by Chris Hechtl
“Yes, sir,” Jethro said, still at attention.
“Get your damn suit and stuff and get off my ship,” the captain said, sounding pissed but torn about what was going to happen.
“Aye aye, sir,” Jethro said. He looked to the Intelligence officer. The officer nodded briefly so the cat about-faced and moved out smartly.
“I better not have to see him ever again,” Jethro heard as the door closed behind him. He winced at the captain's caustic tone.
“Sir, I'll advise you to refrain …,” the intelligence officer's statement was cut off by the door and Jethro rounding a corner.
<(>~^~<(>
Once his armor and gear were safely stowed groundside in the classified section of Recon Marine's storage warehouse, Jethro got himself cleaned up and then reported to the administration building. His shuttle had arrived in the late afternoon, so he'd skipped dinner in his and Bast's urgency in getting the armor squared away. Just getting the kit and kaboodle from the spaceport had been a chore. Apparently no one had thought to provide him with transport so he'd had to commandeer a truck for a ride.
He still wasn't certain why he had the rocket pack Ox had built. It didn't seem right to get rid of the thing or leave it behind. He knew that Bast had made some changes to it, but hadn't had the time to test it out. Hopefully he would sometime soon he thought. Hopefully others would have their own copies of the rocket pack as well.
He went through the check-in at the front desk and then moved to the bullpen to wait for an escort. It was stupid, but it was orders so he had to deal with it. The room was quaint, like a doctor's office waiting room he thought—tile floor, cheap one-size-fits-all furniture. It was an interior room so there weren't any windows to look out nor a screen to watch to distract him. Instead he pulled up a map of the base and had Bast compare it to the last time he was on the planet. He whistled softly at the changes.
The vehicle park had doubled in size as had the airfields. There were a dozen areas to train in now; some were heavily cratered by live fire. They had even opened up a second island in the chain for training purposes.
Buildings dotted the coastline. Some were marked; others only had number designations. He didn't care about them; most had something to do with water training or the SEALS. He turned his attention to Recon and the boot camp.
The boot camp had doubled in size. There were the neat rows of barracks as well as various buildings for training centers. It had its own ammo dump near the three firing ranges. The boot camp had its own medical building, administration … he frowned thoughtfully. Should he have reported there? He flipped open his email and checked his orders again carefully. Bast made a soft interrogating sound. He ignored it. “Central administration. Sorry, just checking,” he said. She flicked her ears then went back to looking around. He saw her playing with something in her hands. “What's that?” he asked, focusing on it.
She took the train of his thought and intent and held up the tangled ball of wires. He refocused on it and his eyes narrowed until he could see code coming in and out. He frowned and was going to ask what it was about until he saw the lines head off in a web briefly. “The base network? Don't fool with it. You could get us both in trouble Bast,” he warned. She nodded.
He went back to looking at the map but occasionally looked at her warningly. She just ignored his gaze. He shook his head. There were several sections, it took a moment before he realized they were battalion reservations. Each was broken down into companies and then further down into platoons. He nodded silently in appreciation.
He sat there quietly in the shadows until a young human private came in with a mop and bucket and sloppily got to work cleaning up a mess in the corner. The kid at least set up yellow hazard signs to let others know the floor was slippery, but his griping quickly got on the panther's nerves.
Bast didn't seem interested in listening to the private's grumbling either from the look of her sour expression and flattened ears. She hovered his IFF over his body. Arnold Royce, a private who had graduated two years ago from boot camp and hadn't moved up the chain of rank at all. Jethro shook his head. It was clear that the young man was aware of it and unhappy about his present job. “Why can't they have a bot do this? Why stick me with the damn job?” the young man grumbled, slopping the water about. When he hit Jethro's boot with the sloppy mop, Jethro growled softly.
“Oh, sorry, I didn't notice you um …”
His eyes traveled up the panther's leg as Jethro stood. When his eyes got to the Neo's head, he eeped, stepping back in surprise. “You seem to have a problem with KP,” Jethro growled.
“Sir …”
Jethro's ears flattened slightly. “And a problem with your mouth, Private Royce,” Jethro said as the private stiffened to attention. He had the mop tucked into his arm.
“Yes, sir! Sorry, sir. I tend to run my mouth before my brain gets involved. I'll try to curb it, sir!”
Jethro's eyes narrowed. He got in the Marine's personal space. “You see any officer's tabs on my uniform, Marine?” He snarled quietly and intensely, eyes fully slitted and angry.
“No, sir.”
“Then don't call me sir! I work for a living,” he snarled, eyes slitted, ears back, teeth bared.
The guy quivered, ready to run from the predator, but he somehow he knew better. He'd just die tired he thought as he gulped. Jethro could smell a trickle of sweat and urine from the human. “Yes, s … s …,” Jethro's nose twitched as if he'd smelled something bad. It was enough to bring back his training. “I mean, YES, GUNNERY SERGEANT!”
“Gunny works. Or Gunny McClintock,” Jethro said mildly, almost conversationally as he kept his eyes locked on the hapless private. He was glad the kid had finally taken note of the chevrons on his uniform.
“Yes, Gunny!”
“Good.” Jethro hated self-pity. It was obvious that the kid had some mental issues; otherwise, he wouldn't still be a buck private this long into his career. And doing KP? He noted that Bast was approving of his attitude and performance. She put the Marine's IFF and thumbnail record up. It was brief. From a glance he could see the guy had a problem. Several words practically leapt off the screen. Unsuited for shipboard assignment was one. Farm bred was another.
The kid wanted to be outside. He had a claustrophobic problem. He had repeatedly put in for the air wing, but he also had a heights problem too. The panther's nostril's dilated. The phobias were enough to keep the kid grounded. No wonder he was turning stale and snarky.
“FYI, you being indoors is a good thing. It's helping with your phobias, right?”
“I guess so.” Royce said, again sullen. Jethro's cool look made him look up and straighten.
“Loose the self-pity whine. You're a marine, start acting like it. You want something, work for it. Don't give up or give in, find what isn't working and damn it, fix it.”
That made the young man look up with interest. “Gunny?”
“I heard we're starting up the Army soon. If you can't hack it here, maybe they'll take you. You'll be outside at least.” From Bast's expression and nose twitch, he was pretty certain she was in agreement with him. He just wasn't certain it was his place to counsel the Marine to quit. He didn't like quitters either.
“S … I mean, Gunny. I want to fly, sir.” The young man scowled blackly.
“Have you tried?”
“Tried?” The young man spread his hands and nearly dropped the mop handle in the process. He recovered it then stood straight and angry. “They promised I could learn, but all they wanted was a warm body. I'm … my MOS was infantry. They said it could be changed, but then when I got here they said I'm stuck.”
Jethro flicked his ears. “They meant you would get the chance to try. Just that, a chance. You don't get a free pass, if you can't hack it you're not going to get it.”
“That's not what they said,” the young man insisted, voice rising in a near whine.
“Whoever told you that is full of crap. Let me tell you a story,”
the panther said, eying the Marine severely enough to make him gulp and get a lid on his emotions. He stepped back and tucked his hands behind his back. “I'm a graduate of F platoon,” Jethro said flatly. The kid's eyes widened comically. Shortly after their class had graduated, the powers that be had changed the names of the platoons to the more traditional Alpha, Baker, and so on. F platoon, however, was a legend. “We had Gunny Schultz as our DI. He was a real bastard, but he made certain we were squared away and could both fight and survive anything that the galaxy threw at us,” he growled.
“We were stuck though, little hardware and everything going to the squids. We got second-rate crap for a while. Even when my squad came to Agnosta during the first expedition,” he growled. Again the eyes widened. Apparently they had indeed become something of a legend. “I got what I wanted, but then, I always wanted Recon,” Jethro said with a slight grin. Again the startled look. The kid really needed to get a handle on his expressions Jethro thought with a detached corner of his mind. “But others like Hurranna and Deja wanted to fly like you. They were stuck slugging in with the rest of us though since there weren't any billets for them.”
Jethro looked away briefly. “And now they are flying since the admiral is back in charge. Both of them are in the Marine's first squadron on Kittyhawk. Deja is the squadron commander,” Jethro said, eyes going back to the private. “But there are only so many slots due to the small ship and lack of hardware, so only the best get in. So, you have to wait your turn behind people like them who have waited for their chance a lot longer than you have.”
He frowned slightly. “They waited, but they didn't sit on their hands doing it. Deja was already a pilot and a crack helmsman after his stint as a slave during his civilian days,” the panther explained. Again the private's eyes widened. “But he got as much sim time in as he could. He read every flight manual and studied hard. Hurranna eventually did the same.”
“Gunny … wow I mean …”
“Zip it. I'm not finished,” Jethro growled. The young man's trap closed with an audible clop. “Deja was a slave. He went through hell as a helmsman but when duty called for him to do it again, he did. He stuck it out and got us to Antigua in time to rescue the people there.” Again the kid blinked in astonishment. “It just goes to show you that if you want something, if you work hard at it, keep your nose to the grind stone and don't quit, you can move mountains. But you've got to prove yourself first, which means dealing with the shitty jobs like everyone else.”
The young man's eyes fell. He nodded slowly. “Yes, Gunny.”
“No one said you'd be handed what you want. Get over that crappy attitude. Take some classes, work on the phobias. Get counseling if that helps. See if you can take some flight training. Even sims might help. But don't neglect your day job in the process. Do the extra-curricular stuff on your own time. Get that and yourself squared away. They see you perform and see you not giving up on your dream and you may get your shot.” Jethro held up a finger. “Just a shot. You still have to do the hard work of actually passing the courses.”
The kid scowled. “I hate school.”
Jethro eyed him in disgust. What, did he think it was all a game? Shoot and never learn how to survive? How had he survived boot? “Then you're in for a world of hurt if you want to get anywhere other than infantry. It's all about learning kid. Flying is even more so. Constant schooling. Paperwork up the wazoo. Get used to it.”
The kid grimaced but then nodded dutifully.
“Look into what is needed to get you to where you want to go. Make up a list and start at the bottom and knock ‘em down one by one. Make friends with some of the pilots and ground crew, even the sim techs. They can give you pointers on how to get to where you want to go too.”
“Yes, Gunny. Thank you, Gunny.”
“Good. Get this room squared away. Now, Marine.”
“Yes, Gunny,” the Marine replied and went back to work.
Before Jethro could seat himself once more, a human cleared his throat. He turned to the open doorway to where a human male about two meters tall and broad as the doorway stood. “Yes … Sergeant?”
“Gunny, this way,” he said, nodding his head for the panther to follow. Jethro nodded.
“Good job by the way,” the human said over his shoulder.
“I take it you heard?”
“Of course,” the sergeant said, slowing his pace. “Sergeant Bok if you haven't noticed yet, Gunny.”
“I have your IFFs up,” Jethro admitted as the beefy sergeant slowed his pace even further.
“I give you full marks for the counseling session. It was good. I only caught the tail end though. You were pretty light on him.”
“Knocking him down wasn't going to get him anywhere but resentful. He's already been knocked down, and it hasn't sunken in.”
Bok rolled his eyes. “Tell me about it,” he growled as he shook his head in despair. “We’ve tried with that one. He's not willing to listen—thick headed.”
“You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink?” Jethro asked.
“Pretty much. Though I'd substitute a jackass for the horse. And I know from experience they are a pain in the ass to lead.”
“You just have to find the right incentive,” Jethro said as Bast dangled a carrot in front of his eyes. He snorted softly. “If response reward doesn't work, then you switch to other methods. A switch will hurry him along,” he said. The A.I. cat nodded and made a swishing motion. He snorted softly.
The noncom eyed him. “You sound experienced Gunny. We don't get that a lot. Everyone's been pushed up through the ranks so fast.”
“That's because I am. I was a DI.”
“Oh. Huh. Here?”
Jethro nodded as he eyed the human sergeant. “Yes, before we shipped out to Antigua.”
“Antigua … and you're back? I thought the Admiral was keeping everyone there? The star system had turned into a black hole or something.”
Jethro snorted. “It was before he returned. I was on Firefly.”
The noncom's eyes widened comically. “You were … and …” he looked at the gunny's fruit salad. His eyes finally picked out the various combat ribbons. “Ah. I see.” He licked his lips nervously when he noted the medals for combat.
“Yeah. Been there, done that. What's on the agenda?” Jethro asked. He hadn't had time to tap into the noncom network and that bothered him.
“I wish I knew, Gunny. You'll have to ask Colonel Forth,” he said, opening the door. The gunny blinked when he saw the secretary at a desk and the open door to the colonel's office. So much for some advanced warning he thought.
“He's expecting you. You're to go right in,” the Veraxin at the desk said, indicating the door. Jethro nodded as he felt/saw the noncom retreat through his implants and hearing. He passed the Veraxin and entered the office. The colonel was reading from a tablet. He came to attention and saluted.
“Good to see you, Gunny,” the colonel stated, returning the salute as the Veraxin closed the door behind him. The colonel came around the desk after he struck his salute and shook his hand.
“Gunny, Bast, it's good to see you again. And to finally meet you, Bast,” Lieutenant Colonel Forth stated, smiling. “Bast, I expect to see you on my HUD or the holo there,” he said, pointing to the small holo emitter on his desk.
Jethro blinked in surprise. “Oh yes, I am fully aware of Bast as well as your problem, Gunny. And I've had a chat with Gunny Schultz as well,” he said ruefully. “I wish it hadn't gotten this far out of hand.” He shook his head. “But what is done is done. Bast?” He pointed meaningfully to the holo emitter. “Front and center, young lady. Move it,” he growled.
Bast blinked and then appeared on the holo emitter. She slowly stood upright. The colonel studied her for a long moment before he nodded. “Ah. I see. You are an impressive lady.”
She flicked her ears to him.
“She's young, sir.”
“I see that. But nearly full
y grown I suppose,” the colonel said. He sat back. “FYI, I am the only senior officer who knows everything about you two. Other officers know just enough and no more. And they don't need to know more.”
“Yes, sir,” Jethro responded as Bast flicked her ears again. “Sir, if you don't mind, how …?”
Jersey snorted. “Admiral Irons of course. He sent me a heavily encrypted package for me to read. It took a while to sort through it; there were petabytes of information. Your unique situation was tucked in there.”
“Ah.” Jethro nodded.
“As far as the assassin situation is concerned, I got the brief from Monty, Horatio, and Valenko some time ago. You have to love the regular convoy runs. And the ansible is great.”
“Yes sir.” Jethro nodded. He glanced at Bast. She seemed uncomfortable being out on display. He noted her avatar was at attention in holographic form but she was moving normally on his HUD. Obviously she was filtering what she sent out he thought.
“Now that we have the ansibles up things are changing rapidly. That means we can pass on real time intelligence and orders. That will really shake things up,” the colonel went on thoughtfully. Jethro nodded. The colonel eyed the panther then looked away. “I heard about what happened in transit. Both the fight and the breach of security. You'll be happy to know the others have fallen all over themselves to clear their consciences and let intelligence know it was all the Faud's idea. A copy of their net chatter backs up that statement.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Still, it would have been nice if you or your A.I. would have nipped it in the bud beforehand,” the colonel said, eying the Neocat and then his A.I.
Jethro nodded. He could see Bast wince on his HUD. Serves you right he thought at her.
“Next time do so,” the colonel said mildly.
“Count on it, sir,” Jethro growled, eyes cutting to Bast's avatar. Bast nodded, clearly subdued and chastened.