“…If Commander Weaver says they have priority, they have priority,” First Sergeant Powell said mildly. “We’ll get the Wyverns loaded, Wieslaw. Just not right now.”
“Just because some Navy commander says that they can’t load them—” Juda started to say.
“Gunnery Sergeant Juda, be aware that that Navy commander dropped with us on Cheerick,” Top interrupted, somewhat less mildly. “And stood his ground in the Cavern when things you can’t imagine were trying to turn us into dinner. He was involved in ground combat with Chief Miller during the Dreen War. He’s not just some Navy wuss. With a little seasoning, I’d take him as a company commander any day. If he says they load the torps, they load the torps.”
“Yes… Pardon me, Top,” Juda said, holding a hand up to his mastoid bone. “Go, Sergeant Bergstresser. Really? Wait one. First Sergeant,” Juda said, starting to grin. “Sergeant Bergstresser has a point to make about the loading. But the decision…”
“Tell Berg to meet me in conn,” the first sergeant said with a sigh. “You stay here. I think this negotiation needs a little emotional detachment.”
“Sir, permission to speak?” the first sergeant said standing by the astrogation center.
“Being a little formal today, Top?” Weaver said, running his hands through his hair distractedly. “If this is about the Wyverns…”
“Sir, I don’t think you’ve ever officially met Sergeant Bergstresser, have you?” the first sergeant said.
“No, I haven’t,” Weaver said, looking up at the tall sergeant standing at attention. Berg was sucked into the bulkhead to keep out of the way of the stream of sailors hurrying through conn. “Pleased to finally officially meet you, Two-Gun, given that we’ve sweated blood together. Congratulations on the Navy Cross. It was well deserved.”
“Thank you, sir!” Berg barked.
“At ease for God’s sake. Top, we’ve only got two cranes…”
“Sir, Sergeant Bergstresser has a point to make on that subject,” the first sergeant interrupted again. “Two-Gun?”
Berg explained about the lag time on loading the torps, at which point Weaver’s left eyebrow raised.
“Really,” he said. “Seven minutes, huh? Let’s go up top.”
“Yeah, that’s a solid block of time,” Weaver said after watching the loading for a couple of torpedoes. “But I’m not sure it’s enough time for them to swing over and drop a Wyvern.”
“Yes, sir,” Berg said. “But at the very most it will increase both load times, slightly, while reducing overall load time significantly. I’d first thought about hand-winching them up some sort of slope, but this makes a lot more sense.”
“That is a very valid point,” Weaver admitted. “Let’s go talk to Bosun Charles.”
“Sir, with all due respect, I would be disinclined to do a simultaneous load,” the bosun said when Weaver was done with his explanation.
“Well, Bosun, absent a valid argument why, I would be inclined to override your disinclination,” Weaver replied, somewhat acerbically.
“I think I have a better understanding of loading than some Marine, sir,” the bosun replied. “And I’d also be inclined to point out that my chain-of-command is through Base Operations, sir, not through your ship. Base ops said load the torps then the Wyverns, not both at the same time. If you would care to take it up with my boss, that would be Commander Gladner in Base Operations, sir!”
“That Marine won the Navy Cross, Chief, and he’s the unit instructor on physics and particle detection,” Weaver pointed out dangerously. “Do you really want me to do this through the chain-of-command, Bosun? Seriously? Because it’s not all that hard for me to jump the chain rather radically. I’ve got Admiral Townsend on my speed-dial.”
“Problems, Gunny, Astro?” Captain Blankemeier asked, walking past.
“Sir!” First Sergeant Powell said, bracing. Berg had already spotted the CO approaching and had snapped to attention.
“Just having a discussion with the bosun about loading, sir,” Weaver said calmly.
“Going well?” the CO asked. “We’ve got a schedule to meet. Two-Gun! My man!” the CO added, raising his hand for a high-five.
“Sir!” Berg snapped, breaking from attention to high-five the CO back, then went back to brace.
“First Sergeant, I want you to make sure that Two-Gun here is detailed to conn security if we get boarded,” the CO said. “And Two-Gun, I’d like you to stop by while we’re on the cruise. There’s some stuff that Commander Weaver’s been trying to get me to understand about particle physics that’s just shooting right by me. I’m hoping you can explain it to a tired old fighter pilot. Afternoon, twoish, second Tuesday we’re out. Put it on your calendar. Bosun Charles? Everything going well?”
“Excellent, sir,” the bosun said, smiling tightly. “Just discussing a way to get the Wyverns and the torps loaded simultaneously.”
“Great idea, Chief,” the CO said enthusiastically. “I’ll point it out to Commander Gladner. Glad to see you’re being your usual efficient self! Carry on!”
5
“Last one,” Himes panted, shoving the Wyvern into place with a gasp of effort.
It was a real question which was the more exhausting, rolling the Wyverns to their slots or getting them into place. Lowering them was mentally taxing and involved some effort but moving them was way worse. Which was why the three teams had switched off.
“Great,” Gunny Juda said, appearing around one of the missile tubes. “The company’s formed up. We loaded fast enough that we’ve got enough time to get back to the barracks, shit, shower, shave and march back.”
“I think I’d rather just hit the damned rack for lift-off,” Lance Corporal Smith opined as the gunny stumped back out of the missile compartment.
“No you don’t,” Berg said, ensuring that the latches that held the Wyvern in place were all secure. “This is the last chance you’re going to get for a real shower for a few months. I’d walk twenty miles to get that, much less two.”
When the team got to the topside hatch, the company was already formed. Berg didn’t know how long they’d been waiting, so he double-timed down the gangway and chivvied his team into position.
Top was, unusually, leading the company. Generally for a short movement like this one of the gunnys would take charge. But Berg also knew what it meant. Top seemed to only know one cadence.
They filed out of the sub-pen in platoon ranks, then reformed on the move. As they hit their stride, the first sergeant started to sing. He couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, but everyone by then had learned the words.
Units rarely did a “regular” march anymore. They either moved as individuals or, more frequently, did a movement at a “double-time,” running at whatever pace the leader set. Heck, most of the time for even a couple of mile movement there were trucks or busses. But Top Powell just flat-out liked to march; the company regularly performed fifty-mile road marches in formation but carrying full combat gear. And Top expected the sort of precision that you’d normally only find on a parade field.
He also had some of the strangest marching cadences anyone had ever heard. Usually you marched to songs like “Yellow Ribbon” or “Early Morning Rain.” Or — if you were far enough away from base that nobody would hear — the officially verboten songs like “Up Jumped the Monkey” and “Popeye the Sailor Man” with their decidedly un-PC lyrics.