The Michia Mentat, the largest school of the sensory arts, kept pretty much to themselves, and had since the Islendian Republic had split from the Solarian Systems Alliance some hundreds of years before. They’d served more in a diplomatic role between the Fringe and the SSA, and part of the treaty had been written to keep them out of military matters. They’d sat out the rebellion, their focus being within, but everyone knew how badly Earth and its allies would have fared had they been involved. “Don’t see you going to sensat testing, Thor.”

“Could be worse. It could be an Indowy sensat who we’d literally have to carry,” Gun Doll said.

“We’ll manage,” Dagger said and snapped his firing circuit again after his last round of adjustments. It couldn’t be coincidence this time. Everyone stared at him.

“Right,” Shiva said, breaking the tableau. “If you plan on drinking, getting laid or anything else tonight, get your crap squared away now. If you don’t make excuses, I won’t have to make explanations, and we’ll all be happier. We’re departing straight after a two-day run through. So live it up now.”

It was well after 1700 hours when the prep work was done. Shiva was still doing administrative stuff, which never ended — the troops had to be certified as to range time, medical appointments and the other minutiae of military life. Bell Toll was scrounging data, trying to wheedle a few facts that could give his people the edge in this op, as well as drafting the orders and acknowledging briefings. This op was going to play hell with their training schedule for the Readiness Standards Evaluation, which since this wasn’t, yet, a “declared war,” had to be met. That was the military; stick you out on the raw end one day and put you through chickenshit the next.