Hurranna's eyes widened. She flicked her ears and then snorted softly. “Perish the thought,” she murmured.
“Right,” the Gunny said. He opened an e-mail and started writing up her recommendation. He added that the Lance Corporal had thought it up and he endorsed it, then sent it off up the chain of command. “There, let's see what that does,” he said.
“You mean...” Again Hurranna's eyes widened.
“Opened your big mouth,” Asazi teased, tweaking the lynx's tufted ears until she growled and swatted at the human.
...*...*...*...*...
Over the following week Fonz settled in. Jethro walked him through the roles he would have, the duty roster, passwords and various contingency plans. He uploaded a lot of reading material for the Private to go over in his off time. Fonz claimed experience in skinsuits. He checked out okay, but they didn't have a place to do an exercise on the ship so he had to take the rookie's word for it. Jethro also brought the Private up to speed as a guard on watch.
Fonz was a bit shocked by the training regimen the squad performed. Despite their work load the squad still exercised daily in their off time. Exercised, studied, did their usual watch rotation, kit maintenance, and did sims. A lot of sims. He'd never done that, he'd relished being bored in his rack, sleeping. Sleep was now a luxury, he was lucky if he got four hours or rack time a night. When he did go down, he was out like a light from sheer exhaustion.
His first sim training with the squad was an eye opening experience. It was also one of the first with the big brute of a bear, Ensign Valenko back in charge. The brown bear took it easy, staying in the back and mainly watching their performance for a bit, until after their third engagement, he took command of the virtual opposition force in order to make things more realistic. Fonz had been used to the casual gamer approach, but the squad was a no nonsense grr mentality that had him backpedaling in shock. They took it seriously, sometimes very seriously. He was constantly jerked up by the team, ordered about and that rankled a bit.
“Move! MOVE!” the Gunny said during the first sim combat the next afternoon. Fonz moved, but to the left, opposite the cover he should have rolled to.
“Get your act together Marine!” Sergei roared at him, providing cover fire as the squad assaulted a building. The liger had a head band on, was snarling and firing from his hip as if he was some sort of cartoon character.
Fonz looked for Jethro but couldn't find him. “Some partner,” he growled. “I thought we were supposed to stick together?!” he yelled. That was a rookie mistake, his yell and his lack of cover was an open invitation to the enemy squad who killed him. He felt the impact of something stitching his chest and then everything went black for a second. Fear twisted him until his he realized his HUD was still up. He swore as he was thrown into limbo and then was forced to watch the rest of the engagement as a ghost. He hated that, he'd rarely ever died in a sim before, now it was almost a regular event.
The new meat made rookie mistakes, sometimes playing the hero to prove himself. The first time he made mistakes, they patiently explained to him how to get it right. The second time the Gunny jerked him up with a bark. “There are rarely second chances in combat! Get your ass squared away fast mister!”
The DI tone caught Fonz unaware. He later asked what the Gunny's problem was to Jethro, did he have it in for humans? “You don't get it. He was our DI in boot,” Jethro told him, flicking his ears in amusement.
Fonz's eyes went wide. “Oh, sucks to be you.”
“You do know we're all veterans of F platoon right?” Jethro demanded. That caught Fonz between the eyes.
“F platoon... um... Shit.” Every Marine had heard of F platoon, the boot platoon from hell. The boot platoon that set the gold standard for all others to achieve. A platoon of misfits, genies, Neo's and aliens, who had somehow beaten the piss out of every other boot platoon. So far no one had yet to come close to their rankings. F platoon had become a legend.
“Yeah,” Jethro said, smiling just enough to let the human see his sharp teeth. “F platoon. And Gunny Schultz was our DI. And yes, if you think he is a bastard now, I'll just tell you he's being nice.”
“This is him nice?” the Private asked, goggling at him. Jethro nodded, cold sober. “Shit,” Fonz said.
“Yeah, Gunny ate raw recruits for breakfast. He did shit to us you wouldn't dream of. This? This is piffle. Cake walk. Knowing we survived what he put us through then is what makes us keep going here.”
“Shit.”
“This is recon, this is the big boys. So get with the program or put in for a transfer. We're the best for a reason, we don't have time for stragglers who can't keep up,” Jethro growled. He also explained, in training you give a person a few chances to get the job right, explaining as needed. But if they make excuses or can't wrap their head around the problem then you either jerk them up hard or replace them.
“Replace them,” the human echoed, making a face. He didn't like the idea of washing out. His pride couldn't handle it, couldn't even handle the thought of the stigma that went with it.
Jethro shrugged. “It's as simple as that. Like the Gunny said, there are few second chances in combat. Get it wrong and you not only end up dead, you end up getting your teammates killed too. We don't want that obviously.” He eyed the human with utter seriousness.
Fonz nodded dutifully. “Obviously.”
“And we might fail the mission. That would suck too.” Jethro made a face. He'd come to grips with that now that he'd had to save a girl. Before, failing a mission was embarrassing. Now the thought of lives hanging in the balance was there, hovering like a cloud over them.
“I see. So coming home dead isn't so bad?”
“Tell that to Miles and Chirby,” Jethro growled, ears flat. “We're cutting you some slack since you didn't train with us as a boot. But you'd better learn fast. We're a combat unit.”
That got the human excited. “What is combat like?”
“You had sims right?” Jethro asked. Fonz nodded. “But not a full up exercise?” Fonz reluctantly shook his head no. “Sims... They're a pale comparison.” He looked away, eyes lost. “They don't cover all the crap, the itches, galls, blisters, muscle aches, vomit. The agonizing wait, boredom, the splinters you get, bugs crawling all over you, spitting bits of your partner out of your mouth, the piss dribbling from you when a mortar goes off a little too close for comfort...”
“Really? You pissed yourself?” Fonz asked in scornful disbelief.
“You'd be surprised what your body will do under stress. Get used to it. We did. Get over it too. There's nothing to be ashamed of, it's a natural reaction. Just like the fear and the other crap.”
“I'm not afraid,” Fonz replied indignantly.
The panther turned slowly making Fonz freeze. Jethro eyed him with just a hint of pity. “Then you will be. You will be,” he said ever so softly. Something in Fonz shivered at that. He looked away.
...*...*...*...*...
Major Forth heard about Hurranna's latest brainstorm as it made its way up the chain of command and snorted. “Why is it that she's coming up with these things and we're not?” he asked in amusement.
“Just lucky I guess?” Captain Pendeckle joked. The Major snorted. “I think we're too close to the problem. We're not thinking far enough out of the box, or it could be training. She's a member of F platoon. The Gunny was pretty thorough in training them sir.”
“I see,” the Major replied, steepling his fingers together. “Speaking of training, how is Fonz progressing?” He had a special interest in Recon of course. Captain Pendeckle, Lieutenant Halsey, Lieutenant Myers, second Lieutenant Silverman, and Ensign Valenko were the only officers in Recon, the Captain was in command. Recon was the cream of the crop, the best Marines they had. A lot of Marines wanted Recon assignments, but they were keeping the group limited to a half platoon and being very selective about who joined.
Like the infantry and specialists, they were still transitioning over an
d growing into their proper rolls. Most assumed that the officers led the squads because of the lack of bodies, or because they were screwed up. That wasn't so, Forth had his own reasons. One was to get his officers some hands on command and leadership experience, and two, to allow them to grow into their new roles.
Captains usually ran companies, lieutenants ran platoons, platoons ranging from eighty to a hundred and twenty Marines. Squads were usually eight Marines led by a Sergeant, and each squad was broken down into two fire teams of four led by a Corporal.
His plan was to let his officers gain valuable experience, allowing his enlisted to also gain in experience and rise through the ranks until they could take over the squads. Then transition his officers by giving them more over all responsibilities and letting the sergeants handle the squads. That was the plan anyway.
Unfortunately they weren't quite where they wanted to be by the book. Having his people thrown all over the system in penny packets was a part of that problem. He had men and women manning posts for recruiting, security, on the ships, and where ever needed.
The good thing was that the penny packets was a good cover, it let his people have some independence, after all, he couldn't micromanage their actions from half way across the system! They had to learn to stand on their own. Some did so, some he had been forced to counsel or shuffle to other posts.
Hopefully, once the majority of his Marines were concentrated on Agnosta, they could settle down and grow the corps properly.
“Well, Schultz and Jethro haven't killed him. He hasn't been sent to sickbay, but I heard some rumors in passing that the squad is getting mighty testy with him lately. He's no longer coasting.”
The Major smiled ever so slightly. “Good.”
“He's a character sir. Why stick him with Valenko? Aren't you afraid he'll be the monkey wrench in the works?” the Captain asked.
“I'm thinking he's the first in a long line of monkey wrenches, but the squad can learn and adapt. Also Fonz is good, he just needs to get that snot rubbed out of him. When he gets a real taste of what it's like to be a Marine, he'll shape up or ship out.”
“I bet,” the Captain smiled wryly. “About the station idea sir? We could ask Commander Logan to purpose build one for us...” He suggested hopefully.
The Major shook his head, frowning. “No, we're still on for Agnosta, so it would be a waste of time and resources. No, we'll stick to plan A, but slip that in as plan B in case we are delayed or held up.” They were still planning the move. It wouldn't happen until after the upcoming Fleet and Marine exercises however.
The Captain sighed and then nodded. “Yes sir.”
“Still not eager to move Captain?” the Major asked.
The Captain shrugged. “There's always something you miss, no matter how much we plan. These damn meetings are a pain in the ass.”
“I know. Well, we could always have a certain Lynx lend a hand if we need it,” the Major replied with a smile. Ever since Agnosta the Captain had shown more interest in training, even sims, than in meetings. It was one reason why he'd kept the Captain as head of recon.
The Captain rolled his eyes. “If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not have a lance Corporal around who can tell me my job.”
“Even when she's doing a better apparent job than we are?” Forth asked with a twinkle. Pendeckle snorted.
...*...*...*...*...
As they worked Fonz came to enjoy the time in the armory. It was mentally and sometimes physically challenging, but it was less stressful than the combat sims the squad trained with. He'd found out that the squad trained in sims at heroic level, beyond the normal settings other squads used. He knew he was still messing up, but he finally felt like he was making progress, not dying so many times in the sim.
Absently, the human mused about shields in Jethro's hearing. Jethro thought about the idea, turning the idea around in his head and not automatically dismissing it due to the source. As he did so he had a pang about his armor not having full shields. They did, he just couldn't use them since he didn't have an on board AI to run them and his other systems. As a Marine he was trained to use equipment to its fullest potential, right now his was handicapped. It would also be nice if everyone had the same ability.
He looked over the known specs of his armor again. It was designed to have shields, it had the equipment, but they still didn't have the programming worked out. He'd heard something about it needing a dedicated AI or something.
“It would be nice,” Ox rumbled.
“Hell, it would be nice if everyone had shields, not just a select few special suits,” Fonz said, eying the panther's black suit. It rankled a bit that he, a human had to make due with a half ass suit with a few hours of power, while the panther had that elite suit. Sometimes there really wasn't any justice in the universe.
“Nothing we can do about it. The lock outs prevent it,” Valenko rumbled. He was still taking it easy, being outfitted with his very own armor. It wasn't perfect, not fully milspec unfortunately, but at least it was a leg up over his skin suit. “That it?” the bear asked.
“That's it, sir,” Riley said, watching as the bear shifted about and then snorted. “I've got your scans, we'll work on refining the design. The whole quadruped thing though, that's a pain in the arse,” Riley growled. “If you don't mind my saying so.”
“Go ahead and gripe away,” Valenko replied with a snort. “I've heard it all before. Just get it done.”
“Yes sir! And will you be building bridges across the system as well sir?” Riley deadpanned.
Valenko cocked his head, pretending to think about it. “Nah, not this week. But if I hear about anything, I'll be sure to let them know you volunteered,” he said. He chuckled when Riley growled.
“Hold still,” Was all the Sergeant finally said. The bear snorted, watching with amused eyes as the armorer went to work adjusting the suit.
“Fun,” Fonz said.
“It is,” Ox said.
“Maybe for you. I'm a shooter. Shoot and scoot. I'm not a tech weenie,” the human grumbled.
“We all have to know our equipment backwards and forwards in case we need to do a field repair. Get over it Private,” Jethro said, not looking up from the micro adjustments he was making on an valve assembly. Fonz snorted.
“How are we going on the squad's upgrade?”
“You mean getting your squad in armor? Just about everyone is or will be by the end of the week,” Riley said. “Including the motor mouth over there,” he said, jerking his scared thumb over his shoulder to indicate Fonz. “Gunny Schultz was the last one to get scanned. I'm still at a loss on his helmet though. I may have to go with a bubble top or something. Maybe staple his ears together or something,” he grumbled.
“Oh, I'd love to see you try to do that,” Jethro said, looking up with a chuffing laugh. The others laughed too.
They made idle talk with the armorer Riley who with Ox's help was outfitting Valenko and the rest of the squad who didn't have armor. The five of them bounce ideas off one another. “What about a portable shield?” Fonz asked.
“What?”
“A portable shield. You know, from history. Ancient history, but I'm talking about something you hang on your arm,” Fonz said, putting his right arm out in front of him as if he had something clenched in his fist. “See? Like um, a riot shield?”
“Can we use a riot shield?”
“Ineffective in combat,” Ox said. “Same for a prison shield. Those are convex and have a taser to subdue someone by the way. No, we need something that can sustain impacts.”
Fonz nodded. “But light weight, man portable. Maybe set it up or something? Mobile cover?” Riley looked up and snorted then went back to zip tying the wiring harness together.
“An energy shield,” Jethro said, returning to their original idea. “But man portable.”
“Won't work. Bubble.”
“Um...” Ox rubbed his jowls. “Not necessarily,” he said quietly, deep in thought.
“Not if we made it small, just a field emitter. We'd have bleed off on the outer edges, but anything hitting dead center wouldn't get through easily,” he mused. Riley looked up, tucked the wiring harness up into the torso, then picked up a wrench to work on bolting the armor plate back together. The armorer wasn't interested, but Ox pointed out that a hand sized emitter would work.
"So? can't build em," the armorer said dismissively. He kept torquing the nut. "Try it now." The bear rolled his shoulders. “Now the other way.” The bear did. "Okay, that works."
Jethro frowned. "What about re-purposing a shield emitter from a shuttle?"
"Won't work, energy hog and they are too big I tell ya!" Riley said as he shook his head. “Better off making it out of metal. Be worth a half cred after it gets chewed up. The weight alone...”
"But what about a gravity emitter?" Ox asked, carrying a cable harness. He sets it in place and began to clipping leads.
"That's what..." the armor paused as Ox taps his hoof. He looked down and blinked in thought.
The bear looked down. "Something I'm missing?"
Riley paced for a moment. "Something we're all apparently missing. Or overlooking. Ox wasn't though. It'd have to be small, about a kilo or two, flat, um..." the armor stopped what he was doing and knelt, pulling up the decking.
"Hang on there a sec, let's finish one project at a time!" Valenko laughed. He was still only half outfitted.
"He was right," Ox said snorting. "I believe we can adapt it..."
"Aha!" the armor said. He tapped a cylindrical gravity emitter. "Perfecto!"
"If it's not more than ten centimeters thick. We also don't know the power specs or forces it can exude..."
"Yeah, but this... we've got something. Won't work for a bubble though."
"Why not?"
"Ain't going to happen. Too weak. But concentrated. Like a shield..."
"Thought that's what we were doing?" Jethro asked confused.
"Not that kind. He means a shield. Roman style?"
Jethro: First to Fight Page 9