trainees. Section 103 says to assist with other units in the area, and I know the 46th have some training problems the First Sergeant can help with while we take care of some other items.”
Kat realizes she’s been tricked, glares at Lag for a moment, then smiles. “I see. Okay, Sir. Be happy to.”
Stenson teases Kat as they walk out the door, “You didn’t think he’d really let me go, did you?”
Noncoms
Corporal Kaminski, a huge Viking of a guy, drives a light truck down the dusty road leading to Pad D9 while eating a brown food-ration bar. Sergeant Kaushik, a trim, light-skinned East Indian rides in the passenger seat. They’re both wearing full combat armor, minus the helmets.
“She said ‘recon and secure the building’,” Kaminski says defensively.
“When the Colonel or Top tells you that, yeah, you need armor, air cover, and a hot line to the artillery battery. When the Lawfare Officer tells you, you gotta be smart enough to know she means look it over and get a lease with option to buy.” Kaushik points at their armor and weaponry. “All this gear is useless for checking out a building. Contrary to common myth, not all soldiering problems are solved with massive firepower, explosives, hacking, or any of your other creative solutions.”
Kaminski grunts, takes another bite of the food bar, then throws it down on the dash in disgust. “Get used to it,” Kaushik tells him. “Not likely to get better soon. Top says to keep a low profile in town, and there are not a lot of HQ services out here yet.”
They drive a bit further, approaching a building on the outskirts of the spaceport. “That’s gotta be it,” Kaminski says. “What’s that across the street?”
“It’s a ship, Corporal.”
“Well, no shit, Sarge. I mean, what kind of ship?”
Kaushik takes a long, very studious look. “Old.”
They drive up next to Building 1701 and look it over: your basic industrial beige metal box with an eight-meter roof, large doors, and a few windows. “Seems in decent shape,” Kaminski says. “Doesn’t look big enough.”
“Drive around it, let’s see all sides,” says Kaushik. Kaminski takes off around the corner of the building, leaving a cloud of dust.
Before the dust has even started to settle, a van pulls up across the road. The back doors open and a half dozen rough-looking gents in coveralls jump out. Seeless steps out of the front, and they all walk toward the ship, rounding the corner, heading for the open ramp.
After their quick lap around the building, Kaminski and Kaushik park just behind and to the side of the van. “Looks like someone’s home,” Kaushik says.
“Think Chief Stenson’d like to know about the ship parked across the street?”
“Oh yeah. He loves classic ships. Let’s drop in, say ‘Hi’.”
They hop out of their vehicle, check and sling their rifles, and head for the ship. They walk around the side and find Helton, standing on the cargo bay deck, surrounded by Seymore’s thugs on the ramp.
“So, if you want anything done,” Seeless snarls, “you go through us , right? No more calls to anyone else that can’t do the job. Capisce ?”
Sergeant Kaushik clears his throat very loudly. “ Ahem. I do not mean to interrupt any local issues, but who owns this ship?”
Seeless wheels around in anger. “Who’s askin’?”
Kaushik is polite but firm. “We are.”
“Not your business.”
“Yes,” Corporal Kaminski says, “it is.” He’s poised on the balls of his feet, hands casually close to critical parts of his gun. “We’ll be using the building across the street. We wanted to find out who’s blocking our spectacular view of the … view.”
“I’ll talk to you when I am finished with him,” Seeless sneers.
“Like I said, I just want to know about the ship. Then we’ll be on our way,” says Kaushik.
“I’m the owner,” Helton interjects, “and they–”
“SHUDDAP!”
“Oh, I’m wishin’ Harbin was here,”
Kat realizes she’s been tricked, glares at Lag for a moment, then smiles. “I see. Okay, Sir. Be happy to.”
Stenson teases Kat as they walk out the door, “You didn’t think he’d really let me go, did you?”
Noncoms
Corporal Kaminski, a huge Viking of a guy, drives a light truck down the dusty road leading to Pad D9 while eating a brown food-ration bar. Sergeant Kaushik, a trim, light-skinned East Indian rides in the passenger seat. They’re both wearing full combat armor, minus the helmets.
“She said ‘recon and secure the building’,” Kaminski says defensively.
“When the Colonel or Top tells you that, yeah, you need armor, air cover, and a hot line to the artillery battery. When the Lawfare Officer tells you, you gotta be smart enough to know she means look it over and get a lease with option to buy.” Kaushik points at their armor and weaponry. “All this gear is useless for checking out a building. Contrary to common myth, not all soldiering problems are solved with massive firepower, explosives, hacking, or any of your other creative solutions.”
Kaminski grunts, takes another bite of the food bar, then throws it down on the dash in disgust. “Get used to it,” Kaushik tells him. “Not likely to get better soon. Top says to keep a low profile in town, and there are not a lot of HQ services out here yet.”
They drive a bit further, approaching a building on the outskirts of the spaceport. “That’s gotta be it,” Kaminski says. “What’s that across the street?”
“It’s a ship, Corporal.”
“Well, no shit, Sarge. I mean, what kind of ship?”
Kaushik takes a long, very studious look. “Old.”
They drive up next to Building 1701 and look it over: your basic industrial beige metal box with an eight-meter roof, large doors, and a few windows. “Seems in decent shape,” Kaminski says. “Doesn’t look big enough.”
“Drive around it, let’s see all sides,” says Kaushik. Kaminski takes off around the corner of the building, leaving a cloud of dust.
Before the dust has even started to settle, a van pulls up across the road. The back doors open and a half dozen rough-looking gents in coveralls jump out. Seeless steps out of the front, and they all walk toward the ship, rounding the corner, heading for the open ramp.
After their quick lap around the building, Kaminski and Kaushik park just behind and to the side of the van. “Looks like someone’s home,” Kaushik says.
“Think Chief Stenson’d like to know about the ship parked across the street?”
“Oh yeah. He loves classic ships. Let’s drop in, say ‘Hi’.”
They hop out of their vehicle, check and sling their rifles, and head for the ship. They walk around the side and find Helton, standing on the cargo bay deck, surrounded by Seymore’s thugs on the ramp.
“So, if you want anything done,” Seeless snarls, “you go through us , right? No more calls to anyone else that can’t do the job. Capisce ?”
Sergeant Kaushik clears his throat very loudly. “ Ahem. I do not mean to interrupt any local issues, but who owns this ship?”
Seeless wheels around in anger. “Who’s askin’?”
Kaushik is polite but firm. “We are.”
“Not your business.”
“Yes,” Corporal Kaminski says, “it is.” He’s poised on the balls of his feet, hands casually close to critical parts of his gun. “We’ll be using the building across the street. We wanted to find out who’s blocking our spectacular view of the … view.”
“I’ll talk to you when I am finished with him,” Seeless sneers.
“Like I said, I just want to know about the ship. Then we’ll be on our way,” says Kaushik.
“I’m the owner,” Helton interjects, “and they–”
“SHUDDAP!”
“Oh, I’m wishin’ Harbin was here,”
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