Gods of War (Jethro goes to war Book 5)

by Chris Hechtl

  <)>^<)>/

  Jon looked up in time to see a shuttle flying overhead. He frowned and shaded his eyes from the afternoon sun to see another aircraft moving behind it with drones outpassing on the flanks.

  “I guess the Marines have decided to come calling,” Kevin said, looking up and then on to where the aircraft were headed. “Fallbrook?” he asked.

  “Ayeup,” Jon said as he went back to guiding his plough. “Mind your track, son; we need to get these acres done before the rains come again,” Jon said gruffly.

  “Yes, Pa,” his son said as he went back to guiding the team towing the seeding machine as it planted the crop.

  <)>^<)>/

  One shuttle passed over the town alerting them to its presence. It landed on the far side of town near the mill and inn just as the other shuttle landed on the road by Al's Market. The Marines filed out fast to secure the perimeter around the bird. Each Marine knelt as they took up his or her position. While they did that, the loadmaster kicked loose a LAV and pushed it out of the back of the shuttle, then tossed off duffels and crates of supplies before signaling the pilot to take off again.

  <)>^<)>/

  Al came out with a rag and washed his hands nervously as he saw the shuttle land. The soldiers got off of the aircraft and then it took off again. The recent rains kept the dust down. He still shielded his eyes from the dust and wind instinctively as the Marines made their approach. He waved to them, noting one group had stayed with the strange vehicle and gear they'd left behind. A few turned and waved back. His sons waved excitedly to a bear dressed as a soldier. The bear snuffled, then waved to them briefly in passing.

  When the Marines finished passing by, he waved to the kids to get back to work.

  <)>^<)>/

  Isabel had heard the shuttle overhead and had gone to a window just in time to see a drone pass by. Another smaller one detached from the first and came to her and scanned her before it took off again.

  It seems like the second invasion of Fallbrook had begun she thought as she changed into her best outfit and then primed her hair. She bit her lip as she sniffed herself, then she went to a small bottle of hoarded perfume. She splashed some on her fingertips then rubbed it on her neck and collar.

  When she went outside, she noted quiet soldiers making their way warily up the street. They were different she noted as others came warily to their doorsteps and stoops to observe the intruders.

  For some reason she thought of them as nice even though none of the Marines had said or done anything yet. She broke out into tears and then started to cry softly at the sight of the first Neochimp. She put a hand out and managed to mouth thank you to her as she looked quizzically at her.

  The Neochimp frowned, then nodded once and moved on.

  Isabel got control of herself as she saw more Neo and alien Marines. She glanced over to where Old Buck, Judith, and Claire were. The trio came up the street as the Marines met another group of their own kind coming from the opposite direction, then made hand signs to go down the other streets.

  A Marine came over to Old Buck to help the old man, but the judge waved him off. The Marine nodded and handed the two spinster women an MRE each from his kit. That got them chattering as they examined the package. “It's food!” Judith said, eyes wide when she realized what it was. That brought her to tears.

  “Here, ma'am,” a human Marine said, startling Isabel. She hadn't heard him come up to her. She saw he was holding out a shiny package. She reached out tentatively and took it. “Oh my gods,” she murmured.

  “I think you could use this more than we can right now,” the Marine said, looking her up and down.

  “It's been rough,” she said, practically croaking. She ran a nervous hand through her hair. “I must look like a dreadful mess,” she said.

  “You are fine, ma'am,” the Marine said. She moved in to hug him but he put up a hand and stopped her. “Thank the gods of space you are here!” Isabel said in tears, hugging herself and the package he'd handed her instead.

  “Are there any Horathians around, ma'am? Or their supporters?” the Marine asked as another, a female came over to them.

  “Not since the bombing. They killed people, took what they wanted. She pointed to the burned-out shell of Flo's house and then to Rudy's. “They killed Pete since he was a Neochimp. They were going to kill his wife and kids but I warned them,” she said. “I helped them get out of town; I don't even know if they are still alive,” she said, shaking her head. “Rudy turned them in, but Corporal Lishman killed her when he didn't find them,” she said. She told them in a chatter about Corporal Lishman and the Horathians, but she was stopped as the Marine held up a restraining hand. She squirmed anxiously, concerned she'd overstepped herself, but the Marine smiled.

  “We can't stay here long, ma'am. We'll be back though, ma'am. For the moment, we need to write down everything you witnessed. Everything they did, names, dates, everything you can remember. I know it will be hard. But we'll have someone come through and pick it up and then interview you. When we catch the bastards, and believe me we will, we'll work with your legal system to see that they see justice,” the Marine said.

  She bobbed a nod, then indicated Old Buck. Buck grimly nodded. “I'm a retired judge. I'd love to see them in my court,” the old man said.

  The Marine looked over to the elderly man and then nodded.

  Chapter 42

  “What a frackin' mess,” Gurney Hernandez said as he stepped off the loading ramp of the shuttle. He looked around and shook his head at the carnage. “What a fracked-up situation this is,” he said.

  A black lab Marine came tearing up to him. “You Hernandez?” he asked.

  “That's me,” the engineer and administrator said as he picked up his bags. “For my sins. You my ride?”

  “No ride. It's a mess. They are bringing jeeps down later if we can get through the unloading first,” the Marine said as he took the human by the arm and hustled him off the flight line. A trickle of civilians followed in their wake. “They with you?”

  “Yeah,” the engineer said. “Where are we going?”

  “Captain Falco has been given command of this place. We're turning it into a base.”

  “That's telling me what is going on, not where we're going,” the human said.

  “Sorry. We're going to the control tower,” the Marine replied. The human looked at the distant control tower and grunted. It was a good walk, almost a kilometer. “You've got to be kidding me,” he growled.

  “Sorry, nope. We're stuck hoofing it.”

  “Great. What about my team?”

  “Um …,” the Marine looked over his shoulder to the other civilians. “No one, um, no, wait, my implants said Hernandez and party so I guess they come with us,” he said.

  “Frack. What a FUBAR situation,” the human said. “Lead on,” he said gruffly.

  “Right,” the dog said indicating they should get out of the way of a patrolling LAV. The vehicle flew by them. Gurney opened his mouth to commandeer it but then thought better of it when he saw the rather dyspeptic expression on the Neogorilla driver's face.

  “Okay,” he sighed heavily.

  <)>^<)>/

  Captain Falco waited impatiently in the tower for the expected engineers to arrive. He saw them walking across the tarmac and grimaced impatiently. Apparently, the Marine he'd sent off couldn't get them ground transport. He shook his head as the wind picked up. He spat a bug out. “Remind me to put windows on the list,” he muttered.

  “If we're going to be here long, yes, sir,” a Marine who had been pressed into air traffic control said. All of the windows had been blown out or so badly shattered they'd been removed. The building technically needed to be torn down and rebuilt from scratch. It was four stories tall but mostly made out of wood—rather old dried-out wood.

  The spaceport was considered secure so they were finally landing shuttles, drones, and gunships on it. But everyone was wary of more attacks. The aircraft had to
land on a short landing area and part of the taxiway. Most had to do so using VTOL engines, which consumed a great deal of fuel. Item one on his list was to get the runways repaired so the fuel situation would drop.

  It would also allow the aircraft to come and go from the runways. For the moment, they were lifting off perilously close to the buildings. That tended to be a nerve-wracking situation for all involved, especially if the aircraft was fully loaded.

  The civilian engineers had been allowed in to assess the damage and lend their skills to the repairs since all of the Marine and Navy engineers were on other tasks. He could see some of the civilians tut tutting over the fallen Skywhale as well as the destroyed hangar.

  Heavy footfalls announced their presence on the stairs a few minutes later. He turned expectantly and nodded as the Marine Neodog stepped aside to let his charges past. “Sir, Mister Hernandez and party,” the Marine reported.

  “Very good. That'll be … no, crap, I'll need you to guide them to quarters. Hang back, Corporal,” the captain said. The Neodog flicked his ears and nodded once before he withdrew.

  “I'm Gurney Hernandez,” the guy in the lead said. He had apparently left his gear at the base of the stairs. Smart of him, the captain thought. “Are you Captain Falco?” he asked. “I thought you were in charge of the air cav?”

  “I am,” the captain replied. “But I was given control of the spaceport as senior officer on duty for my sins,” the captain said as a few of the engineers spread out to look around the room and take notes. He watched them for a moment then turned back to Hernandez. “Sorry,” he said when he noted the other man had a hand extended. He took it and shook it once.

  “Okay, so you want us to fix what needs fixing, Captain? Just us? We need our equipment, and well, we're supposed to be helping the natives,” the engineer said.

  “Which you will be doing by making certain this spaceport is functional again. Eventually, we'll turn it over to civilian control to help their economy,” the captain replied patiently. It was clear he didn't suffer fools though. He also didn't seem happy at being tied down as base commander. “I asked for help from the colonel. The colonel promised some of her HQ personnel to help take over some of the duties. They are en route now. But she suggested you to jump-start things.”

  “And here we are,” Mister Hernandez said with a nod. “Well, it is good to get off that ship. And I suppose stretching my legs is considered a good thing.”

  “We're a bit tight on ground transport. More is on the way,” the captain said. “Including some of your vehicles.”

  “They can't get here fast enough,” a Neochimp engineer said from where he was standing next to a map of the spaceport. He was taking images of it with his tablet and then building a map.

  “We've got a map already. I'll upload it to you,” the captain offered.

  “Thanks. I'll marry it to my own,” the Neochimp said absently as he worked.

  “Okay, so, we need to get the runway fixed. That's priority one,” the captain said turning back to point to the cratered runway. “I know you'll want time for engineering tests and such, but we can't do that now. We need a fast and dirty fix that will stand up for a couple of weeks until we've got more time to fix it properly. Can do?”

  His question was more of a demand than a question.

  Gurney took a moment to look at the runway. “What about the downed bird and the hangar?”

  “Leave it, might be booby-trapped. Keep clear of the area,” Captain Falco ordered. “Our ordinance people will check it when they have the time.”

  “No, it isn't booby-trapped. The impact alone would have set them off,” Mister Hernandez argued. A few of his people nodded in agreement.

  “I don't care. Focus on the runway,” Captain Falco said. “We need the operations of this base up and running.”

  “They did a good job on it,” the Neochimp observed dryly. “This is going to be a bitch to fix,” he said.

  “Damn straight it is. We'll need dozers and a lot more soil. Compacting it is going to be a pain,” another engineer said thoughtfully. “Then the layers … is there a gravel pit and sand nearby? What about the tarmac itself?” A Veraxin engineer asked.

  “They didn't do that, the Navy did. Now we've got you to fix it,” Captain Falco said.

  “Joy,” the Veraxin engineer muttered. “What about security? The fence there is gone,” she said.

  “Let the security people worry about that. You do your job; they'll do their job. Try to keep out of each other's way,” the captain said dismissively. “We need to get air OPS up and running now so we can secure this continent and provide on-call fire support as needed.”

  “But …” Mister Hernandez indicated the wreckage. The shuttle had taken out the runway overflow, trench, perimeter fences, and a good swatch of the town nearby. The fires were out, and the natives were busy doing what they could to repair their living spaces after their fire brigade and the Marines had gotten anyone trapped or injured out and up to the hospital ship. Some were even scavenging the shuttle for parts.

  “Again, I said it's not our problem. Focus on that,” Captain Falco said, physically grabbing the engineer by the shoulders and turning him to the runway. He pointed at it. “One thing at a time. When you get that sorted out, then the hangars so we can get our birds under cover. Then the equipment, then the perimeter,” he said. “That's an order.”

  “Okay, you're the boss,” Mister Hernandez muttered. He glanced at his people. “You heard the man. When do we get our gear?” he asked, turning to the captain. “We'll need a place to sleep and eat too.”

  “We've got a temporary billet for you. And you can eat in the mess now that it is set up. Your gear is coming down in the next shuttle load after this one. Do what you can with what you've got now.”

  “Survey is all we can do.”

  “Do what you can. I understand the dozers and other equipment are a pain in the ass to load without a runway,” the captain said.

  “Oh, yeah, the dozers are a pig to land,” the Neochimp agreed.

  “You are getting one until we get this sorted out. That's the best I can do,” the captain said.

  “One? That's it? How are we … just compacting with a dozer is out …,” the Neochimp shook his head, clearly vexed.

  “Work the problem; don't be the problem. Git,” the captain said.

  “Right,” Mister Hernandez said. He did a survey out the broken windows, then silently urged his people to get moving.

  The captain watched them go, then transmitted fresh orders to the corporal to have their gear dropped off in a barracks. They might have to hot bunk until more space was set up. Not his problem he thought.

  He tucked his hands behind his back, and he contemplated the future. The plan was to use the spaceport as a staging base for the surrounding area. With it they would secure the high ground for thousands of kilometers around the spaceport and provide on-call fire support within minutes to any unit in the vicinity. They would also be able to ferry down troops, equipment, and material and transfer them to other locations as needed.

  There was a warehouse district nearby, plus a small village near the river on the other side of the spaceport. He hoped no one was going to order him to send his people to secure it; his people were spread out thin enough as it was.

  <)>^<)>/

  Colonel Harley's radio section managed to finally get in touch with the local militia groups. Their talks with them allowed them to use them as references to springboard into discussions with groups further afield like Harambe and the mountain guerillas near Fallbrook.

  Each area was scanned by the Marines on General Murtough as well as the controllers on the ground. The Marines in the area used their communications equipment to relay the colonel's discussions to the locals in that area and their transmissions back so a stronger transmitter wasn't required.

  Of course part of that process had been over open air waves, so those who could listen in had done so. They'd also discus
sed the Marines on other channels or sent runners out between groups for more direct means of communication.

  Bordou had managed to convince Harambe to at least listen to the woman. Harambe had expected speeches but he didn't want them to get his location, nor did he want to be bored to tears while the other woman talked. So, right off the bat, he opened the discussion with a flat blunt denial. “We won't lay down our weapons.”

  Colonel Harley nodded. “Fair enough. And we're not asking you to do so. We're asking you to help us find the Horathians and those who shelter them and dig them out. We've asked the same of militias on Protodon and Hidoshi's World.”

  The gorilla looked at the others. They nodded. “That we can do,” he growled.

  “Remember, the enemy of my enemy. We are not your enemy. We're here to help. We can provide some support, intelligence, and materials. If you could do the same, we would appreciate it,” the colonel said.

  The silverback couldn't help but raise a shaggy eyebrow. “Such as?”

  “Okay, for an example, I was talking to Mister Debois in your area last week. Unfortunately, his transmission was located, and he was attacked. We sent a drone in after he was attacked. There were no survivors at the wagons. The raiders were gone. Did you see any survivors?”

  The Neogorilla rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He sat back and tapped his toes together. He glanced over to a few of his people. Chuck grimaced, but Freya nodded empathetically in confirmation. “Come to think of it, yes, there were some refugees reported.” Harambe checked his notes and then read off the tip's location and timing.

  “Thank you.”

  “I don't know if it was them or not. They were pretty raggedy,” the gorilla said. “So now what?”

  “We can let you know if you have raiders in the area. We've got limited coverage of your area. It will expand in time. If you see a raider and can't hit them, we might be able to do so for you.”

  “Understood,” Harambe growled. “And?” he drawled.