“What’s with the armorer?” he asked when they’d cleared the compartment.
“Broke his grapping back in a Humvee rollover,” Hattelstad answered. “Spent two years in rehab. They said he’d never walk again. He could have taken a full medical but he went through rehab then did a maulkload of paperwork to get back in.”
“Grapp,” Berg said. “I guess I’ll just overlook any little oddities. He reminded me of Lurch, though.”
“Thus his team name,” Sergeant Jaenisch said. “But you only use it if you’re allowed.”
“Clear,” Berg said.
The only compartment large enough to work on the Wyvern systems was the missile compartment. It wasn’t exactly crowded with Marines, but there were quite a few when they got there. They found an out-of-the-way corner, port aft, and settled down to some serious weapons cleaning.
“You know an M-675?” Jaenisch asked.
“I qualified in it when I Wyvern qualled,” Berg said. “Then again at FOT. About the only thing I haven’t trained on is the Mark Fives.”
“We’ll get you fitted tomorrow,” Jaen said. “It’s scheduled. Then we’ll run you though the simulator. You’re going to have priority on that, so you can avoid most of the dickbeating for a couple of days.”
“We’ve got maulk to do unless they find a planet that’s worth checking out on the ground,” Hattelstad said.
“Hey, guys,” Crowley said from where his team was working on their guns. “You hear there’s an alien onboard?”
“Sure,” Jaen said, easily. “Tchar in engineering. I mean he comes through the missile bay twice a day at least.”
“No, I mean a real alien,” Crowley said. “Some sort of talking spider that rides around on one of the mission spec’s shoulder! And, that mission spec? She can’t be more than twelve but man is she hot!”
“Twelve will get you twenty, Crow,” Hattelstad said. “On the other hand, the linguist? Oh, my God.”
“Huh?” Berg said.
“The science team,” Jaen explained. “It’s mixed. Only two women, though, so if we get stranded it’s going to be drawing straws time. And I seriously hope I get the linguist straw. Cute as hell. The bio lady, though, well…”
“She’s not bad,” Hatt said. “But she’s black and in her forties. Sort of rode hard and put up wet. But the linguist is a grapping fox.”
“I hear she’s weird as hell, though,” Crowley said. “Like nuts weird.”
“Can’t be nuts and be on a sub,” Jaen said placidly.
“We don’t deal with the scientists, huh?” Berg asked.
“Nope,” Hatt replied. “Not until we land. SF does all the mixing, lucky bastards.”
“There’s not a designated linguist team,” Jaen pointed out. “There’s a designated bio team and geo, but no linguist team. So who’s gonna cover her pretty backside if we find aliens for her to talk to?”
“Some officer,” Hatt said. “Face it, we’re not going to get near her. I don’t even know her name.”
“Surely there’s a roster,” Berg said. “Look it up.”
“Like I have time?”
“You said we’re going to be dickbeating most of the cruise.”
“Top’s inventive at ways to keep us from getting bored,” Jaenisch said.
“That sounds ominous,” Berg said.
“It was meant to.”
“All hands. All hands,” the 1-MC announced. “Secure all gear and noncritical personnel.”
“Maulk,” Hattelstad said. “That’s us. What the grapp? We just drew these things!”
“And now we turn them back in,” Jaenisch replied. “Welcome to the Space Mushrooms.”
“Lost me,” Berg said, rapidly putting his Gatling back together.
“Mushrooms,” Hattelstad said, sliding the breach into the cannon. “They keep us in the dark and feed us horsemaulk all day.”
“Ah.”
“Hey, Josh, what the grapp?” Jaenisch asked when they got back to the armory.
“No grapping clue,” the armorer whispered. “Heard a rumor that we’re on some sort of collision course.”
“Oh, just grapping great,” Hattelstad said.
“I didn’t say I believed it,” Lyle snapped. “I think it was Lujan spreading the worst rumor he could think of. You believe Drago?”
“Not on a bet,” Hattelstad admitted, handing over his cannon.
It had taken nearly fifteen minutes for them to get to the counter and they had to make their way through the crowd to their racks.
“There’s a ship info channel,” Jaenisch said, then paused and cursed. “But of course they haven’t posted anything!”
“Attention on deck!” somebody yelled.
“At ease,” the CO said, cutting through the bustle. “Stay in your racks. There is an unforeseen problem with exiting the system. Maybe. The captain is taking the precaution of locking everything down. In the event of a serious problem, seal your bunks. On-duty crew are going to suits. You’ve got ten hours of air in your bunk systems. Even if we sustain a full-scale breach, you’ll be fine. Just hunker down and listen to music. Hopefully, nothing will happen. But if it does, we’re still good. That’s all.”
“Like the CO said, there’s a possible problem,” Top said as the CO exited the compartment. “If anybody wants the physics, I can explain it. Sort of. But if the theory is right, it’s going to be like going through a bad storm. Just hold on and puke into your bags. So let me get an attitude check.”
“Grapp this!” most of the Marines shouted.
“Let me get a positive attitude check!”
“Positively grapp this!”
“Let me get a negative attitude check!”
“I am not joining the grapping Space Marines!”
“Oorah!” the first sergeant said, grinning. “Seal ’em up, boyos, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride!”
“Approaching the bow shock,” the XO said.
The conn personnel had put on their ship suits. Unlike the EVA suits, which were traditional “space” suits, the ship suits were leopard suits that fit like a glove. They were designed simply to permit the ship personnel to survive in the event there was a full scale pressure breach. Damage control personnel were fitted with “real” space suits.
The helmets of the leopard suits were hinged back so that they could be donned rapidly in the event of an emergency. But barring serious conditions, the CO never ordered them donned. They really tended to slow down communications.
“Slow to Warp One,” the CO replied, then grinned. “God, I love saying that. And you were right, Commander Weaver, it is rather spectacular.”
Once the sampling on Saturn was done, the run to the heliopause had taken about forty minutes.
The bow shock, this close up, was rather spectacular. The area captured a mass of hydrogen and helium along with charged particles from the interstellar cosmic rays and interfiltered solar wind. The charged particles excited the atoms of hydrogen and helium into a broad spread fluorescence that lit up the forward viewscreens.
“XO, make an announcement that we’re entering the bow-shock zone and the ship may experience some turbulence,” the former fighter pilot said. “Tray tables and seat backs should be upright.”