Jethro: First to Fight

by Hechtl, Chris

  “Sir, yes sir. I am jogging sir.”

  “Ah, jogging, is that what you call that racket. Banging around, you do realize some of us are asleep right? That we have real jobs?”

  “Sorry sir,” Jethro said, eyes straight ahead, eight centimeters above the officer's head. He hadn't realized he was making that much noise. His mind absently cataloged the fact that the Jig needed another haircut.

  “Don't they have a machine, you know one of those belt thingies? What do they call them, treadmills? Yeah!” the sarcastic jig asked.

  Jethro's eyes narrowed ever so slightly at the sarcasm. “Sir yes sir. All are unavailable at this time. Or were when I started PT.” He recognized why the Jig didn't call him by his last name. Lately officers called subordinates by their last name. The little niggling fact that one, Jethro wasn't technically a subordinate to Able, and two his last name on record was 'of the Anvil cat clan' sort of put a crimp on that habit. Or the Jig was just in a snotty mood. Which he was. Right now the best thing to do was stay stoic. When in doubt follow the lead of others in your vicinity or keep your mouth shut and go with the flow, answering questions as needed.

  “Why are you bothering with PT anyway? You do realize we are on a ship right? We don't have to run around with it, we just go from point A to point B with it. That's what the engines are for. Right?”

  “Yes sir.” Jethro ground out, not mentioning that sometimes a person needed to get from point A to point B inside the ship in a hurry. “Sir, I am a Marine,” he said.

  “I gathered that,” the Lieutenant said sarcastically. “You'd be fracken useless as a real soldier,” the squid said. This time Jethro didn't stop his ears from going flat. “Got something to say?” the Lieutenant demanded, arms crossed.

  Jethro kept his tail absolutely still. Despite himself his eyes narrowed slightly and his pupils went to slits. He'd put up with trash talk while in training, he could handle a dressing down by this self important ass. “Sir, as a Marine I am required to be fit at all times in case we are called to action. In a boarding action, in any form of rescue op, or combat.”

  “I see.”

  "Besides sir, there are the mandatory PT exams coming up. Every two years. I want to better my last scores if possible."

  "PT... you mean performance evals? Get it right Jarhead," Jig Brighton Able said, not quite rolling his eyes, but packing enough exasperated scorn in his voice to make the panther narrow his eyes ever so slightly. Even though he was enlisted he didn't have to like getting talked down to by a squid officer fresh out of the promotions board.

  "No sir, I mean physical fitness training sir. It's a standard sir."

  Able snorted. "You jarheads are nuts."

  "We have to stay ready for combat sir," Jethro said feeling mulish. Ever since he'd come back from the mission on Agnosta to Firefly he'd caught some sort of flack from the officers. At least the naval officers. He wasn't sure why. It might be the personal animosity from the Captain, he did his best to keep out of her way.

  Most of the other Marines were having the same thing. Most of it was petty crap, harassment. They'd gotten use to some of the ribbing but this was getting annoying. They couldn't help the roles they were in. The navy ran the ship. Most Marines stood guard watch or were trained in handling weapons or in damage control duties. Since they were on a naval ship they had to suck it up and do as they were told.

  "You said that already. You don't need to be that fit. Combat armor..."

  "Begging the Lieutenant's pardon sir but I went into combat a short time ago without my armor. I'd of loved to of had it, but you have to make do with what you have sir."

  "I'm glad we don't have to deal with that. Fine, carry on."

  "Um... sir, the MPFT... it's a Federation military standard," Jethro said, then caught himself at the Jig's disgusted look. "Sir yes sir."

  "Actually, the Corporal is correct, it is a standard of the navy as well," Firefly's well known voice interjected. His holo appeared as both men braced to attention. "Your Naval Physical Fitness Test is coming up soon I believe Jig Able."

  "Sir?" the jig blanched, looking down at his paunch. He had hated the physical stuff. Hated it. Chicken shit, that's what it was. He was glad he was behind a console. Now that smug sense of security and superiority was coming crashing down around his ears.

  "We have to make sure your body can handle bursts of high gravitation or physical effort Lieutenant. I suggest you start working out again and continue with a regime. Your fitness evaluation is before each promotion's board, it plays a part in it, and so does your attention to detail.” That got the jig's attention. “But the ship will be entering the annual FARETEP testing in six weeks, which means another round of PT exams. Your score will not only be reflective on you and your career, but on the ship as well. It is expected that everyone meet or show noticeable improvement over past scores."

  "Aye sir," the jig replied, grimacing. He sucked in a little. Jethro's nostril's dilated ever so slightly in a suppressed snort of amusement. Everyone knew about FARETEP, the Fleet Armed Readiness Exercises Training and Evaluation Program. Prep and quite a bit of grumbling had been going on about it for some time now. Apparently the jig hadn't known about the PT part of it though.

  The AI avatar turned to Jethro. "Corporal carry on. Do try to steer clear of the high pedestrian areas and the decks where the graveyard personnel are sleeping though." The AI uploaded a revised map for the Corporal to follow. “Dismissed.”

  "Yes sir," Jethro replied smartly and then moved out. He snuck a look back at the Jig. From his rather dyspeptic expression he didn't look happy. He flicked his ears and hid a smirk as he kept moving, trying to rebuild his pace without getting a cramp.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Firefly brought up the upcoming PT exams as part of the FARETEP to the Captain and bridge officers. Commander Shelby Logan grimaced, having forgotten about them. Firefly gently reminded them all they hadn't been keeping up with mandatory exercise regime either.

  “And who brought this up?” Captain Renee Mayweather asked. She had matured into a graceful and poised Captain, with enough steel behind her eyes to make even Commander Logan jump sometimes. She had perfected her command presence over the past two years, making her the perfect Captain of Firefly. Her dress uniform image in the Navy times didn't do her justice, or so her crew said.

  The Lieutenant Commander was technically outranked by her ship AI who was a full Commander, as well as her XO Lieutenant Commander Shelby Logan. However both had signed off on the raven haired woman taking the hot seat.

  Captain Mayweather had a face and body that seemed to develop with beauty as she aged. Now that she had access to modern medicine and a proper diet, she had filled out, put on muscle mass and had matured in many ways. She had a lively, some would say malicious sense of humor that kept her crew on their toes.

  “Corporal Jethro ma'am,” Firefly replied. He was aware that the Captain wouldn't like the source. The Neo-panther had been on the Captain's shit list once already.

  “Right, and who's idea was it to let that damn cat back on my ship again?” The Captain asked caustically.

  “It's only temporary Captain. His unit is rotating here to cover Sergeant Evan Sirus. His squad has liberty.”

  “Funny, they have liberty and Valenko's doesn't?”

  “They had a lot of downtime en route from Agnosta. The Ensign is still in the regen tanks ma'am, so his squad is at ends. Marine command has tapped some of them for other jobs, including working in the suit morgue with Sergeant Riley.”

  “Ah.”

  “So these exams...”

  “It's a bit of a competition,” Commander Logan replied. “The best ship has bragging rights.”

  “Right, and whose job was it to keep up on this?” the Captain asked mildly.

  “Mine ma'am,” Shelby replied.

  “Dropped the ball XO?”

  “A little.”

  Purple Thorn waved a hand. The Captain's gaze turned to
the tiny tactical officer. “Yes Lieutenant? Something to say?”

  “In the defense of the XO we did focus our efforts on the engineering and tactical work up instead of on the broad picture ma'am.”

  “Yes, I do want to pin Vargess's ears back,” Mayweather replied with a shark like smile.

  “True,” the tac witch replied, twitching her antenna. The Captain loved to tease her with that smile, knowing the elf didn't like a show of teeth. She'd long since learned to put up with it. “Our implants have kept us up in relative good health, the doctor may disagree,” she turned to the doctor. Doctor Standish shook his head. “So we shouldn't come in dead last.”

  “I don't want to come in any less than first,” the Captain replied.

  “Ma'am, you do realize some of the ship companies are small. So if all of them are in extreme form, the chances of us as a ship's crew coming in ahead of them are remote.”

  “Excuses excuses. Get on it,” the Captain replied.

  “Aye aye ma'am,” Shelby replied. “Shall I schedule you some time in the ship's gym?” she asked smiling slightly.

  Mayweather paused her hand, fingers reaching for a doughnut. Finally she turned, eyes glaring at the XO. “You are so not funny,” she growled.

  “Aye ma'am, whatever you say,” Shelby replied solemnly, but her eyes brimmed with mischief as the Captain's long fingers clenched slowly and then retreated. “It's all willpower,” she stage whispered. The other officers chuckled.

  “Right. And just for that you can set the base line,” the Captain said, giving the XO a look.

  Shelby shrugged. “Unlike some ma'am I kept up my minimum gym time.”

  “I see.”

  “But, I admit I need to work on my cardio a bit more. I thought I'd get enough of that in the next tactical exercise,” she said.

  “Right,” the Captain drawled while the tactical officer rolled her eyes. The Captain loved to take the opposition force whenever the XO or tactical officer ran a sim. Something about keeping them on their toes.

  One of the things the admiral and Firefly had drilled into them was to train hard. To train against the best. There were no gimmes once you became an officer, there was always a twist in a sim. Tactical officers and commanding officers took a personal pride... not to mention a healthy dose of the mischievous to pull one over on each other by coming up with nasty sims. The best were the ones that looked the most straight forward... and were the most realistic.

  “Well, send a memo, PT. Get it organized. Roust them out, get them ship shape XO,” Mayweather ordered.

  “Aye aye Captain,” Shelby replied.

  “Who's bright idea was this anyway?” Janice asked.

  “The admiral's,” Firefly responded. That sobered the group. “He'd planned on instituting it before he left but we were still getting organized. Commander Logan focused on building and administration but new orders came in on Destiny.”

  “Oh.”

  The news that the admiral and Destiny had survived had surprised those in the know, but the general population hadn't known about the intel they had that the ship had been sabotaged. When the story had broke it had taken over both sides of the media. The attorney general had promised a full investigation, but as of yet no investigators had come to visit the ship at her berth or to talk to her crew.

  After the first week the media under the control of the governor or his allies had begun to spin it, pointing out that Irons had turned tail and continued to run instead of returning.

  They'd also tried to make as much hay out of the Marine deaths on Agnosta, pointing to horrible leadership and a lack of oversight. That was one of the reasons the admiral's new orders were being implemented quickly.

  “So, why again? I mean I get some of it, but...”

  “It's one, a path to promotion, showing your stuff. And two, it builds morale, good crews pull together. Three, it shows weaknesses that need to be addressed.”

  “I see.”

  “Trust me, you do not want to be on a ship that fails a FARETEP exam. Or screws up in an exercise. Getting razzed is the least of your problems. For some it can be a career ender.”

  “Oh, ouch,” the elf replied.

  “So, yes we have to take it seriously. The good news is, not only do the top 3 ships get bragging rights, they also get a week's leave.”

  “Oh, now that's something of interest to the crew. Quite an incentive,” Shelby replied.

  “Then it's time we get on it,” the Captain said, getting up. “If anyone needs me I'll be making my rounds and then I'll hit the gym.”

  “Aye Captain. Reputation and all,” the doctor said nodding.

  “Hell, not just that, I bet Vargess I'd kick his ass,” the Captain replied with a grin. “So don't let me down or I'll be a real B until the next set of exams. Which is in a year?” she asked.

  “Aye Ma'am,” Shelby replied. A year with the normally stiff dragon lady being a real B?

  “Then best get it sorted out number one,” Mayweather replied as she left.

  “If this is her nice.... ohhh... boy,” the tactical officer said, rolling her eyes.

  “Yeah. I guess we have our work cut out for us,” Shelby muttered. “Chief, engineering, go over the write up on what they will be looking for. Run the bots till they break, everything spic and span. And get people to clean with toothbrushes. Every nook and crevice. Then get someone picky to look it over and then go back over it again.”

  “Right, nitpick, as if I don't have enough to do,” the Chief engineer grumbled but nodded.

  Shelby snorted and turned to the doctor. Before she could say something he held up his hands. “I know, I know, get on the lazy louts. Do mandatory medical exams and roust out our worst offenders.”

  “Right. And get sickbay cleaned and do an inventory. Count all the tongue depressors. Same for stores,” the XO said, glancing at the ops officer.

  “Right, I mean aye ma'am,” the ops officer replied with a nod.

  “Helm, I know you don't have much to do now since we're in dock but...”

  “Run sims, more sims, and more sims. I know the drill. And lend a hand where needed,” Janice replied.

  “We need to bring everyone up on proficiency. So quiz your people, check them. Any holes find ways to plug them fast. Sleep teach, spoon feed them, whatever it takes,” Shelby growled.

  The group nodded. Shelby turned to the tac witch. “Get weapons going. Inventory, weapons sims, everything.”

  “Can we expend some drones?”

  Shelby frowned. “I'll check with the Captain and get back to you on that. Anyone else?” They shook their heads no.

  “Fine then, have a problem, let me know. Then lets' get started people,” she said, getting up.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Firefly shot out a memo asking about the games and the scoring methods while Shelby shot one out to the crew and department heads to increase physical training. She sent a second, this one a not so gentle reminder about the upcoming exams and how fitness played a role in not only the ship's point standings, but also in individual careers. A few days later Jethro and the other Marines were amused that the exercise equipment was now in heavy use. They were even more amused by the sour looks many of the squids shot their way in passing.

  “The more you sweat, the less you bleed,” Hurranna said, flicking her ears in amusement as she sniffed the air

  “Ah shut up,” a squid said, throwing a sweat soaked towel over the cat's head. Hurranna yowled in disgust.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Commander Horatio Logan received the e-mail concerning the FARETEP testing parameters from Firefly and frowned. It wasn't that they didn't have a plan, they did. The problem was the scoring, he had yet to sit down with the command staff and iron out the points. There was still a fair bit of wrangling over what came into play, and what standards were more important for each ship to hit. Some things were pretty tough, and there were a few officers who were concerned that not all would measure up.


  He understood it, and he didn't want to have to bust someone if their ship crapped out. It bothered him a little, he knew these people. Hell, he'd never signed on to be an officer! He'd learned the role over time as Chief engineer of Anvil, but still!

  He sighed shaking his head. The admiral was right, he had to let them hang on their own. If a ship screwed up there would have to be an investigation. If the command staff was at fault they would either have a chance to correct the mistakes, or, if it was bad enough, they could face charges. Such a lovely thought.

  In a way it would help raise promotions. The men and women who performed would show it. But there was a big threat of back biting with so few command posts available right now. And it was all the fault of Walker, his cronies... and unfortunately the admiral for letting himself get exiled.

  He brooded, staring at the report without reading it before he turned his thoughts to recruiting. That was another problem, people were pushing to rise up the ladder faster than their abilities allowed... and with few billets available. They had thousands of people in uniform, and thousands more reading and willing to join. The problem wasn't where to put them, it was what to do with them, they just didn't have the ships.

  They did have the space stations, hundreds of them now. Some of them really didn't need a crew, the sixty odd storage depots for instance. They were glorified warehouses, and didn't need more than a caretaker crew right now. If things picked up that might change, but for now his people had left out any sort of major habitation module on them. They could be added later as need arouse.

  Then there was San Diego. What a debacle that Bernal Sphere was turning into. The admiral had thought of it, it was a brilliant piece of engineering. The shell was cool, they had a caretaker crew, but again, with the admiral out of the system construction had halted before it could really get off the ground. There were thousands of buildings cut into the inner surface of the sphere, but with no reactors to power the base they were all collecting dust. Well most of them, a few were active, but not many.

  The admiral and the staff had envisioned San Diego as both a port, a training base, and a place away from Anvil and the colonies that the dependents could call home.