East of the Sun, West of the Moon

Chapter Eighteen

Herzer took a seat in the front of the stands just before the opening of the first space combat class. The stage in front of him had some of the props Peterka had used, including a pick mace, a small buckler, some metal plates with straps attached and suit parts on a table. The mangled suit of armor was standing next to the table. Just as he sat down, Van Buskirk strode out onto the stage and took a position of parade rest.

“Welcome to Icarus Base and all that,” the captain said, looking at the assembled group of Blood Lords. Fifteen of them, mostly from his own company, had been designated as members of the five “first in” teams; those that had techs associated with them and were guaranteed to fly. In addition, a sixth “Blood Lord pure” team had been assembled under Sergeant Graff. The fifth “first in” team leader was Lieutenant Mike Massa, his Third Platoon leader.

Massa was medium height with brown hair and eyes and the burly look commonplace among the Blood Lords. The lieutenant was newly promoted and about to be rotated out of the platoon leader slot. An experienced fighter, he had been among the group of Blood Lords that had assaulted the enemy camp during New Destiny’s abortive invasion of Norau. A sergeant at the time, his actions in first taking and then closing the north gate had led to a field promotion and a tour through Officer’s Basic then to Van Buskirk’s company.

There were another sixty volunteers from Raven’s Mill who had responded to the “mission involving a high level of risk” call. It was unlikely that there would be sufficient suits made for all of them by the time the fuel shuttles started landing, but they would form the reinforcement corps for the mission.

“You all know the nature of the mission and you’ve previously been briefed on the plan,” the captain said, looking around at the short company of elite infantry. “This is about how we’re going to do it.”

He picked up the pick mace off the table and swung it around in a figure eight.

“Listen to me very carefully,” Van Buskirk said, continuing to swing the mace. “Space is an unforgiving, unremorseful, coldhearted, murdering bitch. Remember that. If you keep that thought in the front of your brains from the time the shuttles take off until you’re back on the ground, we might not be sponging you out of your armor!” He ended the opening with a snarl and then swung the mace, hard, into the armor. The spike punched into the shoulder.

“That soldier is now dead,” Bus said, wrenching the mace out of the armor and tossing it on the table. “You’re used to having to hit a vital point and of only protecting vital points. To fight until you die or drop, no matter how many minor wounds you take. Look at Herzer; he’s covered in scars from ‘near misses.’ ”

“And some pretty solid hits,” someone said in the back of the group.

“Sure,” Bus admitted. “But if you get so much as a finger cut off in space, you are dead. The same, however, goes for the enemy. So you have to get a brand new idea through your heads. The object is not to strike for vitals, but to breach your enemy’s armor. If you’re in vacuum, that is all it will take.”

Bus picked the mace back up and swung it at the elbow joint of the armor, breaking the arm backwards and popping the joint.

“That is a kill,” he said, continuing with the momentum and hitting at the thigh, driving the spike in deeply. “Kill.”

“Should be easy,” Sergeant Graff commented.

“Easy to get dead,” the captain snapped. “That is a kill on you, Graff! Most of your body is going to be covered by not much more than a couple of layers of silk. Keep that in mind, too! If they get a cut on that suit when you are in vacuum, you’re going to get bled out in a few seconds, even if it’s just a slice.”

“Got it,” Graff said, nodding seriously.

“This is going to be our primary weapon,” Van Buskirk said, holding the mace aloft. “You’re used to using your gladii, but this is much better for what we’re going to be doing. The pick is for hitting solid parts of the armor.” He spun in place and slammed the pick, full force, into the chest of the armor, puncturing it with a “ping” sound. “The flat head is for helmets,” he continued, yanking the mace out and slamming it into the helmet, knocking the latter askew, “or anywhere you think you can pop a seal. Anyone got any thoughts on what is wrong with my demonstration?”

“If you’re in vacuum, you’re going to be in microgravity,” Lieutenant Massa said, soberly. “And if you strike like that you’ll go flying away.”

“Agreed,” Bus said, flipping the mace through a series of figure eights. “I don’t think we’re going to be doing any full microgravity fighting. The interiors are all under gravity and on the surface you’re going to be using mag-boots. So you set up the figure eight and let the mass of the mace do the work.” He ended by slamming the mace into the undamaged arm, clearly popping the elbow joint.

“If you are in microgravity,” he continued, “the techniques get a little complex. There’s little or no way to get any sort of formation. What we will be doing is training in teams, with the idea that two of you will gang up on one of them, if possible, and do unto them before they do unto you.”

He picked up one of the metal plates and walked over to the suit, tossing it in the direction of the chest. The plate, which was clearly a magnet, stuck to the front of the suit. He then picked up the small buckler and showed that it was magnetic as well.

“The ship uses a fair amount of stuff the magnets will stick to on the interior and exterior,” Bus said, walking up to the suit and popping the magnet off. “The basic technique will be for one or more of you to target one of them. You then launch very carefully from your position and slap one of these magnets, or the buckler, onto the target. Then you hit them, once, and let the momentum push you away in the most controlled manner you can. If you don’t get a kill, don’t stick around. Grappling is a losing proposition. Keep moving. There’s no up or down in microgravity; use that to your advantage. Remember, if one of these guys is drifting by you can grab a boot or whatever, slam your pick into their ankle joint, and that’s an effective kill. You can use the mace to move around, as well, by hooking into anything that’s sticking out.

“When we get to the water portion, as soon as they’re done with our suits, we’ll start practicing on that. For now, you’ll start working out with the mace and getting used to its uses and limitations. There are two other weapons I’ve suggested to our friends the dwarves.” That brought a laugh. The dwarves were notably gruff with everyone. He held up a large cylinder.

“This is a magnetic punch,” Bus said, sticking the device onto the front of the suit and firing it. There was a clanging sound and the device flew backwards with a large spike sticking out of the front. There was, however, a hole in the suit. Before it had hit the ground the spike had retracted.

“The magnet holds it in place just long enough, in most cases, for the punch to penetrate. It only pops the armor, but remember that in vacuum that’s a kill. Then it goes flying off and the spike automatically retracts. If you’re in good position, you can remain attached to the lanyard. Otherwise, just let it go and recover it later. It’s got five shots using air pressure for the attack and retracting. There will be pressurized bottles to recharge it.”

He tossed the punch on the table and picked up a much more complicated device with a backpack and a nozzle. It looked something like a flamethrower with a magazine sticking out the bottom.

“I’m not sure we’ll have many of these,” he said, pointing it at the back wall. He pulled the trigger and a line of small spikes flew out to stick in the wall. “You’ll have to have a good solid position, it’s got a bit of a kick so I wouldn’t just trust your boots for example, and it’s only good against soft targets. But I think they’ll probably come in handy at one point or another.”

“I want,” Massa said, grinning.

“We’ll see how many there are,” Bus said, nodding. “That’s it for now. Each of you will be issued your maces and start training with them this week. As soon as we have suits, and the first in fighters are first in line, we’ll start training in the water tank.”

“How’s it shaping up?” the avatar of Edmund asked.

“Pretty good,” Herzer admitted. “We’ve been retraining on the new weapons and that’s going well on the grav training level anyway. The engineering teams are pretty well as dialed in as they can be without the actual equipment. Same with the computer techs. The pilots are pretty caustic about their training equipment, but they’ve learned where all the controls are, anyway. We’ll have to see if they can actually fly. And everybody has to go in the water as soon as the suits are done.”

“That should be interesting,” Edmund said, smiling. “Tao is on the way over with a courier package. You and Megan should find it interesting.”

“I look forward to it,” Herzer said, frowning.

“You asked for intel,” the council member said, shrugging. “You got intel.”

“Sir,” Lieutenant Tao said, setting a courier bag on Herzer’s desk.

“Thanks, Tao,” Herzer said, picking up the pouch and breaking the seals.

Gerson Tao was nearly as large as the commander and, if anything, darker, with slight epicanthic folds by his eyes and lank black hair. He’d been born and raised on the Western Plains and was a noted horseman. He and Herzer had met when Herzer was his instructor at Officer Basic course and had tapped him, along with Amosis Van Krief and Destrang, to accompany Duke Edmund on a “diplomatic mission” to the southern isles. The diplomatic mission had gone badly awry but the then ensign had stuck to his salt on the long ride Edmund had sent him on to bring the cavalry. He wasn’t the brightest of the three, but he was tough and stubborn. Give him a task and he’d keep battering away at it until something gave.

“I need you to do me a favor,” Herzer said, extracting the heavy linen envelope in the pouch and tossing it back. “Shanea has to go back to Washan. Actually, she doesn’t have to go back, but she deserves a break. I don’t suppose you’re into shopping?”

“Oh, God,” Tao groaned. “What did I do to deserve that?”

“Just show her around town,” Herzer said, grinning. “Get a squad of guards and a carriage. Charge both to Megan’s accounts. Make sure she doesn’t get snatched.”

“Will do, sir,” the lieutenant said, sighing. “Is there going to be a point where I’m not in charge of the baggage, sir? I was enjoying being with Second Legion.”

“Soon, Tao,” Herzer said, grinning. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“Thanks, sir,” Tao said. “Now?”

“If you would,” Herzer replied, glancing out the window. “Plenty of time. Catch some lunch with her in Washan, and probably dinner. Just get back here before nine or ten. If you’re out later, stay at the councilwoman’s quarters and send back word.”

“Is this a mission or a date?” Tao asked, grumpily.

“Make up your own mind,” Herzer replied, raising an eyebrow to Tao’s frown.

“You’re serious?” Tao asked, raising his own eyebrow.

“If you screw her up somehow, you’ll probably have to explain that to Megan,” Herzer said, frowning in turn. “And I’ll warn you that if you wrap your heart around that little minx, it’s going to get repeatedly broken. But if one thing leads to another, nobody’s going to complain.”

“Oh,” Tao said, suddenly reconsidering the quality of the mission. “Very well, sir.”

“And check on Destrang,” Herzer said. “He’s supposed to be passing this stuff to me, not you.”

“Yes, sir,” Tao said, nodding. “If that’s all.”

“Get,” Herzer said, finally grinning. “Have fun.”

“I’ll… try,” Tao admitted.

When the lieutenant was out of the office, Herzer used a knife to slit the envelope and dumped the contents out on the desktop. There were two inner envelopes, unsealed, one with diagrams and the other containing a long, handwritten, note.

He looked at the first diagram and grunted in surprise.

“Orderly!” he yelled at the door.

“Sir?” a Blood Lord private asked, opening the door as Herzer hastily covered the diagrams with the outer envelope.

“Get Councilwoman Travante, Evan Mayerle and… hmm…” He lifted up the envelope for consideration and then shrugged. “And Captain Van Buskirk. There’s something they need to see.”

“Now that is the… most bizarre space suit I’ve ever seen,” Van Buskirk said, flipping through the diagrams.

“It’s very functional,” Evan said musingly. “It’s apparently based upon an ancient diving suit.”

Herzer wasn’t sure where Megan’s dad had gotten the diagrams for the orc armor but they were complete drawings, obviously copies of the design documents. The body of the suit was, essentially, a cylinder. The entire top could be removed with bolts and the helmet was another cylinder with circular viewports out of the front and sides. The arms and legs were what was interesting, though. Each of the joints had some sort of armature on it.

“What is that?” Herzer asked, pointing at an arm joint.

“Apparently it’s attached to an oil-filled piston,” Evan said, flipping over one of the diagrams and pointing to a close-up of the joint. “It maintains smooth movement even in vacuum. Ingenious design.”

“Those things are going to be hard to penetrate,” Van Buskirk pointed out. “Even with the maces. I’m not sure the punch will work at all.”

“Don’t be,” Evan said, pointing to a notation on the diagram. “That’s eighteen-gauge steel. It has to be for weight reasons. Use heavy steel on those things and they’d weigh in at about a ton. Penetrating them is going to be easy.”

“And in vacuum that will matter,” Bus said, shaking his head. “In atmosphere, they’re going to be a bitch. The body of the orc isn’t going to be anywhere near the surface of the armor.”

“I don’t think we’re going to have problems,” Herzer said, considering the design carefully. “Whoever thought this suit up was an idiot.”

“Why?” Megan asked. “They look pretty tough to me.”

“Look at those joints,” Herzer said, grinning. “One hit on those things and you’re going to have a frozen joint. The documents said that they’re mostly going to be armed with polearms. Two polearms to one pick-axe or military hammer and each will have a heavy knife, more like a chisel really. But we’ve got other problems.” He waved the text documents and frowned.

“What?” Megan asked.

“There’s going to be one of those Changed elves with them,” Herzer said, still frowning. “That right there will be a nightmare. But they’re also going to be using some sort of scorpionoid. The document states that it will be different from the variety that attacked us but in an unknown way. Just ‘different.’ ”

“Modified for vacuum?” Van Buskirk mused. “Can Celine do that?”

“Probably,” Evan said. “The ones that were killed here and in Washan had carbon polymer plates. You could probably seal them against vacuum. But one good hit and they’ll be squirting ichor.”

“This mission is really gonna suck,” Bus said, sighing.

“That it will,” Herzer admitted.

“Have you worked out the teams, yet?” the captain asked, changing the subject.

“Yep,” Herzer said. “And you’re going to like them. The suits are going to be done day after tomorrow. At that point, we’ll start training on microgravity. I’ll announce the teams tomorrow at dinner.”

Herzer waited until the meal was done to announce the teams.

Chow had improved dramatically after a few blistering messages to the War Department. Cooks had been brought in “for the duration” as had a much better quality of food. Tonight’s dinner had been standing-rib roast with buttered potatoes and broccoli. Dessert was a layer cake. Not chocolate, unfortunately.

When people were working on the cake and coffee he stood up and waved his arms for attention.

“Okay,” he said, clearing his throat. “As you might have noticed from the training schedule, we do not have training scheduled tonight.”

He grinned as there was a cheer. For the last three weeks training had continued into the night, mostly on navigation around the complicated ship.

“The reason is that we’re about to start microgravity training and it’s time to break up into assault teams. Team leaders come up front,” he said, waving to the area in front of his table. “And as I call off your name, form on your team leaders, please.” He picked up an envelope and opened it, clearing his throat again.

“Team Herrick,” he said, looking up, “that would be me.” He waited for the chuckles to die down and then looked back at the paper. “Mission Commander: Councilwoman Megan Travante. Icarus CO: Commander Herzer Herrick. Comp Tech: Courtney Boehlke. Engineer: Evan Mayerle. Pilot: Joie Dessant. Blood Lords: Sergeant Layne Crismon and Corporal Yetta Barchick.”

Herzer waited until the group had assembled by his table and then looked back at the paper.

“Team Van Buskirk: Captain Arthur Van Buskirk, Icarus XO. Comp Tech: Jacklyn Pledger. Engineer: Linda Donohue. Pilot: Michelle Lopez. Blood Lords: Triari Sergeant Callius Doclu, Corporal Lief Mota, Private Ignacy de Freitas.

“Team Van Krief. Team Leader: Lieutenant Amosis Van Krief. Comp Tech: Richard Ward. Engineer: Paul Satyat. Pilot: Kristina York. Blood Lords: Line Sergeant Doo-Tae Rubenstein, Sergeant Eaton Yamada, Private Silvano Bijan.

“Team Cruz. Team Leader: Lieutenant Brice Cruz. Comp Tech: None.” They were short one computer technician and the teams were based on only having five engineers when six shuttles were expected. “Engineer: Geo Keating. Pilot: Irvin Sanchez. Blood Lords: Triari Sergeant Ferdous Dhanapal, Line Sergeant Gyozo Nasrin, Corporal Manos Berghaus, Private Gustave Sesheshet.

“Team Massa. Team Leader: Lieutenant Michael Massa. Comp Tech: Manuel Sukiama. Engineer: Nicole Howard. Pilot: Josten Ram. Blood Lords: Line Sergeant Arje Budak, Corporal Feng fu Nordbrandt, Private Rashid Whitlock.

“Team Graff. Team Leader: Triari Sergeant Ebenezer Graff, Line Sergeant Buu Kiem Topak, Sergeant Gonzalo Kamsing, Corporal Slodoban Toralva, Corporal Genrich Khologdori, Private Lambis Pepynakt, Private Viktor Williams.”

He looked up from the teams and nodded in understanding. Everyone had already formed bonds based on their training with peers. Now they were expected to get used to these relative strangers. The groups had gotten accustomed to wearing their individual uniforms and the mixture seemed… odd. Geo, surrounded by Blood Lords, seemed especially out of place. Linda was looking from Geo up to Herzer. The latter looks would have been deadly if eyes shot fire, and her face was fixed in a frown.

“You need to get used to these teams,” Herzer said. “In general, during the mission, this is how you’ll be performing your individual tasks. The Blood Lords who are with you are there to keep you alive. By the same token, the techs are there to make sure the mission actually gets accomplished and to handle shipboard systems. This is the group you’re going to be moving, fighting and living with. Everyone has a purpose and you’re going to have to learn to work with each other and trust each other to do the job. Otherwise, we might as well pack it up and go home. So figure on spending most of your training and free time with your teams. That’s all I’ve got. I’d suggest you guys get acquainted.”

He walked back to his place and sat down as Courtney came over and perched on the end of the table.

“Hello, Councilwoman,” Courtney said, holding out her hand to Megan. “I’m Courtney Boehlke. I’m going to be the computer tech on your team.”

“And I’m Evan Mayerle,” Evan said with a grin, holding out his own hand. “Pleased to meet you. Who’s the big lug sitting next to you?”

Megan grinned and solemnly shook their hands in turn.

“I don’t know who he is,” Megan said, thumping Herzer on the arm. “He followed me home, though, so I think I have to keep him.”

“Here comes trouble,” Layne Crismon whispered from behind Herzer, who looked up to see Linda striding over with a furious expression on her face.

“Herzer, I have a bone to pick with you,” Linda said, leaning over the table so far it looked as if she was going to spit in his face.

“Let’s take it into the corner,” Herzer said, gesturing to the far side of the dining hall.

When he’d gotten out of earshot of the teams, he stopped and pivoted to face her.

“It’s about Geo?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I was supposed to be with him the whole time!” Linda spat. “You promised me that! And his ship…”

“Doesn’t have a computer tech,” Herzer said, nodding. “So you think you should switch with one of the Blood Lords?”

“Yes!” Linda snapped.

“And double up our short engineers,” Herzer pointed out. “On a ship that could be taken out by New Destiny if we get very unlucky?”

“What do you mean?” Linda said, pausing.

“It’s possible that one or more teams may get wiped out on insertion,” Herzer pointed out with glacial calm. “Or at a later time. Hell, we may all get wiped out. But I’m mostly worried about insertion; we don’t have any control over the shuttles until we get to the ship. So I’d like you to take a look over at Geo’s team.”

“What am I supposed to see?” Linda said after a few moments.

“Cruz is one of the few people I handpicked for this mission,” Herzer said, gesturing at the team leader, who was listening to the old physicist and nodding his head. “That’s because he’s a stone-cold killer who uses his head. He actively enjoys bringing destruction to the enemy and he’s very good at it. Ferdous Dhanapal was part of Class One at the Blood Lord Academy. He’s never going to get any higher than Triari because he’s dumb as a brick about everything except killing and doing the mission. He’s the guy that ‘fight until you die or drop’ was written for. Gyozo Nasrin has won the silver eagle twice, once in Raven’s Mill and the second time in Balmoran. Again, a cold hard killer with not an ounce of quit in him. He’s one of the volunteers because if it has a ‘high risk of loss of life’ it means it has a high risk of getting it stuck in and he loves getting in a brawl. Shall I continue?”

“You put all the best fighters around him,” Linda said, nodding.

“I’d, frankly, thought about reloading with more on my shuttle,” Herzer said, shrugging. “But next to Megan and myself, yeah, I think Geo’s the one to guard. He understands all the theory, and the engineering, of the ships. That’s going to be important, unless I’m much mistaken. So, which Blood Lord do you want to bump?”

“None,” Linda admitted, sighing. “Objection withdrawn.”

“Next time assume I have a reason for what I do,” Herzer said. “That’s always the best way to go with orders. Yeah, you can question. But after you obey. Now, go get to know your team. They’re going to be what keeps you alive. If you live.”

“Thanks for being so positive,” Linda said, shaking her head. But she headed back to her team.

“That was positive,” Herzer said, sighing.