them their own personal glare at the same time.
"What do you suggest, pilot?" Esposito asked, frowning.
The young shuttle pilot looked around, slightly uncertain. "I can give you directions, I guess."
"We'd be better if you showed us the way. Obviously you know the area we're heading into rather too well."
Orlova sighed. "That wasn't the deal. I'll write down some directions for you on the flight over. Once we're there, you're on your own."
"What's the matter, kid? Scared of us big ugly marines?" yelled one of the troopers.
"Who wouldn't be scared of you, Henderson?" replied Hunter.
"My shuttle's parked aft of here. Plenty of space for all of your gear, you can take seats in the passenger compartment," said Orlova, ignoring the remark. "Don't touch any buttons, the crate's barely holding together as it is."
The troopers looked at each other, grumbling, and headed down to the nearest equipment lockers, shedding themselves of a truly impressive array of lethal items, before grousing their way down the corridor, led by the sergeant. Esposito stayed behind with Orlova, watching them.
"Force of nature, aren't they, Ensign?"
"That they are. Look, we really would be better off if you would come with us. Those schematics are useless enough as it is."
The pilot shook her head. "I can't risk it. You and your apes down there get to fly off in this big fancy ship once this mission of yours is over. I have to live here. Something I might not get to do for that long if certain people found out I told you were certain goods were stored."
"Pity."
The two of them followed the troopers down the corridor and into the airlock; none of them seemed to have noticed the accumulated junk scattered across the cabin, instead concentrating on getting themselves settled down as comfortably as possible. Paradise for a espatier – an assault run with no weapons to prepare, no tactics to memorize, no battle plan to discuss. Hunter looked like he was contemplating finding something suitably diverting to do, while Orlova and Esposito strapped themselves down in the forward couches. Without bothering with a warning, the pilot detached the shuttle from the side of the ship, using the spilled atmosphere in the airlock to provide the initial boost. Not waiting for a launch approval that was unlikely to come, she kicked the engines into full and punched in a course for the lower levels of Mariner Station, again making an attempt to look like a part of the normal traffic flow. She ostentatiously sat back in her chair, her feet up on her pilot's console, and relaxed.
"Is that it?" asked the Ensign.
"I can pull on levers and push buttons to make it look good if you want, but it won't make any difference. Old Man Newton is in the driver's seat right now, I'm just watching the computer."
Esposito looked nervously around the cabin, as if expecting one of the panels to explode at any moment. With an effort, she pushed aside some of the used food wrappers and hunched over a datapad, looking over some schematics. After tapping some directions onto a datapad for a few minutes, Orlova looked over at the ensign.
"What's that?"
"Personnel files on the squad."
"Ah." She waited for another minute or two. "Don't you know all that stuff already?"
Esposito sighed, put the pad away and turned to face the pilot. "Yes and no. I've read it, but...you don't get the idea how anything will actually go until you lead them into action. Not that I've ever done that before, and they all know it."
"Nervous, then."
"Not at all. I spent three years training down on Mars for this in ROTC. I know what I'm doing."
Orlova chuckled, shaking her head. "No you don't. That's exactly how I felt when I did my first solo. Confident as hell on the outside – had to be to talk the instructor into letting me take that shuttle up ahead of schedule. Inside I was a bundle of nerves. I'm still here, though, and I'm a damned good pilot, so something obviously worked."
The young espatier
"What do you suggest, pilot?" Esposito asked, frowning.
The young shuttle pilot looked around, slightly uncertain. "I can give you directions, I guess."
"We'd be better if you showed us the way. Obviously you know the area we're heading into rather too well."
Orlova sighed. "That wasn't the deal. I'll write down some directions for you on the flight over. Once we're there, you're on your own."
"What's the matter, kid? Scared of us big ugly marines?" yelled one of the troopers.
"Who wouldn't be scared of you, Henderson?" replied Hunter.
"My shuttle's parked aft of here. Plenty of space for all of your gear, you can take seats in the passenger compartment," said Orlova, ignoring the remark. "Don't touch any buttons, the crate's barely holding together as it is."
The troopers looked at each other, grumbling, and headed down to the nearest equipment lockers, shedding themselves of a truly impressive array of lethal items, before grousing their way down the corridor, led by the sergeant. Esposito stayed behind with Orlova, watching them.
"Force of nature, aren't they, Ensign?"
"That they are. Look, we really would be better off if you would come with us. Those schematics are useless enough as it is."
The pilot shook her head. "I can't risk it. You and your apes down there get to fly off in this big fancy ship once this mission of yours is over. I have to live here. Something I might not get to do for that long if certain people found out I told you were certain goods were stored."
"Pity."
The two of them followed the troopers down the corridor and into the airlock; none of them seemed to have noticed the accumulated junk scattered across the cabin, instead concentrating on getting themselves settled down as comfortably as possible. Paradise for a espatier – an assault run with no weapons to prepare, no tactics to memorize, no battle plan to discuss. Hunter looked like he was contemplating finding something suitably diverting to do, while Orlova and Esposito strapped themselves down in the forward couches. Without bothering with a warning, the pilot detached the shuttle from the side of the ship, using the spilled atmosphere in the airlock to provide the initial boost. Not waiting for a launch approval that was unlikely to come, she kicked the engines into full and punched in a course for the lower levels of Mariner Station, again making an attempt to look like a part of the normal traffic flow. She ostentatiously sat back in her chair, her feet up on her pilot's console, and relaxed.
"Is that it?" asked the Ensign.
"I can pull on levers and push buttons to make it look good if you want, but it won't make any difference. Old Man Newton is in the driver's seat right now, I'm just watching the computer."
Esposito looked nervously around the cabin, as if expecting one of the panels to explode at any moment. With an effort, she pushed aside some of the used food wrappers and hunched over a datapad, looking over some schematics. After tapping some directions onto a datapad for a few minutes, Orlova looked over at the ensign.
"What's that?"
"Personnel files on the squad."
"Ah." She waited for another minute or two. "Don't you know all that stuff already?"
Esposito sighed, put the pad away and turned to face the pilot. "Yes and no. I've read it, but...you don't get the idea how anything will actually go until you lead them into action. Not that I've ever done that before, and they all know it."
"Nervous, then."
"Not at all. I spent three years training down on Mars for this in ROTC. I know what I'm doing."
Orlova chuckled, shaking her head. "No you don't. That's exactly how I felt when I did my first solo. Confident as hell on the outside – had to be to talk the instructor into letting me take that shuttle up ahead of schedule. Inside I was a bundle of nerves. I'm still here, though, and I'm a damned good pilot, so something obviously worked."
The young espatier
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