by Chris Hechtl
“That is their problem. Let them deal with it,” the general said as he uploaded the final mission orders to the Neocat.
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Out,” the general stated as he terminated the connection.
<)>^<)>/
When Jethro met with the team at the airport, he knew the plan was pretty much hosed from the get-go. But an order was an order, so he did his best to follow through with it, no matter how unpalatable it seemed.
The plan was for him to lead a group of off-duty personnel on a supposed goodwill tour while also delivering the mail chips he had been given. They were to play tourists, spreading some credits to the community to help them out and stay on their good side. They were to give away or more likely trade some snivel gear while talking about how great service in the Marines and especially the Navy was.
There were six people in the group including himself, Jethro noted. He reported to Lieutenant Nail Johnson, a two-meter lithe human naval officer from Navy recruiting who seemed to head the group. All of them were in civilian dress, which was good, though many seemed bemused by it, and two seemed downright out of place wearing civvies. Jethro was the lead noncom and nominally in charge even though there was an officer in their midst. “I know we're supposed to be off duty, sir, but …”
The lieutenant held up a restraining hand. “We're supposed to be off duty. Just go with the flow, Sergeant. I'll follow your lead since you've been there, know some of the players and the field, and you've got experience in recruiting,” the lieutenant said soothingly.
“Yes, sir,” Jethro said with an ear flick.
They made their way through security and then boarded the aircraft. It was a short hop to the shore and then they caught a smaller plane that was headed north to deliver mail and supplies to the towns and villages.
Along the way they made introductions to the group—that was, when half their number weren't asleep or at least feigning sleep to avoid interacting with anyone. They kept the conversations light since their pilots were civilians. There was no sense tipping the communities off that they were there for any other reason than their stated purposes.
Jethro glanced around the group as they exchanged IFFs with each other. “I'm PO Second Class Kendra Xev,” one of the females said. He glanced at her over his shoulder. She was a female chimera, a genie with a mix of features. She had sharp eyebrow ridges and cheek bones but not much on top. A crest ran around her head. What hair she did have was braided under the crest.
She had small ears that were lower than where a human normally had them. She also had long fingers. “I'm the medic. Corpsman,” she said with a nod. He nodded back. “I've been going to school studying biology and a bit of marine biology,” she said.
“Good to know,” Jethro said with a nod.
“Behind me and Zanjeer are the furry lumps. They are PO First Class Al Broshard and PO Third Class Tia Galsworthy,” she said by way of introduction.
Jethro nodded to each of the Neoapes. Al was a classic Neochimp male, but Tia looked like she was smaller. Most likely a mix of bonobo and chimp, he reasoned.
“I'm Lance Corporal Zanjeer CXXI,” the yellow Neomutt said. “I was in explosive ordinance before I changed my MOS. I'm a bit high strung,” the Neomutt said with a shrug.
“Okay,” Jethro drawled. “Probably not a good thing when you are handling something that can go boom,” he said.
“I know, right?” Zanjeer said with an enthusiastic nod. “I thought I was bringing energy to the situation, getting it done, but my teammates weren't thrilled by it,” he said. His ears flicked, a clear indication that he had no hard feelings over the situation.
“Zanjeer is the only one of us that's seen combat,” Kendra said, pointing her thumb to the Neodog across the aisle from her. “I was supposed to go to Protodon, but I was injured just before my deployment in a stupid car accident and transferred,” she said with a shake of her head.
“Well, not quite,” Zanjeer said, nodding to Jethro. “I saw a bit of combat but you've been in just about every theater, Sergeant, or so I heard,” he said.
Kendra looked sharply at Jethro. She sucked in a breath as her eyes went round. “Wait, you're that black cat?”
“Guilty,” Jethro replied with an amused ear flick and twitch of his tail. He adjusted his seat to keep his tail from going to sleep. “They really don't make these things for some of us who have tails do they?” he said.
“I know,” Zanjeer said, accepting the change of subject. “A knock-out panel in the back would be nice. Or I dunno, something,” he said.
“Yeah well, if they did have them, you'd be wagging your tail in someone's face,” Kendra said, rolling her eyes.
“Probably,” Zanjeer said cheerfully.
Jethro chuffed in amusement.
<)>^<)>/
Two hours into their flight the Neoapes seemed to wake-up and look around them. The male yawned, showing his impressive incisors before he smacked his lips and set in for a good scratching session. His antics caused him to elbow the female who looked a bit put out but just pushed his offending elbow away. Of course she did it in such a way as to cause him to smack himself in the face with his hand, but Al didn't protest.
“I'm looking forward to an old fashioned beach barbeque,” Al said smacking his lips together again. His brown eyes were bright with the idea. “Do they really have clam festivals? I'm hungry!” He made a show of rubbing his tummy, making a few of the others smile or chuckle softly.
“Some communities do. I don't know about the selkie though,” the pilot said without looking over his shoulder to the passengers.
“What do they do for fun?” Lieutenant Johnson asked carefully.
“Swim and sleep in the sun as far as I know,” the pilot replied. He glanced at his female copilot. She shrugged the question aside.
“I used to surf back in the day,” the lieutenant said.
“I doubt you'll want to surf these waters,” one of the pilots said, indicating the shoreline below them.
“You fly all the way in now?” Jethro asked, indicating the docks.
“No, we'd need floaters for that. There are a couple bush planes that do it, but we're not set up to land at sea. This round we're going in to Litchfield. It's got a small gravel strip, so don't be too surprised if the landing is bumpy and you hear some knocks,” the copilot warned.
“Roger that,” Jethro said with a nod as he sat further back in his seat and checked his straps.
<)>^<)>/
They landed and unloaded without incident. There were a few people who met them at the airport. The people were more interested in the cargo the plane had flown in over the passengers. Jethro took point and negotiated the use of a four-wheel-drive vehicle for their use for the time. The cost of the rental was charged against an account he and the lieutenant had access to. He kept it open-ended since he wasn't certain how long the mission would last. He listened and signed off on the safety briefing and the solemn warning to bring the truck back clean, undamaged, and fully fueled.
As they went through the countryside, bouncing over the dirt and gravel road to the beach, he took note of some of the changes around them, but some things hadn't changed much. Some of the people were surly. Many had weapons and skins hanging about. Cords of wood were stacked in strategic places around their homes. There were a few farms, but Litchfield was heavily wooded, unlike some of the villages he had visited previously. He had to remind himself that they were passing through an area he hadn't visited last time. Some guide he was turning out to be he thought with a mental snort at himself and the mission planners.
When they got to the beaches, he found that a few things there had also changed. The local selkies had set up tents and awnings and some structures on the beach above the high tide mark and beyond one of the dunes. Their central meeting hall was a fifteen-meter diameter patched yurt up on a wooden platform; that was something new Jethro noted. The big round structure had smoke coming out of the top h
ole—stairs here and there and even a slide leading to the sea.
Some of the other temporary housing arrangements like the lean-tos were made out of driftwood lashed together, but others, like the giant yurt, seemed to have also been bought or traded from inland sources. He was glad someone was trading with the tribe, though he bet they were paying through the nose for some of those goods. Hopefully, they weren't indebted and making a payment plan or something he thought.
Then again, they could have been provided by the government. That was certainly possible he thought. Though if they were, were they wary of strings? Like the strings he and the team were about to pull? A flash of guilt rushed through him before he suppressed it. Bast looked at him with concern, but he waved it off.
His eyes caught sight and followed a narrow rickety pier that had been built in the lee side of the arm of rocky land that offered some shelter and turned the stretch of beach into something of a sheltered bay. A small old sailboat the community had bought was tied up on the dock. The paint was peeling on it, and it bobbed in the light waves. A few other boats were on the beach stacked on sawhorses upside down or pulled up above the high tide mark.
Seaweed racks and fish racks were all over the place. “I thought I'd forgotten the smell,” Jethro said in a small strangled voice as he tried not to gag when the winds shifted directly at them. Kendra coughed delicately. “The nice thing about having implants is you can shut your sense of smell off,” Jethro said, doing so. Bast flicked her ears in support. Kendra nodded.
“We'll get used to it I suppose,” Tia said in a strangled voice.
“Go nose blind? For now, I hope so,” Al replied.
“There are coves for the pups, pools,” Kendra pointed out, pointing to small shallow rocky areas with trapped water and a lot of pups splashing about.
“That's new,” Jethro said with a nod. “They must have moved the rocks. Smart,” he said with a nod of approval. The locals had moved rocks out to extend the shelter cove. They had turned the spur of land into a crude sea wall to protect some of their community from high tide and storm damage. The signs of more wall making were also evident as well as paths. The fire pits also had rocks around them to absorb and reflect the heat of the fires and rocks or canvas chairs for seating.
Here and there he noted other rocks had been moved up the beach. Of course they were small rocks, no bigger than something a selkie or two could move easily. Most likely they'd done it with brute force.
They had passed a structure on the high ground further inland. He turned and looked at it. Now that he saw it from the sea side, he noted the glitter of glass on top of the tower. Below the roof line was glass, but the black glitter on top was indicative of solar panels.
“That's a lighthouse,” Lieutenant Johnson observed, shading his eyes with one hand to better see the structure. “It helps them navigate, especially at night I bet.”
“A beacon to show them the way home,” Tia murmured.
“It probably helps the local sea traffic too. It might be why they set up here,” Al observed.
“No, I don't remember it being here last time,” Jethro said. “A lot has changed,” he said, looking about them.
“I don't think they want to invest too much into this place since it is transitory. Like a campground almost,” Lieutenant Johnson observed quietly. “After all, they can't take it all with them. It must suck having to pull up stakes once the fish run out. They can only take what they can carry or fit in those tiny boats.”
“Exactly. But each time they come here they add a little bit more comfort,” Al said with a supporting nod.
“Yeah.”
“But if the fish shift, they have to start all over somewhere else,” Kendra drawled.
“Yeah, that'd suck,” Tia sighed in agreement.
Jethro turned his attention to their surroundings once the brief conversation seemed to have ebbed. Shark's jaws and teeth as well as hanging fish decorated various places here and there, Jethro noted. Far more than before, so the locals had found a way to turn the tables on the predators.
“I think it's time we met the natives and set up some lodging,” the lieutenant said pointedly. He nodded to Jethro.
“Don't expect five-star accommodations,” Tia drawled quietly as Jethro led them to the yurt.
“I won't,” Al muttered in agreement.
<)>^<)>/
At the patched up yurt, they were met by some of the beachmasters who served as the village elders. Many of their colleagues were out and about, either at sea or off sleeping or doing something else Jethro knew. “I know you,” one of the male harbor seal selkies said, eying Jethro warily. “Why are you here?”
“I was asked to deliver mail from a friend. And to escort some … friends here,” Jethro said indicating the recruiters. “We're off duty,” Lieutenant Johnson said. “We thought we'd check out the various communities. Sort of a working vacation,” he said as Jethro stepped aside for him. Jethro was glad the lieutenant had stepped up; he'd been running out of things to say.
“My name is Nilak,” the harbor seal said, eying the group. “We do not have extra food for visitors,” he said coldly.
“Where are your manners,” a graying harbor seal female said as she waddled up to them.
“Fine then. Let them look around, deliver their mail, and then be gone,” Nilak said, turning his back on the group. “You can deal with them,” he said gruffly. He went over to the side of the raised porch and then slid down a metal slide instead of taking the stairs.
“Don't mind my son. He's got a lot on his mind and is new to his position,” the female said. “Since he was rude enough not to introduce me, my name is Anik,” she said with a head bob.
“Pleased to meet you, Anik. I'm Nail,” Lieutenant Johnson said. He pointed to each and introduced them.
“I remember the cat,” the selkie said as a few of her fellows stared or whispered to each other. “I take it you are here to deliver mail from Deja? He is the main reason we get mail at all,” she said in amusement. Jethro nodded and fished out a clear baggie with some memory chips in it.
“Kirima is out to sea at the moment,” the female said. “Fishing I believe, but she might take a go-around with the farms if she doesn't get much,” she said.
“We can wait,” the lieutenant said smoothly. He waved to Kendra. “This is Kendra; she is a corpsman.” That made the selkie rear back. “No, um …”
“He means a medic,” Jethro interpreted. “A healer,” he said. Kendra stepped up and nodded. She moved the bag she had been carrying to her front and patted it to show the red cross on it.
“Ah,” Anik said, eying the chimera. She nodded after a moment of study and then turned to a distant gray female. “Arnaaluk!” she called out. The female looked up and then raised a flippered hand. “We have a visitor who'd like to check in with you,” the female barked.
Arnaaluk seemed to study them, then waved her impatiently over to the group of selkie around her. “Send her on over,” she called back.
“You heard?” Anik said. Kendra nodded. She was already walking to the healer.
“Well then,” the female said.
“We brought tents if you don't have guest accommodations. We also have some MREs we can eat,” Lieutenant Johnson said. “Though we have credits to pay for food and lodging if you have them available. We were also advised to bring trade goods if you aren't interested in credits, so I brought some fishing line and tools,” he said, turning and indicating the truck.
“We can work something out,” Anik said with a nod. “Why don't you and I settle down to dicker a bit while the rest of your group settles in and rest. Maybe get a soak in? I understand riding in one of those contraptions can be tiring,” the female said.
“Not quite as tiring as actually walking the distance but sometimes it feels that way,” Al said, rubbing his sore rear. “But I'd like a soak. Someone used springs in the seat I had instead of foam,” he grumbled.
“Suit yourself,
” Anik said dismissively. “It's a free ocean. At least, I think it's still free. With stuff going on as of late …,” she shook her head.
Jethro cocked his head and glanced at the lieutenant, but he wasn't looking his way. From what he'd seen and the cold shoulder some of the selkie were turning to them, they were most likely not going to make as much headway with the locals as the lieutenant had hoped for he surmised. But perhaps time would help rub off some of the rough edges he thought.
<)>^<)>/
Kendra was appalled by the living conditions. She dutifully delivered the donated medical supplies to Arnaaluk. The senior selkie healer politely asked for her second opinion and help with the injured. She submerged herself into the job.
Infection wasn't as bad as she'd thought; something about the sea and salt tended to keep down bacterial infections. The selkie were pretty hardy, but they still took their share of injuries. Some were well on their way to healing. A couple spurts of Quickheal helped goose them along and established her as a medic with the healers.
The use of Quickheal impressed the natives enough for her to justify using a lot of her stocks up. They worked their way through the recent injuries and then moved on to the long-term patients.
She was again appalled by the damage. They had to make do with what they had she knew, but it wasn't right. It also seemed very wrong that the injured and maimed lived off the scraps and charity of their fellows. Apparently if you couldn't contribute, you were considered dead weight.
She identified a few of the selkie who might be good candidates and then sent their images to the other recruiters with what she knew about them when she had a free moment between patients.
<)>^<)>/
When the day fishers and work teams came in on the evening tide and after the evening shift departed, the beach was a bit thinned out enough for Jethro to spot a familiar female selkie among the day team's families. She had apparently been alerted to his presence since she met him halfway to her.
“You have something for me? Jethro was it?” she asked. He nodded.