Recruiting Drive: Jethro 4 (Jethro Goes to War)

by Chris Hechtl

  He shook his head as he mused about the future. If Jersey's recent promotion to full bird was any indication, they were all on an upward spiral, which meant he'd be a light colonel in a year or so. He should be one now, a brigade was normally run by a light colonel or full bird colonel. And Jersey should be a brigade general since he was exercising control of a division. Or would be shortly, once Fourth Brigade stood up in the fall. Jersey had four brigades to juggle as well as the support personnel of the base. The Major made a puttering sound as he walked. Their careers were going slower than some would like, but one could only promote so fast. Some of his officers hadn't held their current slots for more than six months. To him that wasn't long enough for seasoning let alone settling in and learning the ropes. And it definitely wasn't enough time to start looking at them for future promotion.

  He felt for Valenko. The bear was stuck in Pyrax as senior officer. He certainly didn't want the job! Technically it was a colonel's slot. Hopefully, they'd get it sorted out soon enough. At least he'd finally been bumped to senior grade. He wasn't the only captain they had to worry about though.

  News of Captain Gustav's death had sent shock waves through the Marines. It was unfortunate. The Marine officer had been good on paper, but it was just one of those things. Sometimes Lady Luck smiled on the enemy as much as your own forces. He shook his head and made a note to look into the shuttle situation. They had to do better than Warhawks and Skyhawks!

  If the opening landing of Protodon was any indication of what was to come … he shook his head again at the bleak thought. Once they started to get in and try to take planets, the enemy had held and dug in for over years, potentially decades, it would get ugly. They also needed better A.I. support. A couple canned A.I.s being held in reserve on Agnosta didn't do anyone any good when they were needed in the field. He made another note to talk the situation over with the colonel during their next meeting.

  As he paced in the waiting room of the spaceport, he noted Doctor Thornby in passing. He turned to her as she smoothed her skirt out and crossed her legs in front of her. “Doc, I know you don't want to hear this, but I wish you were coming.”

  She blinked and then cocked her head, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “No offense, Major, but I wouldn't appreciate getting shot at or all the work you'd be sending me. I'd be busy nonstop,” she said with a slight astringent tone of voice. She shook her head.

  “Definitely with the enemy injured, ma'am. If we leave any,” the Major replied with a sniff.

  “I'm more concerned with our own, that and the civilians,” the doctor replied dryly. The Major winced. “I'll go over your medics if the colonel allows it and if I have time. I suggest you get your people to refresh on basic first aid and contact protocols with the civilians either now or enroute.”

  The Major nodded then frowned slightly. “Contact protocols, ma'am?” the Major asked, wrinkling his nose.

  “You're going to be interacting with a civilian population, one that had up until your liberation been under hostile occupation. They are going to be traumatized. If your people take advantage of it, there could be negative repercussions. Some of them possibly long term, especially with the media watching.” That made him scowl, but she continued on with her lecture. “Ones we or you don't need. You don't need them thinking they are trading one invader and occupier for another.”

  The Major got a thoughtful look on his face as he rubbed his jaw. “It's definitely something to think about, ma'am. But I'm more concerned with keeping my people alive. That and the enemy dead.”

  “Point,” she replied with a resigned nod.

  “How much longer are you here for? And why, may I ask are you going up?” he asked, pointing to the sky.

  “I am supposed to be checking on the medics in the star system. That includes the medics and sickbay facilities in orbit I suppose,” she replied. He nodded. “I'll be gone a couple of days. The next convoy is due in …,” she frowned as she checked her implants and then nodded. “Eleven days.”

  “Not much time. That means you'll be gone in two weeks.”

  “If you leave me any shipping to get to Antigua,” she replied with a sniff. “You know Matilda's here somewhere too?”

  The Major rolled his eyes. “I heard. She's overhauling the classroom crap and admin. She's got her hands full. She's shipping out with you too, I suppose?”

  “Yes,” Nara replied with a nod. “A couple dozen of us jumped ship from Pyrax. Apparently Admiral Irons wants us for his staff in Antigua. I don't suppose you'll be headed there after Protodon?”

  The Major shrugged. “Anything's possible I suppose, though I doubt it. The rest of my brigade will follow First Battalion eventually, and I think we'll do working up there or jump from there onward.”

  Nara's eyes widened. “A full offensive?”

  “I'm hoping so. I can't count on it,” the Major replied cautiously, looking about them to make sure they weren't being overheard. “It would be my luck that we get in, get the situation under control, then get pulled back here to rest and refit before being sent out again.” He knew Jersey had something like that in mind. Leapfrog, move a brigade in, secure the planet, then turn it over to the army and locals, then pull the troops out for rest and refit while the next brigade went to secure the next target. And from there, so on and so forth. But if the Navy moved as fast as they wanted to, that could get tricky.

  “Well, good luck either way, Major,” Nara said, extending her hand. He took it and shook it. “That's my shuttle,” she said as they disengaged.

  The Major nodded to her. “Goddess of space speed, ma'am.”

  She smiled endearingly to him. “To you too, Major. Good hunting.”

  <(>~^~<(>

  Staff Sergeant Sergei wasn't a happy cat. Oh, he was finally going to get into combat, that was the pot at the end of the rainbow, but right now it seemed like a never ending looong rainbow. One where he had to cut through meters of paperwork that made his head want to explode.

  He was the senior most noncom in Alpha Company of 1st Battalion. Since he was Recon and Raider qualified, he had the envy of most of the other noncoms in the battalion. Very few people sported both specialties on their resume, though keeping up with both of them plus the requirements of running the company was a hassle. He'd learned to trust the junior leadership to some degree. It was the only way to get the job done. But he'd roared himself hoarse a few times in getting them to get the lead out. More than one Marine had pissed himself when he'd come up against the White Liger's temper.

  He refused to quit though; he kept moving forward. Gunny Schultz had helped him out initially, but now he was proud that he was carrying the load. He looked over to see the major talking with Doc Thornby. He wasn't sure why the Major was there, most likely nitpicking. Hopefully he wouldn't find something wrong this go around.

  Every piece of equipment was being checked, serviced, rechecked, then carefully packaged and shipped up to orbit. It all had to be logged for the inventory, and there was a lot of equipment. Tons and tons of it, and all of it had to be accounted for at every waking moment. He'd already had two headaches when a couple bits had turned up missing. He didn't want any repeats.

  They were staging everything in orbit so when Damocles and her convoy loaded up, they could do it fast. The troops were staying on the ground until the last minute; they'd start moving them up when the ships started to load. But while they were on the ground and their gear was in orbit, that had led to an interesting dilemma, one he'd been scratching his head on how to solve. How do you train, how do you prep gear, when it's up there and you're down here?

  Well, VR of course, that helped he mused. In fact it helped a lot. PT too, but they could only do so much PT before someone tripped or pulled a muscle or did something else stupid. Baker Platoon had two people on the sick list due to injuries. He shook his massive head. Everyone was anxious, anxious to get it right, to get on with it.

  He didn't envy Captain R'nz. The bug had been a go
od skipper, but he'd barely known her. She'd been like a goddess on high for the first month she'd taken over the battalion, then the Major had stepped in and taken over from her. There had been a bit of a row about it, or so scuttlebutt said. He was pretty sure the bug wasn't thrilled about losing her command. He shook his head. Not that it was his problem, he had other things to worry about.

  “Staff, we've got problems with the com gear. And Battalion 1 is pitching a snit about Charlie Platoon ‘borrowing’ their gear again,” Corporal Chip Onondaga said to him. He flicked his tail and then turned to the heavy worlder. “They didn't get caught, but well, Gunny Schultz put in a call a few minutes ago.”

  “Great,” Sergei growled softly. “Frag it. Tell Charlie to return the gear with an apology. We can't give them anything from our beer supply; we're tapped out.”

  “It'll mess up Charlie and Baker's training,” the corporal reminded him.

  “Yeah, I know. And we don't want to get the officers involved; they are in a pissy mood anyway. But we do need to keep the troops busy,” he growled. Busy meant out of trouble and training if possible. They wanted to go on leave but the Major had decreed that there were only twelve- and twenty-four-hour passes, and no one left the island.

  “I can see if Dale will sign off on us using the vehicle park again,” Chip said doubtfully.

  “No. And as much as the Major wants us to do field familiarization exercises and marksman work in the range we need our people to train on urban combat.”

  “We don't have a shoot house,” the corporal reminded him.

  “No, but we can maybe borrow one,” the Liger stated, looking up to the ceiling as he put a call in. The connection was immediately accepted and a familiar Neodoberman looked at him on his HUD. “Gunny Schultz, I've got a problem. I was wondering if we can arrange some quality time, call it a refresher for each of the platoons in the shoot house in boot camp?” he asked out loud for the corporal's benefit.

  “The shoot house is clear for the day. But make it quick. And you know the drill; you break it you bought it,” the Doberman warned him.

  Sergei nodded. He'd already had to pay for broken borrowed gear out of the battalion's budget. That had sucked, especially since they were undergoing movement and the credits were needed. “Gotcha. No blowing holes in walls or ceilings. We're light on equipment, I think it will be a bit like kids playing Marines versus Xenos than a real shooting match.”

  “I'd get another battalion to go in with you, but they are all tasked with their own schedules. Speaking of which ….”

  “I'm adjusting mine, Gunny. And I'll get clearance from higher.”

  “Good. Good hunting, Sergei.”

  “We'll plant a few for you too, Gunny,” the Liger said as he looked down and the connection terminated. “You heard?”

  “Your end,” the corporal said dryly. “I take it we're going to go back to basics?”

  “The advanced course. Practice the basics in real world conditions. If I can arrange sims to go along with it, I will. Don't plan on it though.”

  “Basics as in …”

  “Building entry, look for snipers, IEDs, shooters, traps, civilians, the usual.”

  The heavy worlder nodded. “Ah. And the Major will sign off on this?” he asked, raising a massive brow.

  “What he doesn't know, won't come back and bite a certain kitty on his ass,” the cat replied with a flick of his tail and ears. “Besides, he's more concerned we stay busy and out of trouble.”

  “True. Okay, I'll get on it.”

  “Good.”

  “One thing … the boot camp is on the other side of the island.”

  The Liger smiled slightly. “And?”

  “And we don't have transport,” the corporal said with a sinking sensation.

  “That's what feet are for. Tell our people to get a move on. If they can't hitch a ride, start jogging.”

  “Damn. I was afraid you'd say that,” the corporal sighed.

  Chapter 26

  Captain Allegra wasn't happy about his present occupation, even if it was shooting fish in a barrel. They were screwed, anyone knew that. The General had them holding out, and so far they had. But he was going to run out of missiles eventually, and when they did the enemy would be able to get in and resupply … if they didn't run out of shuttles first.

  Federation. Federation Marines, he thought sourly. They were good, damn good in a fight. Even their bots were effective fighters. His people were learning to keep under cover when a drone was near, but they couldn't see the things half the time if they were high enough up.

  His people had shot down a dozen of the drones but there was always one more lurking around. He'd gotten wise about blowing up the wreckage too. Lieutenant Luka had gotten cute by slipping IEDs into the last drone and letting the enemy get to it. She'd been executed when the IED hadn't gone off as she'd thought though, the General had been pissed about the waste of ordinance and lack of performance.

  Now this. If the General would just give him the troops he needed, he was sure they could overrun the firebases, hit one at a time. They'd tried various assaults on one at a time, but his latest plan was a diversionary attack on one, a concentrated attack on another, while a second force pincered around the rear to slip into the third firebase and tear them apart from the inside out. But she'd denied his plan. For the moment they were to keep the spaceport and capital interdicted.

  That damn attack craft was still giving his people fits. The thing was sniping at him, staying out of range of his anti-air teams and attacking only at night. He had their number though; he had realized early on that they weren't working in concert with the Marines. Nor were they very well supplied. They seemed to be out of missiles. They still had their guns, and apparently plenty of ammo though and improvised fire bombs. He had to come up with a plan to suck them into a kill box and get rid of them permanently. The general's plan to track them down and capture the craft was … not optimal he thought, cutting himself off.

  But first things first. The Marines had to go. Picking them off one by one with sniper fire or IEDs was attritioning their forces, but not fast enough. Not fast enough to suit him anyway.

  He still could see the burned-out wreckage of their last assault. It galled him that it had failed. Only the timely arrival of a ship in orbit striking at the dirigible had turned the tide. He'd had them. The wave of civilian vehicles to go in and absorb their fire, all with civilian hostages strapped to the outside … the snipers, the pairs on the motorbikes … but that damn ship tearing the dirigible apart in the night's sky and broken his troops will to fight. They'd all melted off into the forest and surrounding area before his officers could regain control.

  It hadn't been a total loss; he'd hurt them by executing the hostages just outside of their range. And sending them their heads like the old history books said was done during the sieges on long lost Earth. But he wanted more, so much more.

  “Sir, the colonel's compliments but he said he can't send you any more troops or supplies. He suggested you make do with what you've got or scavenge. His words, sir,” a messenger said from behind him.

  The captain's jaw worked as his fists clenched. “You're lucky I am not in the habit of shooting a bearer of bad news. Please kindly inform the colonel that we need those supplies. Since we're in the outback, we don't have a handy supply nearby, and all the farms in the area have been tapped out and abandoned by the natives. Hunting is out as well. And every soldier I pull off of interdiction duty to scavenge means a gap in our coverage. No, he needs to find a supply, send us something. Or send us fresh troops so I can rotate them to loot and plunder further afield.”

  “Yes, sir,” the rating said, nodding. He didn't look at all happy about the idea of passing on that message however.

  “Go,” the captain said simply, turning his back on the man. He heard his footsteps retreat.

  It was frustrating to be trapped. To be on the receiving end. They were the Empire! They were the hunters not
the prey! It had been that way for centuries. They would be again, they just had to hold out until help arrived.

  Until then, he had his orders.

  <(>~^~<(>

  General Busche read the report and then the recommendation of Colonel Pauling again. He kept harping about the damn Emerald city. It was true. They'd been tasked with finding and securing the city and anything inside, but it had been a secondary objective. Hell, not even that, she mused, mentally pushing the idea down her to do list. And now that they were under attack, she couldn’t see frittering away her resources to find the mythical place. If it even still existed. Besides, if they did go looking for it, the enemy could find out and kill her forces.

  According to what Imperial intelligence had gathered and the little they'd picked up from the locals like the man in white, the city had been some sort of tourist trap. It had been owned and set up by a megacorp, a tech group led by Doctor Oz. After the events on it, the island had been abandoned and sealed off by the Federation. Anyone who went near the island, whether it was in an air or water ship, never returned. There was no telling what was in there. No, she'd find another way to redress the balance of forces.

  She had numbers on her side. And her people had been busy picking up every piece of weaponry, ammunition, and equipment they could find. Some of it they had lost during the fighting; some had been given to the partisans that supplemented their ranks. But some she hoarded for a future push.

  She'd pulled in her horns when the enemy had gotten on the ground. She'd wanted to study her opponents, and their control of the air and orbitals had made her justifiably cautious. But when they had only made the small landing and hadn't sent additional forces in, she'd interdicted the spaceport as well as nearby airstrips. Those she couldn't interdict she'd had cratered to deny their use.