by Chris Hechtl
“It's progress of a sort,” Protector said loyally. “We now know some of their goals as you said.”
“Right. No silver bullet,” Fletcher replied. “On that note, I need to go.”
“Another wraith?” Mnemosyne asked.
“No, other duties,” Fletcher replied as he withdrew.
“I too need to attend to my duties,” Sprite said.
“As do I,” Protector said as the meeting broke up.
<)>^<)>/
Jethro got news in from Shanti, including fresh video files. The packet came in from a courier that had gone to Protodon and then transferred its cargo to the regular courier that made runs between Protodon and Antigua.
Red watched some of the videos with him. She had a fit of giggles when they watched Rah play with the kittens. She used a shoelace to get them going, chasing it, and then draped it over a tail. The kitten, it had to be Sabu, went in circles so fast trying to catch the thing that he ended up dizzy and down for the count. But he was smiling when he recovered.
“They are still on all fours?” Red asked.
“It might be because they were playing. Remember, we go back and forth too,” Jethro said.
“Ah, yeah, that's true,” Red murmured.
Sabu's aunt picked him up and then dangled the string in front of him. He batted at it and then grabbed the end in his mouth. “It's not for flossing silly,” Rah teased, playing tug of war with the little brat.
The screen panned to the right to show Lil White trying to feed one of the other kittens. The kitten was being a twerp about being hand-fed so she handed the little tyke the spoon and got splattered with the food for her troubles as the tyke flicked it around for her troubles.
Rah giggled as did Red. Jethro chuffed, ears erect.
“As you can see, we've got our hands full,” Shanti said.
“Definitely,” Lil White said sourly as she got a towel and cleaned herself off.
<)>^<)>/
Since Tungulria and some of the noncoms had stepped up to help out in the Cadre, Jethro was tasked by the major to check on the newly-formed RECON training center and boot camp on Antigua.
He was amused to run into a familiar face when he finally got around to checking the boot camp. “Good to see you here, Gunny,” Jethro said to the back of the NeoDoberman observing the boots as they exercised.
Schultz stiffened, turning an erect ear to the cat. After a moment, he turned to look at Jethro as if sizing him up. He snorted after a moment and went back to watching the boots. “Like a bad penny you tend to turn up in the damnedest of all places,” he growled. “Was this your idea?”
“Perish the thought, Gunny,” Jethro said with a shake of his head as he came alongside the Neodog. “So this is it? The best they can do for you?”
“I could ask you the same about you,” the gunny said with another brief sidelong look. “A warrant?”
“I didn't exactly have a choice. Quit dodging the question,” Jethro scolded mildly.
“Is that an order, sir?” the gunny asked with a brief ear flick and smile.
“Only if you make me. Come on, out with it,” Jethro growled.
“I'm here for a while and then I'm supposed to be attached to the Ptah mission as senior Marine noncom for my sins. That's what they told me at any rate. So, I get to oversee the detachments while also doing recruiting and field training. Joy. Boot without the benefit of a camp,” he said, indicating the obstacle course nearby.
“Damn,” Jethro said with a grimace. “Sucks to be you.”
“Be careful getting what you ask for I guess,” Schultz said with a shake of his head.
“Oh?”
“I'm getting the transfer I wanted and potentially to a combat zone given how the pirates have been using the sectors as their hunting grounds for centuries. But obviously someone has a perverse sense of humor. I'm being sent along but I'm supposed to recruit along the way. And I'm going to be working on the training centers here on Antigua while they set up the Sigma mission. Since Sigma isn't exactly a priority given the changing war front, I'm going to be sitting on my thumbs for a while,” he growled.
“According to what I was asked when I was told about this by Jersey, I might be tapped, but it will take a long damn time before I actually go, if ever. But most likely I'll be stuck setting everything up here on Antigua and then I'll be sent out on a goodwill tour recruiting and checking Marine detachments around this sector.”
“Sucks to be you,” Jethro said again with some sympathy. “Been there, done that.”
“Now I know how you feel.”
“Well, yeah. I have to be a moving target however,” Jethro replied with a shrug. He wanted to reply in kind, but he had no idea what his future plans were. Bast gave him a significant look on his HUD, then crossed her arms in front of her and event tapped one foot while thrashing her virtual tail. “I feel like I've stayed in place a bit too long here,” he said thoughtfully. The NeoDoberman eyed him and then slowly nodded.
“Good luck. Gods of space speed, Jethro,” the NeoDoberman said, extending a handpaw.
“You too, Gunny,” the Neocat replied as he took the hand and shook it.
<)>^<)>/
“So, now what?” Jersey asked. “I appreciate the help, but from what I've picked up it's not all good. Don't get me wrong, Pasha's a godsend—him and Lincoln both. And I have no complaints about Colonel Bear. But …”
“I know,” Admiral Irons replied. He'd opened the ball with a discussion with General Forth on how to handle the situation with the new personnel from Bek and Nuevo. “We need them. They don't have the training or combat experience obviously, but they've got years of institutional experience we can tap. Pity it's all political crap.”
"No plan survives contact with the enemy, sir; that's why they are called the enemy. They want to live and win just as badly as we do."
"I know that. I hate the idea of thinking of them as the enemy though. We shouldn't have to."
“I'm worried about if they think of us as the enemy.”
“True.”
“Sir, Colonel Harley is online,” a voice said.
“What now?” Jersey demanded.
“Put her on,” the admiral said.
After a moment, Colonel Harley came on line. He didn't have a head bust of her nor her voice in his files, so the computer read her text speech in a drone.
“Colonel, I was wondering what happened at the spaceport. Your report was brief. I'm guessing a hot wash. What do you know now that you didn't then?” Admiral Irons asked.
“We've had an investigation, sir. I forwarded the report several days ago. What do you want to know?”
“How the hell did they get through the perimeter?” Jersey demanded.
“We just figured that out. The answer is simple; they started there,” the colonel reported. “The bastards had buried their suits under a lead lining in our inner perimeter near the town. This was devilishly laid out in advance, sir."
"I see."
“We're still wondering if that crashed Skywhale was on purpose or just a convenient breach for them. Obviously Captain Falco's desire to overlook the defense of the spaceport can't be ignored.”
“He didn't make it though?” Admiral Irons asked. “I seem to recall seeing his name on the casualty lists.”
“No, sir. Brutus didn't make it either. We lost a lot of good Marines. Civilians too. They will be missed.”
“Agreed. What else can you tell us?”
“Well, they've been hitting us with raids of increasing severity. They've so far taken several of my squads out.”
“Raids?”
'They are in and out with powered armor. They lay in wait, then power up and hit the patrol hard and fast. They are in and out before we can vector air cover to support them. They pick the Marines clean. We traced some of the gear, but they tried to ambush us each time. We're using drones now to check them out, but they've shot down two of them. I'm not exactly flush with them anymore,
nor gunships. I lost over half in that spaceport raid,” Dana said.
“That sucks,” Jersey said.
“Understatement of the century, sir,” Dana replied. “I'm not sure my people are cut out to go toe to toe with these Death Heads, sir. They are good. My people are spread thin covering everywhere so they get to pick and choose where to hit. Obviously they scout in advance and hit our weakest link. They aren't standing up like they did elsewhere; this is an attritional strategy from the beginning, sir.”
“Damn. Can you backtrack them?”
“The good news is we can eliminate where they aren't. But they also set up their bases in hard-to-reach places. We still haven't found any. The satellites are building up an image library to run comparisons from, but that sort of database takes time to compile. At least that's what Lieutenant's Liu and Eros keep telling me.”
“And they are right. Digging them out is going to be a stone-cold bitch. Getting them to stand and fight is going to be rough too.”
“The good news is they don't have a lot of trained personnel left. We've picked up on that.”
“Any POWs? I haven't seen any reports.”
“No, sir. None of the actual Horathians. A few of their native auxiliaries, but they don't know jack.”
“Damn.”
“Yes, sir. We've ID'd the major players involved. We've got wanted posters printing up. We're also working on other things. But with half my air support cut, I'm going to have to pull in the patrols soon and scale back my efforts.”
“Concentrate on one place with enough forces and scour it, then move on, Dana?” Jersey asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good call.”
'Thank you, sir. Sirs, I need to go.”
“One last, Colonel. Any luck on finding a native to take charge?”
“Yes, sir. Debois turned up. There was a lot of breakage involved. He's grieving as he recovers, but we've got him on the Colonel Harper and we've even got a lead on his family. We'll pick them up and tuck them away somewhere safe soon enough.”
“Good to hear.”
“Thank you, sir. Destria out,” the colonel said.
“Well,” Jersey said.
“Well indeed. That lady has her hands full. We'll need to send her some additional support.”
“Yes, sir. I'll look into it. Colonel 1010111 has requested we send some of his forces to Hidoshi's World and Destria. I'm all for it now. If we can hand off Hidoshi's World, that would give Dana back one of her companies.”
“But turning the planet over to greenhorns isn't exactly thrilling to me,” the admiral said. “But if you think they can hack the job …”
“I think Pasha thinks so. Whether they can or not remains to be decided, sir.”
“True. Baptism of fire I guess.”
“Yes, sir. Sometimes the only way to learn is the hard way.”
“Also true. So, back to our previous discussion point. The colonel's recent interruption seems to have put an added emphasis on it.”
“Yes, sir. They have some of the training. Admin duty at the least. I am evaluating each on a case-by-case basis. I'm glad Commodore Logan sent the Marine middies. We can train them up right here without the bullshit they were apparently going through in Bek.”
“Yeah, that's something else there. And I'm not getting much out of Yorgi. I need to sit him down and have another heart-to-heart and take as long as it takes, damn it,” the admiral vowed.
“You're call, sir.”
“That's right, it is. I think Horatio's in the deep end.”
“With sharks. The political kind who don't mind or care who he is. They just want a bite.”
“Yeah, I don't like that thought either. But you can use the personnel?”
“Yes, sir. We'll find a way to use them one way or another.”
“Okay. Thanks for that. I've got to go.”
“Thank you, sir. Angosta out.”
“Antigua out.”
<)>^<)>/
Jethro checked out the Phase III candidates as they began to firm up. Two of them were from the Army, but they weren't from the Army's powered combat armor known as the Raiders. Either they had been passed over due to lack of skills or there hadn't been a seat at the table and someone had stuck them with Cadre. He wanted to know why so he tagged the entries and flashed out a request outlining his concerns.
He definitely didn't like the idea of Cadre getting the dregs of another service. They were the elite, that didn't make sense.
Lieutenant Fletcher came back with a quick highlight. Jethro checked it and then frowned thoughtfully. The A.I. had pointed out something he'd overlooked; both of the recruits had “the blood.” One was as close to a full blood as he was according to the entry. That started to make sense, but both were fresh out of boot. They were E-1 privates and just getting on their feet.
He tapped out an inquiry to Nohar and then shot it off into the net. He wasn't certain if it would have high enough priority to be sent immediately through the ansible. Probably not given the powers that be were still processing reports from Caroline's latest trip.
Later that afternoon he got something of a dog and pony show in the way of a recruiting film about the Army. He watched it absently, noting Nohar was in it in the background. It focused on the training of course; there wasn't a media crew following the grunts on the ground on Protodon at the moment, though someone had put in a few pieces from that.
Apparently the brass wanted it all fresh, they didn't use any canned footage from before the Xeno war. That was good he thought. Fresh and well, not quite honest, but okay. He did object to the line about the Army being the first on the ground and the best. They may think that but he knew better.
His mind noted on the second playing of the film that most of the training was open or urban. They were trained to hold the ground and to deal with an insurgency he thought with a nod. “That makes sense,” he murmured. Bast flicked her ears at him.
They looked impressive to the uninitiated; he knew better though. They had far less training than the Marines. For instance, they weren't trained for EVA, space, or boardings, nor were they trained for ship duty or damage control. They did have some MP trained groups and a small unit of powered armor and mention of a drop commando unit, which was his primary focus. There wasn't any footage of either of them in action though.
According to what he'd heard, the Army grunts also had a pretty good sniper team. The core had a few good personnel; he should know since he had been one of the people who had trained them.
They had medics, and the pitch about using the Army to get a college degree and jump-start a career in medicine or administration was slick he had to admit. Both of those fields transitioned well to civilian life as did the lawyers that they left unsaid.
They were also trained for parachuting into an area, infiltrating by other means, and the use of artillery and explosive disposal or usage engineering. There was a small group of combat engineers that were supposedly good at fixing infrastructure. He nodded. “That would help with rebuilding places and getting in good with the locals,” he murmured. Bast nodded.
The more he thought about it, the more the last three entries were impressive to him. They didn't have artillery in the Marines. And explosive handling was primarily an engineer thing. Marines were taught to handle some explosives but mainly grenades and breaching charges. If it was a trap like an IED, the best advice was to blow it in place, don't frack with it. Blow it or mark it and go around.
The Marines didn't have much regular combat engineers either. Most were specialists in narrow fields like the armorers and suit mechanics.
“They still have a lot to prove before they think they can hang with us,” Jethro concluded as he shut the recording off. Bast nodded.
<)>^<)>/
Jethro didn't have a lot of free time now that Phase II was off and running, but he did find a bit of time to have beers with the other F Platoon graduates and Gunny Schultz one long holiday weeken
d.
Over beers they swapped funny stories about training recruits. Tungulria told the best one, a true story of a recruit who had a giant bug that had crawled on him on the firing range.
“He was lying there blubbering like a baby. He couldn't pop up and brush it off since it was a live fire exercise. Can you imagine it?” Tungulria asked, wiggling his fingers as if they were the legs of a creepy crawly. “Something like this walking up and down your body? On your back? Tickling your butt?” he asked, teasing Pamplona who swatted him away.
“And then?”
“And then the damn thing walked down his leg and tried to get into his bloused trousers. The kid had tucked them into his boots tight. He laid there but then it turned around and started back up. When it got to his head, he shook it off screaming bloody murder. Needless to say he failed that exercise,” Tungulria said with a shake of his head as he took a pull of beer. “I think he would have gone Section 8 if the thing had managed to get on his face and tried to get in his nose or mouth or ears,” the wolf said just as Shiku stealthfully put his finger up to Pamplona's ear.
The touch made her startle, setting off the group into belly laughs.
<)>^<)>/
The following week Jethro had his own funny bug incident while observing the boots. He was talking with the DI when a Neomutt recruit in line had a bee go into his ear. He kept shaking his head and twitching his ears, then fought the urge to move and scratch.
Since the boots were supposed to stand at attention, the motion attracted the eye of the DIs. The Neodog grimaced, then barked out. “Drill Instructor. This recruit has a question, Drill Instructor.”
“Did I give you permission to speak, Recruit Chucklehead?”
“No, Drill Instructor. Problem, Drill Instructor.” It was evident that there was a problem with the Neodog's ear because he tilted his head and kept trying to stop himself from scratching with his leg.
“A problem, Recruit? Did I give you permission to have a problem?” Sergeant Rezlo demanded, eying the recruit severely.
“Recruit Chaple has a bee in his ear, Drill Instructor!” the recruit barked out as his instincts took over and he started to kick his back leg uncontrollably in an urge to scratch the ear. He fought to keep upright but it wasn't easy. “Damn it, I can't …”