From the universe of the Wandering Engineer:
Jethro goes to war
Book 1
By Chris “Jekyll” Hechtl
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional. The exception is Dr. Bowyer who graciously gave his permission to use his name and his work in this book. Any resemblance to other people is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book and or portions thereof in any form.
Copyright 2011 by Chris Hechtl
ASIN: B009I417JW
BN#:
Cover art Copyright 2011 by Chris Hechtl
Dedication:
This book is dedicated to a hard working and much abused Mechmaster. Thanks for editing for me bud.
Table of Contents
Author's Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Appendix and References
Sneak peek
Sneek Peek 2
Authors Note:
The following book takes place in parallel to the events in the last several chapters of Fool's gold, and events in Destiny's Choice of the Wandering Engineer Universe. It extends several weeks past the end of Destiny's Choice in the time line.
Act I
Chapter 1
“Your scent betrays your thoughts young one,” his sire said, balefully staring at Jethro. Jethro's fur flexed up and down in a wave. His ears wiggled.
“Just thinking,” he growled. It was true, he had been thinking a lot. Since he had been released from sickbay that morning he had been doing little else. He looked out at the vista around them then shook himself.
“That much is obvious,” the Matriarch of their clan said, coming up behind him. “Jet I see you. No sense hiding,” she sniffed the air, but her eyes locked onto his sire.
Jet's cloak froze and then his eyes went wide. “Your senses were always better... keener...”
“But now that my sight has returned even more so,” the elder lioness said. She nodded as she came up to stand with them. The human doctor, Thornby had repaired the Matriarch's sight a few days before. Her eyes were no longer milky with cataracts, but a startling gold with hidden depths he hadn't known.
The humans had done a lot by them, both for them and against them, despite what had happened to the gang and it's fallen leader. Jethro put the thought aside firmly and straightened his shoulders. The Matriarch smiled at him. Jethro looked away and out to the park below. He tried not to wrinkle his nose at the sour scent of fear wafting his way. He glanced in irritation to the humans nearby.
“They can't help it young one,” the Matriarch sighed, shaking her gray tipped tawny head. Her golden eyes reflected off the glass. “After all, they are only human,” she said with an amused ear flick and twinkle.
He turned to give the two nervous looking guards a disdainful sniff. They were wearing unpowered armor, but he knew that was for show, most modern weapons could go through it like tissue paper. His eyes narrowed at the sight of the security robots. The human's were terrified of Neo's like them, and rightfully so. He and his sire could tear them apart and they'd never see it coming.
He looked at the Matriarch. The old lioness wouldn't survive however. Not that he had any intention of raising a hand in rebellion. Not after signing on. Hopefully his sire would understand. And maybe, just maybe...
“We could...” his sire began. His ears were flat and lips wrinkled in a suppressed snarl. His entire body was tense, Jethro observed with alarm. Hopefully his sire wouldn't do anything foolish! Perhaps this wasn't a good time, Jethro thought with a pang. But there was no helping it, he had to face it. No matter the cost. He had to report in for pre-processing soon.
“We could do nothing,” the Matriarch answered with a subsonic warning growl. “Don't be a fool. Either of you. The pride has lost too much as it is.” She turned, giving them the full force of her gaze. Jet ducked away, hand paws clenching and unclenching. His claws flexed. His tail was flashing back and forth. His battered ears were flat against his skull.
“A time of reckoning has befallen our clan. Indeed, the entire system, though some know it not.” She turned, resting against the guard rail. Her tail tip twitched. She wasn't kidding, Jethro thought. Anvil had changed a lot since the person known as Admiral, no, Fleet Admiral Irons had shown up. Now the entire Pyrax system was beginning to change. For some it was for the better. He had been forced to adjust his attitude and expectations when he'd faced the man a few days ago.
Irons was an imposing man. He'd been irrational at the time, still in shock and adjusting to the changed situation. Irons had been a shock, but Forth, Major Forth had been a revelation. One he welcomed wholeheartedly. He'd jumped at the invitation the Major had extended.
“Before us paths are unfolding that were closed before. They blossom like a forgotten flower. Some paths lead back into the light. To a future we had thought was lost. A better future for our kits. Some lead to unexpected things. Things we cannot yet see or avoid.”
“So we should stay on the paths we know,” Jet grumbled.
The Matriarch's nostrils dilated for a moment. “By no means. We shouldn't be closed to the future just because it is unknown to us. But we should be wary of trying to follow old paths that look inviting but are now traps.” The Matriarch turned to him. “Dead ends,” she said quietly. He glanced at her and then rested his gaze on his son.
“He will follow in my footsteps. That is the way. That is the only way we know.”
“And yet. There is another,” the elderly lioness said, giving Jethro a long look. “One your ancestors had before you. One you had yourself dreamed of as a kit.” She looked up to Jet. “The Federation Marines.”
“A catnip pipe dream, a dream for kits best left forgotten,” Jet snorted. “None exist. None shall ever exist.” He shook his head. He groomed his shoulder with his long tongue disdainfully.
“But they do,” Jethro said in a rush, excited. His father paused to look up to him. His eyes locked on his for a moment before Jethro looked away embarrassed at his lack of control. His father was always on him about control, keeping a constant control of his emotions. Like a Terran samurai.
“The cub tells the truth Jet. A marine came to see us in sickbay. A Major Forth. In full powered combat armor,” the Matriarch confirmed.
Jethro chirruped agreement. His head bobbed an excited nod, eyes wide, ears forward and alert. “It was incredible! Like the descriptions but different! The armor stank of hydraulics and ozone...” His nostril's dilated in memory. His hands spread as he described the armor.
“But it was none the less real. Even I scented it.” The Matriarch gave a closed lip smile and a hand pat to the cub. He glanced at her in relief, glad of her reassuring presence. “The major has opened one of the paths I mentioned.”
“The marines?” Jet asked. He flicked his ears and then he stretched upward. Claws came out as he stretched, sinking into the deck and support
column he had decided to use as a convenient scratching post. They winced a little at the scritching sound his claws made as they dug into the steel.
“Exactly. I checked the net. They are reforming the marines. With augmentation!” Jethro bounced. His sire growled giving him a quelling look.
Jethro's fur fluffed and then flattened, his ears went back as he sulked.
“You think they will take the likes of you?” Jet snarled after a moment.
“Why not?” A voice behind them asked. The trio turned to the younger guard. “Seriously? He's built for it. Recon at least,” he waved a hand to indicate the younger panther. “Planet hopping. I'd say you'd do better there than running around in a station,” the human kid said. He shrugged. “I'm going in as well.”
The Matriarch snorted as she eyed the young man and then nodded. Jet stared at the guard until he gulped. Nervously he fingered the needler he held at arms.
“Easy,” Jethro cautioned his father. His father gave no visible reaction.
“The shadows are our way. The way of the panther. Since we came to Pyrax. There is no other path,” Jet snarled after a moment.
“But...” Jethro protested, eyes wide. This wasn't going the way he wanted. Not at all. He looked into the ever widening crevasse forming between him and his Sire and could see no way to stop it from widening into a chasm. He felt lost and confused.
“Your son is trying to tell you he has already joined the marines shadow warrior Jet,” the Matriarch said softly. Jet whirled, glaring from one to the other. Jethro stood straight and stared into his father's scarred face.
His father's brows knit as his ears went flat once more. He didn't have a choice now, he had to face his father's wrath and see where it led.
“Then he is no cub of mine,” Jet snarled teeth bared and stalked off. The guards followed.
The Matriarch sighed softly at the bitter crestfallen look on the cub's face. She slumped a little, pulling her hands into the sleeves of her kimono. She closed her eyes, somehow wishing for her blindness to return. Anything to get away from the sight of hurt and disappointment on the young one's face.
“He will change his mind. The fool. He jumps without looking,” she chirred. She shook her head once more and opened her eyes. “Know this young one, no matter what happens to him, and to the clan I, we are proud of you and those who will join you.” She patted his arm. He nodded, swallowing his rage and hurt.
“Yes grandam.”
“That's right cub, now, let’s go see what mischief the other cubs have gotten into in our absence,” she said. “Don't tell them this but the doctor's work has made me feel twenty years younger!” She chuckled softly at his surprised expression. She stretched a little and then walked to the door. Her tail bobbed with each step and then made a come hither motion. “Coming?” she asked.
“Of course grandam.” He gathered himself and followed.
...*...*...*...*...
In the anteroom the clan shared with other refugees the clan mothers were hotly debating. The paths as usual. He thought, watching and flicking his ears as they, the adults of the pride tried to decide on what to do. Some like himself had already chosen.
Three of the younger kits were already enrolled in school. One was taking night courses while working as a grounds keeper in one of the restored parks at the college.
Their space station, Anvil was changing fast. Unbelievably fast. Seven centuries after the Xeno war decay and rot had set in, threatening to shut down the station's last remaining functional fusion reactor, leaving them all to die a horrible death gasping for breath in the cold and dark.
Then a miracle had happened. The person known as Fleet Admiral Irons had come and things had changed. He had torn into the station, rebuilding the tugs to go out and get new fuel and materials, and then cajoling the ship he had come in on to fix the station's life support systems.
A few weeks after the ship, Io something or other had left, a yacht had come in screaming about pirates. The Fleet Admiral had rallied volunteers to go out and salvage some of the derelict warships scattered across the system and then fought a desperate battle against the pirate fleet.
Jethro's ears flicked. He would have loved to have been a part of that! Been in the thick of battle. Fighting hand to hand in boarding actions against pirates. He'd already picked up stories from the Knox news channel archive about the battle and marines.
Most people were coming to grips with the strange dynamo of a human male. He was different than the fat parasitic Port Admiral. Some people were still confused about that it seemed. He had to admit, he had been for a brief time. He'd run a check and found an article about the death of the fat clone bastard. He was so glad the monster was dead.
Irons hadn't stopped at just stomping the pirate fleet. He and his forces had captured the freighters and factory ship they had with them and then gone into the salvage business.
For weeks now they had been busy building a dry dock and the beginnings of a shipyard. All the while repairing and in some cases rebuilding the ships they had. There were even rumors of new ships about to be laid soon. Then the call went out for the Fleet to begin a formal training and recruiting session.
He and his gang, the Leo's pride had been a sector gang tearing it up before being driven out by the repairs to the station. They had been squeezed by the other corridor gangs and station security. Then a few of his cousins had been killed in a corridor while standing in line at a theater. Leo had gone on a rampage, killing anyone in the area. When his rampage had alerted station security they had fallen on the pride like a hammer.
He'd been lucky to survive the battle. Leo had been insane. They all had known it. To go so far as to kill wounded civilians right in front of security? Madness. He'd gotten his when the Admiral had blown him apart. Not many in the clan had shed a tear. Those that were angry over his death were so because he was their protector and their means to power. Now everything and everyone in the clan seemed to be in free fall. He shook himself from his ruminations and focused on the events in front of him.
“There are paths opening before us like flowers blossoming after a spring rain,” the Matriarch began with an amused ear flick to her audience. The clan's more restless members settled to listen. “Before us are several paths,” she said as looked over to Jethro.
“For some like young Jethro have chosen the path of the warrior. To restore his ancestor's honor by becoming a marine.” She turned to study the group as they looked to one another than to Jethro. He swelled up with pride and felt his fur fluff. His ears went forward, alert and strong. He wanted to strut. Some of the older clan members took in his posturing and flicked their ears in amusement or annoyance.
“Others with the same temperament may follow this path. And still others have chosen to study.” She nodded to the clan members already in the college program.
“What of the rest of us?” a nervous voice asked.
“There are several options,” the Matriarch said, sitting back. “The path behind us is closed. The pride cannot be in the shadows, eking a living by tooth and claw.” She flexed a claw, flicked a bit of dust off it then sniffed and let it retract. “The rulers of this station have forbidden it.”
“Who are they to forbid anything?” a voice in the back growled.
“They are the ones who control the power. The computers, the air we breath, the food we drink,” a young yellow tiger male growled. His dame rested a hand on his arm. He looked down to her and then sat. His unruly striped mane began to settle after a moment.
“Correct. They who control life support control life,” another voice across from Jethro whispered. “It would be unwise to cross them.”
“True. And they have given us many options, including the Marines,” the Matriarch said nodding wisely.
“Are those the only options? A marine or a college student?” an old female growled. “Or taking care of the kits for those who choose other paths?”
“A worthy path as well. But there ar
e more. Some have valuable skills and can go to work right away. A few have done so already. There are more. Much, much more. We just have to uncover them. The Admiral...” The Matriarch paused as a subsonic growl rumbled through the group. She waited for it to ebb.
“I will speak his name. He is after all, an honorable man. He didn't kill the wounded out of blood lust like my foolish son did,” she growled. Jethro's voice was added to hers as a menacing counterpoint.
That stopped some of the protests cold. A few of the young females Leo had used in his harem glared balefully at the Matriarch and Jethro.
“The Fleet Admiral laid another path before us. We can save up our money, learn new skills and leave this place.”
“Where would we go?” a stunned voice asked. A ripple of amusement brushed through the Matriarch.
“I believe the old saying is that the sky is the limit?” she said. She sniffed a claw and then flicked a speck of dust out again.
“Another colony?”
“Here in Pyrax?” The voices went back and forth with ideas for a few minutes.
“Or even another colony outside of this system,” a human voice answered. They turned to the male who entered the room.
“This is a private meeting of our clan family,” one of the pride tigers growled. The man blinked.
“My apologies. My mistress bid me come. She has an interesting proposal from the Pyrax ruling council for your members to consider.” He stood straight, trying to look unconcerned but they could all smell his fear scent clearly. Being in a room full of predatory cats was a bit more than he had bargained for.
“And that is?” the Matriarch rumbled.
“To be given passage on Destiny when she leaves to go to Agnosta.”
Voices rose in both protest and in interest. Arguments began to break out. A few people were cuffed by those higher in the clan hierarchy.
Jethro Goes to War (Wandering Engineer Jethro's tale) Page 1