because he thought he understood why, but he didn't. Snooze said, "You're nodding like you get it – like you get how I'm sick already. I'm dead anyway in a year or so and you're thinking that's why I took this deal. But that's not why. Some asshole Psych is gonna say that I think I can get out of what's coming and that's why I'm doing this, but it's not. It's not like that... It's..." Snooze actually grinned when he figured out what he was trying to say. "I just don't want to be who I was anymore. And I don't have to be. Shafter offered us a chance to be something else. Yeah, they're sending us out...not just to maybe die, but probably. And yeah, I knew it was coming. They never fooled me, boyo, not for a minute. But...don't say they tricked me."
"You could have told me we were signing up for some suicide shit."
Snooze looked as if he thought there was something funny about this. "You knew, Jordo. You're the one who should have warned everyone else. You're the damn pilot – you could see through this bunk better than any of us. You knew they couldn't possibly train us up for combat in four weeks – not even with some dingo-dango artificial intelligence doing half the flying. You knew it was all bullshit and you still came along. Nobody tricked me . Nobody tricked you either, dumbass. So don't act like a victim," Snooze said. "You're no victim. You're a volunteer."
*****
They pushed the orders to everyone's matchbox computers before reveille. He was still awake when they came in. The Lancers had been transferred to the Hardway Air Group. Forty-eight Bitzers and a pack of Arbitrage 's drones would rendezvous with the privateer attack carrier SCS Hardway at 0930.
Even inside Bailey Prison they'd heard plenty about the carrier Hardway . If that was the ship the Lancers were flying off, then there was no question about it – they were going right into battle.
Chapter Nine
The redsuits he'd taken down like bowling pins when he'd flown into the airlock stood against the bulkhead of the landing bay and flipped him off as the unidentified voice of Arbitrage's bridge wished them 'good hunting'. He'd heard that woman's voice on the air traffic control channel for weeks and she'd never once said her name.
Arbitrage's drones tore ass out of the bay and ran in circles around the ship, chasing Burn. He saw them rip across the starry black framed in the bay doors just before all the Lancers launched together with Major Eugene Shaffer in the lead. Shafter turned the flight on vector, and the Lancers followed.
"Keep it in restricted mode," Burn told them. "Hands off the big red buttons until we're in combat."
"Still got mostly cherries here," Shafter said. "They deserve a taste."
"Whatever you say, Lancer 1-1. You are Honcho. Nuggets, you heard the man. Punch the buttons and try to keep up."
Once they enabled the pulsing inertial negation systems, half of the 133rd blasted off screaming with the thrill or fright of feeling their Bitzer's unrestricted acceleration for the very first time. The others screamed from the way the new inertial negation system vibrated every cell in their bodies with what felt like rapid gravitational flux. Jordo whooped as they all followed Shafter's lead and spiraled around the Dingo pack on their way to the rendezvous with Hardway . If they were on their way to die, at least Shafter made it fun.
Near one of the Lagrange points of Mars' second moon, Jordo's knot puckered when his fighter's LiDAR picked out two flights of what had to be a hundred bogies apiece. "What the hell?"
"We're cooked," Cleeg said over local comms.
Jordo's helmet drew a reticule around a set of warning beacons, buoys around the area. The message they broadcast flashed in his visor and tinted the region of space in front of them with red and white stripes: "Navigation Hazard. Do not enter."
Burn came over squadron comms: "Just in case there's a few nervous nuggets out there, you should know those aren't
"You could have told me we were signing up for some suicide shit."
Snooze looked as if he thought there was something funny about this. "You knew, Jordo. You're the one who should have warned everyone else. You're the damn pilot – you could see through this bunk better than any of us. You knew they couldn't possibly train us up for combat in four weeks – not even with some dingo-dango artificial intelligence doing half the flying. You knew it was all bullshit and you still came along. Nobody tricked me . Nobody tricked you either, dumbass. So don't act like a victim," Snooze said. "You're no victim. You're a volunteer."
*****
They pushed the orders to everyone's matchbox computers before reveille. He was still awake when they came in. The Lancers had been transferred to the Hardway Air Group. Forty-eight Bitzers and a pack of Arbitrage 's drones would rendezvous with the privateer attack carrier SCS Hardway at 0930.
Even inside Bailey Prison they'd heard plenty about the carrier Hardway . If that was the ship the Lancers were flying off, then there was no question about it – they were going right into battle.
Chapter Nine
The redsuits he'd taken down like bowling pins when he'd flown into the airlock stood against the bulkhead of the landing bay and flipped him off as the unidentified voice of Arbitrage's bridge wished them 'good hunting'. He'd heard that woman's voice on the air traffic control channel for weeks and she'd never once said her name.
Arbitrage's drones tore ass out of the bay and ran in circles around the ship, chasing Burn. He saw them rip across the starry black framed in the bay doors just before all the Lancers launched together with Major Eugene Shaffer in the lead. Shafter turned the flight on vector, and the Lancers followed.
"Keep it in restricted mode," Burn told them. "Hands off the big red buttons until we're in combat."
"Still got mostly cherries here," Shafter said. "They deserve a taste."
"Whatever you say, Lancer 1-1. You are Honcho. Nuggets, you heard the man. Punch the buttons and try to keep up."
Once they enabled the pulsing inertial negation systems, half of the 133rd blasted off screaming with the thrill or fright of feeling their Bitzer's unrestricted acceleration for the very first time. The others screamed from the way the new inertial negation system vibrated every cell in their bodies with what felt like rapid gravitational flux. Jordo whooped as they all followed Shafter's lead and spiraled around the Dingo pack on their way to the rendezvous with Hardway . If they were on their way to die, at least Shafter made it fun.
Near one of the Lagrange points of Mars' second moon, Jordo's knot puckered when his fighter's LiDAR picked out two flights of what had to be a hundred bogies apiece. "What the hell?"
"We're cooked," Cleeg said over local comms.
Jordo's helmet drew a reticule around a set of warning beacons, buoys around the area. The message they broadcast flashed in his visor and tinted the region of space in front of them with red and white stripes: "Navigation Hazard. Do not enter."
Burn came over squadron comms: "Just in case there's a few nervous nuggets out there, you should know those aren't
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