John Ringo - East of the Sun, West of the Moon

“You’ll lose me,” she whispered. “Are you trying to find a reason for me not to go on this mission?”

“I’m not willing to lose you,” Herzer replied, tightly. “I don’t, frankly, give a damn about the Key. I’m not willing to lose you, Megan Travante. I’m not. Hell, for that reason if no other, one or the other of us shouldn’t be on this mission. And, of the two, I think you’re the one to worry about.”

“Herzer,” Megan said, “I’m strong, okay? And we’re both coming back from this mission. Get that through your head.”

“You’re strong,” he admitted. “But you’ve got weird stress points. And you get stubborn. I won’t have time to let you work things out for yourself up there,” he added, pointing upward.

“What about when I tell you to do something or not to do something?” Megan asked. “When it’s a strategic decision.”

“You tell me to jump off the damned ship, and I will,” Herzer said, definitely. “But you’d better have a damned good reason.”

“I won’t ever ask you to do that,” Megan said, chuckling.

“Ten’hut!” someone bellowed as Herzer walked into the orderly room of the Blood Lord headquarters.

“At ease,” he bellowed. “Where’s the captain?”

“In there, sir,” one of the sergeants in the room said, gesturing at the rear door.

Herzer knocked on the door and entered at a bellowed “Come.”

“Hey, Bus,” he said as the captain started to get to his feet. “Chill. When’d you pin on your third pip?”

“Last month,” the captain said. “Congratulations on your promotion, sir.”

Captain Van Buskirk was nearly as large and broad as Herzer but where Herzer was dark, “Bus” Van Buskirk was light: blond hair, skin so white that his vascular system stood out like a model, sunburned nose and cheekbones. Herzer remembered that he had a tendency to burn if the sun was below the horizon. They weren’t friends exactly, but the Blood Lord group was so small that he tended to know most of the officers and a good many of the NCOs.

“Can the ‘sir,’ Bus,” Herzer said, sighing and settling in the room’s only other chair. “This is a classic FUBAR, you know that?”

“I’m just starting to get an inkling of what’s going on in this camp,” the captain replied. “But I’ll agree that all signs point to FUBAR.”

“Fisked up beyond all recognition,” Herzer admitted, his eyes narrowing. “But part of that fisk up I’m going to stop now. We’re going to have to discuss distribution on things, but bringing you in on what you’re guarding is just going to be part of the change…”

“Do you have authority?” Van Buskirk asked.

“I do indeed,” Herzer replied. “And if I don’t, fisk it. What we’re supposed to be doing here is planning to retake the fuel tanker that’s headed in.”

“Thought so,” the captain said, grimacing. “That’s the thing with the lake, right?”

“I have no idea,” Herzer admitted. “Why?”

“Zero g, training,” the captain said. “It’s the really old way to train for zero g.”

“You’ve been in space?” Herzer asked.

“A couple of times,” Van Buskirk said. “I used to play… well… you did ER, right?”

Herzer had, indeed, spent much of his time prior to the Fall in Enhanced Reality, the computer generated world of holograms and nano-forms where a good many people gamed.

“Yeah,” the commander said. “But I was always in a medieval fantasy environment. You?”

“You were lucky,” the captain said with a laugh. “I was playing shooter games. Some of the best were on simulated spaceships. A couple of times I went up for live group tourneys, just to see if there was a difference. There wasn’t enough to matter.”

“I wish we could use ER for training, now,” Herzer said. “I’ve never been in free-fall and neither has anyone on the team as far as I’m aware. And speaking of teams…” he added musingly. “I’m authorized to recruit in the Blood Lords for the replacement fighters on this mission. Given the security group here, and at Blackbeard, there aren’t many that are available. But your company is right here, already…”

“Oh, crap,” the captain said, shaking his head. “We can’t be pulling security all night and training all day. I won’t even go into the whole: ‘shouldn’t you ask for volunteers?’ thing. I’ll volunteer in a heartbeat; I’ve always liked fighting in space. But the rest of the company…”

“They volunteered twice,” Herzer said. “First for the legions, then for the Blood Lords. Why ask a third time?”

“How caring of you,” the captain said, grinning.

“Apparently a lot of the trainers got killed along with the team,” Herzer said. “So don’t be surprised if you get press-ganged as a trainer. And I want you to go talk to Angus Peterka over in Building Seventeen. Use the back door and tell him I sent you…”

“That’s a blue zone building,” Buskirk pointed out. “I’m only cleared for purple.”

“Not anymore,” Herzer intoned.

“Shanea, you’ve met Courtney before,” Megan said, as the girl came into her room.

“Hey,” Shanea said, smiling. “Good to see you again.”

“Shanea, do you have any experience with children?” Megan asked carefully.

“I had a younger brother,” Shanea said, her face suddenly creasing in an unusual frown. “I don’t know what happened to him, you know?”

“You took care of him?” Courtney asked.

“A little,” the girl said. “Me and the nannies. And Mom,” she said quietly.

“The problem is, Courtney has to do some training,” Megan said. “And she has some children here. Could you watch them? One of them’s a baby so you’re going to have to change diapers…”

“Oh, sure!” Shanea said, smiling happily. “I like kids. I want some myself. I kept hoping that Paul would get me pregnant so I could have a baby, but he never did.”

Courtney’s face twitched at that and she carefully didn’t look at Megan.

“Great,” Megan said, smiling blankly. “Courtney, why don’t you go introduce Shanea to your children while I go see if I can help Herzer? The replacement personnel are coming in and I foresee some problems there.”

Linda was frowning in her mirror when there was a knock at the door. Ever since the debacle with Herzer Herrick, Shamon had been a bit less friendly. He still was maintaining the apartment but she suspected it was time to start shopping for a new “friend.” However, Duke Dehnavi was out of town at his country home at the moment, so she had time to look around and certainly wasn’t expecting visitors.

She stood up and put on a robe, hair up and makeup half done, and went to the door. Whoever it was, they could damned well see her like this. Maybe it would scare them off.

The “visitors” turned out to be two Federal Rangers, one male and one female, in light leather armor.

“Miz Linda Donohue?” the male officer asked, consulting a clipboard.

“Yes?” she replied uncertainly. Shamon probably had enough power to have her arrested or detained, but she couldn’t imagine what the charge would be. And she hadn’t thought he was that pissed off.

“Miz Donohue, you’re being temporarily detained under the War Powers Act,” the officer said, stone faced. “Could you change into comfortable clothing, pack enough clothes for approximately three days in no more than one bag and come with us?”

“What is this about?” Linda said, her eyes widening. “I haven’t done anything!”

“Ma’am, I do not know,” the officer said, gesturing at the female officer. “Ranger Varnicke will remain with you while you prepare.”