by Chris Hechtl
“Great. I'll talk to Lieutenant Lavot. Alert the cat's security detail to be on alert.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And tell the cat to quit playing spook. It's not his job; it's ours. But I appreciate what he's doing.”
“Yes, sir.”
<(>~^~<(>
“Look, McClintock, it's not like we don't appreciate what you are doing, but did it ever occur to you that you could get killed sticking your neck out?” Lieutenant Teague asked Jethro after she called him into his office.
Jethro cocked his head but said nothing. She snorted. “Poison …”
“I'm immune now, ma'am.”
“Oh? News to me,” She said. “Did you ever think about another sniper? Or a bomb?”
“I can handle it, ma'am.”
She gave him a long look, a mix of pity and annoyance. “I know you have confidence in your abilities and your A.I., but that's pushing it, son. Don't get overconfident. I would hate to go to your funeral. Or to anyone else's funeral that had been around you when the bomb went off,” she said.
“Nothing happened.”
“Nothing yet,” she stressed, still eying him. “Commander Montgomery wants you on the first ship out of here. Unfortunately, we can't do that,” she grimaced.
“Ma'am?” Jethro asked, now confused. Someone could interfere with the lawful orders of the Navy?
“You heard me,” she sighed. “You were supposed to receive orders to go to Agnosta as a DI after the trial. But your recent exposures have accelerated our timetable.”
“Ma'am …”
She held up a restraining hand. “Save it,” she said. “Lieutenant Lavot is working on springing you. Until we do you're stuck here due to that subpoena. We'll deal with it even if we have to stick you in a stasis pod and hide you somewhere until the trial is over.”
Jethro's eyes flared wide and then he scowled, ears flat against his skull. He didn't like that idea, not at all. From the yowl of protest coming from Bast on his HUD she didn't either.
The trial of Governor Walker and his cronies had been drawn out due to motions from the defense. Everything was being questioned, and the prosecution was also in no hurry. They were being careful, cautious, and thorough in their attempt to nail the former Governor. Jethro appreciated their efforts in theory; he just wished they'd keep him the hell out of it.
For some reason he had been called to testify by the defense. The subpoena had been presented to him in the presence of several NCIS agents after it had been carefully screened. He seethed at it since he was stuck on notice and had to stay near the capital asteroid where the trial was taking place. The media had turned the entire proceedings into an ongoing circus. They gleefully put nightly updates on the news for everyone to hear about.
“We're pretty much between a rock and a hard place right now,” the blond lieutenant mused, looking at a picture nearby. She ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “Lieutenant Lavot petitioned the court to let you off the hook. The former Governor's defense team has insinuated that if you do not remain in the star system and available they will call for a mistrial motion. If you leave it may even be granted, and the bastard could wiggle off the hook,” she said.
“Damn,” Jethro breathed then he sighed.
“Yeah. So, you get to get interviewed by JAG again. Lucky you.”
“Yes, ma'am,” he replied fatalistically.
“They are waiting. Get it over with now.” He nodded grudgingly as she indicated the door. He came to attention and then left as she turned away to her desktop screen.
<(>~^~<(>
To his surprise the prosecution had sent an ADA, and the defense had also sent a representative. There was even a stenographer to take his statement. He had no information relevant to the case against the former Governor and staff. The prosecution's questions were strictly on the point and didn't give the defense a lot of wiggle room to go fishing. When he was finished he filled out a sworn affidavit to say what he had said and recorded was true.
The next day he heard that Judge Hershey as well as Chief Justice Farley had checked it out and signed off on Jethro's departure from the star system. “Safe sailing, son,” Judge Hershey had said in a note to Jethro.
Jethro's departure had been the signal for the defense to go on the attack. Before he'd even boarded they had tried to submit petitions to the court to force him to stay and to get their client off the hook. Judge Hersey squashed each of them. He brokered a deal behind closed doors to get Walker life without parole in exchange for taking the death penalty off the table. The news of the end of the trial made its way around the star system and to the collier Jethro was on.
“Glad that's over,” Jethro said, sighing in relief. With Walker's acceptance of a plea deal, he couldn't file an appeal in the future. He had to make a full confession in front of the court for the record, and then take his medicine. “Now, let's see what we've got for recruits,” he said, checking out the roster of Marine boots that were on board. There were just over two dozen recruits, twenty-nine in total he noted in approval. Most were Neos; apparently they'd been in the pipeline and had been held up for one reason or another. Two more had been on the lists to attend the next class but had apparently wriggled out of it when the Neo-Alien tax law had been repealed.
Several of the boots had reports attached to their files. Some were from recruiters, others from officers or enlisted who knew them and had recommended them. Four were from ROTC trainers, one was the college ROTC trainer, and two were from the same trainer at the Anvil high school. One of the recruits had glowing marks; the others were mediocre. “Well, it's a start,” he murmured, opening the first file and diving in. He had some homework to do before he started in on the recruits he thought.
Chapter 3
Jethro had two and a half weeks to train the boots while the ship traveled the four light years in the lower gamma bands to Agnosta. It was different than when he'd traveled to Agnosta before; the freighters were faster for one. Their hardware was running in tip top shape and their crews were also on top of their game.
He could and did concentrate on getting to know the recruits to help sort them out into fast and slow learners. He knew better than to peak them too early; they would only have to repeat everything in boot on Agnosta anyway. It could also be used against them; many a DI took the opportunity to be even more sadistic with troops who came in with a know-it-all attitude. He didn't want to sour them to the whole process.
And he had to admit, the ROTC graduates were good, he had to give them that. They were up on military protocol right off. Apparently there had been some issues with hazing, but he dealt with it early on.
They had parade movement and their uniforms squared away. At least four of the ROTC grads were slated for officer training; he could see it without the hints in their jackets.
All of the recruits had their basic ident implants. They also had the stage one implants thanks to the medics on Agnosta. They were fully medically cleared, so they could jump right in to the class once they got dirt side. That was a plus. It also meant he could push them with the PT and give them some tricks to help them survive boot easier.
There were also ten Marines on their way to Agnosta for reassignment on the ship. They tended to treat Jethro and the boots with a professional air. A judicious look into their IFF and jackets allowed Bast to silently point out two of them as recently demoted personnel. One of the Marines, a newly demoted Lance Corporal Mike Lejoice had a grudge against Valenko and was heard to mutter darkly about the bear in the mess. Jethro took an interest and put in an appearance in the corner of the room when Mike and his buddy Wednesday arrived. The Neopanther willed himself as quiet as possible as he ate. He forced himself to not rise in defense of his friend as he heard them griping nearby. He did make a note of the chatter however.
Apparently, Lejoice had screwed up in his watch rotation and paperwork. He'd mishandled a couple of problems, swept a gambling problem under the rug, and covered for two Marin
es who had been caught sleeping or screwing around on duty. He'd lied on the record and got caught, which was his biggest mistake.
There was something to be said about bonding with your mates, for covering a little for the guy who shared the trench with you. But a noncom wasn't supposed to be a friend; he was supposed to be a leader. Someone to set the example, to keep the troops in line and keep them from screwing up and developing bad habits. The demotion was for the lie. The transfer was to get him away from his troops and to new pastures that would challenge him. He needed retraining obviously.
In removing him from the environment, it would also allow a new harder noncom to step in and clean up the mess. The troops would soon come to realize that Lejoice hadn't been doing them any favors allowing them to slack off and get into trouble. Hopefully, everyone would learn something from the experience.
He was torn on what to do about the griping however; from the sound of it, Lejoice was pretty ticked. On the one hand, he should report it; it could fester and be a problem later. But he also knew people needed to blow off steam, to vent their anger at seeming injustice in their universe. Reporting it would make the Marine slip “down the ladder rung by rung” as Gunny Schultz would say.
Some Marines had to learn the hard way. He'd heard that a few units had started bringing back the honor code, hazing, and other forms of discipline. Blanket parties in the barracks. He wrinkled his nose at that. Sometimes it took a beating to get it through some jarhead's thick head he reminded himself. Or punishment detail. But sometimes other methods worked better than the stick and heavy hand he reminded himself.
Perhaps a quiet off-the-books counseling session was in order? But if he put something together and tagged it to the noncom who was going to get the Marine, it could prejudice the noncom even further against the Marine. Obviously, the bear had thought there was something worth salvaging in the Marine. He had performed the discipline in-house and had actively shielded the Marine from a formal court martial or less than honorable discharge.
“You're lucky, Mike, you know that right? That bear could have torn you apart,” the human marine next to his partner said, slapping him on the shoulder as he rose to his feet.
“He'd be up on charges you know that,” the Marine grumbled, rising to his feet as well.
“Yeah, and so? You didn't take a swing at him as much as you've been griping that you wished you had. You knew better. So you lost a stripe? You screwed up man, own up to it and move on.”
“Yeah, well, it sucks,” Mike grumbled, looking around sourly. He saw Jethro and flinched then looked away.
“Life sucks. Get over it. No one said it had to be fair. Murphy has to stick his nose into everything.”
“Yeah well, I wish he'd stay the hell away from me and my career for a while. I've had my dose thank you. And then some.”
Perhaps he wouldn't need to step in after all Jethro thought as he left the mess.
<(>~^~<(>
Ten days into the journey Jethro was called to the mess. A fight had broken out on ship between a couple of the civilian contractors, one of the recruits, and two of the enlisted crew. It had escalated when some of the Marines had tried to intervene to get the brawl under control.
One of the other recruits, a Neocat had entered the fray in defense of his classmate. When his tail had been injured, he'd yowled so loudly it had momentarily disrupted the fight. But his bite on the miscreant afterward had put it all back in motion again until large beefy cargo handlers and the Marines could wade in to separate the group.
The captain and XO had to deal with sorting out the mess, as did Jethro as the senior noncom on the ship. Untangling the mess and various stories had been easier than expected. To the hot heads dismay, Jethro had Bast tap the recordings of the recruit and Marines who had entered the fray. Their own eyes and ears were used against those who had thrown the first punch as well as those who kept the fight going beyond sense or reason.
The captain landed on the miscreants with brig time, short rations, and a slap at their liberty time. There were penalties for the staff involved as well; most of them were fines for the damages. Jethro landed on the recruits involved as well.
“I don't give a damn if you didn't throw the first punch. It's good that you stood up for yourself, but now you've got to take your medicine,” Jethro said to the recruits. “You fracked up, now you get to take the consequences,” he growled.
“Yes, sir,” the girl said, wincing. She had a cut lip and black eye. Jethro eyed her with scant favor. He hated to be called sir, even by recruits and boots. He had an image to hold up. But he had to remind himself that she was still a larva.
“You obviously can't keep yourself out of trouble so I'll have to load up your schedule so you'll learn to do so. So, double PT, KP, and any other shitty dirty ass job I can think of.”
The girl scowled but didn't look away from the bulkhead she was staring at. She knew better than to open her mouth and protest.
“I expect laps in the morning before breakfast. You can do your run now. This one will be a fun run, get used to it. I've been soft on you, apparently that was a mistake. One I plan to rectify,” he growled. He turned to Lance Corporal Lejoice. “The Lance Corporal is going to oversee your punishment,” he said, making the human blink in surprise. Lejoice scowled slightly. He hated to run but also knew better than to argue with the seriously pissed cat.
“Get her to run until she throws up. Then she runs some more. She's to run until I say otherwise. Understood?” Jethro asked mildly.
“Yes, Gunnery Sergeant!” Lejoice said with a nod.
“Good. Change into your PT gear and get a move on the both of you.”
“Yes, Gunny!” Lejoice replied. He motioned for Amber to get moving. Jethro watched them with narrowed eyes as they moved out. That should keep the girl from ever getting her hooks into the corporal. Not that she would, but she had seemed attracted to him early on.
He turned a look on the other recruit. “I understand you didn't start the fight. You arrived in the middle of it and tried to extract Miss Ulster from her ill-advised adventure.” Jethro said, eying the other miscreant. Piotr Browncoat was a mixed race Neochimera. His father had come from the cat changeling clan while his mother had been a calico Neocat on Vesta. He was one of six of a litter, and the only one to survive to adulthood. His siblings had died in various “accidents” in the colony. There had been some mutterings about cats and curiosity, but Jethro didn't believe it. Even as kittens one developed a healthy respect for dangers and an eye to avoiding them when possible.
“You did your best to break up the fight. You did bite a crewman, and I understand the skipper isn't happy with you over that.”
“He stepped on my tail, sir,” the cat said, then flinched when he tried to flick it. The tail was hanging stiffly behind him, splinted near the tip until the quick heal could knit the broken bones back together.
“Yeah I know. I would have clawed him myself,” Jethro said, grinning slightly. The cat recruit seemed to relax slightly. He flicked his black ears at Jethro and kept them erect.
“You're going to join Miss Ulster on the KP, but I'll leave the PT out until you've healed. Since that will most likely be after we reach port, you're lucking out there. Though I might put a word in with your DI if you piss me off again.”
The cat's ears went flat as his eyes dilated comically. Jethro snorted mentally at the pious expression. “Oh don't give me that damn look,” the panther growled. “Go get into your PT gear. I'm giving Ulster and Lejoice two hours. You've got until then to get yourself squared away. That includes your regular chores. Don't dawdle.”
“No Gunny,” the recruit replied. He didn't like getting dirty, but KP was better than brig time. At least it was something to do. And he could always get cleaned up later. The tuber starch was a pain in the ass to get out of his fur though. And it made his paws taste like crap for days.
“Get on it then, boot,” Jethro said as a way of dismissal. The cat ca
me to attention and then moved out smartly.
<(>~^~<(>
Putting the two lance corporals to work helping him oversee the boots gave Jethro some unanticipated free time. He took that opportunity to train with Bast while also checking periodically on the other marines. Through watching Bast Jethro found out she could enhance his senses to the point where he could see nanite streams or go well beyond his previous limits in hearing and seeing.
Bast seemed curious to explore her limits. Jethro wondered briefly if she even had limits. She moved nanites out onto his clothes to explore; they seemed like snakes or tendrils poking about. Then she got the idea to make them a part of his cloak. She spread a thin web around his coffee cup as he went to drink it and it wavered. He nearly dropped it in surprise. She seemed pleased by both her effect and his reaction to her prank.
He could feel the heat and touch of the cup in his fingers but couldn't see it. It was disconcerting. He peered inside to see the surface of the liquid. After a moment it too disappeared. “Cool,” he murmured. A bit hard to drink though, don't you think?
Bast wiggled her whiskers at him. He could see her hand paws out as if she was cradling the cup. When he moved she yowled at him so he stopped. “You know, this would be easier if you talked. I take it you don't want me to move?” She shook her head. “Well, sucks to be you. This is hot you know,” he said, setting the cup down. He watched the nanites retreat from the cup and into his hand as his hand withdrew. It felt weird, and it bothered him slightly to feel her slow his reaction time to allow her to recover all of the nanites. The last one leapt like a flea from the cup's lip to his fingertip. He snorted at that.
“So, you're test worked,” he said, looking at the cup. “That's a fun party trick.” She snorted at him. “Can you do that with clothes?” He asked.