by Chris Hechtl
“Not amusing, Gunny.”
“It wasn't meant to be,” Jethro replied. “I wonder, if they get the antimatter production going in Pyrax, will there be a surplus for us, do you suppose?”
“Are you asking to convert the suit back?”
“Is it possible?” Jethro asked, flicking an ear and raising an eyebrow upward.
“Yes, of course. I can alter the suit as needed to suit the environment. And I can make spare parts for it as needed. That is a part of my function.”
“You can …,” Jethro blinked in surprise. His eyes narrowed. “Bast, can you make remotes?”
“Yes.”
“Ammunition? Weapons?”
“Of course,” Bast replied. “As long as I have the power and materials,” she replied. Jethro's ears went back and then he rubbed his brow. “You are upset. Why?”
“It would have been nice to have known that sooner! So you have the keys?”
“Only those related to your suit. I can only use them under emergency situations.”
“Oh.” Jethro frowned thoughtfully. “And your programming threshold conditions have to be met to initiate the keys? Then why are you using them now?”
“We are classified in an emergency situation. Going into combat with ill prepared forces, ill equipped and with minimum support. And no air support,” Bast replied, eyes narrowing in disapproval. “This is a situation ripe for disaster.”
“Understood,” Jethro replied. “If I get you materials and power, can you make stuff for the unit?”
“I can. I'm not happy about revealing that ability, Gunny. It is dangerous for others to know I am here. It is also a violation of your orders—of my orders,” Bast replied.
“Not if we work it right,” Jethro said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin then scratching behind his ear. He realized the phantom itch was coming from Bast. “Will you quit that?” he demanded, scratching harder. The instinct was powerful. His leg twitched, wanting to scratch at it.
“Sorry,” Bast replied with mirth.
“Cute. I think if we work it so the boss lady takes credit ….”
“She will have to know but that minimizes exposure.”
“True.”
<(>~^~<(>
“Ma'am …”
“Checking the logistics situation out again, Gunny?” Captain White Wolf asked, eying Jethro as he came into her “office” a small closet she had appropriated near her tight quarters.
“About that, ma'am, I just found out something interesting. If you've got a moment ….”
“Feel free to pull up a chair, Gunny; we need all the ideas we can get it seems,” Moira stated.
“Yes, ma'am,” Jethro said, taking a seat. “Ma'am, I was servicing my armor with Bast. She made the repairs; I didn't do much. But during the repairs she made some changes to my armor.”
“Good ones?”
“Yes, ma'am. I hope so. She fixed a fuel line constriction and modified the armor to take on additional filtration systems for the field.”
“Since we're unsure of supply that's probably a good idea,” the captain stated with a nod. “I take it that was why the inventory was updated?”
“You noticed it, ma'am?”
“Since we're not exactly stacked with material, yes. But in this case I wrote a script to alert me if something changes,” Moira replied dryly. One eyebrow rose as her ears flicked. “The parts fit?”
“She modified them, ma'am. We'll have to see how well it works in the field.”
“Yes. I'd hate to have your armor go belly up and lockdown in a fire fight,” the captain stated, knitting her fingers together. “I know we're supposed to be supplied by the fleet, but that's never been a realistic hope in any operation. We have to scrounge in the field all the time. Our intel states that the planet has hydrogen production facilities, so that's a plus,” she mused thoughtfully. “Exactly where is this leading?”
“Well, she stated that she can make supplies for my suit, ma'am, including ammunition and remotes,” he stated.
That got the captain to sit up straight, ears alert. “It would have been nice to have found out this sooner, Gunnery Sergeant,” she said in a clipped tone, eying him. He could tell she was more than a little put out over that late revelation.
“It's the first I knew of it too, ma'am,” Jethro admitted.
“Oh? Your A.I. was holding out on you?”
“To be honest I may have it in my files from the Admiral but misremembered or overlooked it, ma'am,” he stated. She just continued to eye him. “Bast?” he asked hopefully.
Bast just flicked her ears at him. He sighed. “She's not willing to talk when I'm out of the armor, ma'am.”
“And if I make it an order?”
“Technically she's classified, ma'am. I think it has to also do with the processors in the armor. Or it could be hard wired, I'm not sure.”
“Okay, well, that is still not an excuse. You two and that armor are an asset, and she is the only A.I. we have assigned. She is underutilized at the moment, so we're going to fix that,” Moira replied.
Jethro's eyes widened slightly. Bast looked horrified. “Ma'am? I'm not sure if she likes it or not. And I don't know how much processing power she can spare outside of the armor.”
“She doesn't have to like it. It is an order,” Moira said, locking eyes with his. Jethro nodded slowly as Bast straightened.
“Yes, ma'am,” he replied dutifully. Bast flicked her ears but there was no humor in her expression.
“Well, we'll have to see how much she can handle. For the moment, Bast, I know you can establish a WiFi link to the armor. Do so. Use the processors in the armor if you have to. I have some limited computer support, you can use some of it as well. But I need you to not only to keep this group of misfits alive but also the Gunnery Sergeant and by extension yourself. Understood?”
“Yes, ma'am,” Bast's voice said from the tablet's speakers on the desk.
“Good. For operational security and to keep your secret, you can link directly to my implants. Do you have a rank?”
“No.” Bast replied, offering a tentative handshake to the captain's implant firewall.
“I see your access attempt. Recognized,” Moira said, letting her in. Bast slipped onto her HUD and seemed to blossom, radiating amusement and approval once more. “Welcome to my implants, Bast,” the captain stated formally.
“Thank you for inviting me, ma'am.”
“Good. We're going to spend some time getting to know one another. Some girl chat,” Moira said, giving Jethro an amused sidelong look. “And you thought your life was complicated by getting married? Well, I suppose you'd been down the aisle once before with this lady ….” She smiled slightly at Jethro's exasperated expression.
“She's a handful, ma'am. Even though she is … old,” Bast's ears went flat and she mock hissed at him, “she's young—or young in this incarnation I suppose, ma'am.”
“Tut tut, Gunny, women like us do not like to discuss our age,” Moira teased gently. “And we're all young at heart or at least as young as we wish to be.”
“Yes, ma'am,” Jethro said, flicking his ears as his fur dropped and his good humor was restored. “My apologies.”
“Don't worry; she'll take it out of your hide at a later date,” Moira said dryly.
Jethro rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that's what I thought.”
Moira chuckled softly then flicked her fingers to the door. “Go. I'm going to work with my new adjunct for the moment. I want to see her fresh perspective on the intelligence we have and on my plans. See if we can make adjustments or changes before we hit atmosphere.”
“Yes, ma'am,” Jethro replied. He left with a nod as the officer and his A.I. began to talk. Bast's image on his HUD seemed to move whenever she spoke but no words came out. It was a bit weird to experience, but he had other things to focus on. Training for one.
<(>~^~<(>
Since the A.I. was working with the captain, she couldn't remain a secret foreve
r. She had to interact with the noncoms in some capacity. Eventually the Neowolf captain admitted that they had an A.I. but informed them that the details on the A.I. were classified.
Using Bast and Jethro, Moira managed to convert some of the appropriated civilian hardware to military grade to outfit the troops better. That allowed her to organize proper fire teams and even heavy weapon squads. They also repurposed some of the gear to make remotes and drones. Once they had samples of the gear, Moira called a meeting with the leadership to go over the training and usage of the equipment.
Unfortunately, they couldn't do anything to help Lieutenant Chaing's group on Collier 108. They could communicate with them through the ship's communications systems but only in short messages in hyper. Nor could the lieutenant take advantage of the helpful A.I.'s abilities, at least not until they exited hyper.
Jethro was dreadfully aware that he might be chained to a cargo hold for some time when they got into Protodon space. He wondered briefly if that was what Admiral Irons had to go through. Most likely yes. Fortunately, his other duties forced them to break up the long stretches of remanufacturing into small chunks. Also, since the ship's power net and power reserves were carefully managed, the ship's engineers were loath to let them draw on all the power they needed at once.
Which meant meetings that he had at one time tolerated or hated were actually a nice change of pace to relax and do what he thought they were supposed to be doing, plan.
“The drones are nice. Too bad we really can't use them the way we should. They'll help certainly but …,” Moira shrugged. “The problem is, they don't have implants to access the image. Not in real time.”
“Then we'll have to find a workaround, ma'am,” Jethro suggested during their progress meeting.
“You have an idea, Gunny?”
“A helmet, ma'am? When we were in boot training, this was before we received our full implants, we had helmets that had a HUD on the visor. Can we do something like that?”
“It's old tech. But I don't see why not,” Moira stated, nodding. “And if that doesn't work, I suppose they can fall back on using a small pocket tablet or other device.”
“As long as they don't break it,” Bast stated with a shake of her head. “You know the saying about soldiers and sailors, ma'am.”
“What, that they'll screw anything that they can catch?” Moira asked. That earned a stifled guffaw from the noncom. Hearing salty language from the officer was unexpected, from a lady was doubly so. Captain White Wolf caught them off guard like that from time to time Jethro thought. “No, I think in this case you mean that they can break anything, right?” she asked. Bast nodded.
“We'll have to make them robust.”
“Never enough,” Moira sniffed. Her eyes gleamed. “Which means I'll have to land on anyone who breaks it, since it'll be my time to replace it.” She flicked her ears at Jethro. He nodded grudgingly. “That should make them think twice about getting careless.”
“Yes, ma'am. The other problem is training, ma'am. They won't have time to train with the hardware before we hit dirt.”
“We'll update the sim time to train with the remotes. Turn it into a game. Volleyball?” Moira frowned thoughtfully. “Hide and seek too,” she said nodding. “I did both in advanced training.”
“We can do that in real world too, ma'am. In the ship I mean,” Jethro stated.
Moira frowned then flicked her ears, eyes gleaming once more. “I'll designate areas that are off limits. Bast, you'll make sure they stay off limits,” she stated.
“Aye aye, ma'am.”
Chapter 23
Once they had sufficient remotes Jethro trained a squad with the devices so they could train others and get comfortable using them. Remotes were excellent; they had two types. One was a ground type, a fist-sized ball covered in sensors that the user threw into a questionable area and then used to map the area and look for threats.
It was even mobile, able to roll under furniture or into duct work to hide if necessary.
The other remote was a small drone; it had four lift fans that allowed it to fly for up to a half hour. It gave a god’s eye view of the local battlefield for the troops, allowing them to see not only around corners, but also heat signatures of hidden enemies waiting in ambush.
The problem with that drone was that it didn't do a good job with terrain and terrain avoidance. And since it was hovering in the sky, it was an easy target. Once they got the basics done, he had to train the recruits and even some of the Marines to handle the job while also dealing with the practical issues like staying alive in combat.
“Bob and weave. Bob and weave. Try not to keep it still.”
“Hit the dirt!” a private called as weapons fire stitched in front of his position.
“Take Cover!” a voice called out. Immediately all but one Marine recruit hit the dirt. The one who stayed upright was the husky controlling the remote drone. He took a simulated round and then his rig shut off.
“What the hell?”
“You're dead,” Jethro said, coming over to him.
“Frack.”
“Didn't you hear the order to take cover?” Jethro asked eying him.
“Yeah, I was busy.”
“You were busy, and therefore you got dead.”
“But …”
Jethro's eyes narrowed and his pupils slitted. He got right up to the dog. “You listen to me very carefully. We don't give orders out like candy. You hear them and obey.”
“But …”
“But nothing! In combat you have to react instinctively, to follow the orders blindly and trusting in your superior's knowledge. Knowing that they are doing the best for the mission.”
“But you said …”
“What, you can't dodge and duck at the same time?” Jethro asked scathingly. The husky blinked. “Look, normally you are trained in boot. You are run through the ringer until you learn to follow orders instinctively, to not object, to just get it done. Don't whine; don't make excuses. You screwed up.”
“But …”
“What you still want to get into trouble? Fine, you just bought a locker full of it. You get KP duty today and fifty pushups.”
“But …”
“One hundred.”
The husky started to protest again but then stopped himself.
“Good. You're learning,” Jethro said in approval. “So you can be taught.” The husky's blue eyes widened and his hackles rose. Jethro just smiled maliciously. “Want more?” Silently the husky shook his head.
“Good. Good boy,” Jethro purred maliciously.
“Being a marine means sacrifice. It means not knowing why, not knowing what the whole picture is, but trusting that the mission has to get done. That it means getting it done no matter what. Deal with it. Or you'll end up sorry and sore,” Jethro promised, “or dead.”
The husky nodded.
“Good.” Jethro turned and noted Bast and a few of the Neo's in the room listening. He ignored all of them. “Orders have to be obeyed. We have to be disciplined, especially in combat. It means doing the job immediately before the enemy can react. It can mean the difference between life and death for you or for a buddy,” Jethro said. He eyed the husky then nodded. “You can do your demerits now or after dinner. Your choice.”
The husky immediately dropped and started doing pushups. He counted them off as he had been trained. Jethro eyed him to make certain he was doing it right then nodded. He looked around the bay. “Anyone else have a problem with following orders? Because if you do and you pull the same argument crap in combat, you'd better hope I'm not around. Because if the enemy doesn't kill you, I damn well will,” he growled, putting as much sincerity in that threat as possible.
“Is that legal?” a neomutt private asked, raising a tentative hand paw.
“Look it up,” Jethro growled eying her. She gulped and then nodded.
“Gunny, why do we train with chutes. Parachutes I mean. They are ancient,” a private asked, wr
inkling his nose.
Jethro eyed the neogorilla for a moment then nodded slowly. “You're right. There is an ancient saying. If it ain't broke, don't fix it.”
“Um …”
“Parachutes are simple. There are few moving parts, and most importantly, no power supply. No massive gravity emission that screams “here I am” to the enemy,” the panther stated blandly as the husky got to fifty. He was starting to pant Jethro noted absently.
“Ah.”
“Right. You can hide the power supply, shield it, but not the antigravity. That's a mass shadow; there is no way to hide that in midair. That means you're a target. And we're not in the business of being targets, now are we?”
“No, Gunnery Sergeant!” The gorilla said, shaking his head. A few of the other Neos chuffed at his instant response.
“That's right, we're not. Finally, I'll cap this lecture with the basics. A simple principle we all should appreciate here. A chute is simple, easy to make, easy to use, easy to reuse. Pull and done.”
“Yes, Gunnery Sergeant!”
“Good. Get squared away. We've got sleep teaching tonight,” Jethro ordered.
“Yes, Gunnery Sergeant!”
Jethro watched them go, then crossed his arms as the husky got up. He was moving stiff, rubbing his biceps.
“Been in the field more so your legs are pretty well developed but not your upper body. You haven't run on all fours?”
“Not often,” the husky replied.
“Learn. Pride is something we need to lose. If dropping to all fours or crawling means you stay alive, so be it. Damn your stupid pride. Besides,” Jethro smiled ferally. “The enemy hates it when we surprise them. So, just think of sneaking up on some bastard and ripping his throat out.”
“Yes, Gunny,” the husky replied, flicking his ears. Apparently the idea had restored some of his spirit and good humor.
“Good. Don't ever question an order again. Just do it. Think about why later when you have free time if you wish.”
“Yes, Gunny.”
“Dismissed.”
Jethro watched him go then nodded slowly. “Damn it.” Bast flicked her ears at him. He eyed her and then shook his head. “They aren't ready.” She shrugged.