Hellfire (THEIRS NOT TO REASON WHY) (5 page)

That earned her several curious looks from the sea of Grey-clad soldiers around her. Ia didn’t bother to explain. She had too much to get through.

“Next up is Lieutenant Commander Delia Helstead, who has served with distinction as a captain for the last three years,” Ia introduced next, indicating the petite redhead at the far left end of the table. Her image and public file appeared on the screens next, replacing Harper’s. “She has since been cross-ranked from Captain to Lieutenant Commander so that we will not confuse her rank with
my
rank on board this ship.

“In other words, if you say ‘Captain’ and she starts to respond instead of me, that will be the reason why, until she gets used to it,” Ia allowed, smiling wryly. “As inconvenient as that may be for her, we all know whom to blame…thank you very much, TUPSF-Navy, for insisting upon clinging to your outdated maritime traditions.”

A few members of the gathered crew chuckled. The
stubbornness of the Navy’s various traditions had lingered long after the unification of all of the Terran empire’s various armed forces into two bodies, the civilian-based Peacekeepers and the military-based Space Force. Even Helstead smiled at the complaint, though she didn’t stop her task. The short, muscular woman had resumed the cleaning and trimming of her nails with one of the stiletto-pins pulled from her hair, one leg curled up underneath her on her seat, looking more like an enlisted grunt than an Academy-trained officer.

“Lieutenant Commander Helstead comes to us as a former deputy director of field operations in the Knifemen Corps,” Ia stated, deliberately pronouncing the –se in the word as tradition also demanded, instead of the more familiar
core
, like the Marine Corps used. “She will be in charge of the 3rd Platoon, as well as be our tactical officer for all special-operations activities, our hand-to-hand combat training officer, our gunnery training officer, and our disciplinary officer, should you require disciplinary action above and beyond the Squad and Platoon levels—do not be fooled by her small size. She comes from the heavyworld Eiaven, and is therefore twice as strong and fast as she looks. She is also a fellow psi.

“At her side is 3rd Platoon Staff Sergeant Chico Maxwell.” The Hispanic man seated next to the petite redhead dipped his head at the introduction. “Those of you assigned to the 3rd Platoon, or who find yourselves serving on the third watch for whatever reason, will report first to your Squad leaders, then to Sergeant Maxwell, then to Commander Helstead, depending upon who is available,” she stated, abbreviating Helstead’s rank in the standard way with the higher of the two titles. “There will be plenty of times where you will be thrown into the nearest duty post simply because you are the nearest available body. I suggest you get used to the thought of it, so that the reality will not stagger you.

“Seated next to Maxwell is Lieutenant First Class Oslo Rico, who will be in charge of the 1st Platoon and its duty watch.” Ia paused briefly while the dusky-skinned, mountain-tall man tipped his own head. “Lieutenant Rico is an expert in military intelligence, data mining, surveillance, threat assessment, ship deployments, naval tactics, strategies, and communications. He also understands several xenolanguages fluently, including Sallhash. As such, he will be our intelligence officer, scantech
officer, communications maven, tactical advisor, gunnery officer, and since he is rated for insystem and FTL combat maneuvers, he will act as our ship combat officer whenever I need to rest.

“Beside him sits 1st Platoon Staff Sergeant Menrick Halostein, who will act as his right hand.” The man with the fuzzy halo of short-cropped, pale blond hair lifted his chin in acknowledgment. Ia gave the same introduction as before. “He will be the noncom in charge of first watch. Again, I must stress that if you are pulled into duty during first watch, and it is not your normal duty shift, you will report directly to him, and then to Lieutenant Rico. If it
is
your watch, report to your Squad leaders on up the normal chain of command.

“This brings us to our 2nd Platoon officer, Lieutenant Second Class Glen Spyder. He and I both went through Basic Training together, and served for a while in the same Marine Company,” Ia said, indicating the man seated to her right. “And yes, he has my permission to keep his hair that color.”

Spyder’s short hair was indeed distinctive, dyed in camouflage-mottled shades of green, beige, and brown, and his grin was friendly as he lifted his chin in greeting. Ia had to pause to clear her throat; all this talking was making her mouth dry, but she couldn’t pause to get a drink. There was a caf’ dispenser built into the base of the boardroom table, but no one had stocked it with cups yet, never mind brew packets.
Yet another thing to go onto the checklist before we leave dry dock.

“If you have any doubts as to
my
abilities in combat,” Ia stated, “you can go have a talk with him; I’m quite sure he’ll give you an earful, given that we served together for roughly a year on a hot-spot Border patrol, and he helped me plan and execute the Battle for Zubeneschamali. His own reputation is equally outstanding; in fact, he comes to us with a fresh Field Commission. Spyder will therefore be our primary melee combat officer, in charge of all boarding parties, troop sorties, ground combat, and
non
-special-ops activities.

“Like Helstead, he will also oversee your combat training, focusing on your training and preparedness for mechsuit combat, weaponry maintenance and drills, plus your daily regimen training. He is also in charge of all post-combat tactical debriefings. You know all those analysis reports you’re supposed to fill out after a battle?” Ia asked rhetorically. “Where you’re supposed to present your viewpoint of who did what, what part
of it went well, what went wrong, and what could be done better?
Everyone
on this ship will be required to fill them out, from the Privates Second Grade and Second Class, all the way up through the cadre.

“That includes the medical staff and our chaplain,” she added next, glancing at the blonde with the lieutenant commander’s double silver bars. “Where we are going, we will
all
be designated combatants and valid targets by our enemy. That means we will
all
learn how to fight, to plan, to follow,
and
to lead. I will be planning our strategies, piloting this ship in most battles, and dictate some of our tactics when they are time-sensitive, but Lieutenant Spyder will be planning the majority of tactics. It is vital you give him accurate input and thoughtful suggestions.

“Working with him will be the 2nd Platoon’s noncom, Sergeant First Class Maria Santori, who will also help to oversee all activities on second watch and assist with managing troop assignments. Her side specialty is picking the right modifications for the right job in mechsuit operations, so her skill set goes hand in hand with Lieutenant Spyder’s area of expertise.”

The tallish woman Ia gestured to next, the one with her dark hair twisted into neat, columnar dreadlocks, lifted her chin as well. She said nothing, allowing her commanding officer to continue.

“Each and every one of you
will
be fitted for a mechsuit, because there will be occasions where we will have to park the ship and send most of you into combat,” Ia told her listeners. “And by each and every one of you, I repeat: There will be times when even the traditional noncombatants will be expected to fight, from the chaplain to the clerks, and all the way through the medical staff.

“This leads us to our two officers who are not in the direct chain of command for this Company.” That earned her a sour look from the blonde woman to her left. Ia acknowledged it with a dip of her head, and some diplomacy. “Since we will
not
be deployed upon a regular patrol route, or even to a specific action area, and will therefore not be able to leave anyone behind for medical care in other facilities, I have secured the absolute best infirmary equipment possible, and the most outstanding Triphid I could find to be our medical officer.”

Her flattery mollified the medical officer in question, but
only a little bit. It was the rest of the men and women in the boardroom who gave her odd, bemused looks, somewhere between wonder, confusion, and concern. Triphid was the military nickname applied to someone who held multiple degrees in holistic paramedicine, ranging from preventive medicine, surgery, and regenerative procedures, to postoperative care. They could also handle just about everything a Human needed to remain healthy over the long term, whether it was dentistry, nutrition, pharmaceuticals, or physical therapy.

Normally they were reserved for one of two positions: either delicate cases where a patient at a veteran’s hospital would be too disrupted by several medical personnel tromping day after day through their room; or for long-range exploration vessels, where the crews were expected to spend years traveling, scouting, and surveying star systems and worlds for either signs of sentient life or potential colonization.

Ia let the weight of both of those possibilities sink in, then stated gravely, “We may be operating within known Alliance space, but yes, we
will
be that busy in the years to come. Lieutenant Commander Jesselle Mishka has not only the best Triphid training, she is also a fully trained, biokinetically backed paraphysician—she is literally the best doctor I could get for this crew. Treat her with the respect she has earned.

“Because she is a paraphysician as well as a physician, when the all clear signal has been given after any battle,” she said, “those of you who have a moment to spare will be asked to drop by the Infirmary to volunteer for KI-man’s duty, lending Doctor Mishka whatever spare kinetic inergy you may have, so that she does not completely exhaust her own inner resources.

“Our other nonchain officer is Commander Christine Benjamin, who will be serving as our onboard chaplain and psychologist. She has been assigned by the DoI to shadow my career, since they have plans for me,” Ia confessed dryly, “but know she also stands ready to comfort and serve the rest of you with equal care. Feel free to go to her for spiritual, emotional, and mental health whenever you have need.

“As for the last member of our cadre,” Ia concluded, “on Bennie’s far side is our Company sergeant, Master Sergeant Henry Sadneczek. In moments of informality, he prefers the nickname ‘Grizzle.’ Sadneczek will be our quartermaster as well as our Company clerk, which means he is in charge of all
requisitions and required paperwork—in other words, you’ll follow my commands, but you’ll give your reports to him. He also has a military law degree, and has acted in the past as a noncommissioned adjutant for the Judge Advocate General, Branch Special Forces. I expect you to do your best to make sure he doesn’t have to
use
that degree.”

Grizzle dipped his head as well, his image appearing briefly on the secondary screens. Ia left it up there for a moment, then tapped a command, shutting off the secondary screens and their views of the Company command staff.

“We also have six Yeoman-class pilots, all of whom are rated for atmospheric, orbital, insystem, FTL, and OTL flight. They will perform most of their duties as shuttle and boarding-pod pilots, and as bridge pilots. They will not be considered members of the cadre when it comes to the chain of command for this crew, despite their parallel status as noncommissioned officers. They will, however, be your Squad leaders, and your Platoon noncoms in the event a particular Platoon sergeant is unavailable.

“Unlike most combat Companies, we do not have squad sergeants. They will not be necessary for this crew once you have adjusted to our operating parameters and particular chain of command structure. Most of what you will be doing will depend very strongly upon your own initiative and efforts. I have selected each and every one of you because you are
smart
individuals,” Ia stressed, “who
believe
in the work of a Terran soldier.

“So, you will do whatever needs doing, cross-coordinating among yourselves, and you will report to your lead corporals, or to your lead yeomen, who will in turn report to your Platoon sergeants and lieutenants, on up through to me,” Ia warned the men and women seated before her in the tiers of the briefing boardroom. “This arrangement will give this crew the greatest flexibility, and with it, the greatest chances for success in our missions. Unfortunately, this bottom-up chain of responsibility does mean that there are fewer layers of cushioning between you and me than in most of the command structures you have served in before.

“In fact, there is far less cushioning than most of you yet realize. You may have only a few officers between you and me, despite my relatively high rank, but I in turn report directly to
Admiral John Genibes of the Space Force Branch Special Forces…and
he
reports to Admiral-General Christine Myang herself.”

Rather than saying more, Ia paused. Not just to let her words sink in, but because something
bra-a-a-a-apped
against the bulkheads outside. She had to wait for almost two minutes as the work crews outside the sloped confines of the briefing boardroom did something which was not only noisy but rattled the deckplates, too, and the noise increased.

As it kept going, a couple of the privates on the left side of the room covered their ears, wincing from the rasping vibrations. When it finally passed, Ia gave them a few seconds to recover before speaking. They still had a lot to get through, however.

“…Right. As you can see, this ship, the TUPSF
Hellfire
, is still undergoing several retrofits based upon the upgraded design specs I gave to Admiral Genibes. And yes, you heard me correctly a moment ago. You all report to me, I report to Admiral Genibes, and he reports to the Admiral-General of the entire Space Force. Unlike any other Company of our lowly size and lowly rank,” Ia warned her fellow crewmates, “we do
not
have several layers of cushioning between us and the ultimate authority. This crew is the
entire
9th Cordon Special Forces. If we screw up, there is exactly one person between us and the Admiral-General’s wrath…but I wouldn’t hold my breath on Admiral Genibes keeping silent. It is therefore up to you to read the Company manual, follow it like a Bible, and
not
screw up.