick sat back, impressed.

  "You see, "she Said, "I'm not completely obnoxious and confrontational."

  "No, you're not."

  "Well, anyway, if you don't want him to come a long, I'll go tell him so. "Snapshot moved as if to get up.

  "Hey, Snapper, "Drop Kick said, putting a hand on her forearm, "hold on. You know how I feel about you, and I don't want to be jealous of anybody you want to be friends with. But meeting your parents is something I'd rather do with you, alone. That's reasonable. Isn't it?"

  "Yes, It is. I was just being selfish."

  "Well, maybe just a little."

  Again, Snapshot moved to get up, and this time Drop Kick let her. Before leaving, though, she leaned over and kissed Drop Kick on the cheek.

  "I'll go tell him now."

  Drop Kick nodded and watched her go.

  Oh well, it's not like Denise shouldn't be friends with anx>ne she wonts to.

  And besides, it's a long way to Merit; I'm sure there'll be plenty of time for the three of us to go some place other than Oriflamme.

  ***

  By tradition, Aubani ships crossing into the trailing, Centrist-dominated half of the Coalition tended to make planetfall and buy fuel wherever possible, instead of skimming their liquid hydrogen from the atmosphere of those systems' gas giants. It was a calculated political move, to be sure, but it also had its advantages. Worlds inhabited by friendly human beings tended to be far more congenial than gas giants, which at the very least featured crushing gravity and at the worst were surrounded by maelstroms of planetary debris, hurricane-dwarfing storms and induced radiation fields that would lest the hull integrity of even the best-built ship.

  Unfortunately for Hornet, though, time was a consideration. As her sole concession to the Centrists, Coeur did make a quick layover at Phoebus—the only remaining vestige of imperial nobility in the Coalition and strongly pro-Centrist—but the rest of the way to Oriflamme would be made without planetfall.

  "That seems to be a prudent plan, "Deep Six said, as Hornet rumbled clear of Gabriele IX, the relatively smalt, blue gas giant in far orbit of Spire's giant primary. "But I believe we will be tested at Zloga."

  "Think Novolen is too much for us? If you do, you'd better correct the plot before we reach jump point"

  "Negative, "the Schalli said-"You should have more than sufficient technical skill to navigate the rings of Zloga."

  "Should?"

  "It is the radiation I am concerned about. As you know, Novolen is small, but is quite close to its primary and spins very rapidly, so a powerful radiation field is created from acceleration of particles in the solar wind."

  "I knew all that, "Coeur said, "but somehow you have a way of making it sound worse."

  "Sorry."

  "Is there a better choice?"

  "From our point of view, no. The other two gas giants are unusually large and would slow our transit to jump point considerably."

  "Then it looks like Novolen. Either that or planetfall on Zloga."

  "Not a good prospect, "the Schalli said. Idly splashing the water in his roller-chair as he reflected on the latest news from that planet Not a good prospect is an understatement, Coeur thought. Zloga had nothing against Aubaine—indeed, its relic-salvage parties came from all over the Coalition. But a nasty dispute had broken out when the democratic ruling council tried to impose a price ceiling and excise tax on all fuel sold to starships. In a way this was farcical—the fuel was just water, conveniently stored at a dirt strip for occasional visitors, and only valuable because of its rarity on a desert world. But the owners of the fueling concession were so irate that they completely demolished the"starport" and told the ruling council where it could stuff itself for good measure. Not a particularly profound crisis as crises went, perhaps, but enough of a nuisance that Coeur was disinclined to make Zloga her precipitation point from jump.

  "No, not a good prospect. Keep your original plot, Sixer."

  "Roger that"

  "And look on the bright side. Once we're done there, It's just one more jump to Oriflamme."

  Searching for an appropriate rejoinder. Deep Six reflected upon the opinion Physic had hod when he asked the doctor what she thought about going to Oriflamme. Though he was inclined to think she was being facetious, her words had a ring that appealed to his poetic sensibilities, and he repeated them verbatim.

  "Sir, I am positively flush and a-quiver with excitement."

  "Are you, now?"

  "Yes. sir."

  Then I guess we'd better hurry up and get there."

 

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