Jethro: First to Fight

by Hechtl, Chris

"Or something like it. We stick an emitter on the back of the hand and um, forearm, maybe another on a thigh or both thighs. Backup power somewhere. Then when you activate it..."

  "It won't be on all the time?" the bear rumbled.

  "Course not, not built for it. Manual activation, or computer. Not sure. Let me think here." he tapped a spanner against the emitter. Leads sparked and dust blew out.

  "Shit!" the emitter's led cut out and there was a brief floating sensation. Parts, dirt and people bounced in the air and then fell heavily to the deck as the system compensated.

  "What are you doing in here?" Firefly asked exasperated. "You realize you just shorted that emitter right? You sent a voltage spike through half the deck!"

  "Sorry Commander. We're running an experiment," the armorer said sheepishly tugging on one ear. Jethro snorted. He looked and probably felt like a kid caught trying to get an early snack.

  "Oh?" Firefly asked. "Accessing log... uh huh... that is an interesting idea. I wonder why no one has thought of it before?"

  "Hair brain scheme that's likely to blow up in your face maybe?" Valenko rumbled, flexing his bicep and testing his hand grip.

  "Checking the archives... hmmm. Yes, it has been tried before. It's actually in the field manual dating back about a century prior to the latest version. For some reason it was edited out."

  "Oh?" the armor asked looking a little put out. "But not the current one?" the current manual was actually seven centuries old. Well, it was being updated now as people learned or re-learned how to operate equipment.

  "That's because at the time emitters were energy inefficient and the shields were good for one or two hits and plasma or heavy mortars ate through it. Particle and other energy weapons were deflected."

  "They probably gave off a signal too," Jethro said, trying to keep up.

  "Correct."

  "But it's a thought. Especially for assaults," Valenko rumbled, pounding one fist into the other. “It's always nice to have an extra ace in the hole the enemy isn't expecting. Shock and awe.”

  "True. I'll check with stores to find the parts. If we have them I'll see if the Major is willing to authorize a test," Firefly said.

  "Thank you sir," Ox said with a nod.

  "Oh don't thank me, you just made more work for yourselves. You're going to be expected to make it work. Which means a lot of work on your end. Studying, math, and physically putting it together and fine tuning it. You'll work out the kinks once it's working, and then field test it to find it's breaking points," Firefly said maliciously. “I'm betting serious gravitational eddies and shorts along the edges and when it interacts with other fields or impacts an object.”

  The armorer groaned, hands over his eyes but Jethro caught the twinkle of a challenge in his eye. He snorted, glancing at the others as his ears flicking in humor.

  "I think they can handle it. I'd like to try it. I am getting some interesting ideas about this... The tactical applications..." Valenko mussed. It looked like the challenge was getting him out of his mood swings.

  "...Are another thing to figure out, good luck with that Ensign," Firefly said. "I'll put a bug in store's ear. In fact I just did. I don't expect an e-mail back soon though. Now, don't try to fix that or tinker with any more of my systems. I'll send a tech to fix it later."

  "Yes sir," the armorer said. He shook his hand a little. The jolt had numbed his hand a bit.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Jethro sat in his rack, staring at his in-box but not really processing it. There was the usual crap in there, with a butt load of spam. Like a lot of Marines he was getting used to the need to filter his electronic mail.

  “What are you thinking about?” Fonz asked, looking across to him.

  “Huh?” Jethro grunted, flicking his ears.

  Fonz rolled over. “You've got like, a thousand yard stare going. What's up?” he asked. “Oh wait, implants?”

  “Yes, no, well...”

  “Pick one,” Hurranna teased from above him. He snorted. He'd let her take the higher bunk since she was light and didn't move around a lot.

  “I was thinking a bit about my armor, and applying it's concepts to other armors.”

  “Your armor? I saw part of it, I haven't seen you fully suited though,” Fonz said. “I heard it's something else.”

  “It is. It's got a lot of stuff I wish other suits had, not just mine.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Hurranna murmured. He poked her rack making it bump.

  “Out of the box thinking?” Sergei asked. “How?”

  “Well, we're all specialized, but we're recon. Recon armor normally has adaptive camouflage. A bit better than what we had on Agnosta.”

  “Ah.”

  They had standard issue camo uniforms, but the uniforms were now in short supply. The adaptive camouflage built into the fabric allowed it to interface with the user's implants to 'see' it's environment so it could alter its pigmentation to better adapt to it. The system was slow, but with the tiny heat transfer cells also built into the uniform, totally self sufficient. It also did a very good job of hiding the user's heat signature. As long as you moved slow, you were virtually invisible... at least the parts that were covered by the fabric were.

  The problem was, the admiral was gone and they could no longer produce the fabric. Which was a problem, they were now issued standard uniforms, and those who had camo had been ordered to keep it in reserve. Standard uniforms had a hexagon digicam pattern that did it's best to match whatever environment that it had been issued for. Ship uniforms, like the ones they were currently wearing, were a mixture of grays and greens.

  “Earth to Jethro...” Fonz said, waving a hand. The hand moving in his peripheral vision more than the words broke him out of his woolgathering.

  “Sorry. Where was I?”

  “Nodding off?” Sergei asked, standing at the head of Fonz's rack, crossing his arms and leaning against it. The rack was pretty secure, it had to be to handle his mass, not to mention any acceleration changes that the ship's inertial dampening field didn't smooth out.

  “No. I was, well, the camo we've got.”

  “You mean you've got. I didn't get any,” Fonz grumped. Sergei flicked his tail near the kid's face, making his flick it irritably away. The cats flicked their ears in humor.

  “Okay, the camo. Adaptive camo. If we could find a way to produce some, I was wondering if we could, I dunno, apply it to the armor of the other suits.”

  “That's... interesting,” Hurranna murmured. “It'd be baggy though. And how would you get around the power? I mean, sure it can draw heat from the suit but...”

  “I was thinking that or interface directly to the suit's power train if necessary. I was wondering why the suit takes so long to adapt, is it a software issue, hardware, low power, or what?”

  “It doesn't matter, we don't have the material, remember?”

  “Yeah, but we can still pass it on,” Sergei replied. “Stick it in the down the road list, something to try later if we ever get the chance. The powers that be might like it.”

  “True,” Hurranna said.

  Sergei snorted. “For someone like me in Raider armor, I'm too big. But for someone like you? Short little shit that you are? I could see it.”

  “Gee thanks,” Hurranna growled.

  “Then again, you being the sneaky tiny wench that you are, giving you a leg up isn't exactly appealing,” Sergei replied dryly. “And if you were invisible you might get stepped on. Come to think of it, we've got that problem with you visible anyway...” he mused with a grin in his voice. The others laughed with him as Hurranna sputtered.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Nelson found the couple he'd been sent to speak with right off. It was hard to miss Big Red, he was the largest human in the tightly packed pub. Also the only one with curly red hair. His wife was next to him, a bright eyed woman, a bit too fat for his tastes, but she had clean black hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and a lively eye. They were both dressed in h
and me down clothes, but that was to be expected.

  He didn't like what his boss was doing, and he especially didn't like sticking his own neck out to make it happen. But sometimes you just had to do as you were told. This was one of those instances. They'd tried talking through other contacts, but the Reds and the people they represented wanted a face to face with someone higher up the chain of command. Which was why he was here.

  The Reds represented about 40 other families, all with varying skills and all wanting more room to expand. They were a particular nasty thorn in the side of Mayor Ralkin who was now in charge of the colony. He couldn't just toss the Red's out, they were critically important, or at least some of their supporters were. But he did want them gone, so the governor had come up with this scheme to help things along.

  “Pleased to meet you Mr. Nelson,” Mary said as they rose. He shook hands with them and then sat in the chair across from them. “So I see your friend was serious and not just blowing hot air.”

  “Exactly so,” Nelson replied with a nod. “We are on the level here.”

  “And you say they've got dozens of these stations?”

  Nelson nodded. “Yes. All mothballed. No one is inside.”

  “Well! Don't that beat all. And why aren't they letting us use em? Don't they know we're packed in here, cheek to jowl?” Big Red demanded.

  “They do, they just don't care. We do. We've been trying to get them to turn a few of the stations over to people like you. But unfortunately they are ignoring the governor's order. So, we consulted our legal experts. They pointed out possession is nine tenths of the law when it comes to the eyes of the media and public. In other words, salvage.”

  “Salvage.”

  “Sure,” Nelson smiled. “The navy opened the door when they went around recovering ships all over the system. Salvage. No one is using it, therefore it's fair game.”

  “Salvage. And you said this will work?”

  “It will work.”

  “How are we going to get there again? Run that part by me one more time.”

  “Well, you know the old shuttle docked here in Vesta?” Nelson asked, leaning forward, arms crossed on the table.

  “Yeah,” Big Red said slowly, lowering his voice and looking around. Nelson tried hard not to roll his eyes. The big miner made a horrible conspirator. Just looking around like that was like waving a sign 'here I am! Listen to what I'm saying! I'm up to something no good! Besides, the man had horrible breath. But he was all they had, and also the only pilot who might be able to pilot the shuttle. “She's dead. Been using her as a booster and extra room for centuries,” Red said.

  “Not anymore,” Nelson replied with a smile. “We pulled some strings and got you some parts. Enough to fix her up.”

  “I see,” Nelson replied. “Fuel?”

  “All you need,” Nelson said, not being able to take the breath anymore. He sat back, leaning back as if relaxing. “The parts are on their way to the shuttle now.”

  “How many can we take on her? A dozen?”

  “She's a military drop shuttle. A half platoon.”

  “And that's what? Two dozen?” Mary asked.

  “Try fifty people. A hundred if it's standing room only. Just line them up in their seats and lock them down. Carry on in the overhead, under their seats, or in their laps.”

  “And this thing will work,” Mary Red demanded.

  “You are the expert. You tell me.”

  “I will. We're not going anywhere until it checks out mister. I'm not risking my neck or the necks of my family on your word or anyone's,” Big Red growled. His wife nodded in support.

  “Fine then, go check it out, get her set up. But I assure you it'll work,” Nelson replied.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Nelson nodded a day later as the Red's entered the pub. He lounged back, watching as they put in orders at the bar for a beer each and then came over. He couldn't see how they could drink that swill, it had been filtered too many times, or maybe not enough. He didn't care.

  “Everything check out?” he asked casually, looking around. No one was listening to them, all eyes were on the game playing on the screen at the front of the bar.

  “Yup, we're still getting things fixed but she's checked out. Her engines are my main concern now,” Big Red rumbled.

  “Will they go the distance?” Mary asked, nodding as she turned away from her husband to their co-conspirator. Nelson was a mousy man, skinny rat. She eyed him with suspicion. If the Governor was backing them, she for one was leery of his support. He could easily cut them off and leave them to die in space. From the look of him, Nelson wasn't happy either, but he had a job to do.

  “He'll come through where and when it counts. Don't worry about his end, worry about your own. Are you sure the shuttle has enough life support, power and fuel?”

  Mary nodded. “Yes, we've checked. She's been cleaned out, down to bare metal. We've repaired her. It will be tight though.”

  “Okay, pack it. We'll let you know when to go,” the aide said.

  “Right. But we need notice. We can't all be living in the thing.”

  “Did you get our parts?”

  “Yes, but that still doesn't change the fact that we can't be in it until launch. If we are we'll just use up the resources and we won't make it.”

  “Ah, true. Well, you won't be launching for another week. During their FARETEP exercises.”

  “Oh? How are we supposed to get to where we are going with them moving around?”

  “That's just it, so many people moving around, you are bound to be lost in the confusion. Don't worry about that, we've got you covered. Focus on what you need. Go over the list, you've got a week to secure anything you've overlooked. But once you are in space...”

  “There is no going back,” the man said, nodding grimly.

  “Exactly,” Nelson replied. “So pack carefully.”

  “We will.”

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Mayweather stretched, luxuriating in the simple act. She felt better, not as sore as she had been the first week she'd started exercising again. Wow had she been out of shape! Now she felt better, more alert, more active. At the end of the day she didn't feel down and exhausted. She actually enjoyed her work outs now that she'd recovered her muscle tone. She belted the kimono closed and then sat, crossing her legs and picking up the saucer with her coffee. “Got a minute Firefly?” she asked, eyes looking up to the overhead as she daintily took a sip and then set the coffee cup back down.

  “As you will Captain,” the AI responded.

  “You can come in, I don't care to look like an idiot and talk to the ceiling,” the Captain replied, smiling slightly as she sat back. She cocked her head as the AI's avatar projected itself into the room. “Better,” she nodded.

  “You wanted to talk Captain?” Firefly asked.

  “What, no room for small talk?” Mayweather asked amused.

  “I've come to know you well over the past year Captain. You aren't one for casual small talk,” Firefly retorted.

  “True,” Mayweather replied.

  “So I'm guessing you have something on your mind and want a sounding board.”

  “True,” Mayweather replied again, smiling this time. She set the saucer and cup aside. “I'd like to talk to you about the upcoming exercises. My only experiences are the sims we have in house and the few group exercises the admiral organized before he left.”

  “True,” the AI responded. Mayweather glowered slightly. The AI held up a hand. “Peace. Which is a partial answer.”

  “Oh?”

  “I too have had little experience in a FARETEP exercise Captain.”

  “You? You are the ship right?”

  “I am the AI in the ship. A ship built in a time of war, not in peace time. FARETEP was used to prepare for war Captain.”

  “Ah,” Mayweather replied, nodding.

  “I was built in the latter stages of the Xeno war. I was thrown into combat on my first missi
ons straight out of my short brutal builders trials. My crew never got the chance to come together and settle into a functional unit.”

  Mayweather winced. “Ouch.”

  “Not like here and now I mean,” the AI responded. “We had constant problems, not just with the morale, but also with parts that were never allowed to settle in properly. Parts that went from factory new to overloaded or overextended well before their designers had planned for. And constant abuse, abuse that wore them down. The admiral may have designed this ship but I don't think even he anticipated the problems.”

  “Ah, I see. Did you ever talk to him about it?”

  “I never got the chance,” Firefly sighed.

  “So, this is all new to you? The exams, peace time?”

  “Yes, in a way. I'm glad Commander Logan has brought them back.”

  “I understand it came from an order. Destiny passed it on. Apparently Admiral Irons wants everyone shipshape,” the Captain said, smiling.

  “I know,” the AI responded.

  “Well, a learning experience for all of us. Though having experience might have helped us,” she said. She spread her hands helplessly. They both knew she was referring to the admiral's exile.

  “Captain, I learned the hard way too, on the job. I never saw the inside of a slip or a shipyard after I launched. All of my repairs were either on the fly, or one time with a tender docked to my port side. Learning to cope with this... is different. I must say the quality of the crew and materials is top notch compared to the latter stages of the war.”

  “So, we're measuring up?” Mayweather asked, smiling slightly.

  “To a degree Captain, to a degree. You still have a lot to learn though, and from what I understand of it, a bit further to go before you measure up to the standards set before the war.”

  “Oh.”

  “In many ways this will be a learning experience, there will be a lot of mistakes made. But like Commander Logan, I'd much prefer them made here, in an exercise, in peace time, than in combat. I never got the chance to work with other ships outside a quick sim or in combat. Learning a ship's quirks the hard way can be disastrous.”

  “True.”

  “More than one engagement was lost because of that very problem. So the more time we can work together, not just as a ship, but also as a fleet, the better we will function when combat really does happen Captain. There is truth in the old axiom about preparation prevents piss poor performance.”