and tried again. "I mean, sir, these suits we've got aren't always reliable. Are we going to get anything new before we go into battle? Are there any fixes coming down the line?"
Colonel Danzel's frown deepened and darkened. "I am aware that rumors have been generated about the reliability of the Mark IV Battle Armor. This is the finest equipment any soldiers have ever worn into battle. There are no—repeat, no—serious problems with the Mark IV There are occasional minor malfunctions of subsystems. That's all."
Yeah, Stark thought sardonically, minor subsystems like the temperature control and the oxygen rebreather. Nothing to get too worried about.
The Private sat with a speed that suggested he'd finally figured out his error. However, a Corporal stood next, face fixed in a defiant challenge. "Colonel, sir, we understand what the Mark IV can do, when it works, but with all due respect, we're heading for the Moon, and when you're operating in a place with no air there's no such thing as a minor malfunction."
The Colonel's frown took on aspects of a thunderstorm. "I thought it was understood that our destination remains classified and has yet to be promulgated. Uninformed speculation about future operations will not be commented on."
The Corporal hesitated, face flushed, then sat back down.
Colonel Danzel scowled at his audience. "Any more questions?"
As an awkward silence stretched, Major O'Kane, the Battalion Executive Officer, stood up. "C'mon, soldiers, this is your chance to get answers." She was clearly expecting the troops to continue tossing out problems for the higher-ups to ignore, and seemed surprised at the lack of further takers. "I guess that's it, Colonel."
"Good." Danzel had trouble hiding his relief. "All right, then. Keep up the good work." He scuttled off the stage as O'Kane shouted "Attention!" and the Battalion shot to its feet in an automatic display of military courtesy.
"What was that for?" Murphy complained amid the buzz of conversation after the other Battalion officers exited with all due haste.
"I think they're trying to build up our morale," Carter offered. "Feel better?"
"Hell, no. I've been busting my butt on that damned combat endurance course, and all the Colonel cares about is how good the barracks floors look? Sarge, why wouldn't he at least talk about our objective?"
Stark skewered Murphy with a flat stare. "What am I, the Colonel's mouthpiece now? Why didn't you ask him yourself?"
"Hell, Sarge, I'm not that dumb."
Anything else that might have been said was interrupted by the harsh voice of the general announcing system: "All squad leaders are to report to their Company Commanders' offices on the double."
Vic and Stark exchanged glances as Sanchez came to join them, then wordlessly headed for the office of Captain Ringon, the latest Company Commander. On the way, two other groups of three Sergeants converged on them: Halstead, Two Knives, and Podesta from First Platoon; Greeley, Singh, and Rosinski from Third.
Ringon glowered at the nine Sergeants as they came to attention before her desk, nine impassive faces staring straight ahead. "The Colonel is very displeased over the disrespect shown by the enlisted personnel during his speech." She paused, looking from Sergeant to Sergeant.
"Permission to ask a question, Captain?" Sergeant Podesta inquired tonelessly.
"Permission granted."
"What disrespect is the Colonel referring to, Captain?"
Ringon's glower flushed red. "You know very well what disrespect. The questioning from the audience!"
"Neither of those questioners was from our unit, Captain," Podesta protested.
"And the Colonel invited them to ask questions," Stark added, drawing the Captain's attention squarely on him.
"Neither of those points is in any way relevant! Middle management is not properly supporting the officers of this command, Sergeant Stark."
"I am not a manager, Captain," Stark stated crisply. "I'm a combat leader."
"You're whatever I tell you
Colonel Danzel's frown deepened and darkened. "I am aware that rumors have been generated about the reliability of the Mark IV Battle Armor. This is the finest equipment any soldiers have ever worn into battle. There are no—repeat, no—serious problems with the Mark IV There are occasional minor malfunctions of subsystems. That's all."
Yeah, Stark thought sardonically, minor subsystems like the temperature control and the oxygen rebreather. Nothing to get too worried about.
The Private sat with a speed that suggested he'd finally figured out his error. However, a Corporal stood next, face fixed in a defiant challenge. "Colonel, sir, we understand what the Mark IV can do, when it works, but with all due respect, we're heading for the Moon, and when you're operating in a place with no air there's no such thing as a minor malfunction."
The Colonel's frown took on aspects of a thunderstorm. "I thought it was understood that our destination remains classified and has yet to be promulgated. Uninformed speculation about future operations will not be commented on."
The Corporal hesitated, face flushed, then sat back down.
Colonel Danzel scowled at his audience. "Any more questions?"
As an awkward silence stretched, Major O'Kane, the Battalion Executive Officer, stood up. "C'mon, soldiers, this is your chance to get answers." She was clearly expecting the troops to continue tossing out problems for the higher-ups to ignore, and seemed surprised at the lack of further takers. "I guess that's it, Colonel."
"Good." Danzel had trouble hiding his relief. "All right, then. Keep up the good work." He scuttled off the stage as O'Kane shouted "Attention!" and the Battalion shot to its feet in an automatic display of military courtesy.
"What was that for?" Murphy complained amid the buzz of conversation after the other Battalion officers exited with all due haste.
"I think they're trying to build up our morale," Carter offered. "Feel better?"
"Hell, no. I've been busting my butt on that damned combat endurance course, and all the Colonel cares about is how good the barracks floors look? Sarge, why wouldn't he at least talk about our objective?"
Stark skewered Murphy with a flat stare. "What am I, the Colonel's mouthpiece now? Why didn't you ask him yourself?"
"Hell, Sarge, I'm not that dumb."
Anything else that might have been said was interrupted by the harsh voice of the general announcing system: "All squad leaders are to report to their Company Commanders' offices on the double."
Vic and Stark exchanged glances as Sanchez came to join them, then wordlessly headed for the office of Captain Ringon, the latest Company Commander. On the way, two other groups of three Sergeants converged on them: Halstead, Two Knives, and Podesta from First Platoon; Greeley, Singh, and Rosinski from Third.
Ringon glowered at the nine Sergeants as they came to attention before her desk, nine impassive faces staring straight ahead. "The Colonel is very displeased over the disrespect shown by the enlisted personnel during his speech." She paused, looking from Sergeant to Sergeant.
"Permission to ask a question, Captain?" Sergeant Podesta inquired tonelessly.
"Permission granted."
"What disrespect is the Colonel referring to, Captain?"
Ringon's glower flushed red. "You know very well what disrespect. The questioning from the audience!"
"Neither of those questioners was from our unit, Captain," Podesta protested.
"And the Colonel invited them to ask questions," Stark added, drawing the Captain's attention squarely on him.
"Neither of those points is in any way relevant! Middle management is not properly supporting the officers of this command, Sergeant Stark."
"I am not a manager, Captain," Stark stated crisply. "I'm a combat leader."
"You're whatever I tell you
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