john ringo the legacy of the aldenata 5 the hero

[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

was almost as if nothing were in front of him and he was staring into the stars. The faint, enigmatic,
almost foxlike smile he bore didn't do much to reassure people. Was the Darhel totally flipped out?
Meditating? Dead? No one wanted to ask. Dagger was staring back, staring through Tirdal. It was a
creepy tableau.
That just left Bell Toll to keep busy, worrying about his troops, the mission, the upcoming
Readiness Standards Evaluation that had to be done, war or no, and little things like his chances for
promotion or survival. His mind ran in loops, barely able to concentrate, until he realized he was
rehashing the same half-thoughts over and over again, with no conclusions reached. He knew he
wouldn't be able to sleep, either. It was a wonderful start to the mission.
After several eternities of sighing, twitching, moaning, frustrated exclamations, stretching and
aimless mental drifting, he heard the pilot calling orders through the intercom. "Everyone make final
check and confirm gear secure. Stand by for braking maneuvers and microgravity." The cocoons came
up, much as they had before, but this time everybody was awake.
Deceleration hit like a hammer as the ship struggled to take off the velocity it had built up dropping
in. Actual deceleration was nearly six hundred gravities but apparent decel was only around six. The
compensators were being strained even to accomplish that, and all the DRT troops crunched like
atmospheric fighter pilots. The G couches helped compensate, fluid pressurizing limbs to keep blood
flowing in the core and brain.
Thor made a laconic comment in an attempt to hide his nervousness. "Not so bad. Remember the
drop on Haley?" His voice was a bit tight from the pressure.
"Was that the first or second time you tossed your guts?" Ferret asked back. He, too, was trying to
sound casual and not succeeding.
Gun Doll said, "Ferret . . . didn't you puke . . . so hard . . . you splashed me . . . on that drop?"
The G was harder on her; it often was on women. But she'd never once thrown up on a drop that
anyone could recall.
Straining slightly, Bell Toll asked, "Tirdal, how are you managing?"
"Fine," Tirdal replied. "How long is this phase?" There was no strain at all in the Darhel's low,
steady voice.
"About another nine minutes," he replied, while pulling up the physiological monitors for the team
and glancing at them. Everyone was stressed and elevated. Gorilla was doing his usual confined spaces
panic: Pulse, 125, respiration 41, all other readings showing clear pain or stress. It wasn't pain. But
Gorilla was used to it and knew how to manage it so Bell Toll paid no further attention. The Darhel's
readings were also very high but they were in the clearly marked "normal" zone. Heartrate was 186 and
that was considered "low normal." His alphas were . . . really strange. But also considered "normal." If
those were normal, then Tirdal wasn't the slightest bit bothered. Or maybe Darhel didn't react
physiologically. That had to be it. No creature could suffer through such an unnatural state and not react
somehow.
Without warning the braking thrust ended and they were in microgravity. The cocoons retracted to
the standby position again and everybody except Tirdal moved around within their couches. The
couches flattened and conformed to the sitter and Ferret brought up an entertainment package that
involved, based on the sound escaping from his helmet, lots of loud shooting and screaming. Gun Doll
started nodding her head and making other movements, some of them a tad suggestive, as she twitched
to her music. Shiva wondered, not for the first time, if she'd aspired to be a dancer before her body
grew too tall and rangy. She wasn't bad looking, but with her height she'd never have the balance to
dance too much hip and shoulder for those long limbs. She obviously found the couch confining.
"Watcha reading, Thor?" Shiva asked, needing a break from the silence.
"Devi Weaver's new one,Dust of Success ," Thor replied enthusiastically. "Intergalactic space fleet
warfare. National politics, unit wrangling, assorted government idiocy and exploding spaceships. Some
of it's based on Napoleonic naval warfare and World War II from old Earth."
"You like it?"
"Generally," Thor said. "The politics I can take or leave. But I like exploding spaceships."
"Ever read about the ancient Greek sea battles with rowed ships?" Shiva asked.
"Nah, sounds boring," Thor said.
Shiva sighed and tried to think of another tack. As the only two readers, they should have some
common ground.
Even Dagger gave up his blank stare and brought up a shooting game. His was different from
Ferret's, the shooting being more deliberate and more widely spaced. The screams were just as ugly,
and Dagger had a grin on his face in short order. His wiry body tensed occasionally, unconsciously
working the muscles for a crouch or a run, but they were barely perceptible. He moved very little
without conscious thought.
There was no set schedule here. The troops needed time to flake off and be ready for whatever
followed, so they napped as they wished and sucked paste meals in their couches. Latrine facilities were
plumbed into their suits. The routine was practical, covered the essentials and was mentally draining. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

Podstrony