by Chris Hechtl
This new Federation was growing she noted. They would need the Cadre. They would need more of them she knew. Eventually the old enemy would return, of that she had no doubt.
None at all … and that worried her the most.
<)>^<)>/
Captain Joshua Lyon received the news of his promotion in his email on the morning Admiral Irons was due for a visit. He met Admiral Irons at the gate. “Sir?” he said as he saluted the admiral.
“No formal uniform, Major?” the admiral said as he handed the captain a jewel box with his new insignia in it.
“I thought it was a mistake, sir,” Joshua said as he shook his head. Mars beamed at him, grinning on his HUD.
“No mistake. Now, raise your right hand and repeat the oath of office,” the admiral ordered.
Josh came to attention, inhaled, and then exhaled. In that time, Mars had put the oath of office up on his HUD. He read it dutifully.
<)>^<)>/
President White Wolf had a message passed on to Jethro via the ansible. Since it was from a planetary head of state, it went to Admiral Irons' office first. He passed it on to the cat when he stopped in to check on progress. “It seems like I'm someone's messenger boy,” the admiral said.
“Sir?”
“According to President White Wolf, you've got a new addition to the family. She said a Lil White has arrived on her planet and Shanti has taken her in.”
“Sir?” Jethro echoed, this time with wide unbelieving eyes. The admiral chuckled. “I … don't know what to say, sir. Thanks,” he said.
“It seems you’ve each got a part of the set. Pity they are apart though. If they were together, they'd be out of your hair,” the admiral hinted.
“Unless they were both here or the entire family,” the warrant pointed out.
The admiral paused and then shook his head. “You would point that out.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“Don't be. It could happen eventually.” The admiral grimaced. “So, progress?” he asked as he handed a chip over to Jethro.
Jethro took it and palmed it. He'd scan the contents later.
“Fair to middling now, sir. We're getting there. Major Lyon's recent distraction with Admiral Sienkov has thrown a monkey wrench into getting him up to speed though.”
“Understood.”
“Well, you are in training mode as we work on the budget and objectives for Phase II. Can you handle that?” the admiral asked.
“Yes, sir. Gunny Z'v'll has his hands full, but he wants to take a look at the cave complex. I'd like to take our people there. We can do a more in-depth survey, maybe move some stuff out.”
“Don't get too carried away,” the admiral warned, “or get buried. You folks are an investment,” he stated.
“I know, sir, no stupid stunts. What I'm thinking is just basic stuff. Get a lay of the land; see what we can do to improve it. I know we're not engineers though,” he said with a grimace.
“And getting the engineers in will be a pain in the ass. They are booked up years in advance right now. They are saturated to the point where I've got new Spacebee units who haven't even been fully trained booked in advance of their graduation. Some of them even before it,” he said with a rueful shake of his head. “We're being pulled in so many directions lately …”
“It's always fun to multitask, but from time to time we need to focus on one thing—knock it out and then move on to the other burners, sir.”
“And hope they don't flame over or flame out while we're paying attention to the one. I know.”
“Not that it is any of my business, but um, can a civilian agency help with some of the engineering load? I'm not talking the classified bits like the cave, but others? They'd have to have plenty of QC, inspections galore, but the basic labor …”
The admiral grimaced and ran a hand through his hair, but he nodded. “It is a tempting thought. Putting the call out would certainly spark some interest. We've got a lot of untapped engineering potential in Pyrax and ET right now. Protodon and Antigua too I suppose. I can see a few places where it could be put to use. It would cost more than the Spacebees though …,” he mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Transport costs, profit … keeping them honest will be tricky, some of those firms in ET are borderline mob contractors,” he said with a grimace.
“IG would have a field day,” Jethro said with a straight face.
The admiral nodded, then eyed the black cat. “Admit it. You'd love to keep IG busy and out of your hair as much as possible,” he said.
Jethro flicked his ears but let a small smile play on his face briefly. The admiral snorted then waved for them to get back to work.
<)>^<)>/
Jethro told Lil Red about Lil White when he got home that evening. She stared at him in shock. “You are serious?” she demanded.
He nodded and held the chip out for her. She examined it, even sniffed it. He snorted. “Here,” he said as he went over and put it in her tablet. He pulled the file up and then showed it to her. “See?” he said.
She blinked again, then narrowed her eyes at the screen. He watched her read it slowly. “So … so what?”
“So, she's with my wife and kids. Would you like to see her? You can write to her you know. The same for your mom and your sister Ghost you know,” he said.
“Um …,” she looked troubled. “I don't know what to say to them,” she said after a while. She turned and caught her tail and then started to groom it.
“How about that you are here and that you are in school? How you are doing? That sort of thing? Shanti will want to know too.”
“Her? Why?” Red asked as she stopped to look up at him.
“Hello, I'm adopting you, remember? That means she's your stepmother.”
“Oh,” Red said. She flicked her ears.
“Well, think about it,” he said in a slightly disappointed tone of voice.
“Don't be that way. I just don't write. Besides, I know it costs money.”
“We'll work it out, Red. I'm in the military, so I get a discount,” he said.
“Oh,” she said softly. After a moment, she shrugged such considerations off. “I've got a new project to do, a science project. I wasn't sure what to do about it,” she said as she changed the subject. “And I've got more homework,” she said, clearly disgusted.
Jethro nodded sagely. “Okay, I'll get dinner going; you set up at the table and let me know if you need help,” he said.
“Coffee table. The dining table is too tall,” she said as she took her tablet and went to the couch. He watched her go, then went to the kitchen to start dinner. She was right; she barely saw over the table edge with the dining room table. It was a small four-seater; he wasn't comfortable sitting at it either.
But since it was a part of the furnishings of the house and on loan, he had no intention of spending money to find something more comfortable. Not when he wasn't certain how long they'd be in the housing track given the latest attempt on his life.
<)>^<)>/
“Okay, Fletcher, what do you have for me today? I noticed that the Cadre is on the docket. Let's start there,” Captain Montgomery said as he entered his office. He went around to his desk as the A.I. sprang to life on his desk holo emitter.
“You don't waste time on small talk,” the A.I. stated.
“I know your views on it. So?” the captain asked as he set his cup down and then sat in his chair. He picked the cup of coffee back up, took a sip, and then set it back down. It was still smoldering hot. He tended to overheat it since he also tended to forget about it for prolonged time periods as he got involved with a discussion or in reading or watching briefing material.
“Very well. We're getting more hits on the Cadre by the media. I've passed on a warning to the Cadre members to avoid media contact,” Fletcher reported.
“Good. Right now it is classified as rumor?” the captain asked.
“Yes, sir. The Marines know about it. They are asking questions in scuttlebu
tt. They know something is going on. That is where the rumors have been picked up by the media.”
“NCIS getting involved?”
“Not at this time. We've passed on a warning to those who talked out of hand. Unfortunately, they were never read into the program, so we can't technically prosecute them. They are passing on rumor and being overheard. That's the usual excuse. The other is those who talked among themselves and were overheard or spoke in confidence to a spouse and they passed it on. The aircraft crew who have brought the Cadre in and out of their exercise landing zones are notorious for talking out of turn.”
“And it fits?”
“Some of it was chatter on the Marine forums that a reporter had tapped into. We've kicked the reporter out and warned all of the users about discussing things they shouldn't. We've also killed any threads that they created that violate secrecy on sensitive projects.”
“And that only fed the rumor mill,” the captain said.
“Unfortunately, yes. We've legitimized it by a denial. A nondenial denial wouldn't have helped.”
“Oh well. We'll have to endure it. Having a big scary monster lurking in our closet is normally considered a good thing. Eventually we'll want the PR but not yet. Next? What about Phase II?”
“The budget is still out there. I don't see it getting under control. The good news is they have two suits, human suits, for use.”
“If they can find the people to fill them. Progress on that front?” the captain asked.
“I've got a bot going through the medical records of every Marine looking for the blood identifiers,” Fletcher stated. “I have a list but it is short.”
“And Doctor Thornby? I understand there are concerns for medical privacy,” Captain Montgomery asked.
“What she doesn't know won't come back to haunt me I hope. As the admiral stated, blood tells. I've run a comparison of the various Cadre personnel. Those with the full blood make the transition faster and smoother, and know how to use their abilities to the fullest.”
“That might just be a matter of getting the others up to speed. The full blood have had their abilities from birth. They've learned how to use it on an instinctive level,” the captain retorted. He didn't like the numbers the A.I. was showing. According to what he'd been able to dig up there were only five more candidates from RECON at the moment. All of them were in training and hadn't met the other criteria, a show of skill and time in a combat environment.
“True. I factored that into my simulation. Eventually both will plateau,” he stated, showing a chart. “As you can see, the full blood candidates get a greater bump.”
“I see. So, RECON is still the primary screening method?”
“I see the logic, but there is a problem. The full blood are naturally inclined to RECON. That is all good. But the original plan called for a more balanced approach to the unit structure. Instead, we have nine RECON suits and a mix in the others. That is not optimal.”
“Agreed. And I've heard some talk about how the ranks aren't exactly balanced either. Ideas?”
“Restructuring the screening might help. It would broaden the candidate pool. Integrating more candidates without blood would fill in the other positions but would cause problems with their adaptation. There would also be a higher risk of rejection.”
“With great strides and risks comes the risk of failure,” the captain mused.
“Try telling that to the families of someone who died being experimented on, sir,” Lieutenant Fletcher stated.
“Oh, I'm not knocking you, you are on target there,” the captain stated. “But we need those troops. So, RECON filters for Cadre. They go through a lot more training and screening to get that far. If we open it up … how? To those in Powered Armor?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Great. There are a lot of candidates there I believe. But taking their top 1 percent will be a little noticeable,” the captain stated.
“True and it defeats the purpose of bringing in additional personnel who can fill the rank and file.”
“I see. Well, write up your proposal. We'll submit it to the powers that be and see what they say. I think that's enough of something that isn't really our concern. Any further action on McClintock?”
“The investigation into his attackers yielded a few clues but they dead ended. It is at an impasse. We've widened the net around the base given that they must have picked him up there.”
“So it is clear it was an assassination attempt?”
“Oh, yes. I thought that part was clear,” the lieutenant stated.
“Clear to you who read the report. I'm getting the short version from you. So, they know he is there. Time to move him … damn it …”
“I know. He's in the Cadre. Their base is on Antigua. That is a problem.”
“He also has a dependent. One in school if I remember,” the captain growled. “Frack!”
“It is a problem that will have to be handled. And I admit, most of the time we're behind the ball and left picking up the pieces. Not so often in his case. He can look after himself, and he has Bast to watch his back. The good news is, each time the Guild tries, they expose their network and people.”
“Yes. But I'm more worried about when they eventually succeed …”
<)>^<)>/
With everyone initialized, the focus became training and integration. Some of it was in the suit, some of it was outside. For the individuals, it meant interaction with their A.I. Jethro tried to use cooperative games to help facilitate that and make it feel more natural. Finding their own tune though had to be a pair thing.
On the weekend, they got the usual minor downtime to catch up on their family duties, chores, and just rest. Jethro was surprised to find another message from Shanti. He'd seen the first; it had just been a short text message. This latest one had fresh images and video of kittens. He checked the source and noted it had come from a mail packet from the latest Protodon-Antigua convoy that had caught up with him.
He checked the time stamp and nodded. The information was out of date. He knew about Lil White, the biggest change in the family, but she still didn't know about Lil Red. He bit his lip, troubled, but then realized it was moot. She'd accepted one sister; hopefully, she wouldn't hold his taking in Red against him. Then again, she was female … he sighed.
After a second viewing of the images and video, which drove a bored Red out of the room, he packed the emails and videos he'd recorded off and on over the past several weeks. He recorded a fresh one and even dragged Red in to say hi to the family and especially her sister. Red didn't have anything to say to her sister or family in Protodon so he wrapped it up with a Zen hug to the family, then had Bast compress it.
Bast dealt with the mail packet from there. It would go out on the next convoy to Protodon, then on to Kathy's World. “It will take time to get to its intended destination,” she warned.
“It can't be helped,” Jethro shrugged.
Bast hit a wall when she tried to submit the information. “I can't do the transaction electronically. They are requiring you go to the office and do it manually with a chip,” she informed him after her third attempt.
“Are you serious?” he demanded. She nodded. “Okay,” he drawled. He looked over to Red. “Road trip?”
“Um …”
“We can stop for dinner on the way back.”
“Um …” She squirmed. She didn't like restaurants, especially sit-down ones.
“Take out if you prefer,” he said. That made her perk up and nod.
The Federation mail post had rediscovered the joys of bureaucracy and red tape he thought as he parked the car and climbed out. Red remained in the truck as he opened the glass door and went inside. He opened the inner door to find a long line waiting for him. It snaked around the lobby, making him groan. Heads looked over to him but then they looked away. He took his place though and did his best to read the news on his HUD while it slowly crept forward.
“You'd think they'd let us just
transfer it electronically and then they'd burn it onto a chip, but no,” Jethro muttered. The bear in front of him grunted and then looked over his shoulder.
“True,” the bear rumbled, then went back to shuffling in place.
“True,” Bast said.
“I wonder if ONI is involved. Someone should be checking the contents of each chip,” Jethro said under his breath with a miniscule shake of his head.
“Also true,” Bast replied. “They may not like anything being sent that is encrypted and not military,” she warned.
“The Communications Department is beset by thousands of daily requests to send information through the ansible, especially from people who don't need it,” a person said on a LCD screen in the corner. It had been playing commercials, most of them about how great and efficient the mail service was. “The ansible is for government, military, and news first and in that order of priority. After that what limited bandwidth left over is sold on a priority basis. It is expensive so consider these cheaper options,” the talking head said, then went on to talk about the various mail packet speeds.
Jethro snorted. Most of it was bullshit. The mail would get there when the convoy arrived. Express or economy, it didn't matter in the end.
He knew that he should feel a little guilty over getting ansible use at all. Military spouses were the worst of the lot apparently, always wanting to use the ansible to discuss something with a family member or so he'd heard. Such things were by a priority basis. It also rotated and was normally reserved for personnel in theater. There was also a strict low bandwidth and cap on the amount of information transmitted. Jethro was okay with it, but he still had to endure the lecture as a captive audience in the line.
As the line moved forward, he found out a little more than he wanted to know about how the Communications Department was being set up. “Everything is a work in progress including us, the people who run communications. You'd think they'd let us get our feet and tentacles under us since we are the ODN conduit that runs the rest of the system, but no,” a clerk ranted after a woman balled him out for not having her package ready for her.