Date Point: 13y8m AV
HMS Sharman (HMNB Folctha), Cimbrean, The Far Reaches
Harry Vandenberg
There was a decent brain in Allison Buehler’s head, if only she’d stop pretending there wasn’t. She was the flight engineer on a billion-dollar prototype starship, after all: She wouldn’t have the job unless she had the chops for some serious mathematical and practical engineering. Mere galactic experience as an abductee wouldn’t have got her even halfway there.
Fortunately, Rebar was used to dealing with searingly intelligent people who hated to think of themselves as intelligent. He was after all a Master Sergeant in the US Army, bastion of the violently anti-intellectual genius. The other services had their upside but nobody found the problem children like the Army.
Family issues? Check. Wild childhood? Check. Probably on the wrong side of the law a few times but never got caught and didn’t want to admit it? Like looking in a fucking mirror. She hadn’t even graduated high school…And neither had Rebar.
The Air Force would have straight rejected someone like that. So would the Navy. And the Marines were their own special flavor of weird, so God alone knew what they’d have done with her. But the Army’s motto might as well have been ‘We’ll take ‘em, and we’ll fix ‘em up but good,’ and Rebar would deck anyone who said otherwise, Firth included.
Byron Group, apparently, had a similar attitude. Or maybe they were just open-minded enough to have given Buehler a shot for the sake of keeping the other two, and she’d turned out to be worthy in her own right. And maybe she had only realized her potential because of the other two…it didn’t matter.
What mattered was results. He didn’t need to give a shit why she sat attentively through Baseball lecturing her on emergency trauma medicine, or paid studious attention as Rebar went through his own dissertation on Electrostatic Field Welding in hard vacuum with her. All that mattered was that she did.
Still. It wouldn’t hurt her to see herself clearly for what she was.
“So what are we doing?”
“I had Tech Sergeant Kovač run up a little somethin’. A test of sorts. Or a competition, maybe.”
Allison tilted her head to one side slightly in a display of interest which ruined her attempt to maintain that zero-fucks-given attitude. “Competition, huh? Against who?”
“Against me. I dunno what she cooked up for us, but she promised to make it a fair contest.”
“Well shit, now you’ve got me all nervous.”
Rebar just shook his head and opened the door to one of their backup workshops, the one which didn’t have anything to do with EV-MASS suits or other classified technology. Normally it was Motor Pool’s little kingdom, but today it was an arena.
Kovač was waiting for them, and she had that grin on. The uniquely Air Force one they apparently taught at Lackland that said ‘We’re smarter than you, and we know it.’
Which was fine: They always came running up to Papa Army when they needed anything dirty done, anyway. But right now it hinted that she’d brought her A-game for designing this challenge, whatever it was.
“Just FYI, I’m streaming this,” she told them. “The Lads are round the TV right now, watching, and so are the folks over at Chiune Station. So, y’know…No pressure to represent.”
“What’ve you got for us?” Allison asked her.
Kovač gestured to two cleared workbenches, each of which had something on it under a cloth. “Emergency repair of a busted forcefield emitter,” she said. “You have to diagnose and repair the fault using only the tools provided, and you’ll be judged on speed and on how well the module works after you declare you’re done with it. Sound fair?”
Rebar and Allison glanced at one another, and she held out a hand. “Sounds fair to me.”
He shook it. “Me too.”
“Good. And, one last complication….” Kovač’s smile got a little wider. “You’re working isolated from each other so you won’t know how the other one’s doing.”
Yup. She brought her A-game.
“Any questions?” she asked.
Allison’s hand went up. “If we declare done and then it turns out we declared first, I’m guessing we don’t get to go back and keep working on it?”
Kovač nodded. “Right. Once you say you’re done, you’re done. So if you call and Master Sergeant Vandenberg here leaves you waiting twenty minutes, you just have to sweat it out. Any other questions?”
There weren’t. She soon had them at their workbenches with a corner of the cloth in hand ready to whip away when she gave the signal, and returned to the front and center of the room where she picked up a stopwatch.
“Ready? On your marks…get set….Go!”
Was there a tier above A-game? She’d literally given him a multimeter, a screwdriver, and a soldering iron to work with and nothing else other than a plastic tray full of replacement parts. Though, that immediately hinted at what kind of fault he was dealing with at least. Rebar wasted no time getting the case off the emitter and turned it back and forth under the light once he’d exposed its electronic guts, looking for any signs of cracking, dirt or burning.
Electronic engineering was more Akiyama’s field, but the HEAT practiced the basic principle that somebody else had to be able to do each man’s job if he wasn’t available. He didn’t necessarily have to be as good, but he still had to be good.
Okay. First step: Was power getting to the field emitter? He broke out the multimeter and went to work inserting its probes, looking for voltages.
The fault, when he eventually discovered it, was the kind of simple problem that was fiendishly subtle just because it was so simple. Ship-wide power distribution had to be AC, since things like induction motors were too perfect to ever ditch. That meant the emitter had a very compact power supply which in turn had at least one rectifier.
One of the rectifier’s resistors failed above a certain input current, which in turn produced a choppy DC power output. Field emitters were notoriously sensitive to “dirty” power and gave rise to all sorts of wacky fun when mis-fed.
Fortunately, Kovač had given them paper and a pencil too, so he used a minute to do the maths and sketch out a resistor network to replace the fault, neatly assembled it and gave the emitter a test run.
He grunted at the sight of a few flashes of blue light at the field edge, but older emitters did that. It was wasteful of power, but the field itself was stable now and performing to spec. He hit the button to signal that he was done.
Kovač nodded, and gestured for him to present his work, but Buehler was waiting for him as he stepped around the divider.
“Done, huh?” he asked, handing it over.
She nodded. “Yeah. Yours was a bad rectifier too?”
“Yup. How long you been done?”
“About five minutes.” She grinned.
“You’re shittin’ me?”
“Nah.” She shook her head. “Those early IMI emitters were pretty much copy-pasted from the Dominion’s technology gift basket, they inherited a mess of ET design flaws.”
“They’re built like a ten dollar Walkman from the eighties.”
Allison shrugged. “I think the idea is to make them idiot-proof so the galactic newbies can put their own spin on ‘em. Or maybe I’m just being charitable.”
“Nah. How’d you find the problem so quick?”
“Dude, it’s always the power supply. It’s the most expensive bit and ET companies have that thing where the accountants ride them to cut costs all the way down, so they always make it dirt cheap.”
“That feels so…un-American. I’ll have to remember it.”
“Well,” Kovač interjected, “They both work to spec now, so the winner by time—” she gestured to Allison with a wry smile.
“Eh. Just good luck I knew something extra.”
“Naw, don’t knock it,” Rebar shook his head firmly. “That’s what bein’ smart is all about. C’mon,” he added, and gestured for her to follow, “I think I owe you barbeque. Firth got another deer last week and I built him a *brand new smoker*…”
“It’s deer season?”
“No, but Kentucky’s been doing special seasons all year ‘cuz apparently there’s way too many yearlings. Now hurry up, I don’t want the fat fuckers to eat it all!”
“Save me some!” Kovač told him.
“Please. Like ‘Horse didn’t plate some up for you.”
“Won’t matter, that man of mine is a black hole for protein. Sooner or later it’ll just fall into his mouth.”
“Just so long as I get to take some home for mine,” Allison said. She gave the emitters on the table one last thoughtful look as Rebar led the way out of the room. “I think ‘Horse infected him with his appetite.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll set aside enough for both of yours,” Rebar promised. “Talkin’ business fer a second, though…”
“Yeah?”
“When are you goin’ back for some formal qualifications like we discussed?“
Allison squirmed and grimaced. “Like I said, I…really don’t have the mind for that shit.”
Rebar had promised himself that the next time she said that would be the last straw, and he kept his promises. He stopped dead in his tracks and whirled around to face her. “Bullshit.”
“No, look,” she tried to defend herself, “swapping out parts and welding bits is one thing, but—”
It was remarkable how easy it was to root a civilian dead in place with just with a quiet growl and a little personal space invasion. Even the determinedly prickly Allison Buehler went into still-and-quiet mode the instant Rebar went full Master Sergeant, while Kovač found something discreet to be doing a few yards away.
“Shut the fuck up. I’ve about had it up to fuckin’ here with your goddamned excuses. I’ve seen your testing, I’ve just had my ass handed to me on something I know backwards and forwards, and frankly, hearing the flight engineer of a goddamned billion-dollar experimental exploration vessel complain she ain’t good enough is a mite fuckin’ rich.”
“But—”
“Can it. Here’s what ‘yer gonna fuckin’ do. You’re gonna get online, figger out which cert you wanna get, then you’re gonna bring it over here and you’re gonna study your fuckin’ ass off, and you’re gonna get that fuckin’ qual. Am I understood?”
“Do we have time? I—”
“The words yer lookin’ for,” Rebar told her, and shaved a few more inches off her personal space to drive his point home, “Are *‘Yes, Master Sergeant Vandenberg.’*“
Nobody was tough enough to stand their ground against a force like that; the animal side of the brain took over. Allison went even paler than her usual shade and leaned away from him. “Y-yes sir.”
“I work for a living, don’t call me sir next time.” Rebar turned and stomped away, then paused and looked back. “Well?” He growled, “Go,” than turned away again and utterly ignored her.
“R-right.” Allison fumbled for a second, not knowing which direction to go, then beat an undignified retreat.
Kovač watched her go with a mildly alarmed look. Air Force. One thing they really didn’t understand was a good ‘ol fashioned counseling and absolutely nobody did it better than a pissed off senior NCO who had survived years of the Army’s loving attentions.
“I’ve had to snap back some lazy techs this year,” she observed, “but Allison doesn’t even work for us.”
“Am I in charge of her training? Then yes, she fuckin’ works for me. So do you. You got anything important to do? Go do it. Now.”
Kovač’s expression hardened in a way that promised retribution at a later date, but she was a quality NCO. She snapped to, nodded, and carried on. “Yes, Master Sergeant Vandenberg.”
He smiled at her. “See, was that so hard? C’mon. I think I owe her a double helping…and maybe I’ll sneak her something so Dane don’t get his hands on it. Um…ideas?”
“Chocolate,” she replied promptly, doing a once-round of the workshop to make sure everything was properly put away and the lights were off. “The really good stuff from that place on North Water Street. And if you’re a smart man, you’ll give me a double portion yesterday.”
“Right, right. You have a loaded Warhorse an’ yer not afraid to use him.”
“I don’t need him to fight my battles. I was thinking…you might need a full refit. And some acclimation time.”
“See!” Rebar laughed, “You goddamned corporate Chairforce types just ain’t got the right kind of spite! Imagine how many dumbshit airmen you could Motivate with a mind like that?”
She locked up the workshop behind them. “Two words: Retention. Issues.”
“See, Army fixed that centuries ago. It’s easy, just don’t train ‘em up so they’re worth two hundred grand in the civilian world, or, y’know, make ‘em dumbasses like me whose skillset don’t really fit in the outside.”
“Hmm.” She pocketed the key and gestured in the direction Allison had fled. “…What about her? I kinda get the impression you think she was wasted on civilian life.”
“No, I think she was wasted on society. What she needed, I think, was someone to value her.”
“And now she’s got two.”
“More’n two.” Rebar shrugged. “Look, I ain’t the romantic type, I’m just into messin’ with minds and fuckin’ warm holes. I’ll leave the feelings crap up to you.”
Kovač finally cracked a smile. Rebar had learned a long time ago that he could diffuse any situation by being the friendliest, gruffest, raunchiest goat ever. Which was easy since really, all he had to do was turn his filter off.
“Still,” she repeated. “Chocolate. The good stuff.”
“Fair deal. Just don’t let ‘Horse know you’re cheating on him!”
That got him a full-throated laugh and a shaking head, which he answered with the cheesiest grin he had. He was pleased with himself, he had to admit—In one fell swoop he’d begun his Allison Fix and educated an excellent young Technical Sergeant on the finer points of wrangling a team filled with hyper-alpha men.
All in a day’s work.
Date Point: 13y8m AV
BGEV-11 Misfit, Chiune Station, Cimbrean, The Far Reaches
Xiù Chang
“Hey—”
Xiù’s warm greeting died halfway through the moment she saw the look on Allison’s face. It was the look of a woman who had started from raging angry, and had somehow managed to cultivate and stoke that feeling all through the ninety minute drive from Folctha to Chiune Station.
She softened by the tiniest amount, just enough to give Xiù a wave, then strode right across the room in three steps, grabbed Julian by the collar and shut him up before he even said anything with a maneuver that was equal parts kissing him and dragging him toward the bunks.
He must have been just as confused as Xiù was, because his reaction was to hesitate.
“Mmm…uh, Al, are you okay—?”
She grabbed him by the belt. “Shut up, Etsicitty.”
There was a tone of voice she hadn’t used in months. Just using his surname that way was…inspiring. Xiù sat up and watched with glowing cheeks, a dry mouth and with her pulse pounding in her ears.
Julian had pretty much the same stunned look on his face. “…Shutting up, ma’am.”
“Good boy. Put those new muscles to work…”
“Should I, um…give you two some space?” Xiù asked.
“Oh, hell no,” Allison paused in peeling Julian’s shirt off him. “You’re gonna join us in a minute. You got that, babe?”
“Y-yes ma’am.”
“Good girl.”
Glowing at the sudden explosion of erotic energy in her belly, Xiù swallowed, watched…and silently made a note to find out what had happened and thank the person responsible.
A few minutes later, she was far too preoccupied to remember.
Date Point: 13y8m AV
HMS Sharman (HMNB Folctha), Cimbrean, The Far Reache s
Doctor Rufus Taylor
“So…I just hold it?”
The HEAT weren’t actually part of the double-blind trial to verify the *Huh*‘s function, but they were available, and somehow the opportunity to see how they reacted had been just too much to pass up. The scientific value was dubious…but it scratched an itch, so to speak.
“That’s right. And tell us…how do you feel? Focus particularly on emotions.”
Sergeant Arés frowned and rolled the Huh around in his huge mitts, studying it from several angles.
“…I dunno,” he conceded at length. “A little curious, maybe? The light does weird things on it.”
“…Huh.”
“What about it?”
“No no, just…that’s all?”
“I’m kinda hungry I guess…”
“Any…aggressive thoughts? Anger?”
“No more than usual. Why?”
“…do you always feel aggressive?”
Adam rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Dude. Look at me. What do you think?”
“…Thank you, Tech Sergeant.”
Arés nodded and squeezed himself out through the door, sideways. Nadeau sat back and ran his free hand over his scalp.
Beside him, Doctor Taylor chuckled. “So…mostly muted responses. Three non-responses, and only one genuine provocation. Sikes is the only normal one of the bunch.”
“I really wasn’t expecting a non-response from Murray, though.”
“It’s always the quiet ones, Nadeau.”
“Suddenly, I’m much more scared of him. Anyway…between this and the results from the double-blind, I think your hypothesis is on solid footing.”
“Let’s not be premature,” Taylor said and picked up his tablet again. “It’s time for the Gaoians…”
Date Point: 13y8m AV
BGEV-11 Misfit, Chiune Station, Cimbrean, The Far Reaches
Julian Etsicitty
“Better now?”
Allison must have dozed off. Her head jerked up by a fraction of an inch and hovered there for a second as she got her bearings before she looked up. She stretched aesthetically against Julian’s side, then stretched up and kissed him.
“…Yeah.”
She glanced at Xiù, who hadn’t only dozed off but was genuinely fast asleep on Julian’s other shoulder, and smiled.
“What happened?”
“Rebar chewed me out. Like, really chewed me out, got right up in my face and everything. I think I genuinely pissed him off.”
Julian raised his head and inclined it curiously. “How the hell did you manage that?”
“Ergh, it’s…stupid. I’m stupid. I mean, I’m not stupid but I keep fooling myself that I am.”
“Oh, that.” Julian nodded.
“What, it annoyed you too?” Allison sat up. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“Mmnnnot annoyed.” Julian shifted slightly and they both shut up as Xiù mumbled an incoherent objection. She fell asleep again instantly, but he lowered his voice and gave her a squeeze. “More like…I dunno the word for it. Like, kind of a positive frustration? When you know that somebody you love is better than they think they are.”
Allison stroked some hair out of Xiù’s face.
“…Do you think it’s even possible to be completely honest with yourself?” she asked. “Just…see yourself as you really are? No pride, no modesty, just the truth.”
Julian ran a comforting hand up her spine. “Well…if my training with these fitness-freak fellas has taught me anything…probably not.”
She nodded. “But it’s good to try, right?”
He ran his hand back down again, nodding. “Probably.”
She took his hand, interlaced their fingers, then leaned over and kissed him again, before putting her head down on his shoulder while wrapping his arm around her shoulders like a blanket.
Julian kissed the top of her head, and had a thought.
“Don’t you wanna be wrong anyway?” he asked.
“Hmm?” she tilted her head up toward him slightly.
“Well, don’t you want to be better than you think you are? That’s a good thing, right?”
She thought about it for a second, then snuggled down into him again. “…Yeah, I do.”
“So what’re you gonna do?”
“I’m gonna sleep,” she said. “And in the morning…I’m gonna get me a real qualification. Some letters after my name. Something.”
“Attagirl,” he smiled. “I, uh… do have one request though. And you’re not gonna like it.”
She looked up. “Hmm?”
“I need to go pee.”
“…You’re right. I don’t like it.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Allison and Xiù both made identical protest noises as he slipped his arms out from under them and sat up. In fact he wasn’t even tired, they were still fairly early in the evening. But if his girls needed him, his girls needed him and there wasn’t a whole lot a guy could do in those situations except accept his lot in life and be a mattress.
Or make them coffee. Coffee was an option too. And maybe…yeah, screw it. Pancakes.
The best plans were the ones he could put in motion straight away, after all…
Date Point: 13y 8m AV
HMS Sharman (HMNB Folctha), Cimbrean, The Far Reaches
Daar
“How about we call it the Klendathu?”
“Nah. The Be Vewy Vewy Quiet.”
“The Only You Can Prevent Forest Shitpocalypse.”
That one got a round of amused snorts from all three of the Humans. Of all the details they could have been working on over their coming mission to Messier 24, they’d got super hung up on the spaceship they were being given to get in and out, and the only reason Daar hadn’t curled up in a corner and literally died of boredom was because Bozo had showed up with a short length of thick rope in his mouth and goaded Daar into wrasslin’.
It turned out to be a pretty good neck and jaw workout, too! Bozo was strong.
The Humans had watched him for a second, then shrugged and carried on bouncing increasingly stupid names off each other.
“Nuh-uh. The Trump Card.”
“No, wait…The Cup of Covfefe.”
“Hah! No, the Tiny Sailor Hands.”
“Dude,” Tiny shook his head. “Those memes got old last decade!”
“Fine, fine. The Beef Wagon. Modern enough for ya?”
Daar bass-chittered at the memory of the Beef Bros carrying a truck down a major highway and the ensuing internet microdrama. It looked like fun in the weird way that good honest work could hurt so good. If only Daar could be that kind of strong…but he could outmuscle Bestest Friend any day of the week, and Tiny was one of the most strongest Humans!
Also, they’d watched a lot of ‘Japanese’ animation together lately. Daar finally decided to join in, if for no other reason than to fuck with Tiny. “The Outlaw Star! You like that, Bozo?”
He realized too late that he’d let go of the rope to speak, and Bozo spun away across the room, frantic with excitement at having claimed his prize. Daar pounced after him and they quickly fell into wrasslin’ and snarly play-nips. More exercise!
Coombes rolled his eyes. “Tiggs, I swear we shouldn’a let you watch that shit.”
“But Gene Starwind is fuckin’ badass! You like it, don’t ‘ya Bozo?”
The dog dropped the rope and boomed a Wurf!! that shook the window. Daar sprang on the opportunity to turn the tables and claim the rope again, though it was getting kinda slobbery by then. He transferred it to his paw and waggled at Bozo, who became absolutely laser-focused on waiting for him to toss it across the room.
“See? Bozo says it’s the bestest.” He threw the rope, and Bozo’s huge paws scrabbled on the linoleum as he Scooby-Doo’d off in hot pursuit. “Can we go play Gravball now?”
The Humans watched Bozo fetch the rope and disappear out of the room to parade it around, then returned their attention to Daar. There was a contemptuous silence.
Hoeff broke it by shrugging and returning to the topic at hand. “…The Make Space Travel Stealthy Again.”
Walsh shook his head. “The Hold My Beer.”
Daar snorted dismissively. “Please, Talamay’s way better.”
“Yeah, but no fucker ever said ‘Y’all hold my Talamay an’ watch this shit.’
“I have!”
“But you weren’t drunk, big guy.” Walsh pointed out.
Daar snorted in amusement. “Ain’t my fault my brain’s more tolerant o’ deadly poisons.”
Hoeff raised his head. “The You Don’t Know What You’re Missing!”
‘Base looked up from the enormous HEAT-grade beanbag in the corner where he was about halfway through reading À la recherche du temps perdu. ‘Horse had sewn that beanbag together out of canvas tarp and shark fishing line and stuffed it with shredded polyethylene foam, and to date it had weathered being enthusiastically flomped on by every man in the HEAT with nothing worse to show for it than a tiny Scottish saltire that Murray had covertly sewn into the underside.
“You didn’t see him last year after he gorged on turkey,” he said. “Big bastard was fuckin’ krunked!”
“Wait, what?”
Daar shook his head and neck vigorously. “That is not how it went.”
“Dude. You got drunk on turkey?!”
Daar sighed. “I…guess? I felt…dizzy. For, like, the whole evening. But that ain’t the whole story!”
“…You know, I kinda like that.” Hoeff mused, before Daar could defend himself.
Coombes frowned at him. “What?”
“Calling the ship Drunk On Turkey.”
It was Walsh’s turn to aim a frown his way. “You’re shittin’ me.”
“We’ve been here for like an hour and this is literally the first time anybody’s said ‘I like that’,” Daar growled. “Since it’s technically my spaceship I’mma lay down the law. The Drunk On Turkey it is. Whatever. Can we go play Gravball now?” He added a plaintive whine to the request that the guys usually couldn’t resist.
This time, though, they were unmoved. “We’ve got like the whole rest of the mission plan to go through,” Coombes pointed out.
Daar couldn’t help but snarl his annoyance at that. “Yeah, ‘cuz you weirdos spent half the morning arguing over the least importantest part.”
Fortunately the Humans knew how to read him pretty well by then, and didn’t overreact. “Dude. We’re getting our own fucking spaceship, man. Naming that shit is important.”
Daar was briefly tempted to retort that this would only be one of dozens of ships he’d owned over the years, but mentioning that fact would just be pointlessly ostentatious. Besides, he’d named his precision hand tools years ago and they were worth a lot less.
“…Okay, fair point I guess. But I ain’t beat on Tiny for three whole days! And we both need to bulk up as much as we can for our mission loads…”
“Shyeah, gotta make our packs feel like they’re empty! Also you haven’t beat me in any kind of overhead press yet, Tiggs. Don’t get cocky.”
“You have monkey shoulders! And you’re only ten kilos ahead, that’s practically tied!”
Walsh crossed his arms over his chest and grinned smugly. “Excuses.”
“No excuses! We’re close and you know it. Also need I remind you Brother, I consistently outlift you on the bench by so much it’s silly. A bunch more weight, way more sets. I win.”
“For now.”
“Forever.”
Coombes rolled his eyes and interrupted just before the two could spiral into a bantering, roughhousing play-brawl. “Kids, you’re both big and strong and pretty. Anyway don’t Firth got combatives scheduled with you two today?”
‘Yeah. And don’t let this slip, but I think I maybe figured out how to knock him down finally and win that bet…Either way, I’m gonna be hurtin’ and I wanna earn it.”
Coombes nodded. “Fair ‘nuff. Walsh?”
“My goal is just to survive my session with him, to be honest.”
“Mhmm.” ‘Base mumbled agreement with his eyes still glued to that huge book of his.
“You two gonna be outta commission, then? Firth ain’t exactly…gentle.”
That was the understatement of the century, right there.
“Nah, we’ve got a little bit of Crude we can use until we go on-mission, Boss. Powell wants us as strong as we can get without becoming a logistics problem like HEAT. We’ll ‘git ‘er dun’.”
“Alright. So. When we fly the…” Coombes glared at Hoeff “…the Drunk On Turkey out there, we gotta put down a hunnerd klicks out from the main objective, maybe more, an’ hump all our stuff to the forward camp on foot.”
“Yeah.” Daar stretched out and rolled his muscles impressively to drive home his point about their training. “That’s why I really wanna get my lifting in, Boss. It’s gonna be hard work. Tiny’s gotta get some extra Crude sessions in too, get his shoulder fixed up by Nofl maybe.”
“Worked out okay for ‘Horse’s dad, I guess…” Walsh admitted. “But I dunno, bro…”
“Dude,” growled Daar. “Fuckin’ do it, Friend. You need it, it’s safe, and ain’t no such thing as a Job that goes good if anyone’s nursing a hurt while doing it. Think how much you’ll be able to outpress me! Also I can smell when he lies so don’t worry, I’ve got ‘yer back.”
“Ergh, I know. He’s just…”
Daar tilted his head and pant-grinned. “Corti?”
“He’s flaming and it weirds me out. Like, if he was genuinely camp I wouldn’t mind but because he’s Corti I gotta think he’s just putting it on just to fuck with us.”
Daar chittered, “I heard somewhere that’s Uncivilized thoughts, Brother!”
“Whatever, if I’m gonna be speciesist I might as well be fuckin’ homophobic and racist as well. Get a full house.”
Coombes snorted. “Man, if you’re prejudiced then I’ll just have Ghetto Fabulous over there straighten you out.”
‘Base raised his eyebrow, made eye contact, looked down at his chest, bounced it, smirked, and went back to his book.
Daar was pretty sure they’d just played some kind of dominance game, but Humans—especially these Humans—smelled that way all the time anyway. ‘Base seemed to have won, though both Walsh and Coombes were grinning.
“Least the return trip’s lighter, without all them sensors,” Hoeff pointed out, getting back on topic.
“By about…” Daar recalled his loading tables, “Sixty kilograms, I think? Yeah.”
“…Geez, that much?” Hoeff asked.
“Yeah…didn’t you read the tables?”
“No, ‘cuz I’m the scout. You’re already carrying most of my shit.”
“Literally,” Walsh grunted under his breath. None of them were looking forward to the mandatory poop-bagging, and Daar silently thanked Fyu that Human urine was sterile and wouldn’t need reclaiming like that. Everyone could just lift leg and piss on a tree.
Hoeff ignored him. “Still, you sure you want Daar carrying most of my mission load instead of me? I can move just fine with a big pack…”
“I know,” Coombes said reassuringly. “We’ll work out the loads with a practice hike out on the range, see what the best distribution is. I want you completely mobile, Hoeff.”
Hoeff nodded agreeably. “Sure thing, Master Sargn’t.”
Daar stretched out again and got a satisfying ‘pop!’ in his spine, then stood up. “Really, though. Can we Gravball, or work out? The shuttle to Gao leaves tomorrow and we can work this stuff out by email.”
“Back to Gao again, huh? So close to mission time?”
“Champion duties,” Daar lowered his ears apologetically. “I’m gonna be out of touch for a few weeks. There’s stuff I have to take care of.”
“Like what?”
“I can’t say.”
“…We’re all cleared for DEEP RELIC and SACRED STRANGER.”
“I cannot say, Brothers.”
“Well, shit,” Coombes grunted. “Wheels within fuckin’ wheels.”
“You have no fuckin’ idea. Anyway…” Enough. Daar really didn’t need a reminder right now of what was coming, and how it would likely provoke the conflict he just knew in his bones was inevitable. Right now, he needed to get his muscles good, hot, and hurting, and he needed to work himself up into a happily exhausted, lathery huff.
Almost nothing did that better than Gravball. Or weightlifting. Or both!
“…‘Kay. You’re right, we can figure this out in writing,” Coombes agreed and stood. “You in, ‘Base?”
Baseball carefully bookmarked his Proust and surged upright. “Fuck yeah.”
“Awesome. Time to straighten out Tiny the Racist here.”
“Hey!”
Daar grinned to himself as he headed for the stairs in much the same way as Bozo had earlier. Finally the day was making progress… and not a moment too soon. He was meeting Genshi in the park later that afternoon, after which…
There were Bad Things in Daar’s future. Bad Things that needed to be set in motion, and selling Genshi on what needed to be done was going to be…tricky. And risky, very risky.
He’d take his fun when he could get it from here on out. Gravball now, and tackling a fellow Champion in the park later? Temporary pleasures. But all pleasures were temporary.
He’d just have to enjoy them while he could.