Recruiting Drive: Jethro 4 (Jethro Goes to War)

by Chris Hechtl

  “They are two of the pilots,” Moira said over the back thumping and chuckling. Dom turned to her in surprise. She flicked her ears and nodded. “And the third is Ensign Rivers here. I take it you know the Hawk brothers?”

  “Know them? Pushaw, I practically raised them! Who do you think taught them how to fly? To turn a wrench?” Dom demanded. “Know them,” he scoffed shaking his head.

  “We flew for Uncle Dom here before we heard about the Marines and Admiral Irons. When we did we hopped a flight to Pyrax,” Sinjin stated.

  “Yeah leaving me high and dry,” Dom said indignantly.

  “No, you had me Uncle Dom,” Jo said, eying him darkly. “And we picked up Caitlin too you know.”

  “And I understand she's been making noises about joining the militia formally or going back to being an Air Ranger,” Arkangel said smoothly. “And both you and Miss Santini here have never been comfortable sitting in the pilot's seat.”

  “I didn't like shooting down that shuttle. I know we had to but …,” Jo shook her head, face drawn.

  “It's war,” Arkangel stated. “And you did a good job. I wish you'd gotten it coming in instead of out but …,” he shrugged.

  “What's the difference?” Dom demanded.

  “Coming in they were loaded with troops and equipment. Going out it was empty, Dom,” String stated. Dom eyed him and saw both Hawk brothers nod. “So, can we sign on?”

  “Do I have a choice?” Dom asked, turning to the man in white then to the white wolf. “Well? Do I?”

  “You are a civilian, of course you do. I would hope you would at least consider the offer.”

  “Did you arrange this?” Dom accused, eying Arkangel. The man put his hands up in surrender. He rubbed at his nose then dropped his hands. “Did you?” He asked, turning a gimlet eye on the wolf.

  “I had no idea you were here, your ship, or them until I got here. A lack of intelligence on a certain someone's part,” she said dryly, eying the man in white. “He's been rather reluctant and very protective of you and your ladies.”

  “For good reason,” Arkangel said smoothly.

  “So we can be clear, we're offering you pilots who are keenly interested in flying your bird. Plus as you mentioned, they know how to turn a wrench. They also have Marine training, so they can keep the bird secure.”

  “She's secure enough,” Dom said.

  “Maybe from attacks from the air. But that volcano is vulnerable to the ground,” Moira stated. Dom gaped at her like a fish. She flicked her ears. “And I am aware the only way in or out for the bird is to fly vertically up the chimney shaft. But there is a cave entrance.”

  “You …” He turned an accusing glower on Arkangel but again the man put his hands up.

  “We figured it out,” Moira said dryly. Dom turned on her. She rolled her eyes. “Come on, Mister Santini, we're holding the orbitals remember? Your flight traffic was obvious. You're lucky Arkangel recognized your flight profile and interceded to keep you from being shot down from on high.”

  “We could have evaded,” Jo said.

  “From an orbital strike? Unlikely, Jo,” String told her. She eyed him. “Trust me, I've seen it.”

  “Oh,” she said ever so softly.

  “You're going to get parts, support, fuel, equipment, and ordinance. Security if you want it. Security at places you land outside your ‘lair’ is a definite,” Arkangel said, making it sound like he'd negotiated the deal.

  “It's a good deal, Dom. I'd go with it,” Sinjin said. String nodded. “But we'll support whatever you decide.”

  “Well, it doesn't look like I have much of a choice,” Dom said, sounding chagrined as he looked at the group. Jo smiled and rubbed his shoulders.

  “I'm not saying you have to sign up to the Marines. Militia is fine. Flying with an IFF would be nice so someone doesn't accidentally shoot you down.”

  “That makes you a target. There is a reason we prefer to strike at night,” Jo said.

  “And it's also a psychological advantage. Builds the myth and legend,” Arkangel murmured. String and Rivers grinned in appreciation.

  “I know all about militias Mister, Miss Santini,” Moira said, nodding politely to each of the civilians. Her ears twitched. “I also run the Kathy's World Rangers. And I'm the current President of the planet. We have the Rangers on Kathy's World as well as planetary Mounties. They were the ones who bounced the Pirates out.”

  “With a little help from you, ma'am,” Arkangel interjected, smoothing his lapel.

  “Then why are you here?” Dom demanded.

  “One doesn't ignore a fire on your neighbor’s property. You help despite the risk without any expectation of reward,” Moira said smoothly.

  Jo nodded. “Thank you,” she murmured quietly. “We accept.”

  “Good. The unholy trio here can help you with the supplies,” Moira said with another flick of her ears.

  “Okay. But we'll have to fly them in at night. I'm not risking my birds during the day. And we can't move it all at once,” Dom said.

  “Good. Glad you are thinking ahead,” Moira said before Arkangel could say something. “I'm glad you've got a 222 over a 333. She's an honest craft and can hover. I always hated flying the 333.”

  “You've flown them, ma'am?” Jo asked, blinking in surprise.

  “The Major here is a sleeper,” Arkangel said smoothly. “She actually had an assault shuttle on Kathy's World that she restored and used against the pirates.”

  “So you know where we're coming from,” Jo said with respect in her voice as she eyed the wolf. “Thank you again.” She turned expectantly to her uncle. “Right, Uncle Dom?” she said with enough hint in her voice to make the Hawk brothers smile and Ensign Rivers wince.

  “I really should get the business back up and running,” Dom mumbled. “Your family's cabin is still up in Hemet if you want it boys. Right on the lake. I've used it a time or two with Jo to go fishing, but it's in good shape.”

  “We've met there a few times,” Arkangel said smoothly. “I've borrowed it a few times,” he admitted. Dom glared his way but the spy only smirked.

  “Thanks, Uncle Dom. We'll look into it,” String said smoothly. He winked at Jo who smiled graciously. She tucked herself under his arm as they made their way out.

  “Well! That went better than expected,” Arkangel said, holding his lapel.

  “Don't be so smug lieutenant. It's just a tentative agreement. We'll see how the future goes. Getting the trio flight experience with that bird is important.”

  “You mean they don't have a clue …” Arkangel stared at her. Moira snorted. “And does Dom …”

  “Something tells me he won't mind. They are fast learners,” she said mildly. “All three put in for the Marine wing. That's why they went through the corps initially. They were flying trash haulers for a while before Kittyhawk. By the time they had gotten wind of it in Agnosta the first cut had been chosen and they were out in the cold. Besides,” She flicked her ears. “They put in for ground attack, not fighters. This should work out better.”

  “If you say so, ma'am,” Arkangel replied dubiously.

  “If Admiral Irons can get us some more birds, they'll each have one by the end of the year. I hope,” Moira said softly.

  Chapter 30

  While they had been in transit to Protodon, a freighter had arrived from Protodon and set up an ansible platform in the L-5 point in the Kathy's World star system. They'd known it had been coming, so Moira had set up a series of downloads for it to transmit to the admiralty. Apparently she'd neglected to let them or Colonel Forth know of her intentions of leading the expedition. The word oops came to mind, she thought with her trademark wolf grin. That, and “what they don't know they can't deny.”

  Increasingly though the Major had been distracted with the discussions through the ansible net. Political problems back home were sent her way daily, and of course they couldn't get into too much detail because of the lack of bandwidth. There were variou
s issues like two natural disasters Bengali had to deal with, and then there were the manning of various utilities and even a threatened strike on his plate.

  And since Protodon only had so much bandwidth, she couldn't get into very detailed instructions on how to deal with the messes. The Admirals also needed a lot of ansible time for their own purposes.

  She'd hoped the troops on the ground would have gotten some ansible time to contact loved ones. Even a simple paragraph letter would impact morale. But the Admiral nixed that idea, the bandwidth was needed and kept in reserve. They were sending regular updates to Antigua, hourly reports. She could see why in some way, but it was maddening to see them report the same “no change” over and over. And the crap coming back? Requests for paperwork … she shook her head.

  If she was getting only a tenth of the bandwidth, she didn't envy what the admiral and his staff were having to put up with. They most likely had to transmit paperwork hourly … and any corrections or updates too. She wondered briefly if the admiral had to fill out forms in triplicate to wipe his own ass? It really was true; the navy did indeed float on its own paperwork.

  Moira rubbed her brow and muzzle as she closed her eyes. That wasn't her only problem. Admiral White had informed her that he was assigning two squadrons of Cobra fighters to the spaceport. They were coming in twenty-four hours. It would be good to have them, the Cobras could attack ground targets. The only problem was the complete lack of support. They were coming without ground crews, equipment, parts, fuel trucks, ordinance, or a place to house the birds securely. Something told her that keeping them out on the tarmac in the open would be considered a bad thing.

  The Hawk brothers and Rivers were supposed to be assigned to the fighters as backup pilots. They were going to have to assist in ground crew operations. She shook her head. And then there was the security issue. It meant she was going to have to double down on security on the airfield. When she did that, it would pull at least two, possibly three squads, from running the pirates down, which would give them more freedom to move. It would also tell Busche she had something valuable to cover … which would make them a target. Not good.

  She checked the parts list and then typed out an inquiry to Bast. The A.I. replied after a moment. “No, I don't have the keys to Cobra fighters,” Moira read out loud. “Wonderful,” she sighed. So much for that idea, she thought.

  At least the admiral was leaving two other squadrons in storage in orbit. She could count her blessings there. They would be a problem to house. She flicked her tail and pulled up a schematic of the spaceport. On the outer southern edge were the giant structures for the dirigibles. Could she stick them in there? She could fit an entire squadron in one of them … she'd have to talk to someone who knew more. But that might work. The question was, were any available? And security … keeping them secure …One good mortar attack would ruin her whole day.

  There were twelve weeks left before winter closed in. When it did, it would with a vengeance. Not as bad as on Kathy's World, but bad enough. Her people were adaptable … but were the enemy? And more importantly, the civilians? The raids on the outlying farms and towns had pushed back the civilians. They had flooded areas that hadn't been hit. Now that word was spreading through the radio network about the liberation of capital, many were coming in here. A steady stream of people on foot or in their funky vehicles were arriving. Some had animals, many had only the clothes on their back. And too many had stories of bandits robbing them or others.

  They had to go through a checkpoint to be searched just in case. Once in the capital, they were finding it was safer, but there wasn't a lot of food. There was also no leadership; her intention of working with local leaders hadn't gotten anywhere. No one had stepped up, and every attempt to contact local business leaders had failed utterly. They either ignored her or refused to show. It was very frustrating.

  The militia and local constabulary were doing their best to keep a lid on things. They had the public utilities secured and some of the businesses were hiring. But inflation was rampant. The housing and food crisis was also an issue.

  Once winter did set in, it would be that much harder to move around. And any movement would be a lot easier to see from orbit, the thermal images would stand out against the cold ground, even during daylight. But she didn't want to have to wait until then to deal with the enemy.

  The admirals as well as the locals were pressuring her to move out of the capital and into the outback to chase the enemy down. Unfortunately for them she had no intention of doing so. Not only did she not have the manpower to run down a larger force, but she also didn't have the transport ability to move them, nor resupply them or provide on-call fire support if and more importantly when they needed it. And they would, she had no doubt of that.

  She'd communicated that to the admiral's repeatedly, and she was pretty sure it had finally sunken in with Admiral Irons. He hadn't liked it, but he'd accepted it. She knew Colonel Forth was in her corner; he had been agitating for proper support for some time.

  Rear Admiral White was a bit of a different story. He may want a safe haven for his squids to have leave on, and he hated that the enemy had free rein on nearly 95 percent of the planet, but that was just too bad. She wasn't going to throw away what her people had achieved, frittering away her resources chasing phantoms. And definitely not getting in over her head in battles far from support or supply. Those were cherry ensign mistakes. He should know better.

  What bothered her the most were the civilian casualties. The enemy had stopped their cleansing details, the death squads, but they were still raiding farms and villages, even small towns. And they'd stepped up their game by hunting down the population, killing everyone down to babies. They were either doing it for psychological warfare or to silence any potential witnesses. She wasn't certain which … if it even mattered.

  They hadn't gotten to the burn part of the pirate's loot, pillage, rape, burn creed. That was a mixed blessing. It meant they were leaving some crops and materials behind for others to harvest, but the bastards had stepped up their game by targeting food shipments too. And they had also gotten cute by leaving nasty surprises for would-be rescuers who came to investigate a dead farm or village. Yesterday she'd read a report of some booby traps that had impaled a young man going to see his now dead fiancé.

  If they got enough food, they might go into the burn phase of the pirate creed. If they did they would deny the food to the civilian population as well as the Marines. That would be horrible, touching off a humanitarian crisis for the Federation forces that they were ill equipped to deal with at the moment. Her ears were flat back as she thought about that. She'd have to make contingency plans, just in case the bastards did go that route.

  The other threat were fires outside the farms. They hadn't set many in the forests, but they had set a few in the mills and other buildings they had raided. She made a note to look into the planet's firefighting capabilities when she had a free moment.

  “Ma'am? Your two o’clock is here early,” a rating said, leaning in to her open door.

  “Great. Send her in.”

  “There are actually two of them, ma'am. Both are business owners. They were arguing about transport fees as they came in, ma'am. Something about not wanting to be undercut and to maximize profits,” the rating warned.

  “Lovely,” Moira sighed.

  <(>~^~<(>

  Jethro nodded politely to a businessman who walked past him. He had his hand on his rifle, and his sensors scanned the man. The man with the muttonchops and mustache tipped his top hat to the Marine and then kept going on his way.

  Jethro watched him go and counted his blessings as he listened to the click click of the man's cane on the paving stones. A week prior the guy wouldn't acknowledge his existence. There were some in the city who just went about their activities as if nothing around them mattered. As if the occasional battle was a daily part of life. It bothered him. It also bothered him that most of the population was still huma
n.

  They were working though, and to his surprise they had gotten all of the utilities back up and running. One thing the native militia was serious about was keeping the hydrogen and industry safe. That and keeping the roads clear. Work crews went around with carts towed by animals or steam powered machines, picking up the trash once a week. Most of it was presorted and went to various recycling plants or to the massive furnace to burn.

  Kathy's World hadn't worked hard to combat the Ice Age their planet was undergoing as the terraforming began to reverse itself. Protodon had, but they'd gone old school in creating an Iron Age industrial revolution. Smoke stacks were everywhere. They burned fuel, either hydrogen, coal, wood, or trash. The air downwind was sooty and nasty. It was no wonder it was the poor district where a lot of refugees ended up.

  The business districts were the cleanest and second best secured parts of town. The militias were of course paid by the various businessmen to keep them safe. He nodded to a pair of militia troops out on patrol. They nodded back and kept going.

  The third most secure part of the capital was the utilities. And fourth was where he was currently, watching over one of the entrances to the dirigibles and the loading docks.

  Apparently there were some nasty waves and storms … and some terrible leviathans in the planet's seas. When the fall during and after the Xeno war had come, the natives had been forced to use antigrav and later hydrogen to keep trade and transport going.

  He looked up to see a trio of gray and black dirigibles in the air. They floated past, headed for the docks near the airport. All of the off-worlders hated them for various reasons. One, they were a security concern, not only could the enemy slip troops in, saboteurs, but they could also get people and information out. The high vantage point also allowed them to snipe or drop bombs onto those below.

  Then there was the security of the oval shaped things as well. Two dirigibles had gone up in flames and crashed into the mountains yesterday. Word was someone had shot them down, but they weren't sure how it was done. They unfortunately didn't have coverage of that area, and the overhead coverage had been maddeningly vague.