by Chris Hechtl
“They sure don't stint on the food and accommodations,” Tikaani said over their text link. He snorted but poked at his food as well.
<)>^<)>/
The Liberty class ship they were on had an alpha numeric; one Jethro didn't bother to try to remember. The ship was from Pyrax or so he'd heard. She was all gunmetal and machinery, lacking the polish of some of the older more refined ships. They were turning out the Liberty ships in record numbers or so he'd heard. He could see how and why. They'd cut a lot of corners to get the ship out of the yard, but then again, you didn't need a lot of creature comforts if all you were moving was cargo.
But the ship was moving far more than cargo.
They were big ships, big freighters or whatever they needed to be from what he'd been able to read up on them. They were designed to be modular with subclasses built to be hospital ships, factory ships, transports, and others. The one they were on was a standard freighter but had a couple hab modules in one of the massive cargo bays for the passengers. Awful nice of them to let the passengers have a place to bed down, Jethro thought sarcastically.
He had argued to make certain his armor was stored near them. It had brought the cargo master down onto him who had burned him a new asshole. She'd made it clear he needed to mind his own damn business and let her and her people do their jobs.
He'd managed a weak retort about the cargo's security and his need to check on it, but she'd brushed that off. So, he had to squeeze between cargo modules while in a damn skinsuit to get to the module if he ever needed to get to it. He hoped it wouldn't come to that.
Especially since his personal skinsuit wasn't what one would consider comfortable. Especially since it was stretchy form fitting material that made someone with fur extremely uncomfortable … and even more uncomfortable around sharp objects while in vacuum.
Whatever Bast's cravings were, they'd have to wait until they were in Antigua to satisfy them he thought sternly. He'd told her that too. She hadn't been happy about it he knew.
<)>^<)>/
None of the Marines were happy about the troop bay once they were settled into it. There weren't racks for everyone; some had to sleep on a thin pad on the deck or in a hammock. Fortunately, the jump to Antigua was only 2.6 light years so they only had to endure the windowless bay for ten days—well, thirteen if you included the time to get from the Antigua jump point to the inner system.
That was, if they didn't have to change ships in Antigua. Their movement orders didn't specify.
One thing that was good about the new ship they were on, it had been in Antigua as recently as ten days prior. Couple that with their time in Triang with its ansible and they were relatively caught up-to-date on programs and news. They had enough files in the ship's archives to view through a good chunk of their journey Jethro judged.
He was surprised to find he had an ansible message in the ship's network. Bast found it and brought it to his attention. He was suddenly afraid of it. Could it be trouble? Something happened to Shanti and the kittens? It took him a good ten seconds of staring at the icon on his desktop before he got up the nerve to open it.
He was glad it was a video message. It was of horrible quality and short, but the image of Shanti in the thumbnail instantly got him to smile. It also relieved a small part of his mind.
“Hey, you,” Shanti said gruffly. “I've got thirty seconds. Short but sweet,” she said, holding up a kitten in her arms. The black kitten yawned. “This one decided to wake-up right when I got the note from Colonel White Wolf that I could send you a message,” she said. “We're okay; the pirates nipped in and out and didn't bother us, much,” she said.
Something like intense relief rushed through Jethro's body all at once. He closed his eyes and hit the pause button. When he recovered, he opened them again and hit the play button.
He smiled as a second kitten crawled up her back and then balanced on her shoulder. She looked over to the kitten, then did a cheek rub. The kitten returned the rub, then went to work playing with mommy's ear.
Shanti moved her ear back instinctively; those tiny claws probably hurt Jethro judged. She finally juggled the sleepy fuzzball in her arms to one arm to reach up and grab the little brat by the scruff of the neck. The kitten instinctively tucked into a fetal ball as she lowered him or her down. “She just took a horrendous shit and is apparently rip-roaring and ready to go again,” Shanti said.
“Hi, brother-in-law!” Rah said at the twenty-second mark, leaning in with a pair of squirming bundles of fur. “Say hi to daddy!” she said. One of the kittens turned to look at the camera. He cocked his head at it and then blinked.
His sister, it had to be the female black kitten Jethro judged, yawned and waved to him, then smacked her lips and started to make yum yum sounds. Soon the others started to do so as well.
All but the rambunctious brat who had been set down by mom only to take an intense interest in the camera. Jethro got a sudden look of a kitten and then the camera jiggled as small hands and a mouth bit into it to explore it.
“You little …,” Rah said, making Jethro chuff loudly. The others turned to look at him. He smiled, ears alert as he watched his mate clear the lens. It was silly, imperfectly perfect for him. A nice slice of home he thought.
“Just wanted to let you know we're still alive. You are going to pay for missing all this, especially diaper duty and sleep, and we love you,” Shanti rushed as the timer counted down the last five seconds. “Stay safe!” she said just as it concluded.
The image froze and he smiled. “You too,” he murmured softly.
“You too? Don't tell me you got a message from home?” Letanga asked, looking up.
“Yeah,” Jethro said huskily. “I don't know how the colonel arranged it, but she did.”
“Lucky,” Letanga drawled as he came over. “Let me see,” he said.
“Okay. I wish the quality was better, but beggars can't be choosers,” Jethro said as he replayed the message. He was amused to see the others crowd around to see the video too.
“They are adorable!” Tikaani cooed, touching the tablet with her fingertips.
“Aren't they?” Pamplona agreed. “How can you stand being apart from them?” she accused, eying Jethro.
“It's not easy,” he said slowly.
“Sure. For a guy, it is easy,” Tikaani said in disgust.
“Duty,” Jethro said roughly. Bast looked sympathetically at him on his HUD. He cleared his throat and started again as the compartment quieted. “We all have our duty,” he said. “We'll endure. It's not fair, but no one said life was about fair.”
A few of the heads nodded.
“Come on, play it again,” Tikaani said, reaching to hit the play button again. Shiku groaned and rolled his eyes, clearly uninterested, but Jethro shrugged and watched it with them again. It was one way to pass the time he thought.
After the second playing, he had to trot out the images and video he had from his brief visit and then play twenty questions with them. It was definitely a nice distraction to get them through part of the day, he reasoned, as the ship sailed to Antigua.
Chapter 12
“How is the latest scenario going?” Pinash asked as the major entered the room. She looked up to him but he waved her back into her saddle before she could pop to attention.
“At ease, everyone,” Valenko rumbled, taking a sip of his coffee as he entered the control room of his force. “I'm with you, Pinash; how is it going?”
“Which one, sir? There are four running this morning,” Asazi reported. “And those are just the ones in the real world; there are six SIMS too.” She pointed to each video bank. He looked at them thoughtfully. “Oops! It looks like the market square op is about to kick off,” she said, indicating the video monitors on the far left.
Valenko grunted and turned to them. “They are using smoke and mirrors?” he asked as he went over to a seat Asazi vacated for him. He smiled his thanks.
“Yes, sir. We got a copy of the co
lonel's ROE. We're going to poke a few holes in it,” Asazi said nastily from where she was standing.
The grizzly grunted in amusement. “Carry on then, by all means,” he rumbled, taking the seat. It conformed to his larger frame, making him wriggle a little in discomfort before it finished changing shape. He set his cup down in the cup holder and then jacked in so he could better watch the show.
<)>^<)>/
The op force fire team leader had gone in damn near buck-ass naked. Well, he was clothed in native attire, but that was it. He didn't have a weapon. His body was a weapon he reminded himself as he saw the nod from the sergeant. That was his cue.
“Got a smoke?” he asked as he leaned over to the soldier.
“Move along,” the human said waving at him. “Like anyone smokes,” he drawled.
“Hey, come on, some people light up from time to time. Recreational stuff,” Wes said, throwing his hands apart to show he was no threat.
The soldier shook his head and waved for him to move on.
Right on cue the distraction went off. Or, in its case, the overloaded truck dumped its cargo right in the middle of the busy street. The rest of the soldier's fire team was there; one had been directing traffic. He moaned as people came out and started to argue. Fists began to fly so most of the team went in to break it up.
The soldier turned to the activity out of the corner of his eye. “For the love of …”
That was about as far as he got. Wes moved in and sucker punched him in the solar plexus, then feigned a punch to the man's throat for good measure as his left leg lashed out and hooked the soldier. The guy went down with an oomph, still clutching at his throat as Wes hit his kill button on his vest.
“Bang, you're dead,” Wes said as his hands flicked to the guy's weapon and ammo pouches. He pocketed some of the ammo and even a couple grenades. “Thanks,” he said with a knock to the guy's helmet visor. If looks could kill he thought with a grin.
“This shit is too much fun,” Corporal Wesley Zipes said as he yanked the weapon out of his opponent's hands and then went to work with it. He even gave a primal scream as he fired into the unsuspecting backs of his opponents.
They turned fast, but a few were cut down by his rounds. They immediately sought shelter so he did as well just as a long-range sniper opened up to keep things interesting.
<)>^<)>/
Dana scowled as she reviewed the latest battle stats. She'd tangled with Valenko many, many times over the years. Fought … fought and won sometimes. Not nearly as even a number as she would have liked; the damn bear was good. Her victories had been … well, the term Pyrrhic victory came to mind. He usually inflicted three to four times the casualties … something he shouldn't have been able to do since in those conflicts his forces had been reduced.
Take for instance the current battle she was watching. His troop were playing the op force. He had been allowed a force of anywhere from a fire team up to a full platoon for the op. They had blended into the simulated civilian population and used that and their intelligence network to ruthless advantage. They didn't care about civilian casualties too, while her people labored under the ROE, the Rules of Engagement which said they were not to engage civilians unless fired upon, and that they were to prevent civilian deaths as much as possible.
Which was damn near impossible when someone drove a truck through a crowd to get at her troops or used an IED or snipers or dressed in mufti, walked up to her troops and went hand-to-hand. The bear definitely knew what sensors her people had and what their limits were. He also knew what their ROE was … both things that she knew the enemy would learn in time.
He really was a Russian bastard of a bear she thought with a sniff. Something told her she should be grateful; he was putting her through as realistic a scenario as they could cook up. But the bruising just didn't inspire gratitude. Perhaps when they got through Destria it might.
Maybe. Possibly. Somehow she doubted it.
She cracked a small smile over that thought.
Her finger lashed out to hit the pause button. She could have sent the order through her implants, but muscle memory was faster. She stared at a chimp holding a rifle he'd just gotten off a Marine he'd taken down.
“Okay, that's just wrong,” she said, pointing a finger at the offending image.
Major Blake Zedeal, her chimera staff spook, looked up from the report he'd been reading on his tablet to the image. “How so, ma'am?” he said in confusion.
“Our weapons are supposed to be locked against outside use. Wanna bet he used his implants to get in?”
“That's certainly possible,” the major replied as he tapped out an inquiry. It says … no, he didn't,” he said with a look of confusion. “The lockout wasn't engaged?”
“Son of a …,” Captain JG Candice Silverman swore as she sat back heavily. All eyes turned to her. “Did someone forget to initialize it? Or was it turned off remotely?”
“It wasn't turned on with that weapon,” the major said. He went over and checked other weapons that had changed hands in the recent simulated ambush. “None of them were.”
“Did they hack it?” Dana asked softly.
“I doubt it,” Major R'nz said. All eyes turned to the Veraxin. He signaled first-level annoyance. “I've sent out memos for the troops to keep the locks engaged, especially when they are in the field. It only takes a moment for their implant code keys to be sent. But apparently some believe that is a moment too long. I've heard scuttlebutt that those who do not follow procedure believe a fraction of a second is worth the risk. This proves them wrong,” he said, indicating the frozen image on the big screen.
“I don't know,” Candice said slowly. “I'm not so sure I can agree with you; a half second can be the splitting moment between life and death. They obviously believe it's worth the risk.”
“Then we need to find a way to minimize the risk,” the colonel said. “I'm glad little things like this are coming to our attention now instead of later,” she said.
“True, ma'am,” Major Zedeal replied as he made a note on his tablet. “Like when they got tricky with the tunnels and the sewers,” he said.
“I know. I think I need to chat with the umpires again,” Dana said thoughtfully.
“Oh?”
“He's taking too much advantage of his Neos. We're not fighting Neos; we're fighting humans …,” Dana nodded slowly as she parsed her thought-train out. “Yes, I think he should be limited to his human troops. He himself can control them remotely, but they shouldn't be able to have Neos or other species in the field.”
“That'll keep them from sniping us from hard-to-reach places,” Candice said darkly.
“Don't bet on that, Captain,” R'nz replied. “They can still snipe if the sniper shoots and scoots or has backup. Or if he or she is a suicide sniper willing to …”
“You've made your point, Major,” the captain replied with an irritated grunt.
“Good.”
“So, how do we deal with that? How do we minimize the risks here?” Major N'V'll, the Veraxin XO asked.
“I think at some point we have to realize we're not going to be able to keep everyone absolutely safe. There are no guarantees, especially in combat. I know we want everyone to come home, but …,” Dana frowned unhappily. Disappointed eyes looked at her. She held up a hand. “That isn't to say we're not going to stop trying, but we have to understand there are tradeoffs … and we're never going to get it completely right. The enemy wants to live and win just as badly as we do after all.”
“Yes, ma'am. And no plan survives contact with the enemy,” Major Zedeal said.
“True,” Dana replied with a nod to him. “So, ideas on what we can achieve?”
“What … what about engaging the lockout if the weapon is not on the person? Like when it changes hands?” Candice asked slowly.
“You'd still have that microsecond delay, since it would be there in the weapon's software constantly checking for that scenario,” Major Zedeal said
thoughtfully.
“Damn it, I thought I'd gotten clever,” Candice said sourly.
Dana smiled sympathetically to her. “If answers were only that easy,” she said. That earned an answering smile.
“I think I came up with an idea to minimize the vehicle problem. I don't know about the motorcycle issue though,” Major Zedeal said, showing his tablet. There was a cross section of a rounded pillar in it.
“On the big screen,” Dana ordered.
“Sure thing, ma'am,” the major said as he flicked his wrist and pointed to the screen. His implants did the real work of transferring the file to the big screen.
“Okay, what are we looking at?”
“A pillar. A protective bollard according to the historical notes,” Candice said.
“Bingo. It is a metal core wrapped by concrete. It extends into the ground, so it can't be knocked out easily,” the major said as he rose out of his seat to explain the cross section. “They had them back in the day that could lower into the ground too, but a simple unit would work.”
“You are thinking of having the natives or our engineers whip them up? Put them in the high traffic areas?” the colonel asked.
“Yes, ma'am. Along sidewalks for instance. In front of entrances. We can also use a similar version to defend our bases or important structures. They deter vehicles over a given size. Hit them and it will disable the vehicle and injure those inside,” he said.
“It makes sense,” Major N'v'll said, indicating first-level agreement.
“I like it. But getting them into production though …,” Major R'nz buzzed. “We still do not know if they will be needed. We don't know if the enemy has mechanical vehicles. For all we know, they could rely on locomotives or animals for their transportation needs.”
“Or a mixture,” Candice said. “A few air cars, old ones obviously, maybe some aircraft …,” she shrugged.
“Okay,” Dana said with a nod as she made another note. “I'll talk to the umpires about that. See if we can add more realistic transportation.” She snagged his link and then went to the index he'd been looking at. There were line items about how to fight terrorism, and a few of the ideas leapt off the screen. She tapped one and scanned it as the staff continued their discussion.