by Chris Hechtl
“And for the record, destroying their cameras may have been prudent to protect your secret, but it constituted destruction of property and evidence. Not wise,” the colonel growled, holding a finger up. He didn't mention how the Neocat had done it or that it would have constituted some major public fall out if it ever did come to light with the public. “Fortunately, the Faud's legal counsel hasn't brought that up. Hopefully for your sake they won't before they take a plea.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” Jethro said, forcing himself to not grind his teeth. Bast looked mournful, ears flat and sticking out, sad expression.
“Good. You're going to be on DI duty. I've already uploaded your orders. Get squared away in the noncom barracks, get some chow, and get over any jet lag you think you've got. You're to report for duty at dawn tomorrow.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
Chapter 5
Once Jethro had sorted himself out in the morning, he took a jog, a sort of tour of the drill instructor training area. The DI training was split between classrooms and a PT area. Refresher courses were offered; he checked them out. He ran through the test quickly to make sure he was still up to snuff. Bast was a big help with the Q&A. Procedures and such he knew down pat, but the paperwork crap always tripped him up.
When he finished the Gashg DI in charge grunted as he graded the file. “We should have you teaching.”
Jethro just looked at him. “You did. I taught many of the DIs including you.”
An eyestalk swiveled to look at him closer. “Oh. You're that Jethro. I thought it was of the Anvil cat clan?”
“I changed my name to my family name,” Jethro replied with a diffident shrug.
“Oh.” The evaluator looked at the test again. “Well, you pass. Your kit?”
“Feel free to inspect it. I don't have the right cover though. And I only have the two uniforms.”
“You're a bit light there.”
“I've been meaning to go to the PX and get it sorted out.”
“What happened to your old uniform?”
“Some of them were damaged on Oasis of Space. One I leant out to another noncom and never got it back.”
“Get that squared away. We'll do an inspection on your kit after lunch.”
“Sound good,” Jethro replied with a tight nod. He outranked the evaluator so it was a bit awkward.
Despite his best effort, he wasn't put immediately to work. There was already a class in session and the DIs for the next class had already worked out their training syllabus.
Instead he was put on a brief guest lecture circuit and trouble spot checker or substitute DI until they had a new class available. There was some concern about having him start a class; they liked to have a DI see the class through from beginning to graduation. He wasn't sure what to make of that scuttlebutt.
<(>~^~<(>
Two days in and he was getting bored. They were running him a couple hours a day at best, sometimes a full day like yesterday, but then today nothing. Near sunset he'd ended up in a bar on the strip. Since it was on base, it was a military bar. Popeye's was run by a reservist couple. It had been staked out by the squids who were assigned to the base for some reason, but the Marines had casually moved in and tossed the squids out. The Marines tended to play rough sober and even rougher when they were drunk so the squids took the not-so-subtle hint after only a couple of fights.
It was all the same to Lorta and Fred who ran the joint. Lorta was an enlisted squid; she'd drawn duty on the stations in orbit and could only get home once a month to help run the place for the next three months before it was Fred's turn. But from what scuttlebutt Jethro had heard while sitting on his stool, she kept a close eye on the place. His eyes wandered to the cameras in the corners above the black view screens, then back to the view screen on the counter behind the bar. She'd called Fred out on a couple of things when he'd gotten lazy, and she definitely was the jealous type. If the bar maids didn't stop hitting on her hubby, they were going to have to find a new line of work soon.
“It's all a crock of shit, man! He ain't coming here! Or Pyrax!” Another patron said shaking his head.
“Then why'd he leave?” His buddy insisted, playing with the small bowl of snacks. He picked pieces up and let them dribble out of his fingers back into the bowl.
“They bounced him out once they got what they wanted of course!” the first said in disgust. He leaned back and patted his waist.
“No way, man, not again.”
“ … I'm telling you …”
“Where'd you hear it?” Jethro's ears flicked and then swiveled to a loud conversation on the other end of the bar that started to pick up heat. He looked up to the mirror behind Fred. Fred was polishing a stein. He snorted at the pair of guys and went back to work.
“Slow night,” Jethro said as Fred passed him.
“Ah, it'll pick up after dinner hours. For a while. It's usually dead during the week.”
“I see,” Jethro said nodding as he sat back slightly.
“You think it matters? It's done, man. I don't know what Irons game is …”
“That's just it! He's setting up there, not in Pyrax! So what are we doing here! Are the Marines going to pack up and say see ya and move on?”
“I doubt it. Bob, get a grip …”
“I'm telling ya, man; we're screwed if they do.”
“There is a guy here, ask him,” Walt said, pointing to Jethro. “Hey, cat.”
“Yeah,” Jethro said, looking lazily their way. He had hoped their squabble would have gotten a bit more entertaining, but Fred was a bruiser. Everyone knew to keep the fights outside. “What's up?”
“You know anything about this shit with Irons? Why he left?”
“Pyrax?”
“Nah, man, Antigua!”
Jethro's ears went back, and his tail stilled. They'd heard something about that. He'd gotten word, but also gotten word that the mission was to be considered classified. Obviously someone had leaked it.
“I'm not sure what you're talking about. I just got in from Pyrax.”
“Ah, so you didn't hear?” Bob asked, turning to rest his elbows on the brass bar. “So, he don't know squat,” he said in disgust.
“I don't know a lot. I do know a lot of other things. But some things I can't tell you,” Jethro admitted. “What do you know?”
“Well, we work the docks and spaceport see, and we caught the broadcast from Knox news.”
“They broke the story,” Bob chimed in, peeling the paper label on his long neck. “I'm surprised you didn't get it.”
“I was busy. And there is no news here,” Jethro said, waving around the room to where the screens in the corners were off.
“I only turn it on for games,” Fred muttered.
“So …” Bast helpfully accessed the news broadcast, digested it, and gave him a synopsis. Basically Knox news had broken the story that Irons had left the star system for parts unknown. But he was supposed to return. Jethro rubbed his muzzle with his free hand as he thought about it. If memory served, that red headed reporter had been tight with Irons. The O'Niell lady. He pulled on his ear then nodded slowly. She might have been told when Irons left. Why she let it slip though … but then again, if Irons had gone dark, someone would have eventually asked questions, right? He shook his head.
“What?”
“It's all way above my pay grade,” Jethro admitted, eying the pair.
“So? We don't have a right to know?”
“I don't know, do you?” Jethro asked. He rolled his shoulders. “The admiral has his reasons for doing what he's done.”
“Why Antigua though? Word is he might be on his way here,” Bob said, glancing at his partner.
“I don't know where he went. But he chose Antigua because of the population there, the political climate, and the space city. That part I do know,” Jethro admitted.
“Space city? It's a station. We've got, what, dozens in orbit now? And it can't be
bigger than Anvil … I heard it's huge!” Walt insisted.
“Ever been there?” Fred asked curiously.
“Na man, but I saw it on the news,” Walt admitted grudgingly.
“I was born there,” Jethro stated. All eyes turned to him. “Anvil is big, but Antigua Prime is two hundred times bigger. It is a city. About a million people can live in it.”
“A city?”
“Yeah. I was there when Firefly went in to rescue the people there,” Jethro stated. Bob blinked at him in surprise as Walt whistled slowly.
“So? Tell us about it?”
Jethro shrugged and flicked his tail. “It's got a big clear dome on top with a city underneath—towers and parks, the works. Then a belt line around the middle where the docks are.” They smiled at each other when they heard that. “Then underneath is a bunch of stuff hanging down. Reactors and industrial stuff. Thousands of tons of stuff.”
“Oh.”
“So, what's this about the Federation? Is he really going for it? I mean, we've got people going to Antigua and stuff. They were in Pyrax but …” Bob shrugged.
“Yeah. I bet they were annoyed by that. But it makes sense. Antigua has a big planet. Plus all that industry. It's got defenses on the planet too, and a fleet presence. People there are hyped for the military, like here,” Jethro said, adding the last two words hastily. The locals nodded in appreciation.
“Pyrax's political climate is, or I should say was, a cesspool. I understand they are cleaning it up, but that takes time. And they want to get it going.”
“So? So why leave?”
Jethro heaved a sigh. “That you'll have to ask him. I just hope he gets back soon.”
“Me too,” Bob said. The other men and women in the bar nodded or murmured similar sentiments.
“You have any problems with Irons?”
“Na, man, I mean, cat. I don't know of anyone who bought into that crap from Pyrax. Ugly shit, but I saw the video plus the stuff Knox news and a lot of the other media outlets put up. He's a good guy in my book.”
“Still wouldn't trust him around my kids,” Walt muttered. Bob shot him a shut up acid look. He wasn't the only one. Walt winced and looked away.
“And the Federation?”
Bob's chest puffed out as his eyes bulged. “Are you shitting me?” He spread his hands in appeal. “It's about damn time someone like him came along to get things back on track! Damn it!” He shook his head. “I was picking shit up and ploughing with an ox until a couple of years ago. Hell if I'll go back to that life! And that crap in Pyrax just slowed him down! It didn't stop him, but it damn well slowed everything down for a while, which sucked.”
A few people muttered in dark agreement with that. Bob looked around the room and then continued his speech. “Hey, he did awesome when the pirates came to Pyrax, that shit in Epsilon Triangula we heard about and again in B101a1, so if he can do that with a scratch force …” He slapped his hands together then rubbed them as he grinned. “I can't wait to see what he and you boys do when things really get going.” His eyes gleamed in fervor.
“Here here,” a few other people said, saluting him with their drinks or with nods. Jethro surveyed the room and then saluted as well.
“Hey, man, cat, I mean, you're a vet right?” Jethro nodded. “You were with Firefly; you assaulted the station right?” Walt asked after a moment.
Jethro nodded again. “And on B101a1,” he expanded.
Walt blinked as Bob whistled silently. “So, I'll buy you a round and you can tell us about it,” Walt said grudgingly, pointing to Fred and then to Jethro with a thick scared index finger.
Fred nodded and poured the cat another drink before he could object. The cat realized it was Walt's way of apologizing for the bit he'd said. He also understood the man. Some people were like that; they shot off their mouth without engaging their brains first. They said crap they didn't really mean, either in the heat of the moment or again, without knowing the facts.
“Well, okay, but I didn't play a big role,” Jethro said shrugging and going along with them. His hand touched the stein.
“How bad was it?” Bob asked.
“Bad enough for the locals. We got chewed up a little, but not until we got on the station itself.” He could see the glitter in his eyes, the intense interest for a good story. He sighed mentally. It wasn't like he didn't have anything better to do, right? Besides, the story would get brooded about and maybe do the Marines and Navy some good. More PR. “Okay, we came in, the ship I mean, and shot up the pirate's small ships, then we, the Marines this time, we were ordered to board the station. I went solo across the void in a rocket pack …”
<(>~^~<(>
On the first week, he finally ran into Gunny Schultz. It was to be expected; after all the E-11 master gunnery sergeant was the highest ranking noncom marine. The Neodoberman was running both the base and the DIs though, and obviously very busy. Despite that he gave Jethro a warm welcome. Jethro congratulated him about getting the promotion back to Gunny. “It's like I'm getting into the stratosphere,” the Doberman grumbled.
“Hey, at least we can call you gunny properly again,” Jethro teased.
“Master gunnery sergeant is a mouthful,” the Doberman joked with his own ear flick. “You've gotten to gunny too. I'm proud of you.”
“Thank you, Gunny. We've been following your example.”
The Doberman eyed him severely. “You'd damn well better or I'll drop kick your furry ass right back to basic for a refresher,” the Doberman growled. Jethro froze then saw the glint of humor in the Doberman's eyes as he relented slightly. After a moment the Neo sniffed then chuckled. That made Jethro relax.
“I heard they are trying to get you to bootstrap? Mustang?” Jethro asked carefully, eying the Doberman. That sobered him instantly.
“They can't stick officer's tabs on me. I won't allow it. I'd resign first,” Schultz growled, all hint of playfulness gone, “or get into hack so they'd back off.”
“You would too,” Jethro replied in a laugh.
“Count on it. So, how've you been? I heard about that muck up in B101a1 and the assassination attempt.”
“The noncom network no doubt,” Jethro said, shaking his head. Most officers realized that every report, every document was filtered at one point through their own administration by an enlisted or noncom Marine. The chiefs and noncoms were the ones who really ran the military. They also had their own way of keeping abreast of events, sometimes light years ahead of scuttlebutt or an officer's knowledge. Many times they nipped problems in the bud long before it came to an officer's desk.
“I'm hearing some odd rumors. I know I'm the new kid on the block again, but …”
“No time, Jethro,” the Doberman grimaced. “I think you know why we're keeping you bouncing around and not fixed in one place.”
It was the panther's turn to grimace and nod grimly.
“Good. We're using your skills wherever we can, however we can. I heard there are some who want you badly. Major Harley hasn't hidden that.”
Jethro snorted.
“Don't kid yourself. She's a fan, but she knows your reputation. I don't know if she knows about your particular situation though,” he said, shaking his head. “Be that as it may, just go with the flow. We'll try to keep you busy and try to give you some downtime. Don't go to the same place twice, and damn it, don't tell anyone but me where you're going. Understood?”
“Yes, Gunny.”
“Good.” The Doberman patted him on the shoulder. “Get back to your class. I've got a thorny situation to clean up before chow.”
“Aye aye, Gunny. See you around?”
“Definitely. Beers on me when we finally get a chance to hook up. If you get time, check in with the old squad. Don't let them know you're coming though,” the Doberman said as they separated.
“Sneaking up on old friends. Fun,” Jethro murmured as he nodded in reply.
<(>~^~<(>
After the class Jethro took the
time to look up the old squad. Most were out and about, all over the base or in other star systems like Valenko and Hurranna. But there were some familiar faces nearby. He flicked his ears when he noted Asazi's current occupation.
The next morning he ran into Asazi doing DI work as one of the female trainers. He surprised her, tapping her on the shoulder with his tail. She whirled with a scowl thinking he was some recruit but instead reared back when she saw him standing there.
“Damn it, Jethro, you're a sight for sore eyes!” she said, giving him a hug. He chuffed in surprise. “How've you been? I heard about the crap in Pyrax,” she said as she broke the embrace.
“I'm fine now. Back to 100 percent.”
“Good, good,” she said. She saw a recruit flagging and growled. “Sorry, duty calls.”
“I understand. Look me up for beers sometime. Schultz is looking to get the band back together sometime,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “He does that from time to time. I think he's tired of the war stories though. And tired of being chained to the desk here,” she said waving a hand as she took off at a trot. “What the hell do you think you're doing boot?” She bellowed, voice deepening as she marched to the unfortunate recruit. “Move your ass boot or I'll shove my boot so far up your ass you'll be able to kiss my toes!” Move it!” She snarled.
Jethro snorted. As he watched he noted that it was a punishment run. The privates were being worked up on beach run. A fun run he thought, amused. Amber and Browncoat were among them he noted. So was the Gashg recruit. The stumpy legged Gashg was having a hell of a time with the run though. That was to be expected, his species wasn't known for running. Jethro shook his head and went back to his own itinerary.
<(>~^~<(>
“So, why can't I have Gunny McClintock?” newly-promoted Major Dana Harley asked querulously.
“He's busy.”
“He's going to go stale wiping noses and chasing the boots around,” Dana said.
“Can I get you some cheese to go with that whine, Dana?” Major Pendeckle asked. He chuckled when she turned a fulminating expression his way.