Chapter 3

Alby Vorsworth came out of the shower and found that Quinton was already there with the coffee. "Good morning, sir," he said.

"Morning," replied Alby. "What are you doing here? It's the weekend."

"The base works seven days a week, sir."

"The base, but not all the people. I don't have any duty today, nor tomorrow. You should take the day off."

"I don't mind sir. Keeps me busy. You know what they say about idle hands, sir."

"Well, frankly, I fully intend to keep my own hands entirely idle today, Quinton! I'll take my chances with the Devil."

The elderly enlistedman chuckled. "Hard week, sir?"

"A bit hectic, yes." Alby was tempted to say more, but then thought better of it. Officers shouldn't complain in front of enlistedmen. But he did feel like complaining to someone. When Colonel Fetherbay had assigned him to the simulator project it had seemed like a dream come true. He loved computers and wasn't nearly so enamored to all the marching around and saluting stuff that seemed to be so dear to Anny and Jer. He thought it was going to be perfect.

Until he found out what a mess the project was.

Nobody seemed to be in charge. Or rather, there were too many people who thought they were in charge. There was a civilian from the company who made the simulators, another civilian in charge of the construction crew building the building the simulators would go in, and then there was a lieutenant from brigade headquarters, a guy named Pflugfelter, who had been told to run the whole circus. Unfortunately, Pflugfelter's experience with computers was limited to maintaining the comconsoles used on the base and not much more. Theoretically he could boss around the guy from the simulator company, but he didn't know enough to do so. And Alby quickly deduced that the higher ranking officers had little interest and no faith in the damn simulators anyway. They didn't care if the project was ever completed. There would be no help from that quarter.

No help, but probably plenty of blame.

Obviously someone higher up in the military or the government thought that the simulators were a good idea and no doubt sooner or later one of them was going to ask why the simulator facility at Fort Vorolson wasn't up and running? At that point heads would start rolling. Alby didn't have any particular concern for his own head, but he still didn't want to be caught in the middle of it.

Maybe I can talk to… oh, stop that! You've worried enough about it for one week. Take the day off!

The idea that he could take the day off was novel. At the Academy down-time had come in tiny droplets. An hour here, an afternoon there, but for the most part the cadets' schedules were unrelenting. After four years it had become so ingrained that rediscovering the concept of the weekend made Alby feel like he'd found some grand new world.

He put on his undress greens as he drank coffee and chatted with Quinton. The man actually did remind him a good bit of some of the male servants at Vorsworth House, but that wasn't all that surprising: they were all ex-military, too. Unlike officers, the enlistedmen were forced to retire after forty years in the service. Many of these 'twice twenty year men' found jobs as servants for upper-class Vor. From the look of the hashmarks on his sleeves, Quinton was going to find himself in that situation in just another year.

He finished the coffee, sealed up his tunic, grabbed his hat and went out the door with a wave to his dog-robber. He glanced down the hall toward Anny's room, but the door was closed. He went down the steps and found Anny and Jer just coming out of Jer's room. Had they spent the night together or…? None of my business. None of anyone's business!

There had been a time when he'd felt a bit jealous of Jer. He'd sort of been in love with Anny himself. But then any of the cadets who weren't outright enemies had sort of been in love with Anny. Alby had gotten over that, primarily by falling in love with someone else. Abigail Vorburn, one of the girls in the next batch allowed into the Academy, the 'Second Six' as they'd come to call themselves, had become his friend. There were times when it seemed like they were in love and times when it didn't. Abbie was just as determined to make it through the Academy as Anny had been and she wasn't going let something like an infatuated Alby Vorsworth derail her goal. Abbie had just started her third year, so it was going to be a while before they could be anything more than just friends. Alby wrote to her frequently and she wrote back as often as her busy schedule allowed.

"Howdy folks," said Alby cheerfully. "Ready to explore the town?"

His friends both smiled and agreed enthusiastically. They headed out the door and Alby turned toward where the shuttle bus to the town would pick them up. "What? No breakfast first?" asked Jer, looking toward the mess hall.

"There must be places in the town to eat," said Alby. "I'd like to try something different."

"Yeah, but here it's free."

"No problem, my treat."

"Alby, we can't keep mooching off you," said Anny. "You're always treating us to meals."

"Always? I've had the opportunity to buy you meals, what? About a dozen times in the four years we've known each other?"

"More than that."

"Not much!" denied Alby. "But if you are so determined to refuse my hospitality, well, then, let's go to the mess hall…" he turned in that direction with an exaggerated look of sorrow on his face.

He hadn't gone five steps before Jer grabbed him by one arm and Anny by the other, physically hoisted him into the air, and turned him back toward the shuttle stop. "Help! Help! I'm being forced to buy breakfast!" he cried, but not very loudly. They all laughed. The bus arrived only moments later and they piled aboard. Alby looked fondly at Anny and Jer. They, along with Abbie and Patric Mederov, were his best friends in the world. Growing up he'd never had any real friends except for a few of the servants who were all sixty years his senior.

Alby's childhood had been anything but typical. The Vorsworth family had a long and distinguished history of service to the Empire. All the males had always served in the military. He had two older brothers who were both killed serving the Empire before Alby had been born. Indeed, if they hadn't died, Alby never would have been born. During the Time of Isolation, before Barrayar had regained galactic technology, the deaths of the two siblings would have meant an end to the Vorsworth line. His parents were both in their sixties at the time and had no other close relations—except for their disowned daughter. But with galactic technology available, specifically genetic testing and the uterine replicator, it was still possible for his parents to have another child. Alby had been the result. He would carry on the line and the family traditions.

In his younger years he hadn't known enough to see anything odd in the situation, but as he grew older he began to realize—and resent—the fact that he'd been… created simply as a replacement for his two dead brothers. That resentment very nearly became outright rebellion on Alby's part. He had come within a millimeter of turning his back on his parents, the Academy, everything, and just walking away. It had only been the deep friendships he'd developed at the Academy that prevented him from doing so. He felt no particular loyalty to his parents, but he would have died for his friends—just as they would have for him. And that was no empty cliché. They had very nearly died for each other on more than one occasion. The ribbons on Anny's and Jer's—and his own—chests had been won as much for saving each other as for service to the Imperium.

The bus made a circuit through the fort, picking up other people and then headed into the town of Malverton. Apparently the place had started out as a tiny logging camp built beside the headwaters of the Pinios River. From that it had grown into a major supplier of lumber to the Vortugalov District. There were still several sawmills in operation, but the primary business of the town was now supporting the sprawling military base just to the north.

The bus let them off in the main square of the town. It was still pretty early and there weren't that many people on the street yet. The place had a tidy and welcoming appearance and it looked like it was going to be a beautiful day. An exhilarating feeling of freedom and unlimited potential filled Alby. They strolled around the square and then he spotted what appeared to be a restaurant halfway down the block on a side street. "Let's try there," he said. It was a cozy little place and the prices were low enough that Anny and Jer didn't object. The cuisine was indeed different from what was served in the mess hall. Despite its Anglo name, Malverton was primarily inhabited by the descendents of the Greek settlers who had made up about a quarter of the "Firsters" who had colonized Barrayar. But the food was good and the waitress friendly. Alby left her a nice tip. He noticed that the waitress and several of the other patrons were staring curiously at Anny, but she was so used to that she didn't seem to notice. They spent the meal comparing the events of the previous week.

"So, you'll be in command of your platoon starting next week," said Jer to Anny. "Think they'll give you any trouble?"

"I hope not, "she replied. "They seem like good men."

"Well, after the way you beat the snot out of the one guy, I doubt the others will get out of line!" said Alby with a laugh.

"I can't solve every problem by beating up my men, Alby."

"No, but it can't hurt for them to know that you can beat them up if necessary," said Jer. "I think you probably made a good first impression on them, Anny."

"I hope so. But what about you? Did you have to beat up anyone in H Company?"

"Nope, things went pretty smoothly. Well, the commander of 1st platoon, Vorkerkas, seems like a bit of a snob, but he hasn't made any trouble so far. I've got the anti-tank platoon and I need to get up to speed with the ordnance. It's a bit older than what I trained on. Fortunately the platoon sergeant knows the stuff backwards and forwards and he seems willing to work with me. That was my big worry: he's been more or less in charge for quite a while and I was afraid he might object to me coming in and taking over. So I don't think I'll need to break any heads."

"Well, I could use someone to break some heads for me!" said Alby. "If either of you would like to help me out with that, I'd be grateful."

"Problems?" asked Anny.

"Oh, a few." He spent a few minutes venting his frustrations. "But enough of that! What do you guys want to do today?"

"Oh, just look around, I guess," said Jer.

"Well, we've got all day—and all night to explore. With all the troops here I'll bet they've got plenty of things to entertain them."

"I can't stay out too late," said Anny. "I've got an appointment with the base armorer at 0800."

"You've got duty tomorrow?" asked Alby in surprise.

"Not really, although I will next weekend, rotating duty officer, you know. But no, tomorrow I have to get my armor fitted."

"Oh cripes! That's right!" exclaimed Jer. "I nearly forgot about that! I get mine at 1400 tomorrow."

"Oh yeah," said Alby. "Guess I won't be needing a set for myself while I'm detached like this. Although having a set would make cracking heads together a lot easier!" The others laughed. The suits of powered battle armor the assault troops used gave the wearer superhuman strength.

"I hear they're still using the old Model IX suits here," said Jer, looking disappointed.

"Yeah, but as each battalion ships out they're supposed to get the new Model XI armor," said Anny. "3rd Battalion already has theirs, I hear."

"Well that's good, I loved the new model when we were on our cruise last year."

"Yeah, they were really something," agreed Alby. "But come on, time's a-wasting!" They went back outside and the streets were a lot more crowded now. Many of the people were men in uniform, but there were also plenty of other men who were obviously soldiers even though they were wearing civilian clothes. Many of this latter group were accompanied by women and children—married soldiers out with their families. The west side of the town held several large housing tracts with living quarters for the married men and their dependents. They strolled over in that direction and saw that in addition to the houses, there were playgrounds and several schools. They all had a military look to them, but they were neat and tidy.

"I guess things have changed a lot in recent years," said Anny. "My da used to talk about how most soldiers waited until they mustered out before getting married. There was almost no accommodation for married soldiers or ones with children."

"Seems like it would be pretty hard to get men to join up under those conditions," said Jer.

"These days, with all the new factory jobs in the cities, yeah," said Anny. "But this isn't Komarr, Jer. Folks out in the back country are still awful poor compared to most. A lot join up as a way to get away from that. You saw what it was like up in the mountains when we were fighting the fire."

Jer fell silent and Alby felt a twinge of guilt. Anny had come from one of those desperately poor regions. She hadn't joined up to get away from that, but still... Alby thought about the huge mansion he'd grown up in, all the servants…

"Say guys," he said suddenly. Jer and Anny turned their heads toward him. "I know you've been checking out the price on apartments around here. What are they like?"

"Well…" said Anny uncertainly.

"The ones we could afford on our combined salaries are pretty…"

"Awful?" asked Alby.

"Well, yeah… I mean there were a few that didn't look too bad, but they weren't much better than the BOQ—where we can stay for free."

"That's what I figured," said Alby, nodding his head. "Well, I've done some checking, too, and there are a couple of pretty nice houses for rent that are well within my budget and…" He held up his hand to cut off the protests he saw on his friends' faces. "I know you won't accept any offer of mine to stay free, so I'll have to charge you rent. But I'm sure we can come up with a rate that you can afford." He grinned at them.

They exchanged glances. "We'll… we'll have to think about it," said Jer.

"But thank you, Alby," added Anny.

"No problem. I've got a couple of the addresses. We could take a look while we're here."

"Why not? It's a beautiful day," said Jer.

So they called up a map of the town on their computers and made their way to the locations on Alby's list. They were nice houses, set in a part of town with a lot of nice houses and tree-lined streets and paved sidewalks. And it was clear that a number of officers lived here; they saw several men they recognized from the regimental mess out working in their yards.

"What's the monthly rent on a place like this?" asked Jer, pointing at one of the potential properties.

"None of your business," said Alby, smiling. "Your only concern is what rent I'll charge you."

"Alby…" said Anny. "We can't…"

"Why not?"

"Because we have to learn to live within our means! What if you're suddenly transferred to Vorbarr Sultana or… or Sergyar? We can't expect you to keep paying the rent on a place like this when you're not even here!"

"Well, I could…"

"That's not the point!"

"All right! All right! I'll look around for something cheaper," said Alby a bit grumpily.

"There have to be cheaper places," said Jer. "Those officers we saw down the street were both majors from brigade HQ, I think. There must be places for lower ranking sods like us."

Alby used his computer pad to find a few such places and they walked over to take a look. They weren't nearly as nice and the section of town they were in wasn't either. In some ways they looked worse than what they'd seen the enlisted families living in. "Well, I can't say that I like any of these," he snorted. "Are you sure I can't give us a little bit of an upgrade?"

"We'll make you a deal," said Anny. "Why don't you just put your own money aside and pretend you're a poverty-stricken lieutenant like us? No, I mean it. Let's figure out what we can afford combining our three salaries and nothing else."

Alby was skeptical, but agreed to give it a try. "But not right now. It's too nice a day for calculating budgets! Let's head back toward the center of town. It's nearly lunch time." The other two agreed and they started off.

But while they had been standing there, they'd attracted the attention of a few children. Well, in fact, it had been Anny who had attracted their attention. Now a little girl, maybe seven or eight years old, called out to her: "Miss? Miss? Are you really a soldier?"

Anny turned and smiled and replied. "Yes, I am."

"Really?" The girl's eyes were very wide.

"No way!" cried an older boy. "They don't let girls in the army!"

"They didn't used to," said Anny. "But they've changed some of the rules and now there are some girls. Over a hundred, actually." Alby reflected that that was stretching the truth a little. There may have been over a hundred women at the Academy, but at this moment there was only one woman soldier—and that was Anny Payne.

"Aw, she's just a med-tech or somethin'" said the boy dismissively.

"Oh no," said Alby. "She's a real soldier. Just a few months ago she was fighting pirates! I saw her myself. She beat the… stuffings out of a whole bunch, all by herself."

"Wow!" cried the little girl. "Someday I'm gonna be a soldier, too!"

"In your dreams, Kara!" snorted the boy.

Anny squatted down and took the girl's hand. "In your dreams for now, but sometimes you can make your dreams real. I did. Of course, you'll have to wait until you're a little older to try." The girl blushed and then ran off, the other children following her. Anny stood up and her eyes were gleaming.

"New recruit?" asked Alby, grinning broadly.

"Who knows?"

"You opened the door for her, Anny," said Jer.

"Let's hope it stays open."

"Come on," said Alby, "let's eat."

[Scene Break]

Anny checked the time, hurriedly finished off her breakfast, and then left the mess hall. In spite of all her intentions, she'd stayed in town until very late yesterday. And then spent another hour or so, very much by intention, awake in Jer's bed before getting to sleep. As a result she'd slept right through reveille and now had to rush to get to the armory on time.

Still, she was smiling. Yesterday had been fun and last night had been, too. Being able to spend time with Jer—in bed and out—was a wonderful thing. Not having to worry about the regulations was a wonderful thing, too.

Or at least she hoped she didn't have to worry.

While there was nothing in the regulations forbidding an officer from taking a lover, the assumption was that it would be a male officer with a female civilian. The notion of a male officer with a female officer was not something the writers of the regulations had considered. Of course, the regulations also didn't consider a male officer with another male officer and while it was quietly acknowledged that such things did occur, the unofficial policy seemed to be to just look the other way and pretend it wasn't happening. Anny sort of hoped the same policy would be followed with her and Jer.

Unless they decided to get married.

In which case they'd want it officially recognized with all the legalities and dependent privileges and… Oh hell, why does it have to be so damn complicated? Her good mood faded somewhat and she put the issue out of her mind.

The regimental armory was a huge building set near the northwest end of the base and it was a solidly built concrete structure rather than wood like the barracks. In addition to heavy weapons and maintenance facilities, it also housed the over two thousand sets of battle armor for the regiment. Anny had to show her ID to get in and then ask directions to get to where the 1st Battalion ordnance sergeant had his office. The interior of the building was divided into a bewildering warren of store rooms, service bays, and offices.

She walked down one long aisle with racks of the power armor on either side of her. The Model XI armor, like she'd used on Dounby, had a sleek, ultra-modern look to it, but these older Model IXs had a hulking, sinister appearance, like trolls or mutants from a fairy tale. With the lights mostly turned off in the building, it was downright creepy. They all seemed to be staring at her…

Up ahead was a more brightly lit area and the noise of activity came to her ears. Activity—and cursing. She came into one of the maintenance bays and saw a half-dozen men working on several suits of battle armor. One of the suits had been almost completely disassembled, with its parts laid out carefully over a few dozen square meters of floor. Two men were bent over it and one of them was the one doing the cursing. For some reason Anny wasn't surprised to see the ordnance sergeant's chevrons on the man's sleeve.

"Dammit, Georg!" he snarled. "When I told you to strip this suit down, I didn't mean this! What the hell were you doing, you idiot!"

"But, Sarge, you said… and I thought…" protested the other man.

"There you go! Thinking again! If I need any thinking done around here I've got computers for that! Now what the hell am I gonna do? This was for that new shavetail frill in C Company! She'll be here any minute and… what are you gawking at? Screw yer eyes back in yer head, man!"

"Uh… I think she's here, Sarge."

The ordnance sergeant spun around and then turned an amazing shade of crimson. Anny tried to keep from smiling—but failed. "Ordnance Sergeant Gadd? I'm Lieutenant Payne." She took a few steps forward and looked over the array of parts on the floor. "And this is for me?"

"It… uh… it was supposed to be. But this idiot went and…! Sorry, Lieutenant, I'll try and find another one that we can…"

"No need for that, Sergeant. We can just put this one back together."

"But… but that will take hours!"

"I'm in no hurry. And I'd really like to see how one of these Model IXs goes together. On my apprentice cruise I got a chance to assemble and prep a bunch of the new Model XIs for the ordnance sergeant there and I'd like to see the differences. Can't ever know too much about how your armor works."

"Well I'll be…" The look of amazement on the man's face was priceless. "All right, why the hell not? Georg, make yourself useful and bring that tool kit over here!"

They got to work.

Taking a brand new suit out of its shipping crate and getting it ready for use was an exacting process that took about thirty man-hours. That was mostly because each of the major components had to be tested. Fortunately, in this case they were just reassembling the suit rather than testing everything. Even so, it took all morning and they were still at it well into the afternoon. Gadd seemed as much surprised by her knowledge of the armor as he was at her willingness to get her hands dirty.

Much of the armor was very similar to what Anny had worked on before, but the big difference was the control system. "So you used that new neural interface system, Lieutenant?" asked Gadd. "I've been studying the tech manuals for when 1st Battalion gets 'em, but you can't tell how the thing actually runs from that. What's it like?"

Anny wiped a bit of sweat off her face with a dirty hand and smiled. "Like a dream, Sarge. It's like you're walking around in your street clothes. Smooth as silk."

"No delay in the response at all?"

"None that I could see—and believe me, I gave my suit a workout."

"Uh, yeah, I heard something about that. So I guess goin' back to this hunk o' junk will be sort of a let down, huh?"

"Oh, I trained on a Model IX at the Academy. Never got to tear one apart like this, though. But this will be okay. 'Course I won't turn down a Model XI when the battalion gets them!" She laughed and so did Gadd. After a moment the man's face grew serious.

"Uh... Lieutenant, I'm sorry about what I said earlier… when I didn't know you were there."

"Well I am a shavetail," she grinned.

"That's not what I… That's not what I meant."

"I've heard worse. A lot worse. Believe me." She held out her hand and after a moment he took it and shook.

They continued working and Gadd didn't even seem too flustered when she showed him how to install the special adapter that allowed her to use the suit's sanitary plumbing with her female anatomy.

"From the sound 'o things I might have to make that gizmo a standard item in the parts inventory."

"I hope so," said Anny with a smile.

Finally the suit was back together and they had to do the adjustments to actually fit it to her body shape. The older suits were controlled by a multitude of pressure-sensitive pads lining the interior that would cause the suit to replicate her movements. They needed to fit snugly to function properly.

"Did you bring your undersuit?" asked Gadd, looking around.

"Wearing it under my fatigues, Sarge."

"Hell! No wonder you're sweating like that!"

"Yeah, didn't quite plan on doing this. But it's okay." She started shucking off her fatigues. The undersuit was a skintight garment that could be worn under a normal space suit or in a suit of battle armor. It had a set of micro-capillaries built into it that could connect to the suit's heating and cooling system. Unconnected, it did tend to get a bit warm.

As she set aside her tunic and trousers she noticed that Gadd's assistant, Georg, was staring at her. Yeah, the suit was really skintight. Really. He saw her looking at him looking at her and turned away hastily. She stepped up to the rear of her armor. The back plates of the torso were open and she hoisted herself inside and let her legs slide down inside the legs of the suit. They'd made some guesses about the proper length to set the legs to and the guess seemed pretty close. "Maybe just a tad too long," she said to Gadd. He nodded and squatted down next to the suit with a power wrench and spun a few of the adjustment bolts. "Whoa, a little too much," said Anny. "Back a bit."

Little by little they made the suit fit. First the legs and then the arms. The torso wasn't as important except for comfort. She was glad to find that the plumbing connection worked. Finally they were ready to power it up and give it a test run. She hit the main power switch and the armor came to life around her. The visor closed and the inside of the helmet became a mass of displays and status read-outs which surrounded the vision slit. These flickered and then filled up with data and messages. When the start-up was complete, she closed the rear of the armor and then walked over to an empty part of the bay and went through a series of movements.

"How's it feel?" asked Gadd when she stopped.

"Not bad. I think we need to lengthen the right forearm by about a centimeter. My fingers felt sort of jammed into the gauntlets."

"Right." The man opened an access panel below the right elbow and went to work with the power wrench. "How's that?"

Anny moved the arm around. "Better. Let me try some more stuff." Gadd stepped back and she proceeded to roll and tumble and fall flat on the floor and crawl around. There was no doubt that the Model IX suit was a tiny bit less responsive than the Model XI, but she was sure she could get used to it again.

Still, the problem with any suit of battle armor was the mass. No matter how responsive the motivators or how strong the mechanical muscles, you still had to allow for the fact that the suit massed three or four times as much as you did. If you gave into the temptation to really use the suit's muscles to their maximum, you could find yourself careening uncontrollably into walls, trees, or your friends. Anny skidded a few times on the smooth floor but managed to avoid any disasters. She and Gadd made a few more minor adjustments to her suit and then she was satisfied.

She opened the visor on the helmet. "I think that about does it, Sarge. You want me to park it over in its rack or do you want to do any more work on it?"

"No, you can put 'er in the rack when we're done, but you still need to pick out your side-arm."

"My what?"

The man grinned. "That's right, you probably haven't heard about that, have you? Come on over here."

Gadd walked down an aisle between bins of spare parts and Anny followed, the feet of her suit clunking loudly on the floor despite the padded soles. The ordnance sergeant came to a large storage cabinet and swung open the doors and stood back. "Here you go, Lieutenant, take your pick."

Anny gawked at the contents of the cabinet. She'd been expecting some sort of energy weapons modified for the large gauntlets of a suit of armor, but instead she saw what looked like a collection from some museum of pre-gunpowder weapons from the Time of Isolation. War hammers, maces, battle axes, all way too large for a man to use, hung in rows from strong brackets.

"What is this?" she demanded.

"Something Colonel Fetherbay came up with a few years ago. For close combat."

Anny reached out and grasped the handle of one of the weapons, a mace she guessed you'd call it, and pulled it free from its bracket. "This thing must weigh fifteen kilos!" she exclaimed, hefting it.

"Closer to twenty," said Gadd. "It's got a depleted uranium core. Just the thing for opening a can in close quarters."

"Yeah… yeah, I could have used one of these six months ago…" The more Anny thought about it, the more sense it made. Modern battle armor wasn't just a powered suit of armored plates. Most suits had sophisticated shielding that could defeat nearly any man-portable energy weapons—at least for a while. The only things that could penetrate them were things like hyper-velocity rail guns and special types of needle grenades. But they were large, clumsy weapons not well-suited for close action on shipboard. In fact, the rail guns were a real menace aboard ship: a miss could send a projectile tearing its way clear through a ship, doing untold damage.

So during boarding actions it often came down literally to hand-to-hand combat with the armored behemoths battering each other to junk. Anny had done exactly that to three opponents on the planet Dounby during her apprentice cruise. But she'd been forced to improvise the weapons she used… "You say Colonel Fetherbay came up with this?"

"Well, I heard that he got the idea from something he'd read about the Cetagandans using stuff like this… or maybe it was the Nuevo Brasilians, I don't remember. But he had the armorers start making these things. The boys seem to like them."

She made a few practice swings with the mace and then put it back. She started to reach for one of the battle axes. "Uh, wait, Lieutenant," said Gadd. "Should have mentioned: you need special training before you're allowed one of those. They've got mono-molecular edges. Real easy to slice through stuff you don't intend."

"Yeah, I guess it would be." She shifted her gaze, looking over the rows of deadly objects. She finally selected one. It was a massive hammer with one blunt end and the other with a nasty-looking spike sticking out. She stepped back and gave the thing a try. The powerful servos in her armor allowed her to move the hammer around like it was a twig, but she could sense the impact it would have if she struck something with it.

"Good choice," said Gadd. "You can pound or you can puncture something."

"This is going to take some practice…"

"You'll get it, I'm sure. But if that's the one you want, then I guess we are done here, Lieutenant."

Meaning I've wasted enough of your valuable time today. Anny smiled and managed to clip her hammer to a clamp on the side of her armor without any help. But then she needed Gadd to show her where to park her suit. The racks were laid out by battalion, company and platoon and she wasn't sure where 3rd Platoon, C Company was located. He delegated his assistant, Georg, to show her. She scooped up her fatigues and followed the man into the storage area.

After she parked her suit and emerged from the rear of it, she saw that Georg was still there. "You impressed the hell out of the Sarge, you know," he said.

"Oh?"

"Most of the officers—the men too, for that matter—don't know shit about the suits and don't care, neither. Oh, they know how to use 'em and do field maintenance and all, but nothing like you did just now."

Anny shrugged as she pulled on her fatigues. "Like I said: you can never know too much about the things you're depending on to keep you alive. Maybe I should suggest to the Colonel that everyone should get some more in-depth instruction on battle armor."

"The Sarge would probably like that," said Georg with a grin.

"Okay, thanks for your help, see you later." Anny took her leave and managed to find her way out of the armory without getting lost. It was mid-afternoon and her stomach was growling. She'd missed lunch. She wondered if she could wheedle a snack out of the people in the mess hall. First, though, she wanted to get back to her quarters and take off her undersuit and get a shower.

Or maybe she'd head over to the officer's gym and work out a little first. It was amazing to have so many options.

Decisions, decisions…