Hellfire (THEIRS NOT TO REASON WHY) Read Online Free PDF

table, nudged the seat back on its track so that she could stand in front of it, and faced the bulk of her crew. Unbuttoning her left cuff, she flipped open the screen of her command bracer and brought the boardroom monitors to life.
    Official orders scrolled onto the main viewscreens positioned on the wall behind her, the two sidewalls, and suspended over the heads of the crew, so that wherever one looked, the topic being discussed could be seen. The right and left secondary screens remained blank for now, as did the long tertiary screen above them. Another touch activated the headset discreetly hooked over her ear. The thin wire alongside her cheek picked up her voice and projected it around the room just loud enough to be heard.
    “Acting under the direct orders of Admiral John Genibes of the Terran United Planets Space Force, Branch Special Forces, I, Ship’s Captain Ia, hereby take command of the 1st Company, 1st Legion, 1st Battalion, 1st Brigade, 1st Division…9thCordon,” she added, pausing slightly for emphasis, “and with it, take command of the Harasser-Class battleship TUPSF
Hellfire
, docked at the TUPSF Secured Shipyards of Triton, Neptune, Sol System.”
    She pronounced the acronym
tup-siff
, keeping her words as crisp and distinct as she could manage, since these were official transfer orders, recorded for legality as well as posterity.
    “This action is now logged and filed as an official transfer of command, as of time stamp 22:45, October 24, 2495 Terran Standard time…mark,” Ia finished, watching the chrono built into her arm unit.
    The orders on the two main screens flashed, sealed with the indicated time. Only then did she lift her hand to her own temple, returning the crisp salute of the soldiers around her. As soon as she lowered her arm again, they lowered theirs. They continued to stand At Attention, however, awaiting orders.
    Satisfied she had their attention, Ia tapped in another code on her bracer. The orders detailing her acceptance of command over ship and crew were replaced with the TUPSF logo. The soothing, sapphire blue background and familiar, oval map-projection of the major continents of the Human Motherworld filled the screen; instead of the normal gold hues used by the other Branches, however, the map had been drawn with the pale silver of the Special Forces.
    Onto the two secondary screens flanking those mains, Ia posted the unclassified portions of her personnel file, including enlarged, rotating images of her face, with its Asian features, light tan, amber eyes, and chin-length, snow-white locks. Minus her Dress cap, of course.
    Matching reality to that image, Ia removed her cap and set it on the table. Then tucked her headset, which the cap had dislodged, back into place over her right ear. The headset was necessary to project her voice to the headsets of the 160 men and women around her, particularly the privates at the back of the hall. She kept her Dress jacket on, keeping some of the formality of the moment, but unbuttoned it for comfort.
    Somewhat for comfort, that was; with all of her medals pinned across the black gabardine, it was still quite heavy. It was a tangible reminder of the weight of her position.
    “At Ease, meioas, and sit down. We have a
lot
to get through, so please pay attention. Most of this you will learn in greaterdetail by studying your Company Bibles,” Ia stated, meaning the manual of procedures most combat officers gave to their soldiers.
    Much of it was standardized to the Space Force’s requirements, but they also often included little quirks and preferences tailored to each Company’s patrol or combat needs. Hers were tailored all the way down to the individual. They would see that for themselves, shortly.
    “For the moment, there are a few things I’d like to go over with you at the very start—please do be seated,” she added, as some hesitated. “I don’t do the nonsense that says the lower ranks have to remain standing if their CO