Bad Eggs Pt. 2

Out of the frying pan...

This is part 2. Click here for part 1.

I stood there a moment, and considered the Old Man’s words. It was nothing new, not really. I’d read all this between the lines of our briefings in jump space. But it was good to get the boss to say the quiet parts out loud. I nodded.

“Yes sir, on the bounce!” I said, with more cheer than I felt. I was the one charging into fire after all.

“They're just periphery rifles,” said Major Major. “Motorized infantry, glorified technicals really. Nothing they have is a match for your panzerkampfmarchers, Smithy. Besides, aerospace support.”

“Covereth a multitude of sins,” I interrupted. “That's mighty fine boss, I'm a movin’.”

I moved carefully, given the turbulence of our descent, but at this better than not being able to move at all. Despite our descent on a plume of fusion fire, our e-gravy made it safe enough for me climb down the stairs to the vehicle deck where my hussar company was gathered. Yeah, ladders are called stairs on the boat. Go figure.

“Commander on deck!” bellowed my yeoman when I entered the ready room.

“As you where,” I say. “Stow that card game, we are go for the briefed op-plan. I just confirmed with the old man. We'll be dirtside inside the hour. Get your pre-combat-inspections squared away and get mounted.”

LT Kelly, my exec, co-owner, and occasional friend-with-benefits is the last out of the compartment. She paused mid brush-past with me. She knew exactly how her synthdhole arming-suit framed her assets. How electric contact was. How overwhelming the scent of her was.

“You didn't even try to get us out of the frontal attack, did you?” she accused me.

I leered in her face and grabbed a handful of behind and pulled in. “You want to take over, I'll see you in the circle of equals, Kelly,” I replied. I jerked my head toward the kampfer hanger, “Until then, what I say goes. Now go unfuck that herd you call a third platoon. Lieutenant.”

She smirked and moved out. She swayed her hips as she went. Advertising what she won't be serving up for me later. My flesh responds, but my soul is already in the game. Time to get our kill on.

Cheong, my Yeoman, handed me my synchrohelm bag when I entered first platoon's bay. “Boss, Kelly might be a problem for you if you don't shut her down,” he said.

“You let me worry about Kelly,” I replied. “I need you playing the markets with your usual skill. I need a profitable venture cargo on this drop if she makes a play for more of the outstanding stock.”

Cheong nodded and then snapped to attention. “Yes sir,” he said, then he saluted me.

I stepped into the cherry picker where my crew chief is waiting for me and ride it up. I listened to my chief as she complained about delayed maintenance, as usual. She lists out all the defects and safety deadlines we have ignored.

“I know Zira,” I reply. “I know, but will she serve?”

Zira sighs and looks at me. As if to say, “your funeral.” Then she spits.

“Yes boss, she'll serve,” she replied. I can hear her teeth grinding. “I'll be burning the midnight oil, elbows deep in this shit later, but she'll serve you.”

“Good,” I said.