shut up," Kyle slurred and mumbled as he tried to take in deep gulps of the cool air.
Normally with someone as sick Kyle was, we'd shoot him up with some nice, quick-acting drugs. There were plenty of meds out there for nausea, but he was allergic to all of them. He learned that the hard way back in basic training, and his reaction to those meds almost cost him his career. One of the drugs almost killed him. Thankfully, his instructors had an alternate means of sorting out their puking recruit.
"Here she comes!" David called out, as he up-ended the small cooler over Kyle's head, splashing him with ice and water.
Kyle cried out in shock, even though he expected it. He arched his back, taking in a loud, deep breath as if he had just come up for air from a long dive. He pushed himself off his hands, falling back onto his ass, and throwing his head back. His eyes were wide, his mouth open in a gasp. The cooler of ice water was just what the doctor ordered, or in this case, the technician. In an instant, Kyle's nausea was gone, the shock of the cold water shaking him out of it.
"Holy fuck," he said, spitting out the words with a cry.
Everybody laughed, including Kyle. He lay there for a moment, leaning up against the seats. He wiped the water from his face, his eyes still wide from the surprise. He took in deep breaths, slowly calming himself, screwing his head back on straight. He dried himself with the towel David threw at him. After a moment, I helped him to his feet.
"Better?" I asked with a grin, wiping my soaked hand against my pants.
"Yeah, no worries," he replied with a laugh. "Good as new."
"Great," I said, kicking him gently. "Get up and help."
I offered him my hand, and hauled him to his feet. He was still a bit unsteady, but I could see from his eyes that his head was clearing. He gave himself a shake, and went about checking his gear. I could hear him going through his breathing exercises, just the way his instructors had taught him. After a few minutes, his skin had lost its greenish tinge and he was good to go. It was usually just the first jump that hit him. Hopefully, when our needle-jumper made the combat jump in a few minutes, he would weather it better. We didn't have a second cooler.
I picked up the headset at the front of the troop hold. A voice responded instantly.
"CIC, go," the female voice intoned.
The Command Information Center was the nerve center of the Nautilus. They were responsible for our launch. I had not heard from them during our entire voyage, but that wasn't entirely out of the ordinary, especially during something as secret as this mission. Still, I needed to hear from the ship's captain. It was a habit of mine. I didn't actually need to speak to the captain, but if I and my men were going to be shot like a bullet, thrown through a wormhole, and jabbed into the side of a ship which may or may not be wreaking havoc with space itself, I wanted to hear the 'all clear' from the guy in charge.
"Zulu-two-three Actual requesting to speak to Nautilus Actual, over," I said. Zulu-two-three was my squad's call-sign for this mission, and I was its commander, its 'Actual.' I wanted to speak to the Captain, their 'Actual.'
After a moment, an older male voice came in over the headset. "This is Nautilus Actual, go ahead."
"This is Zulu-two-three Actual, checkin' in. Are we good to go?" I asked.
"Affirmative, Zulu-two-three." There was a pause. "Actual, please go to headset."
"Already on," I replied.
"Captain Mallory," the captain said in a low voice, "I am not permitted to ask you for the details of your mission. Still, I am launching your squad, and I have some concerns." His voice trailed off.
"I'll give you what I can, sir," I replied. I appreciated any captain who took his ship's safety seriously. For the moment, that included my men and me.
"My people are having some trouble opening a wormhole to the assigned coordinates." There was more than a little concern in his tone. "In ten years as a captain, I have never seen the kind of readings we're getting. Would you care to explain that?"
"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't do that." I hated having to say that. I knew how much I hated not knowing things I needed to know, but I was already up to my eyeballs in trouble over that business on Alpha Centauri, and breaching secrecy protocols wouldn't help.
"I see," he muttered, then paused. "Captain, I want to make sure you understand what it is I am sending you into. I know, I know, you obviously have more information than I do, but here is what I am seeing. I am about to launch your needle-jumper through a wormhole which is only nominally stable, into an area of space I cannot properly scan. I am not permitted to communicate with you after launch, and I am not permitted to hold position and wait for your retrieval. If something goes wrong on your end, I am not permitted to render you assistance under any circumstances."
I cleared my throat. "Yes sir, I understand. I appreciate your concern, but that's the way the orders are written."
"Very well, Captain. The best sailor's luck to you. Nautilus Actual out."
The headset went dead, and I replaced it on its mount.
I looked to my guys. They were already strapped back in, their weapons ready to go, and helmets back on. I joined them, as the voice from CIC warned us of the imminent launch.
"What did the captain have to say?" David asked.
I repeated our conversation. I suppose other commanders might not do that, but on my team nothing was a secret. Not knowing something could get you killed. Worse still, it might get your buddy killed. Before David could comment, CIC interrupted.
"Launch in five, four, three, two, one," the voice barked at us.
"I hate this shit," Kyle muttered, preparing for the jump. We were all out of ice water.
The words were barely out of Kyle's mouth when we felt the jolt. Jolt is a word, but it really doesn't do the launch of a needle-jumper much justice. I once got to fire off an old bullet-shooting sniper rifle. The kick was wicked hard. This was worse. Here, we were the bullet.
The launch was deafening, even through our CEVA helmets. The speakers in our ears cut out as we were fired, saving us the brunt of the sound of our ship being launched, but the horrendous boom still rattled me. My ears rang, and my brain sloshed in my head from the sudden launch. If not for the restraints, I would have ended up pressed against the rear bulkhead, no doubt a little bit thinner and a lot less functional. As it was, it felt like all of my organs were pressed against my right side, and that my lungs were about to squeeze out through my ear.
"Fuck me!" Kyle howled, loud enough to be heard despite the fact that our headset hadn't kicked back in, yet.
The pressure on our bodies was painful, something like eight gees. Eight times normal Earth gravity, pressing down on us. The CEVA suits were designed to protect us from vacuum, and would even stand up to small bullets and energy blasts. They were not intended to save us the shock of a needle-jumper launch. These ships had been in use for thirty years, and nobody had found a way to save their passengers from the launch itself. Sure, we could probably suit up in something more secure, but we had to be ready to fight when we
