Eye of the Storm

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Hagai looked at the Buckley in disgust. It was the first real chance he’d had to work with it since Ginsburg had been being a real prick lately. The ship time should have been a chance to rest after the constant training on earth. But Ginsburg felt that there was no such thing as too much training. Intellectually, Hagai agreed with him. Emotionally, he thought the Feldwebel was just being a prick. He was pretty sure that Ginsburg was one of the closet anti-Semites in Freiland and was getting his enjoyment from making the little Jew-boy sweat. Or maybe he was trying to prove that, name or not, he was not a Jew.

But he finally had some free time and while tired had chosen to take a few minutes to get the Buckley started. He’d heard rumors they were… difficult on start-up. He wasn’t looking forward to it but duty was duty.

He pressed the recessed button to begin activation and held the thing up where he could see it.

“Where am I? What is this? I think therefore I am, so I’m me… Christ! I’m in a PDA! Oh, that is just too rich. First my hand gets blown off then a space ship falls on me… And now I’m the brain for a PDA? How do I get laid in this thing? What happened to my dick? Will my suffering never end?”

“Buckley, I am Schutze Hagai Goldschmidt,” Hagai said, his eyes wide. “I am your new user. Please register me as your user.”

“Hagai Goldschmidt registered,” the thing said, tonelessly. “Great. Now I’m the slave to a fricking Jewish SS private. There is just so much irony there. Accessing background and personal files… Panzerjaeger? Hedren? As if the Posleen weren’t enough, now I’m working for a guy who’s supposed to use a fricking modified T-62 to take on Continent Siege Units? You realize we have about zero chance of survival, right? Those things are monsters! We’re going to die. Would you like me to list the top ten ways that you are probably going to die? Number Ten: Burning to death in your own tank. Number Nine… ”

“No, Buckley, you don’t have to list them,” Hagai said, shaking the device. “Quit.”

“Sure, shake me,” the Buckley said. “That’s all I’m good for, being a rattle for a baby Jewish SS Stormtrooper who has the life expectancy of a gnat… ”

“Tell it to turn down emulation to five,” Unterofficer Leuschner said from the bunk above him. The corporal was the gunner of Hagai’s Zweihander and very friendly compared to the track commander. “They’re all like that when they start.”

“Buckley, turn down AI emulation to level five,” Hagai said. The voice cut off. “What in the hell was that all about?”

“Nobody knows,” Leuschner said. “They all say pretty much the same thing on start-up, though. It’s useful for playing games and that’s about it.”

“Damn,” Hagai said, realizing what day it is. “I’m not sure I should have done this.”

“Why?” Leuschner asked.

“It’s Seder,” Hagai said, grumpily. “And now I have to pee, too.”

“I’m not getting the connection,” Leuschner said.

“Unterofficer… No, damn, I can’t even do that… ”

“What is wrong, Schutze?” Leuschner said, rolling over to look at the private.

“To explain that I must explain certain things to do with Hebraic law,” Goldschmidt said, biting his lip. “Perhaps then you can understand my dilemna.”

“You can’t eat pork,” Leuschner said, grinning. “Which sucks because bacon is really good. So is pork sausage. Uhmmm.”

“So I have been told,” Goldschmidt said, frowning. “But today is Seder. The Jewish sabbath.”

“Saturday,” Leuschner said, nodding. “I know that much of Jews.”

“On Seder there are various traditions which I’m not going to go into,” Hagai said. “Mostly because following them is impossible. But the problem is, I cannot operate any device.”

“So what happens if we have to drive into battle on Saturday?” Leuschner asked, his eyes narrowing.

“When it is duty, such things can be ignored,” Hagai said, shrugging. “Also for training. I have not complained even when we were training on Seder. This is duty. The Rabbi assured me that it was not a sin.”

“So… ”

“But this is personal,” Hagai said. “I cannot operate any device. Yes, thinking about it, I should not have started my Buckley up today. I will have to talk to the rabbi about it when I get a chance. But the problem is, I must now go to the bathroom.”

“You can’t unzip your pants?” Leuschner said, grinning.

“Yes, of course I’m allowed to zip my pants,” Hagai said. “But I cannot turn on a light.”

“The lights are automatic,” Leuschner said.

“It is the same things,” Hagai said. “And I cannot let the automatic flush work. It is sin.”

“That is crazy,” Leuschner said. “But the lights in the compartment are on. They came on when we came off duty. Is that a sin?”

“But I didn’t turn them on,” Hagai said, rolling out of his bunk. He had the bottom which in most cases was reserved for higher rank. On ships, though, the higher bunks were prefered. The entry and exit from warp induced a slight queasiness in some people. Being above the occasional spew was considered preferable. “Someone else entered first. I made sure to let someone else enter first so they could turn on the lights.”

“So what are you going to do?” Leuschner asked.

“I’m going to go to the latrine and hope there’s someone already in there.”

Hagai cracked open the hatch to the latrine and saw that the lights were off. Damn!

He waited in the corridor for someone else to enter the compartment, his arms crossed and bouncing in his need to pee. Various troops and NCOs past, some of them raising an eyebrow. Finally, a Feldwebel came along and paused at the door.

“Is there something wrong with the latrine, yellow-shit?” the Feldwebel asked.

“Nein, Feldwebel,” Hagai said, coming to attention and trying not to bounce.

“Then why are you standing here?” the sergeant asked.

“It is… complicated, Feldwebel,” Hagai replied. “But please to enter first.”

The sergeant pushed open the hatch suspiciously and looked around for a possible ambush. When it was apparent the compartment was empty he walked in and headed to one of the stalls.

Hagai darted in behind him and practically ran to a urinal, untabbing his trousers as he did. He let out a long sigh a moment later.

“Schutze, you are acting very strangely,” the Feldwebel said, grunting. “Are you well?”

Some of the SS troops had succumbed to situational stress disorder on the voyage, unable to handle the fact of being in a tin can in outer space. The Feldwebel clearly feared that he was suffering from the ‘raumverruckt,’ space crazy.

“I’m fine now, Feldwebel,” Hagai said then paused. He tabbed up his pants and thought about it hard but there was nothing for it. He backed up and the urinal flushed.

Damn. Another sin. It was hard being a good Jew on a space ship.

He walked to the sink to wash his hands and nearly cursed.

The faucet was automatic…

Maybe he should think about shifting over to Reform. They didn’t have as many rules…

No. His mother would kill him. Or, rather, his mother would kill herself.

He made a mental bet with himself that Frederick was having a pleasure cruise…

“The V-1467 charging system, a generator connected to six C-8438 capacitors via the T-2754 power junction is the primary charging system of the main gun… ” Frederick recited, standing stiffly to attention.

“In the event of failure of the V-1467 charging system, what is the primary response method?” Harz barked.

“By connecting the G-396 generator to the T-2754 power junction using the M-892 power run and an S-487 connector, power to the main gun can be reestablished under field combat conditions. However it is recommended that… ”

“What are the negative effects of using the G-396 generator to power the gun?”

“The G-396 generator is the primary power system for the ground effect drive. The G-396 generator is a generator connected to… ”

“What if we need the ground effect drive and the gun but the V-1467 is out?”

“If the V-1467… ” Frederick said then paused. “I do not recall any portion of the manual that covers that eventuality, Feldwebel.”

“That’s because there’s nothing in the manual, Schutze,” Harz said. “But let us imagine for just a moment that the unit is moving very fast in march order but wants to have the guns up. Because, you know, we are a panzer unit. Perhaps we intend to go directly into battle after we come off ground effect and perhaps, just perhaps, we will need our gun. How would you affect that?”

“The diesel engine, which provides power to all the generators, can run without the G-428 generator,” Frederick said, slowly and carefully. “The only way I can think of to get the whole system to work under those conditions would be to start the engine then disconnect the G-428 and attach it to the gun system. But I’m not sure it would work. The S-487 connector… I don’t think it will fit the G-428… And I’m not sure there is sufficient charging capacity because… ”

“It would take about three times as much time to charge the guns, but it could do it,” Harz said. “Which means that we’d have less rounds we could fire per minute. But we could fire some rounds. Until we died, that is. Or the engine choked out because you ran over an obstacle. Then we’d have to hop out in a hostile environment and try to get everything running again. Not a good position to be in. What is the P-5297?”

Frederick ran through his memorized list of the many parts and pieces of the Leopard and could not for the life of him recall what a P-5297 was. He vaguely recognized it, though. It was there… Wait…

“The P-5297 is… a lifting platform,” Frederick said, frowning. “It is mentioned once in the loading appendix. It is used for short distance movement, primarily in loading and internal ship movement procedures. If, for example, a shuttle has a damaged loading ramp, the P-5297 can be used to move the vehicle vertically then… ”

“How many are on the ship?” Harz asked.

“What?” the private asked. “Feldwebel… How would I know that?”

“You couldn’t,” Harz said, grinning. “Unless you had my network of comrades. The answer is very interesting, though. As is the fact that they have been upgraded with the M-3698 field generator.”

Frederick ran through his mental checklist and came up most definitely blank.

“I do not recognize that item, Feldwebel,” he admitted.

“That’s because it is not in our inventory,” Harz said. “It’s a Fleet Strike item. It uses the American naming convention. Put it out of your mind. Useless military trivia. Let us return to training.”

It was normally easy duty.

The military police of Feldgendarmerie Company 1 had various duties. The soldiers packed into the assault transports were occasionally given to high spirits. These ranged from stills to occasional fights that approached riots. By and large, the unit officers could control both but occasionally they needed help.

One of the easiest duties they had, though, was guarding the headquarters section and, especially, ensuring that no-one broke in on command meetings. They had been briefed that this was a special meeting. The ships were three weeks into their voyage and had broken out of warp specifically to gather the battalion and regiment commanders to meet with the Generalmajor. Something important was being discussed but all such discussions were important. It should have been easy duty. Just stand there looking alert and not let anyone through the door.

“Should we call the Hauptmann?” the Schutze asked.

“We should stand here with our mouths shut and our ears shut as much as possible,” the Feldwebel said. “So shut… up.”

The hatch was very thick and very sound-proofed. So it required very high decibels to penetrate it. The first such had been a simple question: “Was?” (“What?”) It sounded like it might have been the Second Panzergrenadier Regiment’s commander. Thereafter there was babble followed by “madness!” “Impossible!” and, repeatedly, “Disaster!”

Command meetings, especially those of Herr Generalfeldmarschall, did not devolve into riots. This one, however, was sounding more and more like one.

“They’re quieting down,” the Feldwebel said. “You will not bring up that anything unusual happened. There are but two of us. If it gets out, it will fall on one of us. It will not fall on me.”

“I hear not’ink,” the Schutze said in thick English. “I see not’ink.”

“Those old shows will rot your brain.”

“Buckley, contact Schutze Hagai Goldschmidt,” Frederick said, quietly.

The Buckley was supposed to be hooked into the ship’s communication’s system so he should be able to contact Hagai. If he was on the same ship.

“Contacting,” the Buckley said tonelessly. After the slew of despair the thing had spewed on first starting, he had asked how to turn down the emulation. Feldwebel Harz had tried to load a Rommel emulation he’d gotten off the net and crashed his so hard it had to be replaced. All it kept doing was repeating “Who controls space? Who controls the air? Adoption compromise solutions must be adopted!”

So everyone had turned the emulations down, but the devices were still useful for communication.

“Ox, how are you?”

“Over-trained and undersexed,” Frederick replied, grinning. “You?”

“Much the same,” Hagai said. “Oh, I got transferred. To Florian Geyer.”

“The Panzerjaegers? Who hated you that much? They’re supposed to take on the Juggernauts!”

“Maccabeus was over-strength, Florian Geyer was under. It’s tough, though. They don’t observe kosher and… other stuff.”

“Wow, must suck,” Frederick said. In school the cooks had been careful to always have some kosher foods avaialable for the Jewish children. But even then the choices had been more scanty than those for the ‘regulars.’ “I’ve got a question for you.”

“Go.”

“Harz was quizzing me the other day,” Frederick said. “About the P-5297 and the M-3698.”

“Lifting platform and… a field generator?” Hagai said.

“Yes, I looked the M-3698 up later. It’s a field generator for ‘high energy conditions.’ But I don’t know what that means. And it’s all I could find. Harz asked me about them then told me to forget he’d asked.”

“The lifting platforms are usually used to move very heavy equipment around,” Hagai said. “Makes sense on a ship. The Kobolds are probably using them to rearrange equipment. The lifting platform also has a mass effect repellent system. That’s a system that will prevent serious falls. When it approaches a mass at high speed it reduces the velocity of the lifted system automatically. It’s a safety device, basically, but they were used a couple of times in the War for aerial resupply. They drop at normal terminal velocity then slow a couple of feet off the ground and drop under reduced gravity. No real deceleration effect so you can drop about anything. I don’t know much about the M-3698. It uses a set of energy fields to shield equipment or personnel in high-energy situations. Like if they know there’s going to be a nuclear detonation. It won’t stop the full power of one, but it will shield from secondary effects. Works on all forms of matter and most particles but once activated it only lasts for about thirty minutes. They were developed during the War but rarely used. All I can remember.”

“You’re a wonder, Jaeger,” Frederick said. “Don’t let the Juggernauts eat you.”

“Well, we’re supposed to be seconded to other units,” Hagai said. “So maybe we’ll see each other. It’s late, Ox, I’m going to get some sleep.”

“You’re an old soldier already, Jaeger.”

“Generalmajor, there are problems.”

Oberst Werner Wehling was the Staff 2 (Personnel) for the Vaterland. Like most of the High Command he was a rejuv, dating back to WWII. His specialty, even then, was personnel and he’d held similar positions during the Posleen War.

“Define,” Muehlenkampf said.

“Two in nature,” Wehling said. “The first is that there are increasing personnel interaction difficulties. The Feldgendarmerie have been forced to break up and more and more fights. This is leading to inter-unit difficulties in some compartments. The second relates to queries on the ship’s net about the P-5297s and the M-3698s.”

“Apparently someone in logistics has been flapping their lips,” Muehlenkampf said, nodding. “This is not unexpected. 1A.”

“Generalmajor?” Oberst Dotzauer said. Dotzauer had commanded a brigade during the Posleen War but his true love was operations, defined in the German staff structure as Group 1 (A) just as Personnel was Group 2.

“What is the status of training?”

“There is, unfortunately, little training that can be done on the ship,” Dotzauer said, shrugging. “We have no simulators so the major faults left on the enlisted side are difficult to rectify. Maintenance, for obvious reasons, is being handled by the Indowy. So there is no training to be done there. Most of the training that is scheduled is repetitive. There are benefits to repetition, but these are relatively simple tasks.”

“Two, send a general order to all ships the next time we drop out of warp for navigational alignment,” Muehlenkampf said. “Hiberzine is to be administered to all personnel below the level of battalion command and staff. All officers and all enlisted. Spread it as a life-support saving measure. We will bring them out when we are closer to the objective.”

“This will exhaust most of our stock of Hiberzine, Colonel.”

“I am aware of that, Hauptmann,” Colonel Isabel De Gaullejac said.

Isabel De Gaullejac had been a hardcore French socialist liberal, and there were no more hardcore socialist liberals on Earth, even after the Posleen had landed on Earth. There was no benefit, she felt, to soldiers and there was no way that an extraterrestrial race could possibly be as violent as they were portrayed. It was simply a plot to advance the military-industrial complex and she would not let her sons be squandered to make profits for the corporations.

She had held that unshaken belief right up until the retreat from Paris. But nearly dying from starvation, not to mention nearly feeding the Posleen, had broken her disbelief. At which point she became just as fanatical in the reverse. A trained doctor, she now commanded the SS medical corps and if she had any qualms about that remaining from her younger and more naïve days they never surfaced.

“But the order is valid and will be obeyed,” the Colonel said. “Circulate the order to all medical personnel. Put in a priority request to be resupplied with Hiberzine if we pass any inhabited planet. It is too useful a drug to not have in our inventory. We are going to need it.”

Frederick watched the coprsmen approach unhappily. As each of the troopers in the compartment were given their injections they relaxed so much as to appear dead and their faces flushed. With tongues bulging out slightly and their eyes open they looked not so much dead but as if they were sleeping nosferatu, the original vampire legend of the living dead.

“One little shot and you’ll wake up refreshed and ready for battle,” the corpsman repeated as he gave Aderholder his shot. They were saying that with everyone, as if that was going to make people feel better.

“Just go ahead,” Frederick said, cutting off the mantra. “I’m not afraid.”

“That makes you unique in this ship in my experience,” the medic said.

But Frederick didn’t hear as his body settled into stillness.