by Chris Hechtl
“You are. You're going well above the call of duty. Just keeping the pirates off their back is one thing. I've heard about you and the others going in and helping them rebuild.”
“Many of them don't have much, ma'am. Some nothing at all. The pirates and the local humans seized all of their possessions. They want to work; they just don't know where to start.”
“And we're feeding them, with winter approaching.”
“Yes, ma'am.” He was aware that Sabu had slipped Zelma a battered tablet, solar panel, and a small space heater for her and the young she cared for. It was getting rather cold, that curtain wouldn't do much to retain heat. And that crate was dark and cramped.
Jethro had wanted to build her a school, something, anything. He'd love to rent a building, a big one and just toss everyone in. But he wasn't sure how to go about it … and didn't want to be seen as an easy mark. A soft touch to be exploited. Besides, he knew that he couldn't take care of them forever.
“The old saying about feed a man a fish you feed him for a day. Teach him to fish and you feed him for life comes to mind,” the wolf said dryly.
“The streams are pretty polluted in this area, ma'am, and most likely fished out,” Jethro observed.
“It was an expression, Gunny,” she said. She eyed him then snorted. “And you knew that.”
“Yes, ma'am,” he admitted.
“I know you want to help, Gunny, but you can't save them all,” Moira said when she noted Red by the gate again.
“I can't sit by and do nothing, ma'am. I may not save them all, but I can do something to help the ones in front of me now. And hopefully, maybe, they'll go and help others. Or someone else will see, grow a pair, and help too.”
“Was that an insult, Gunny?” Moira demanded, staring at him.
“No, ma'am. I was … I meant the natives, ma'am.”
“Be careful how you speak, Gunnery Sergeant,” she growled. “But I see your point. And I'll try to figure out something for them.”
“I don't know how far we can trust them, ma'am. The intel people will have to figure it out. But I trust them far more than the humans here, ma'am.”
“True. I'll have some of our people interview them. Those who don't sign up with the militia … I suppose we can work something out. Jobs on the docks or something.”
“The local unions will love that, ma'am.”
“We'll work it out.”
“Aye aye, ma'am.”
“You realize, with your kittens here, they aren't in the city being your eyes and ears,” she warned.
“I know, ma'am,” he replied with a nod. “And I know they are a target here.”
“Yes, they certainly are. I'll work on the housing problem. Even if I have to take over a couple abandoned buildings and turn them into the low rent district. And I'll get someone who knows a bit more about engineering to lend a hand.”
“Maybe some of them could help with some of the gifts the admiral keeps sending our way, ma'am?” Jethro asked, cocking his head.
Moira frowned pensively, then flicked her ears in a shrug. She didn't like the idea of favoring Neos and aliens over humans or the division it caused, but it was already there. The appearance of favoring them, even just to redress the balance … she could work it out as some sort of reparation. Help to get them back on their feet … she shrugged again. “It's a thought. I'll have someone do a poll, find out who can do what. There has to be a couple shade tree mechanics or someone willing to learn out there. Someone out to do more than look pitiful for a handout,” she said. Jethro winced.
“Copy that, ma'am.”
“Get out of here then.”
“Semper Fi, ma'am.”
She wondered if the panther realized that he couldn't take them with him. That when he left they'd be left behind. They might join up, but the kittens were far too young. She shook her head and tapped out a memo to Lieutenant McAdams to look into the situation in more detail.
Chapter 34
Jethro's actions on the Nelson finally caught the attention of certain officers when Commander Sprite requested a follow-up report and a request for reasoning on why the intel hadn't been processed. That lit a fire under certain parties. Arckangel, Locke, Jornel, and the other intelligence officers in the fleet finally got the time to process his report. When they finished they presented their findings as dispassionately as possible to Admiral Irons, Colonel Forth, and Admiral White. That led to questions about why it wasn't in Lieutenant C'lax's formal report, only mentioned in an amendment.
Jethro was so busy on Protodon he was oblivious to the chatter buzzing on about him but Bast wasn't. She picked up the discussion in the network and was curious about where it would lead.
It caught up to them a few days after her brief discussion with Commander Sprite. The Neopanther and his resident A.I. were called up into space to see the brass. To Jethro it was monumentally bad timing, they had just kicked off a series of new offenses around the town and he'd gotten to know the kittens better. The first signs of fall had hit, and harvests were going on across the planet, which meant the Horathians and their collaborators were out raiding the convoys and food warehouses.
Moira looked at him pityingly then flicked her ears at his distress when she gave him the news. “We have no choice. You have no choice; you go where you’re told, son. We'll hold the fort just fine while you're gone. Just don't dawdle.”
“No, ma'am.”
Jethro rode up on Mancheta and Sander's return shuttle flight wondered what the whole business was about. “It can't be that crap that JAG officer was asking about, could it? I mean honestly? It's been what, nearly a year?” Bast flicked her ears and shrugged. “You know something,” he accused when he saw the gleam in her eyes. “Spit it out.” She just smiled ever so slightly and then flicked her ears again.
“Fine, be that way,” he grunted. Whatever it was, it wasn't bad in a bad way or she would have acted differently or warned him.
Or … or it was bad, but in a malicious prank sort of way. His eyes narrowed as he thought about that. He glared at Bast, but she just looked cute at him on his HUD. “Can it, you can't do it as well as Red.” That made her pout. He snorted softly and then crossed his arms and did his best to rest as the trip up concluded.
<(>~^~<(>
Moira rubbed her brow as she read the reports. The sweep had been a rousing success, not only had they bagged 240 spies and informants, but they'd also nailed a few constables and a couple businessmen in league with the enemy. Hammering them had put others on notice that she wasn't playing games and catching them with their hands dirty pretty much sealed their fate.
Now that each of the major cities and towns had been secured and the industrial centers swept, she was turning control of some of them over to the militia in order to keep her forces concentrated to find and hit the enemy in the outback. They were in small platoon-sized groups in the outback; that much they knew. Well, some of them, she couldn't discount the threat of squads slipping back into civilization to wreak havoc.
But then there were the stories of the enemy out in the hinterland. Like this latest, El Diablo. Something was certainly going on; she'd thought it was a reference to Jethro. The enemy was calling him all sorts of names, but they were apparently referring to something out in the back woods. Way out in the outback. If it was trouble for them, it could be beneficial for her and her people. The enemy of her enemy and all that. Unfortunately she couldn't spare anyone to go hunting. Captain Lyon's people were overtaxed as it was.
She couldn't even spare people to go to that air village! She shook her head. She'd heard about it, a flying town or village over one of the planet's seas. Apparently the locals had cobbled together a bunch of their blimps to replace the dying gravity emitters that had held the complex of buildings aloft. It was held together by cables and suspension bridges, and according to the locals, it was quite the sight to see. She wasn't sure if they had Horathians on it or not. Again, according to the locals and some data
from Briggs, the place had a pretty good militia. Of course Briggs had also pointed out that the trade center was a haven for thieves and air pirates. She wasn't sure what to make of that. The Horathians should fit right in then, right? Unless he was talking about a different place? She shook her head.
<(>~^~<(>
Jethro was surprised when the Admiral's Flag Lieutenant Pwaulli met him at the lock. He went through the usual boarding ceremony but she hurried him along. She was holding a garment bag over her shoulder. She immediately thrust it out to him. “I don't think you had time to change.”
“What for, ma'am?”
“Don't ask questions, just change and meet me in the wardroom,” she ordered.
“Yes, ma'am!” he said dutifully, taking the package. She pointed to a closet where he could change.
Jethro got out of his day uniform quickly, then pulled open the bag. He was surprised to find a formal Marine uniform there, dress blues. She had even replicated his rank and fruit salad. He ran his finger over the medals briefly until Bast gave him a hurry-up look.
“Fine fine. Whatever,” he growled, throwing the uniform on.
When he was finished, he tucked the day uniform into the garment bag, sealed it, and then exited the compartment. The lieutenant was there; she gave him a once over and then had him turn. She brushed something, an errant hair off his shoulder then straightened his arm. “You'll do. Come on,” she said as he tucked his cover under his arm.
“Ma'am? Can you tell me what this is about?”
“The ceremony of course,” she replied over her shoulder.
“Ceremony?”
“In here,” she said, pointing to the lift. She stepped to the side so he could pass her and get to the back. He did so, then stood at ease with his hands tucked at his sides.
“A promotion, ma'am? Why didn't someone … I haven't taken the test, ma'am.”
“You'll see,” she said with a slight smile.
When they got to the wardroom, Captain Ssri'allth was there, as was Rear Admiral White. Holographic projectors came on projecting the images of Colonel Forth, Admiral Irons, Major White Wolf, Ensign Marshall, and Commander Sprite.
“This is a bit irregular; we may repeat this ceremony for the public again at a later date,” Admiral Irons stated. He had a tablet in his hand and was in formal uniform. “Gunnery Sergeant Jethro McClintock, attention to orders.”
“Sir!” Jethro said, saluting his image. When the Admiral didn't return the salute, the Neochimp Rear Admiral grunted.
“He's not really seeing this, Gunny. None of them are. These are their avatars; we don't have the bandwidth through the ansible here I'm afraid,” he explained.
“True. Why don't you handle this, Admiral,” Commander Sprite's voice said.
“Agreed,” Admiral Irons stated.
“Very well,” the neochimp said, taking a tablet from Lieutenant Jojo. He looked at it and started to read out loud. “Gunnery Sergeant McClintock. During the battle of Kathy's World, you valiantly led a solo charge across the void of space with only your armor and your training against a Horathian Nelson class destroyer. You and your A.I. managed to not only breech the enemy's defenses but board the craft. During your attack you killed or injured forty-seven of the enemy and wrecked a great deal of the ship's hardware forcing the ship's captain to set the self-destruct to force you off the ship. It is through your action as well as the concerted action of others that the enemy was distracted from its intent on slaughtering the outmatched forces in the star system.”
Jethro started to open his mouth, but Bast took control and closed it firmly. He stood rigid at attention.
“Your heroism in the face of the enemy well above the call of duty has earned you the respect of your fellow soldiers and sailors as well as that of the entire Federation. The entire reborn Federation owes you a debt of gratitude. As flag officer on scene, I am directed to award you the Federation's Medal of Honor for your heroism. Wear it in good health,” the Neochimp said gravely, then looked up.
Jethro's eyes widened as the neochimp handed his tablet to his flag lieutenant then turned to take a purple case from the counter behind him. He came over to Jethro and snapped the medal's ribbon around his neck, then stepped back and saluted. Jethro returned the salute.
His mind was a whirl with the concept. He didn't know if it was legal. He wasn't sure if he had really earned it. He definitely didn't want it, he wasn't … his thoughts slid to a thought as his protocol took over. He shook the Admiral's extended hand and nodded to him.
“Wear it in good health indeed, Gunny,” the Naga said, patting his arm.
“You'll have to brush up on the protocol on wearing the medal I'm afraid. On your own time. I know you and all of us here are rather busy at the moment, which was why we got this done in a hurry. Ordinarily we would have done this right,” the neochimp said.
“Yes, sir.”
“And we didn't tell you because you would have done everything in your power to nix it,” Jojo teased maliciously. The admiral turned to her then back to Jethro in time to see his ears flick and the wry look on his face. The admiral slowly nodded.
“Tobias would be proud. I know I am. Good work, son.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good work, Gunny,” Colonel Forth's voice said over the intercom. Jethro looked up then back down to the others.
“It's a work in progress,” Ensign Marshall said. “A bandwidth saving method Commander Sprite and the coders came up with. We just got the beta version this morning.”
“Ah.”
“Hopefully we won't need it for much longer. It would be nice if the Admiral would send us a proper ansible, hint hint,” Major White Wolf said out loud. Her link was more normal; she was transmitting from the planet.
“We're working on it. And we're working on the shuttle and attack craft requests as well, Major,” Admiral Irons' voice replied. Jethro noted it was fake; it had no inflection, no emotional tone, a robot’s voice.
“Lieutenant, see that the gunny gets back dirtside. I image you have a lot of drinks to deal with from your comrades and a lot of work to do,” Admiral White ordered.
“And a spectacular hangover to deal with in the morning,” Colonel Forth stated.
Jethro sniffed but shook his head. He knew better than to get knock-down drunk in a combat zone.
“Dismissed, Gunny,” Admiral Irons stated.
“Aye aye, sir.” Jethro stepped back, saluted, then when the admiral returned the salute and struck it, he struck his own salute, about-faced, and exited the compartment.
“Well, was it a nice surprise?” Jojo asked him maliciously as she followed him out.
“No.”
“No?” she demanded, eying him.
“Yeah. I'm never going to hear the end of this from everyone I know. And the medal has a reputation to uphold.”
“Yeah, but we need heroes. And something tells me you'll have no problems holding up the reputation or even exceeding it. Stay safe,” she told him.
“Yes, ma'am.” He squirmed a bit in the uniform and then tugged on the collar. “Ma'am, no offense, but can I have my old uniform back? I've got to get back to work.”
“All right, all right,” she sighed, chuckling softly under her breath. “You can take the man out of the … you know what, skip it. In here,” she said waving to a nearby room.
As they walked to it, Jethro saw a familiar face. Bast put up an IFF as the young man looked up and whistled. He grinned at Jethro. “Way to go, Gunny!” he said making a pumping motion. “Oh, sorry,” he said when he saw the lieutenant. He came to attention and saluted.
“Better,” the lieutenant replied dryly.
“Yes, ma'am,” O'Shay replied. Jethro finally put the face and name together, apparently the put-upon young man had gotten his transfer. And from his look he was where he wanted and needed to be. Good for him.
“On your way, spacer,” she said softly.
“Yes, ma'am,” he said. He nodded to
Jethro then went about his business. Jethro flicked his ears and then entered the compartment the lieutenant pointed out for him. He paused when he realized it was the Mess.
“You're not going groundside until the next shuttle is available. That's tomorrow night. So, you're going to bunk here with us. If you don't mind,” the lieutenant said from behind him. He stepped aside to let her pass as the compartment's occupants looked up at her voice. They saw the glitter of his medal and then started to murmur. A few of the squids recognized him and started to clap. That spread and soon the compartment rang with cheers and clapping.
Jethro felt embarrassed but good.
<(>~^~<(>
General Busche stared at the report and then frowned. Her spies had gotten her word some time ago that there were different factions of the Marines. They had two groups, some with and some without implants. She tried to ponder implications of it, and how to exploit it. The reasoning didn't make sense … not until she got more word on those without implants.
It seemed Major White Wolf had brought them with her from Kathy's World. The Marines with her were recruiters and trainers. That finally clicked. They had the training of the corps, or at least some of it, some of the hardware, but not the experience or the implants. That meant their sensors were also limited to what they could carry.
She decided to do a test to see how limited the sensors were. And the best test was one in the field, and if she could kill some of the enemy … and do it rather visibly … then it would knock over a couple other birds with the one stone.
She issued orders to her network, then followed that with a second series of orders to an informant that worked both sides. By feeding carefully selected intel to the informant, she was sure they would take the bait.
<(>~^~<(>
Private Sabu nodded curtly to Chirup and Chavez as they set up to take the safe house. It was all becoming old hat to them; he was pretty sure they were reacting like the veterans they were. Once they passed the abbreviated basic course on Agnosta and got their full implants, they'd be golden. And since they already had their combat tickets punched, they'd be rocketing up the chain of command for promotion.