“There’s no place to effectively drop the ship on palace grounds,” Weaver said. “The commander of local forces, though, is preparing a cart caravan. It will bring out some fresh food and pick up the materials for the base. In the meantime they suggest staying here with Lady Che-chee.”
“What about this fort?” Captain MacDonald asked.
“It’s in good condition,” Bill replied. “I’m not sure if we can perfectly seal it, though. And we’ll have to decontaminate the interior.”
“We can always use ID Ten T decontaminator,” the CO said, blank-faced.
“That’s only effective on neenion contamination, sir,” the first sergeant said.
“What in hell is a neenion?” Captain MacDonald asked.
“Never mind,” Spectre said, grinning. “Okay, Captain, I would suggest taking your boys to the barracks and seeing if we can decontaminate and seal it. If Dr. Chet clears it for occupancy, and if there’s enough room for gear, you can move in there.”
“We’ll leave Second Platoon in place and take Third,” Captain MacDonald said. “When’s this caravan arrive?”
“This afternoon,” Bill said.
“Make sure that food is thoroughly decontaminated,” the CO said. “I’m not going to sit in quarantine for a month because the med board says we violated quarantine. No matter how much fresh fruit is involved.”
“Oh, this is quite wonderful,” Dr. Becker said, looking at the astronomy laboratory attached to the palace. “It takes me back,” he added, looking at the lens-grinding area.
“We believe we saw your wonderful ship floating above,” Master Jadum said. “Journeyman Agoul actually spotted it first. He has very good eyes.”
“He must have been using this,” Dr. Becker said, peering through the lens of the telescope, which was about a sixteen power but so distorted as to be nearly opaque. “But you don’t have optical coatings. Hmmm… I think I remember some very low-tech optical coating recipes from when I was in high school. Those, alone, will double the clarity of this scope. And if you add a mirror, a clear one, you can double your focal length. But using a bigger aperture diameter is the key…”
“I’m not sure I can translate all of that,” Miriam said.
“Of course, my dear, sorry,” Dr. Becker said. “And what’s this? An electric spark generator?”
“We are just beginning to explore these properties,” Master Jadum said enthusiastically, pointing to the complex arrangement. “This has some of the same properties as the puffiness from fur in winter.”
“Yes,” Dr. Becker said, nodding. “And with a bit more tinkering and by hooking it up to, oh, a water wheel, you can have full-scale power generation. Electric lights, even…”
“Dr. Becker,” Chief Miller said. “We haven’t been using flashlights around them since they say that is one thing that always brings the Demons.”
“But they’re already here,” Miriam said. “So it’s not our flashlights that are causing them.”
“True,” Becker said, then frowned. “Is it the light or the…”
“Oh,” Miriam said, her eyes flying wide. “Electromagnetism?”
“Radio signals,” Becker said, his face going white.
“Particle emissions?” Miriam whispered.
“You mean it’s just the electricity?” Miller said. “These things track in on electricity? Like, you know, the generators on the boat?”
“If we’re right, the boat is a giant smorgasbord to these things,” Becker said.
“But the boat’s in orbit, right?” Miller pointed out.
“Chief Miller,” Miriam said, hoarsely. “Do you remember the tapestry?”
“The… Yeah,” Miller said, frowning.
“Those figures in the corner,” Miriam said rapidly. “The ones that looked like fighter planes? What if they can reach orbit?”
“Marine One, Marine One, this is SEAL One…”
30
“Mother,” Cha-chai said, calmly.
“Yes, my son,” Lady Che-chee said, not looking up from the report she was writing. The Chrans might or might not be friendly. So far, all seemed well. However, the queen and General Chuk-tuk required daily reports on their activities. Unfortunately, Lady Che-chee had no real idea of what such activities as driving spikes in her lawn actually meant.
“I know that I became somewhat overwrought when the Chrans arrived,” the young Cheerick said. “However, I believe it would be wise for you to look at the spaceship.”
Lady Che-chee looked up at the male, then turned to look out her window. She turned back quite calmly then pointed her muzzle at the ceiling.
“TO ARMS!”
“What the hell is that noise?” Sub Dude asked, yanking on the nut to get it to break free.
“You’re gonna break it off,” Red warned. “Then we’re gonna have to back it out.”
“Hand me the damned liquid wrench, then,” Sub Dude said. The two were trying to get a recalcitrant diesel engine to work. The CO had powered down the ardune reactor to cut down on both heat production and ardune use. The latter was very expensive fuel. So the diesels had to be run to keep the ship going and one of them had quit. So, Gants and Red had been dispatched to fix that little issue. After which they had a list of “honey-dos” that was longer than their arm. It didn’t help that the damned things were nearly in the bilges. “If the CO would just open up the ship and vent it, we wouldn’t even need this thing.”
“I’d rather fix the engine than spend a month in quarantine,” Red said, frowning as he handed over the liquid wrench. “I dunno. I hear it, too.”
“Well, I could do with a nice breeze on my face,” Sub Dude said, just as there was a gurgling sound underfoot followed by a blast of air.
“You just got one!” Red yelled, shaking his head. “Damn, my ears are ringing!”
“Hit the alarm!” Michael said, backing away and looking down through the grating underfoot. “HOLY MAULK!”
“INTRUDER ALERT! INTRUDER ALERT!”
Military personnel learn to count a “day” as the period from one sleep to the next. Naps do not count. Berg’s “day” therefore, had been somewhere on the order of twenty-two hours long. His “night” might not count since he had only been asleep for three hours. And it was sodden sleep. He’d run back and forth to the palace twice, helped Third Platoon with their load-out, taken in supplies and had to work on his Wyvern for two hours. He was a bit tired when he finally hit the rack.
But when his eyes flew open his actions were practiced and he had his skins out of their wrapper and on before he really woke up. The Marines had learned to sleep in them. You could leave them on under your uniform or in the Wyverns. They even made halfway decent pajamas. But his had been rank, so he’d “laundered” them with a nannie pack.
They were still a tad ripe as he pulled the top over his head. But you put up with it. Welcome to the Space Marines. Talk all you will of heavier firepower, his suggestion was going to be two sets of skins, minimum.
“SECOND PLATOON, GROUND MOUNT!”
On went the trousers and the bunk opened up as he snatched at his boots and slid on his top at the same time. He could seal both on the way to the armory.
“THIS IS NOT A DRILL!”
It took him until he’d cleared the sleeping compartment for that one to sink in.
“BREACH IN CONTROL SECTOR! ALL TEAMS TO DEFENSE STATIONS!”