Jethro: First to Fight

by Hechtl, Chris

  He didn't want that. He resented her influence and arrogance, but he'd respected her abilities. He'd planned on finding ways to work around her when needed, but she'd slipped so neatly into her role and gathered up the reins of power so easily it had been almost impossible not to go along with the group. She'd kept such a tight rein on him for so long he'd thought she'd have taken him as a lover to permanently cement her hold over him. He was relieved that had never happened, he didn't like being some woman's round bottom boy. He much preferred the top.

  He glanced at Tracy, his blonde secretary mistress. She was stacked, she knew she had good looks and dressed the part, conservative in public or when he had to deal with people who were more... sensitive, and slutty in private. Or not at all when the whim struck him. He smiled slightly.

  She had just the right submissive streak going, she knew her place and didn't try to change it. She didn't rock the boat with his wife, being deferential to her as well. He was still training Tracy to do the job right, fear was a powerful motivator, as was just a little taste of power and ambition. She knew if she didn't toe the line exactly as he wanted she'd follow his last secretary out the lock. Nagging Nancy had gotten too cute in her games anyway, and her last trick of getting pregnant in order to blackmail him had sealed her fate. He didn't need nor want a scandal. Miss Persephone had been ever the professional, making sure the stupid slut suffered for a while before she met her fate. He still treasured the video, and watched it weekly.

  His wife however resented Tracy, no matter how much he'd tried to get her to use the girl too. That was annoying, Tracy wasn't a lover, she was a relief valve. Someone to get his rocks off whenever he was in the mood... and his wife wasn't around. She unfortunately didn't see it that way and was growing ever snippy about it.

  “Sir, um...”

  “Hmm?” he looked at Nelson. “Sorry, thinking of something else,” he said, shooting a glance at the secretary's open front. Trace blushed ever so slightly and squirmed, but made no effort to button up. She'd had her knuckles rapped the last time she had done that.

  “The economic downturn sir...” Nelson supplied.

  “What about it?” he demanded. “There isn't much we can do about it, not with things the way they are,” he growled.

  “There may be a few things we can do to offset it sir. Tax incentives to the proper parties, perhaps a tax holiday to investors? A repeal of the tax on the upper income brackets...”

  Walker scowled. He knew where that was going, someone somewhere wanted more change in their pockets. He didn't disagree with them, but there were enough charities in the system now to use as tax write offs. And they said there was corruption and graft in government! One charity ball and a couple eye opening discussions with Nelson had been enough to convince Walker that all the charities were schemes pure and simple. 90 percent of the charity ball, where it cost over 50,000 credits a plate to attend had gone to the people organizing the event, not to the charity it had been arranged for. And the damn thing had to be attended by Walker and his wife, they had to put in an appearance to rub elbows with the true movers and shakers in the system. That had been an annoying evening.

  “The admiral's apparent survival is good sir. If he came back, things would turn around again right?” Nelson asked.

  “Damn right they would! And once I had the key's I'd kick him out the nearest airlock!” Walker growled.

  Tracy winced and bit her lip but didn't say anything. Instead she tapped her stylus against her bottom lip lightly.

  “If he came back, if, things would be different,” Walker growled. He turned to Nelson. “Have Miss Persephone and her team on standby.”

  “Sir, a full merc group? We don't know where the admiral went right?” Nelson asked, looking at Gerald Long, the senator sitting in a chair nursing a scotch. Long shrugged.

  “Just do it. Have a small ship standing by as well.” Slowly the governor smiled. “You know, the navy has that health and welfare check up right? Have the ship run through the navy first, let the navy pay to check the ship over and then the crew can fix it up while they wait.”

  “Yes sir. Funds?”

  “Get a line from the Capital colony budget. Call it something under the table so it won't arouse suspicion if they ever get an audit going,” Long said.

  “They won't audit, they wouldn't dare,” Walker growled.

  Long gave him a long look. “You'd be surprised what those uppity bastards can do these days. We're holding on by a thread in both houses you know. I've steered four blue ribbon investigation panels away from you and our friends, but it's getting tighter. Throw in media hounds actively trying to pull us down...” he grimaced and shrugged.

  Walker scowled. One of the things he hated the most about the new constitution was the first amendment guaranteeing free speech. “The damn media,” he growled.

  “At least they've gotten part of the story of Destiny out sir. Before we were still getting second and third hand rumors from our sources,” Nelson reminded him.

  “True,” Long replied with a nod. “They had quite the adventure. Their return was surprising,” he admitted. He, like Walker and some of their fellows were unhappy about the adventures the freighter Destiny had had taking the admiral into exile. They would have much preferred it all blow over, but now that it was out in the open they had found out that the navy was indeed investigating the assassination attempts and sabotage... which made them squirm even more.

  Walker had traced the major sources of sabotage to the speaker's door. When he had found out he'd been infuriated... and relieved that she'd taken care to cover her tracks so carefully. He'd had to clean up only one loose end. But he was glad the bitch was dead, she couldn't blackmail him with the threat of exposure.

  “Irons was busy. Agnosta, Briev, Triang...” Long said, looking at the report on his tablet before he dropped it back into his lap. “He's definitely cleared the way for the military to go to Agnosta. What are we going to do about that?” he demanded.

  “Cross that bridge when we get there,” Walker said absently, sitting in his chair.

  “Everything was looking up until that damn bitch ran Irons out of the system. Now we're screwed. Back to where we started.”

  “Not quite sir, but close. The navy is a bright spot.”

  Gerald snorted. “One of our few ones. Any luck with getting them sorted out?” he asked. He was one of the senators who not only supported Walker, he also had started to fill the power vacuum the others had left after the speaker had died. He was a mediocre conspirator, with enough brains to work things out, and just enough of a trust thing going to keep with the group. He didn't go off half cocked like some did, trying to assassinate Irons after he'd left.

  Walker grimaced. “No, that's still a thorn in my side.”

  “One that needs to be dealt with.”

  “I hate to say it, but we need Irons back. He may have been an idealistic pain in the ass but he got the job done.” Entirely true, Walker thought. Irons had worked miracles when he'd been here. After the admiral had left Walker had watched the media attention of his leaving. He'd even watched the Knox special, the one on the admiral's anniversary of his exile. He'd thought at first he'd watch it to gloat, but in the end it had opened his eyes to what Irons had done... and what he'd planned to achieve. After that segment had aired he'd taken another hit in the polls and he'd gotten a bit of flack from it for weeks.

  The way things were going he was perilously close to a recall election, or so his publicist kept telling him. He wasn't so sure, but he knew he had to figure something out, something soon.

  “Right, I know. But He was...”

  “Are they still planning on that asinine base in Agnosta?”

  “Yes. Don't remind me,” the governor replied, rubbing his brow and closing his eyes. A base in Agnosta would put the navy out of his control. Then again it wasn't like they were under his control right now were they?

  “Are they going to jump? To move to Agnosta? Leave
us high and dry?”

  “I doubt it, some of those ships are still in pieces. Others can't be rebuilt or finished due to lack of parts. They're in the same boat we are.”

  “Just better off.”

  “In some ways yes. But we still hold the moral high ground here.”

  “Do we? Sometimes I'm not so sure. We're polling dead even now, and every time they respond to a crisis they get an uptick. Our friends in the media are eroding it, but they still have a bit of a better outlook each time. And our negative publicity is starting to generate a backlash.”

  “Oh. Ouch.”

  “Yeah.”

  “We've got to do something...”

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Jethro had a bar session with Hurranna, Asazi, Gusterson, and the Tauren Ox later that evening. The white liger Sergei was busy training to be a mortar maggot but would be around shortly, or so he promised. Letanga, Jethro's leopard cousin was on shift, and the Gunny was off in another noncom meeting.

  Hurranna was her usual smart ass small self. She was a lynx, they'd known each other in passing when they were growing up, her, Jethro, Letanga, and Sergei. All four of them were members of the Anvil cat clan, a local gang on the Anvil station. Now the gang had split up and reformed, some of its members had gone to work, some had left the system on Destiny. Many of the combat members had followed in the 4's footsteps and gotten into the military, all with mixed results.

  Asazi was their token human, a heavyworlder. She'd been a bodyguard and professional fighter before the admiral had put the call out and reformed the navy and the Marines. Now she was one of their shooters.

  Gusterson was one of two Neodogs on the squad, but unlike the Neo-Doberman Gunny and the rest of the squad, Gusterson was a navy medic. The greyhound was good at his job, patching the others up when they tangled with pirates in Agnosta.

  Ox was massive. He barely fit on the bar stool, Jethro could imagine the thing groaning under the weight. Whoever had designed the thing should receive a medal. He didn't envy anyone who sat on it after Ox did though. Ox weighted in at over 900 kilo's. 300 kilos More than Sergei. And like Sergei, a lot of that weight was muscle. Ox was the last member of his species in the system, and possibly the last in the known galaxy. He had every right to be depressed about that, but instead he cheerfully dived into whatever project was in front of him. Like all Taurens he was a tech weenie at heart.

  The squad tried to get together off shift at least once a week, or so they'd planned. Reality and wistful planning usually didn't quite mesh up really well however. Take for instance their erstwhile Commander, the Neogrizzly Ensign Valenko. He was still laid up in a regen tank. He'd waited through the trip back on Destiny for one, only to find a waiting list when they had arrived. He'd finally gotten his turn but since his body had scared over somewhat the nanites were forced to debride his scar tissue in order to make the repairs. From what the others heard when they stopped by to visit, it was a painful tedious process.

  “What's Able's problem?” Jethro asked, playing with his coaster.

  Hurranna sipped her beer and grinned, licking foam off her whiskers. “Seems like he was the one with the problem. Guy has a perpetual stick up his rear.”

  “He was stuck in a dead end job,” Asazi said knocking her drink back. They glanced at her. She shrugged, rolling her shoulders as she did so. On her massive heavyworlder frame it was impressive. Not that they hadn't seen it before, they'd been together since boot. “What I heard. He's been in life support on Centurion for what? A year or so now? As a Ensign? Got one promotion to Jig and he's been stuck there while others passed him by.”

  “They should rotate him to a different slot. Engineering, or tactical or something,” Jethro replied wrinkling his muzzle. The man was going stale and getting bitter and taking it out on everyone around him. He was fairly certain of that now.

  Asazi sighed. “None available apparently.”

  “Ouch,” Jethro winced. The build schedules had been thrown to hell with the admiral's departure from the system. Destiny and the parts he had sent back with the freighter had changed that slightly. They had managed to complete all the smaller ships, but they were stuck on the larger ships. Or so the scuttlebutt said.

  “I heard there's a few openings in the yard and in the station, in fact there has to be some on some of the new ships. He doesn't have what it takes for command?” Hurranna asked.

  “It takes all kinds,” Asazi said. She put her glass down and stretched. “It's what I heard anyway.”

  “Not everyone is up for command,” Jethro mumbled, remembering he'd been pushed to an officer's slot a few times. Now he wasn't comfortable with this discussion.

  “True, but you recognized your limits,” Hurranna said maliciously. Trust her to see to the heart of his discomfort.

  “What'd I miss?” Sergei said coming in and waving to the bartender for a drink.

  Jethro and the others looked up and smiled as he came. “Not a whole hell of a lot, usual bull session.”

  “Oh is that all? Well, wait till I get my beer then we'll get on the gossip. I've just played with the new mortars, I can't wait to get them in the field! Seeing them in the bay is one thing, and I admit VR is cool, but damn it I wanna see some dirt fly for real!”

  The others laughed at that.

  Chapter 2

  The next morning just as he started his morning jog, Jethro ran into an equipment move of some sort and was forced to halt. He paused at the noise. "Make a hole! If you've got somewhere else to be take a different route!" A voice yelled.

  "Seriously big hole people! Get the frak out of the way. If you can be someplace else then do that. That's even better." An annoyed petty officer ordered walking slowly backward around a corner. Jethro blinked as a giant cylinder came slowly into sight. Instinctively he followed the directive, moving to a cross corridor and backing into it, blocking it off.

  When someone came up behind him he put a hand out to stop them. The man grunted as he looked over Jethro's shoulder and saw the workers.

  The shiny metal and glass cylinder they were moving was on its side, translucent windows were on the sides facing them. He was surprised to see water sloshing inside. Then a flash of color and tentacles. He blinked in confusion. As the transport moved closer he gasped. "Ssilli," the voice behind him said softly. He glances that way to see a tech.

  "Yeah," Jethro replied, turning back to the officer. He came to attention and saluted the water alien. The tech did as well. The water alien turned an eye stalk in their direction and flashed a rainbow of color. After a moment one of its main tentacles gave an approximate salute back.

  They watched as the tube passed, leaning into the corridor see it go.

  "Where is it going?" Jethro asked. "Out for a walk?" he asked. His ears flicked in amusement at the thought.

  "No it's got a habitat waiting inside San Diego."

  "The base?" Jethro asked blinking down at the wiry little human. The man shrugged.

  "I heard they've been cutting up the inside, carving out places for buildings and such. They cut out a huge area for him, something like a kilometer across and a hundred meters deep. Big ass bowl they filled with water."

  "Wow," Jethro said trying to imagine that in the sphere.

  "It's got a glass top, you can see it when you're inside," the tech said. He went over to an LCD on the bulkhead and tapped at it. "There. See?" Jethro blinked at the magnified view. It looked like a greenhouse filled with water.

  "He'll be a lot more comfortable there instead of crammed in the tank here."

  "Who's steering it? Oh wait, implants? Or is it Firefly?" he asked looking at the nearby tech.

  "No he is, He's sapient," the tech said smiling. "They have to be given the same rights and privileges we've got."

  Jethro flicked his ears. "Oh," he said sheepishly.

  "I heard they had wanted to ship him off to Agnosta but the doc said she needed him here."

  "No man it's cause the seas on Agnost
a are poisonous to him," another tech said.

  The first tech turned to the second. "Really? Not what I heard."

  "Yeah man, something about saline or mercury, not sure," the other tech said. Jethro left them arguing so he could be on his way.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Jethro mangled a hat with his hands, trying to get it to take the shape he wanted. Unfortunately the memory material in the hat kept reshaping it back to its original design.

  Asazi entered the compartment, stopped at her locker and then stared at him. “What the heck are you doing?” she asked. “Did that hat do something or what?”

  The panther sighed, sitting on the bench and tossing the hat up in the air for the moment before he caught it. “No, I'm trying to get it to fit me. See, the bush hats we wore on Agnosta were a pain. They're a one size fits all sort of thing and they just don't work with Neo ears,” he said, flicking his ears.

  She looked at his ears and then the hat. After a moment he put the hat on and she could see it for herself. She agreed with a nod. “So, you need to look for a Neo design and have one made,” She commented, opening her locker and turning to its contents.

  “Have one made?”

  “Hang on a sec,” she said, stripping off her sweat soaked top and dropping it behind her. She grabbed a towel and some latrine things and then turned. “I'll hit the shower. I think you can find one in the net, give me a couple of minutes and I'll show you where I saw it.”

  “You saw it?” he asked.

  She smiled as she pulled the towel she had behind her neck. She held onto it with both hands, coincidentally covering her now naked breasts. It didn't matter to Jethro, he was a Neo and he didn't do humans. Asazi was a team mate, and a long time ago a professional fighter. She wasn't body shy. But some conventions died hard so she still covered her exposed nipples with her towel and wrists. “Yeah, what can I say, I'm a lady. We always love to shop,” she said with a slight smirk, turning and exiting.