by Chris Hechtl
“Well hell, Recruit Chucklehead just swat the damn thing!” Sergeant Rezlo snarled.
“It's in my ear, Drill Instructor!” the recruit said, breaking composure to shake his head angrily.
The DI grabbed his head and tilted it up so he could see by the light of the sun. What he saw made him snort; he saw the rear end of the thing trying to burrow its way deeper into the ear. He tried to use his fingertips to grab it, but it went deeper. Finally, he gave up and let go of the recruit's ear. “Go to the corpsman. Forceps will get it out.”
“Yes, Drill Instructor!” Recruit Chaple replied as he scratched at his ear. He snapped his thighs smartly together, stomped his boots, and then took off at a trot. After a moment, his movements became something more like a drunken stumble as he slapped at his ear and tilted his head to try to get the bug out.
“Move, mister, or I'll put a bug up your ass! Or better yet my boot!” Sergeant Rezlo snarled. The recruit grabbed his ear and tugged on it but picked up the pace as he headed to the corpsman.
Sergeant Rezlo purse his lips, then shook his head as Jethro turned away and chuffed softly out of sight of the recruits.
Chapter 49
Warrant Officer Jethro McClintock watched the news and shook his head. He looked over to his adopted daughter. Lil Red flicked her ears at him. He sniffed, flicking his own as well. Life was just getting more and more complicated for him he realized. And he needed to do something about Red. He'd taken her on as a daughter. She'd flat-out refused to go to Kathy's World. His half-hearted attempt to get some leave to escort her there had failed utterly.
At least with the ansible, he could correspond with Shanti regularly. The kittens were growing well, and Rah had finished her criminal justice training and was a full-time ranger. Shanti was a bit distant; he knew she wasn't happy about taking Red on or his occupation. He couldn't help being who he was.
Red was a different story though. The shoe was on the other foot; he was dealing with a half-feral, willful child instead of being that same child. She was starting to enter puberty. Her pelt had changed from an orange-red to a blond. She had no interest in a military career, nor any career other than living on the street or sitting on her butt complaining she was bored all the time. He'd gotten her into school; at least, he'd gotten her that far. She still stayed with him in base housing; though he'd had to … gently dissuade her more amorous intentions. It felt weird having to lock his own bedroom door at night.
Had he been that way? He hoped not; the embarrassment alone would be too much. Fortunately, not many adults were still around to tell him. He'd never known about his aunt growing up so she was out.
Trust Hurranna to know though.
So, an adopted pubescent daughter infatuated with him, a distant long, long distant relationship with his mate and biological children, and his duty with the Cadre. What a mix he thought shaking his head as he gently disengaged Red's twining tail and fended off her hands. When she turned her attention to boys … he shook his head.
"Things are looking up," Red trilled softly. He nodded. "I'm going to go lounge on the roof and watch the party. Want to …," he shook his head. Her ears went flat briefly. "Suit yourself," she said with a sniff as she took off with a bump and grind.
Celebrations, parties … everything was back to normal it seemed, even though they hadn't gotten the knockout the Navy and everyone had wanted. But at least things were on the up and up, he noted, looking again to images on the screen. No more doom and gloom, people were celebrating all over the Federation. Good. He knew it wasn't over, far from it, but at least they weren't huddling in fear anymore.
<)>^<)>/
Tungulria nodded as he scanned the latest report. He was still on the fence about accepting a warrant. At the time, he didn't have the time to train for it. He'd taken up a lot of slack for Jethro, not that he didn't mind it. He was coming to enjoy training the Cadre. And when he wasn't busy training them, he was off running the new RECON recruits ragged. He'd picked up on a couple who might be Cadre material with a bit more seasoning and time under their belt.
His biggest problem was his being designated as Squad 3's leader. He had the ability, but he was starting to feel like he had too much on his plate. He knew Jethro was feeling the same about his own plate.
They needed more Indians. More privates and such to fill in the lower ranks, but there was a catch-22 with that. The more Indians they had the more that they needed chiefs to oversee them … and chiefs were in short supply. Hell, a couple Cadre officers would be nice. He knew some of his people could handle a squad on their own. Everyone who'd made sergeant obviously. A few resented leading fire teams or playing second fiddle he knew. That was tough for them. They vented over the occasional beer session. Fine, vent, get over it, and then get back to work the next morning.
“Fun, fun, fun in the sun,” Letanga said as he came up behind him. “We going to do this?” he asked, eying the wolf.
“Do you have a problem with your part?” Tungulria asked.
Letanga shook his head and flicked his ears. This would be the first time he'd played the hider in an intro to camouflage and RECON classroom. It had become something of a tradition that Jethro had started. It certainly made an impression. He was pretty sure having a Cadre member doing it was a bit like cheating though; they had no scent and had the cloak.
Of course, it was good practice for them. And there was that old saying about cheating he thought with a brief wry ear flick.
“What?” Tungulria asked.
“Nothing,” Letanga said.
“Okay,” Tungulria said with a nod. “Get set up,” he said, indicating the classroom. “I usually find a nice out-of-the-way place to hide.”
“Roger that,” Letanga said as he went into the room. His fail flicked and then disappeared behind him. Using the cloak for such a length of time would be a test for him as well, him and Satet.
“And don't get too cute about how long you are in cloak. Make sure you've got the endurance,” Tungulria warned in a text as he heard the sounds of the first of his students down the hall.
“I've been working on my stamina,” Letanga replied.
“Go to EMCON,” Tungulria ordered as he nodded to the first group of students as they rounded the corner. “Intro to snipers and RECON?” he asked. The group nodded. “Go in,” he said with a nod.
At least they'd found their way to the classroom he thought. Maybe he should introduce a new tradition? Make finding the classroom an exercise all in itself? He flicked his ears and fought a smile at that thought. It might be educational he thought.
<)>^<)>/
Jethro got another ansible email conversation with Shanti. It was brief, just a canned transmission, not a live conversation, but it felt good. Rah had gotten a new camera and had tried to take still images of the family. Unfortunately, she'd selected a poor choice for the compression ratio. She'd compressed the files twice so all he could see were grainy, tiny images of the kittens, Lil White, Shanti, and the others at a birthday.
Bast tried her best to improve them, but there was not enough data in the pixels for her to work with.
The email text was a different story. It was short, but sweet. He dearly missed the kitten's first birthday. It haunted him as did her email. She didn't pull any punches about his missing it. That sucked. He had just shook his head when she told him Lil White was dating a Neocat. It sounded serious, but there wasn't much in the way of details for him or Red to pick apart.
He'd been amused that she'd teased him about being left for another woman. He sensed her resentment even though she had Lil White in her care. He did his best to explain the situation and defang it in his response. He ran into a word count block so he had to par it down to text speech and simple emojis.
When he was done, he returned his attention to the other female complicating his life.
Lil Red was coasting; he knew it. She was getting along in school, her social skills had improved, but she was still something o
f a wild child and loner half the time. She sometimes tried to make friends but tended to be too rough with them. She was disinterested in a military or civilian career. At five years old, she was the equivalent of a teenager in human years. It seemed all she wanted to do was play, sleep, eat, and party.
Recently she'd taken to going out when he worked late or worked for an entire weekend. He'd found out about it from her posts on social media. She seemed like a hyper party girl. She'd also picked up some of her old bad habits like being a magpie. He'd caught on to her mild thievery and forced her to return her ill-gotten gains. He'd also grounded her for a week.
She'd sulked for days, which had been the quietest he'd had for a week. He sometimes treasured those memories he thought with a snort. It hadn't lasted of course; being perpetually petulant wasn't in her style. She had become something of an apologetic and affectionate pest to him until he gave in and forgave her. When she chafed under his being the parent, he tried to treat her more like a little sister.
She hit on him constantly with mild, sexually-charged innuendo. Most of it was just teasing; some of it might not even be conscious he knew. A few times he'd had to fend her off. She was starting to hit the last parts of her puberty cycle according to her pediatrician. Her mood swings were tampered down by the reproductive implant she'd received. It took a bit of fine tuning though to get the hormone levels right.
But the occasional whining and sulks hadn't stopped. He'd been reliably informed that was typical for a teenage female. “What cannot be cured must be endured,” he muttered as he looked over to her. She was sound asleep on the back of the chair. He snorted and went back to watching the news.
<)>^<)>/
There was a downside with the Phase II and Phase III candidate screening; word started to get around that there was a new powered armor unit in the works Major Lyon thought as he shook his head. Which meant he was starting to field inquiries from various commanders interested in them either out of a perverse need for information … or to use them.
He'd come up with a system to get them to back off, usually by deflection. If that didn't work, a stern warning about need to know and that they were straying into matters that were not their concern sometimes did the trick.
It didn't always help though. A few senior officers had been briefed about their existence. General Forth was a given but apparently all of the flag officers knew as did all of the colonels. There was something of a bidding war going on behind their backs. Captain Sprite told them about it when it started to get a bit out of hand.
“I'm not sure if I should feel alarmed or flattered,” Major Lyon said with a shake of his head.
“Oh, flattered, definitely flattered,” Captain Sprite replied with a smile. “Right now, the admiral is taking a page from you and deflecting the requests with the simple statement that you aren't ready yet.”
“Thank you. I think we can deploy a small unit, but unfortunately, I'm just about chained to this desk,” the major said dryly.
“Which would mean field command would fall on you, Warrant,” the A.I. said, turning to Jethro.
Jethro blinked, ears back. “You don't seem too enthused by the idea.”
The major turned to look at Jethro. He cocked his head and one eyebrow. “Don't tell me you don't think you are up for it. You've been handling the base admin plus training,” he said.
“I've delegated much of the base admin and training to the A.I., other noncoms, and to Tungulria,” Jethro replied. “It's one thing to lead a squad in combat. Acting as an officer and leading a unit in combat and interfacing with officers is a bit beyond my comfort zone, sir, ma'am,” he said.
“I know, I know. You are a natural operator through and through,” Major Lyon said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I get it. Unfortunately, for the time being, you are it. We haven't found a single qualified officer to take on the job. Those we've been tempted to poach are waist deep in their own commands and would create havoc where we least need it.”
“Understood,” Jethro said.
“It's not your only problem though,” the major said perceptively. Jethro grimaced but nodded. “Your family.”
“I can't just walk out on them and especially Lil Red. I did it once before,” Jethro said.
“That's something soldiers and their families have been dealing with for eons,” Major Lyon said sagely, “and will continue to do so. There is no easy answer unfortunately. None that I can think of. But we are going to need to find some sort of accommodation. Eventually, we are going to need to deploy you.”
“And you can't stay on Antigua forever,” Captain Sprite said. “Eventually the Guild is going to come calling. We haven't caught their assets digging into your records or attempting to get on base, but it is only a matter of time before they do. Eventually, they will get someone in a position to compromise the Cadre program's security. That's not a good thing,” she reminded him.
Jethro wasn't the only one who grimaced about that. “With their being out in the open and even hunted, you'd think they'd wise up and leave him alone,” the major growled. “What's done is done. What got them ticked off at you anyway?” he asked, turning to Jethro.
“I'm not sure,” Jethro said cautiously.
“Well, it is another thing to be concerned about with your family,” the major said.
“According to the records I just accessed, the Guild is after him out of a violation of their Code Omerta. It's what it is labeled as in the file, but there are other tags as well.”
“That's …”
“It is a historical reference to the Mafia on Terra,” Sprite said, showing them text in a window she opened between her avatar's virtual hands. “The Mafia was a human criminal organization, one of several on the planet for centuries. The code is a series of bylaws they followed. One of them was that no one talks about the organization. No one is supposed to cooperate with authorities,” she stated.
“Which … I did,” Jethro said with a grimace. He closed his eyes and rubbed his muzzle as Bast purred softly to him. “I told a few people about my sire Jet. I remember that reporter lady, the red head who was with Admiral Irons. Plus, I told the gunny and a few ONI reps. Come to think of it, that woman on Anvil mentioned something about the mark,” she said.
“Yes, well, what is done is done. The smart move for them would be to back off, wait a few years or more, then pick up where they left off. It's not good for us since we'd lower our guard, but it seems to be their only move at this point,” Sprite said quickly, covering for Miss O'Neill.
“Come to think of it, I don't remember that reporter running anything I said in that interview,” Jethro said with a frown.
“She probably kept it as background material,” Sprite said. “Moving on. Currently, I believe Admiral Irons is considering a deployment, but he is trying to give you the time to build up your numbers to at least a platoon or half platoon.”
“Ask me for anything but time,” Major Lyon murmured.
“True,” Sprite said, nodding to him.
“You think Destria?” the major asked, cocking his head to look at her.
Sprite shrugged. “It's a likely target, though the recent activity on Protodon might change that.”
“I think the plan to slowly withdraw Second Division while Fourth blitzes the outback is a sound one,” Jethro said loyally. “It leaves Second to cover the towns and cities and leaves Colonel Kodiak the concentrated personnel to hit hard and fast. He's quartering the areas they are suspected to be in, correct?”
“Yes. He's made great strides. But Second Division is weary and is already half withdrawn. They are getting thin on coverage,” Sprite stated. “Fourth will have to rein in its offensive or cut it back eventually.”
“Damn,” Jethro murmured. “Knowing Valenko that's gotta suck. He's a hard charger; he believes the best defense is a good offense. What about the Army?”
“They've taken up some of the slack, which is why the offense has gone on as long as it has.
But it can't last forever,” Sprite said.
“Ah. Pity they can't send another platoon or a full company,” Major Lyon said. “It's downright silly to send us. We've only got so many warm bodies and it is a bit public,” he said.
“Which is why you'd take over the offense if the brass jumped in that direction. I put it at roughly 20 percent that you'll go there though. Right now, my credits are on Destria, though Commodore X'll'rr has been politicking hard to get at least a squad attached to her Eastern Front Command.”
“Yeah, I'm not feeling that,” Major Lyon drawled. He'd heard that the Eastern Front, Tau mission, Sigma mission, and Pi mission had turned into something of a political wrestling match. Everyone wanted a piece of the pie, and there was only so much to go around. And they were competing with defensive deployments plus Second Fleet. No wonder he had so much trouble getting his budget sorted out.
It was only going to get harder the closer they got to their deployment dates he knew. And there would always be someone else in the pipeline trying to garner additional support.
“I know. Neither is Admiral Irons or General Forth at the moment. I'll make sure they have your opinion on record. Do you have a favorite to blood your troops?”
“Destria,” the major said. “The Death's Head are mixing it up there. Taking them out has to be a priority. Getting them more air cover again is a priority too.”
“Agreed. Okay, I've noted your preference. I'll pass it on,” Sprite said with a nod.
“As much as it will help,” the major said dryly.
“You'd be surprised with Admiral Irons,” Sprite said. “I've got to go. If you need anything else, email me,” she said.
“Thank you, ma'am,” Jethro said with a nod.
“Good day, gentlemen,” Sprite said as her avatar disappeared with a shower of stars.
“Always a flare for the dramatic,” the major said as he turned to Jethro. “Now …”