by Chris Hechtl
Which meant that besides training the new crop of recruits as they trickled in, they were also advancing their own skill sets while also working on overseeing the construction of their permanent base. The major had wanted them to fill the hole in their knowledge base and skills. Hence, their current dilemma.
But unfortunately, drop pods were expensive and therefore in short supply. They were not in the Phase II or III budget or mission criteria. For the time being, they would have to use SIMS.
Jethro wasn't certain if the others were glad of that or not. He'd like to at least build a pod mock-up to get them used to being inside a physical construct. He'd been tempted to try to build one piecemeal with the replicators Admiral Irons had left, but unfortunately, both had been tasked with building the new suits and suit components for the new class.
Besides, the pods weren't quite uniform. Their interiors varied due to the different suits, some had to have more volume due to a specific species … and of course if that species was in heavy weapons, well, and it just got bigger.
Each pod had to have storage for additional supplies, fuel, ammo, commo gear … the list went on and on. So no, he'd tabled the idea for the time being.
“We'll stick to the SIMS. Repetition will dull it down eventually,” Jethro said. “Next topic,” he said.
“You think it will,” Letanga said sourly, eying his cousin before he flipped the page on his table to the next thing on their agenda. “The weekly progress report on the cave is in.”
Jethro nodded as he scanned the report. He'd known it had come in but hadn't had a chance to read it as of yet.
The caves were far from ready to move in, but that hadn't stopped the team from doing a bit of preliminary work to help advance things in that direction. They also weren't afraid to camp out nearby and polish their RECON skills when things got a bit too boring.
The Cadre had cleared the site as much as possible before they'd turned it over to the Spacebees. The engineers were shorthanded, but they'd taken their robots and machinery in to survey and then shore up the interior of the cave. They'd finished their survey and had submitted their plans, which had kicked off a gasp attack in the bean counters according to the grapevine … something about the estimated bill.
The Spacebee's geologist had actually recommended an untouched cliff face over the use of the caves since they would therefore know how the rocks were and there were no questionable shafts or supports. A conference between the leadership had decided to go with the plan and site they currently had, therefore, overruling the expert.
Which meant every report had qualifiers and subtle warnings in it. Jethro grimaced as his eyes scanned the report. “Nothing like someone covering their ass and setting themselves up for a mondo I told you so when something goes wrong,” he muttered.
“Murphy always has to put in an appearance. That is inevitable, and they should know it. But why be so pessimistic about it?” Tungulria asked.
“They aren't happy about using the caves. The brass did a cost assessment of going the geologist's route with a fresh site. The bean counters weighed in. It boils down to the cost of digging the caves fresh plus the fact that we've got this already here. We also don't have a site to do it, and setting up the base on a moon would be nice and secure … but would suck for us,” Jethro said. “So we're moving forward, and they aren't thrilled about being overruled.”
“Wanna bet someone will kick something off just so they can say they warned us?” Letanga asked.
“You are in a good mood,” Tungulria said, eying the Neoleopard.
Letanga flicked his ears.
“Okay, so, let's move on. The latest recruits,” Jethro said, hitting the page advance button. “I see they had their latest round of medical visits. They are on bed rest and light duty for what, a week?”
“Yes. I've had requests from Dave to see the suits and to try some of the SIMS. He has a point that they are cerebral not physical. But the docs don't want them to exert themselves,” Tungulria stated.
“So they have to be patient. Okay. Dave is RECON; he should know better. I appreciate he's eager, but tell him all things in time. What about Latisha?”
“She's recovering. Doctor Thornby caught the tissue rejection before it got out of hand. She's also ordered around the clock monitoring of the candidates from now on. They have to jack in and upload their medical files every few hours,” the black Neowolf reported.
Jethro nodded. “Good to know. I don't want anyone dying on our watch. She's a step behind the others though, that sucks. Good thing we've got a suit for her. You finished refitting it?” he asked, turning to Letanga.”
“If by you, you mean Gunny Z'v'll, then yes, yes he did. And it is ready to be initialized. We're keeping them far away from the suit though since it never was initialized by Admiral Irons. But the bug said he got all of Kim's bits out. At least he thinks he did,” Letanga reported.
“Lovely image,” Tungulria said with a shiver.
“I know,” Jethro said. “We'll deal with it. I'll ask the major when we might see the admiral. Maybe if he's groundside, he can swing by and at least zero the nanites in those two suits so we won't have that issue ever again.”
“Yes. It'd be nice if we could make suits like they did ages ago,” Satet interjected acidly.
“The only person who can right now is Admiral Irons,” Jethro said as Letanga blinked.
“Then he needs to learn to delegate more,” Satet stated.
“Enough of that. Let's not get too snide about the commander in chief,” Jethro said in rebuke. “Now, ONI has cleared our next two candidates and they are coming in on the next convoy from Agnosta. They will be arriving in Triang in two weeks. From there it is a short hop here as you know. Any ideas on how we can improve and speed up the training process? And we still need to work on the ACTS a bit more. I know we can fine tune it,” he said.
Tungulria's nostrils dilated as he inhaled and then exhaled. “Well, I think the medical side is out of our hands. They have to be tailored to each candidate after all. I think doing a group together is easier for them. Also, we might want to save some of the briefing material and spoon-feed it to them during their recovery instead of dumping it all on them at once after the initial interviews. That way they can absorb it easier and will have something to do in-between surgeries …”
Chapter 39
Master Gunnery Sergeant Schultz realized he was just going to be stuck in place unending until he acted. He'd tried to be nice, and he hated sounding or seeming petulant, but damn it, he was bored to tears. Since no one was listening to him, he'd decided on Nohar's last gambit.
It might turn around and bite him in the ass. It would in some way he knew. There was also something to be said about never volunteering and being happy with what you've got. But one way or another he was no longer going to be ignored though he thought as he put the first step of the new plan into play.
<)>^<)>/
Brigadier General Forth mulled over things as he sat behind his desk. He'd just finished reading the report from Colonel Harley that the invasion of Destria was underway. He'd sent his congratulations. The war front concerned him however. Having multiple war fronts bothered him even more; it invited defeat in detail since he had only a finite amount of men and material and too many places they were needed.
Hidoshi's World and Protodon were his most active war fronts or had been until this latest invasion. Now he had three star systems to contend with. He rubbed his brow. The Marines on Protodon had been in the process of turning their duties over to an Army garrison or would have up until the latest invasion threat. Now they were hunkering down and digging in while trying to keep the population calm.
Captain Lewis on Hidoshi's World reported that they still had an insurgency there to contend with. He shook his head. He shouldn't have let Lieutenant Colonel Pasha 1010111 talk him into sending that Army unit to Protodon. He should have sent them to Hidoshi's World and damn the man's pride he thought in disgust.
But he'd wanted to rotate his people and especially Pendeckle out of there in preparation for the next invasion.
He sighed. It could and probably would still happen. That was, if the Navy could hold. Hopefully, they would he mused.
The Marines had their own problems though. They were in the process of invading Destria. He had recruiters all over the sector, he had another academy and Marine boot camp on Antigua to monitor remotely, Lieutenant Colonel Pendeckle was still deployed in Protodon, and they had planned to invade planets beyond that. On top of that, he was expected to plan forces to go into Tau and Pi and plan for the eventual invasion of Horath itself.
Destria really bothered him now that he knew the damn empire had kicked loose fleets to stir things up. There could be a fleet bearing down on B101a1, he mused darkly. It would get torn apart if and when it hit Pyrax, but in the meantime it could blockade B101a1 and his forces in Destria and Hidoshi's World would be in trouble. They wouldn't die on the vine; they had plenty of resources on the planets they were occupying to draw from. But they'd lose the fastest route to resupply in Pyrax.
And B101a1 was also the only route to Bek and Nuevo. It was the gateway to their nexus. He frowned then shook his head. It wasn't his problem. He had to be confident that Irons and Subert could handle the situation and were taking steps to keep that empty star system secure. Which, they were, but not very fast. To date they had a division of heavy cruisers, a factory ship, and a half squadron of tin cans protecting the small but growing space station there.
And now Schultz of all people was giving him headaches. He was becoming a problem, festering where he was. He decided to call Irons and use him as a sounding board.
<)>^<)>/
"I'm not sure what you want me to do about it, Jersey," the admiral asked dubiously. To think, a general needed advice on how to handle a senior noncom? He shook his head in bemusement at the idea.
"He's been my right hand on Agnosta, my noncom right hand, since we got here. He personally overhauled every aspect of our training regime even MAWTS. If the Doberman had fingerprints, you'd find them all over everything. He put his stamp loud and proud. He's our senior-most enlisted, Admiral," Jersey explained.
"So leave him in place?" the admiral asked, frowning.
"He's getting stale where he is. His term of enlistment is up for renewal shortly, and he's gotten rather quiet about it. That worries me."
"Ah," the admiral said, as he read a report. He frowned as the statement penetrated his forebrain. He sat back, setting the report aside both physically and mentally as some of the different angles penetrated. Morale, the public image impact to the Marines … yes, not good. Now he understood Jersey's dilemma. "Protector …"
"Pulling up the E-11's records now, sir," the A.I. stated. "I've actually had them ready, sir," the A.I. continued as a holographic image appeared on the admiral's desk. It was of a no-nonsense NeoDoberman Marine in DI khaki green complete with campaign cover. The dog was instantly familiar; he nodded after a moment. He'd seen the image of the dog in the Marine Times as well as the Fleet Journal. He'd also been the model for Marine recruiting posters.
He took a look at the Marine's record. He was a combat veteran of the battle of Pyrax, as well as the First Agnosta Expedition. His record was completely unblemished with high marks across the board. One might think nepotism; no Marine kept his nose that far out of trouble, especially around a bar! But …
Suddenly he understood why the general was reluctant to lose that store of wisdom and how it would be a waste to the corps … he frowned thoughtfully.
"He wants a combat posting, but he's a bit too high ranking to do it. I have no reason to demote him, nor do I wish to do so. Also, a contributing factor is the thought of losing him in combat at all. It's not a pleasant thought," the general stated.
"No, no it isn't," Admiral Irons murmured thoughtfully as he stared at the record. Protector helpfully blinked the master gunnery sergeant's combat record. Both instances were brief, but they were there. One was in combat boardings in Pyrax where he'd been injured and earned a purple heart and the second as the senior noncom on the First Agnosta Expeditionary Force.
"He's not amiable to a drawing a warrant either or swapping in his stripes for officer tabs. I can't really blame him there; he'd be starting at the bottom of the barrel. And it's one thing to lead and mold recruits while executing orders, another to be an officer and generate those same orders."
"He has leadership. He wouldn't be a DI without it," the admiral mused.
"No, sir, he wouldn't. But he's pointed out that he isn't needed anymore. He took his last leave during a boot camp class cycle. The junior DIs were up to the challenge and handled it. He pointed it out."
"Subtle he's not?" the admiral asked with a snort.
"He can do it when he wants. My point, or I should say, his point, is that he's got everything ticking over here nicely. He's bored and up for a new challenge."
There was a long pause as both men thought about the future.
"You still there, sir?" Jersey finally asked.
"Yeah, I'm here," the admiral grunted. "Your thoughts?"
"Well, Protodon might work. He wouldn't do much there though, not if we've got the forces bottled up for the moment. Destria is out; we've already dispatched the forces there. He could be in a follow-up, but it'd be more of a recruit thing than actual combat."
"He doesn't necessarily need to actually be in combat," the admiral said, rubbing his chin. "Have you considered sending him to Bek?"
"I … no, that's a possibility I hadn't actually considered. Damn. I suppose Nuevo too?"
"It is a thought. A visit. Overhaul their training facilities and regime. I'm sure Horatio and the Marines there as well as the Army would value his input."
"Perhaps. He's been a big help setting up the Army here. We've had two requests from Lieutenant Colonel 1010111 to transfer him. The last was almost an outright demand."
The admiral snorted at the amused yet indignant tone of voice. He didn't have long to wait for the follow-up.
"As if he'd become some Army twit," Jersey growled in disgust.
The snort turned into a fond half-smile. "Okay, he's too far up there to man a recruiting post. We can have him visit posts I suppose …"
"He'd go nuts playing visiting salesman like we did with McClintock," Jersey interrupted.
That brought the admiral up short. "Yeah, there is that," he said after a momentary pause to consider it. "So, that leaves Protodon, sending him here to make sure everything is good or sending him to Pi or Tau."
"What about combining two of the objectives, sir? We can't let him have his cake and eat it too after all. And the Nuevo Madrid offense has been derailed for the foreseeable future. So, what if we send him your way? He can recruit along the way, fact finding on his stops, then a stay on Antigua to clean things up there at their training and other facilities, and then hitch a ride on a convoy to Protodon? Are we abandoning it?"
"Not on your life. We're not paying for the same real estate twice. Okay, I get it. No, that makes sense," the admiral said. "It delays what to do with him long term though."
"Yes, sir."
"But you figured it out on your own," the admiral pointed out.
The general snorted. "With you as a sounding board. Do I have your blessing, sir?"
The admiral nodded to the general's image. "You do indeed, Jersey. I'll sign off on that. Send him this way. I'll make him squirm doing some tours with the kiddies, even have him visit a high school or elementary school or two before we kick him over to Pendeckle."
"Schultz will just love you for that, sir," Jersey replied with a chuckle.
"Yeah well, cause some mischief, pay the penance."
"Right," the general drawled. "Thank you, sir. Agnosta out."
"Antigua out."
<)>^<)>/
“It'd be nice when we get this move finished,” Nohar said as he shook his head.
“It'd be nice if your colonel
could get his act together with the paperwork or learn to delegate it to a staff,” Schultz scolded.
Nohar snorted. He'd learned the hard way that paper shuffling was the bane of an officer … or in his case a warrant's existence. And the colonel hated it more than most. He had to read everything and sign off periodically, which didn't mean he agreed or understood the process. Sometimes Lieutenant Lincoln had been forced to hold a briefing on paperwork just to hit the bullet points, then get him to sign off on them right then and there to get things moving again.
“I know. But it's moving slowly but surely in the right direction,” Nohar said as they watched an air crane lift an artillery piece up and then off into the evening sky.
“You'll have plenty of room to expand there. Now that you've got the budget and space to do so,” Schultz said.
“True,” Nohar agreed. “And you can have your gear back. No worse for the wear. Well, a bit,” he said with a shrug.
“Thanks,” Schultz drawled. “I think it'll go to Fifth Division. Well, some of it. The older stuff might be destined for storage until Sixth Division comes up on the docket, or the general might be nice and gift it to you,” he said eying the tiger.
“Gee, thanks,” the tiger drawled. “So, your orders come in?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Schultz said. He inhaled then exhaled slowly. “You heard?”
“No. I just figured since you're here,” he said, looking at a shuttle loading up. “I knew it wasn't to see our backsides,” he teased.
“Well, there is that too,” Schultz said. He inhaled then exhaled slowly after a long moment of silence. “Yeah, they came in,” he said in a different tone of voice.
“Gee, it took them what, a month?”
“Not quite,” the NeoDoberman said. “BuPers, what do you expect?” he asked with a shrug.
“And you re-upped?”