John Ringo - Eye of the Storm

“Interesting psychology,” Chan said, frowning. “One thing that it has been hard to explain to the Indowy, and that even we humans raised by them often forget, is that being superior in position is not always the same as being superior in concepts or current knowledge.”

“Mentat Chan, Adept Hoover, master, student, yada, yada, yada,” Mosovich said, nodding. “There’s a time and a place for hierarchy. In the middle of an entry is not necessarily one of them.”

“We do not normally do… entries,” Chan said.

“It’s going to be a long war,” Mosovich replied. “Better get used to them.”

“I notice that there is no suggestion that I be given a team name,” the Mentat said, smiling slightly.

“You’re heap big mojo,” Mosovich said. “Way too big mojo to think about insulting you. I didn’t, by a stretch, get into the full psychology of team names. But that’s part of it. They don’t want to offend. Another part of it is that while Hoover is also heap big mojo, he just has the… feel of wanting to be part of the team. And since they know they’re going to be depending on him, they’re willing to accept him even though he’s not really ‘one’ of us. He’s a respected associated specialist. They work with them from time to time. Bane Sidhe specialists in one thing or another. Commo, hacking, whatever. So there’s a mental slot for him. Now, Pawle, he’s got less interest in being one of the boys. So they haven’t suggested making a team name for him. Oh, they’ve got one, they just don’t use it around him.”

“Are they aware he may know it anyway?” Chan said, frowning. “Even for a fifth level your communications are not terribly hard to intercept.”

“Wasn’t aware of that,” Mosovich said, shaking his head. “It’s always something. I don’t know if he knows or not.”

“What is his team name?” Chan asked.

“Skank,” Mosovich said.

“Hardly a pleasant name,” the mentat said, his brow furrowing.

“Pawle’s got a real holier-than-thou attitude,” Mosovich said. “If I thought it was going to interfere I would have brought it up. But he does his job, presumably. We won’t really know until we get to the intercept.”

“I hesitate to discuss the issues of junior adepts with you,” Chan said. “They are… complex.”

“And you haven’t noticed that teams are?” Mosovich said, raising an eyebrow. “Just because you guys have got bulging foreheads, doesn’t mean you’re not human with human foibles. Small teams have been working the psychology of that for forever. Want my read on Pawle?”

“I will accept your input,” Chan said, gravely.

“Fine,” Mosovich said. “All you mentats are bright. It’s a necessity. Everybody’s figured out that you’ve got to juggle quantum mechanics in your head while doing whatever it is you do. That takes big bulging foreheads. Pawle was, however, brighter than the average growing up. Which meant that, due to very basic human nature going back to the way that primates in the wild act, others tried to pull him down. Knowing the fact that he grew up in an Indowy environment, my guess would be passive aggressive techniques and occasional mildly aggressive. He probably just got shunned and ignored a lot. He ended up knowing he was smarter than everyone around him but with a massive inferiority complex. He’s apparently arrogant because he’s lacking self esteem. Or am I wrong?”

“You are a student of human nature,” Chan said.

“I’ve been commanding small units of very elite troops for a very long time,” Mosovich said. “I had a lot of classes once upon a time and I think I’ve surpassed most of them.”

“And what would your recipe be for improving Adept Pawle?” Chan asked, honestly interested.

“Pressure him,” Mosovich said. “He’s bright but lazy which, believe it or not, is good. But he’s also very unsure. Put him under pressure so high it either kills him or cures him. If he fails all you have is a guy stuck on stupid at fifth level. If he passes, he’ll gain confidence from it. There are guys I’ve commanded who had esteem problems, but they generally get over them after whatever entry program is used by the group. The problem is that with his attitude he’s a weak link. But sohon’s your side of this op.”

“The problem is the nature of the mission,” Chan said, frowning. “The essentially violent nature of the operation is… very much anathema to most of the Indowy raised. The positions are voluntary. Of my students, only Pawle and Hoover volunteered to enter the enemy vessel. I am, I admit, unsure of the concept of pressuring sohon adepts to exceed their level of comfort.”

“How’s your comfort?” Mosovich asked.

Chan looked at the table between them for a long moment.

“Perhaps too high,” the mentat said. “My father was Admiral Chan Kushao, the senior Chinese officer in Fleet. Unlike the… latter officers, including those of the Race of Han, he was a man of honor.”

“Indra?” Mosovich asked.

“Oh, far earlier,” Chan said, snorting. “He was in command of CruRon Fourteen at Second Diess.”

“That’s where about the only thing we recovered was the Yamato , right?” Jake said. “The rest of the fleet, and all the cruisers, were if I recall clearly, scrap.”

“I was… ten? Yes, ten.” Chan sighed and shrugged. “The younger members were… younger when they were taken in by the Indowy. Many of them barely remember their parents. I can remember my mother crying when father’s shuttle was gone. And I can remember my sisters.”

“They… stayed in China?” Jake asked.

“They did indeed,” Chan said. “One of the reasons I generally work for the Darhel at arm’s length. I have gotten over the rage, but I will admit that I am perhaps less… tamed than the Indowy would wish. So,” he said, looking up. “No, I have no issues with this mission. I am the son of a Chinese admiral, who was the son of a naval captain. Our family was one of the few of the Manchu to survive the Communists, mostly because my great-grandfather saw the writing on the wall and went over to them very early. My grandmother had a list of every Chan who had served under the Emperors going back several centuries. I may be a mentat instead of a ship’s commander or a colonel. But.”

“But,” Jake said, grinning. “What are you gonna do about Pawle?”

“I think he chose to take the active role in his own attempt to get over his self esteem issues,” Chan said. “To prove himself if you will. I also see the issues with that.”

“One way that goes bad is they don’t,” Jake said, nodding. “That is, they crack under the pressure. The other way it goes bad is they over-react and end up a dead hero.”

“Answer?”

“Training,” Jake said. “And selection. You can sort of do both at the same time. Hmmm… ”

“What are you thinking?”

“We haven’t really been training you guys for resistance,” Jake said. “Once we get up to full run, in about a week, I was going to be throwing wrenches in the ops to test my guys. I think we need to do that to yours.”

“Glandri,” Toucher said, pulling back. “Corridor’s packed with them!”

“Alternate four,” Moustache said, automatically. “Payback, seal this corridor.”

“On it,” the demo man said. The door closed and he laid a sealer on it, igniting it as the team retreated.

They turned a corner and hurried down it but before they reached the end there was a rave of sound that filled the corridor.

“Autogun,” Daisy Mae announced. “Lt. Penis and Glasshoppah are graded as terminated.”

“Glasshoppah?” Chan snapped.

“Thanks, Daisy,” Mosovich said, grinning. “See you, Glasshoppah.”