The cargo ramp lowered to the ground and the upper section of the cargo door retracted into the overhead. Karen and the co-pilot undid the tie down chains of the command tank and the co-pilot signaled the driver he was clear. The Hercules command tank drove off the jumpship. As soon as there was enough room for the gun to swing, the gunner turned the turret forward and Galen popped his hatch and adjusted his seat all the way up to ride high in the cupola.
Galen spoke into his commo helmet microphone. “This air is sweet. You guys need to get a lungful of this stuff.”
The gunner opened his hatch and stood to Galen’s left. “I like this.”
The driver’s hatch opened and the driver raised his seat so that his head poked out from the neck up. Through the commo helmet speakers, Galen heard a deep breath followed by a relieved sigh. The driver, reacting to the fresh air.
“Driver, you know where we’re going?”
“Roger, Smaj. It’s marked on the nav screen.”
The tank moved along slowly, turned right, following the tracks left by other vehicles. Soon the other thirteen tanks of the heavy tank company were on the left, lined up dress-right-dress, an interval of five meters between them, their turrets turned to the rear and their guns in travel-lock. At the end of the row, Spike stood facing the approaching tank, both hands signaling the tank to keep coming forward. Then he signaled “stop” by balling his hands into fits, together, one hand in front of the other in front of his chest. Then he crossed his forearms, kept his left fist balled and pointed with his right hand, the signal for the driver to pivot-steer clockwise. Spike sidestepped to keep in front of the vehicle as it pivoted, then signaled “stop” again. After eyeballing down the right side of the tank’s hull, Spike signaled “back up” to the driver by making a pushing motion, both palms forward, facing the driver, moving his hands forward and back to indicate the speed at which the driver should drive backward. Spike occasionally stuck one hand or the other out to the side to make minor left and right adjustments to the driver’s course.
The driver paid attention to Spike but also glanced at his rear-view camera display as well. He knew Spike was responsible for the tank’s movements while he was giving the signals, but he also knew that if he hit something, it was only the driver who would get teased about it, only the driver’s name would be mentioned in the legends that would be created about the tank that hit or ran over something by accident.
Galen looked ahead and saw the tarmac fifty meters away. A construction crew was already at work building the concrete support piers for the air traffic control tower. Spike’ tank was to his right, and the three platoons of Hercules tanks were to the right of that.
Spike signaled “cut” by drawing his right hand across his throat, fingers extended and joined, thumb flat. The driver shifted to neutral and set the parking brake, the gunner swung the turret to the rear and engaged the travel lock, and Galen said, “Dismount” before removing his commo helmet.
He climbed down over the main gun and then slid off the sloped amour of the rear of the tank to land on the ground with less force than he expected. He noticed a half-meter deep trench that ran behind the row of tanks, and looked to his right and saw an engineering vehicle with an attachment on the back still digging, turning left toward a spot where a fence was going up, surrounding a small tin shack with an electrical transformer installed next to it on a concrete slab. A thick power cable lay in the ditch, and two soldiers from the engineer platoon dragged a shorter cable over, dropped into the ditch, spliced it into the main cable and laid the free end on the ground just under the command tank.
“What’s that for?” asked Galen.
“Sergeant Major, we’ll connect it to your tank’s fusion power plant, to power the camp. As soon as the grid is complete, we come back and hook up to all the Hercules tanks and put the dirt back in the trench.” The engineering Corporal pointed at a receptacle cover at the rear of the tank, right above the towing pintle. “Plenty of juice for the whole camp.”
“Carry on.” Galen walked to the front of the tank and met Spike with a handshake.
“Welcome to Juventud, Smaj!” Spike smiled. “This place is awesome. Point eight Gs and extra oxygen in the thinner air. I feel ten years younger.”
“Why the full gear?”
“We’ll stick with it until day two of position improvement is complete. The troops need to have a place to hang it before they stop wearing it.”
“Be right back.” Galen climbed back up on the tank and reached inside and got out his war gear and put it on, then climbed back down. The chin strap for his ground troop helmet needed some adjustment, it was the first time he’d worn it in over two years.
Spike pointed toward the cliff face of the crater, twenty kilometers away. “We’ll dig a tunnel there next week so we can get out of this place and trade with the natives. It won’t be long before we’ll have to give these troops some liberty and the chance to pursue happiness.”
“A month,” said Galen. “That’s how long it usually takes for the natives to start setting up a little party ville. You heard anything from Sevin yet?”
“Just regular reports. They’re only a third of the way around the outside of the crater so far.” Spike and Galen walked away from the tanks, parallel to the landing strip, toward its midpoint.
Tad approached. “Hey Smaj, come check out the ops center!”
Galen shook his hand while patting Tad’s opposite shoulder. Tad gestured toward a thirty meter square hole, excavated two meters deep. An engineer Sergeant supervised a handful of heavy tank company troops as they wired together reinforcement bars. A concrete mixer ran near by.
Tad stopped to watch. “I’m using the same plan as the TOC on Alamo, except it will be completely below ground. And later, the spaceport terminal will be constructed here, right on top of it, so that it can become a hard site for spaceport defense. When the Myung Jin construction company arrives next month, we’ll build a new TOC on the mountain, emplaced with the space shield generator and controller.”
Galen looked around. “Beautiful.”
Karen caught up to the group and looped her arm through Galen’s. “Hey guys.”
Spike smiled. Tad’s mouth fell open for a moment, then he closed it.
Galen said, “We’re a couple now.” Then he said to Karen, “Not in public, or at least, not when we’re in full field gear.”
She let go and stepped back and said to Tad, “Your place or mine?”
It took Tad a moment to understand. “To the TOC vehicle, the extension is up. Chief Polar has the ALOC track extension up too, but she’s using it right now. Busy in there, we’d just get in the way.”
Tad led the group past some more construction, corrugated metal buildings getting bolted together on concrete slabs, barracks for the troops, dining facility, shower houses, storage sheds… and a fitness center, and a theater, and more. Tad gestured toward his TOC vehicle and held open one of the three overlapping flaps of the entrance vestibule that led into the domed tent attached to the back of the armored command post vehicle. Spike muscled his way in and held the inside flap of the three-curtain entrance door for Karen. Tad gripped Galen’s elbow and pulled him back, dropping the outside flap before Galen could enter.