Jethro: First to Fight

by Hechtl, Chris

  Unfortunately, with the admiral gone they didn't have the energy shields they had planned on having for phase 2, nor the full fusion reactor or some of the thousand and one other things major ground bases had had. Major Forth stated that they would have to make do with what they had.

  As the base settled in they started traditions of base life, including the ceremonies of raising the flag, morning bugle call at 0730, morning PT, Roll call, and the lowering the flag, folding it, as well as taps at 2200 at night. Marine platoons exercised and ate together, worked on the construction teams or manned a post.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Three weeks after they had arrived the Marines were assembled for a brief ceremony christening the base. The evening before Marines were kept busy getting their uniforms and gear squared away. Just before lights out the noncoms held the first inspection on the base. Things that had thought would be overlooked were found. Trash and other discrepancies were handled.

  In the morning the Marines and naval personnel assembled in full mess dress. The ranks were called. When roll call was complete and all personnel were accounted Captain Pendeckle ran them through saluting the colors and the national anthem. Then he called the Major to the stage.

  The winds whipped the flags into a frenzy. The Major ignored it, walking smartly to the podium in his dress blues. He stood there for a long moment, staring out over the sea of stern faces. Then he took a deep breath.

  “Hooyah!” He bellowed, clutching the podium. “Semper FI!”

  Despite the injunction to remain silent the Marines cheered. He smiled, straightening as the Marines clapped, cheered, hooted, and whistled. He nodded, and then motioned for the men and women to quiet. After a moment the noncoms got things under control.

  “Now that we've got that out of our system,” the Major said, smiling ever so slightly. “I'd like to welcome one and all to Marine Corps base Parris Island. Command and training center for the Federation of Sapient Planets Marine Corps for the foreseeable future.” He looked out of the sea of faces again. “We're here. We're here to stay. We are the seed, the seed to grow into a mighty army to take back our sister colonies from the pirates. Here we are going to grow, grow strong, train hard. The easiest day was yesterday folks, we've got a lot of work ahead of us. You know I'm not big on speeches so this is it.”

  He turned and moved away from the podium, then turned back and came to attention. “I'm damn proud of all of you,” he said simply. “Semper Fi. Carry on,” he said.

  As one the noncoms called for a salute. They gave it. The Major returned it. Then he turned and saluted the flag of the Federation once more. The Marines saluted as one.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  The civilians were eager to get off the crowded ships and down to work or to be with their spouses. That posed a problem. The Major informed them that there were no facilities but they eagerly waved that off as unimportant.

  The first landings were met by the families of those coming down. They were greeted happily. Many were born and bred spacers, being outside on a planet was an entirely new experience. The islands were warm, and the wide open spaces caused agoraphobia in some.

  The Marines tried to make the newcomers as comfortable as possible. The soldiers treated it like a camp out, some still had fires at night and cooked food over the open fire, or relaxed and socialized. The fires kept the local bug population away.

  Within days though, there were some complaints from civilians who shuttled down expecting housing only to find tents. The Major fielded such complaints for a while before he passed them on to Captain Pendeckle. The Captain was diplomatic for a while, but after a while he became tired of the whining interruptions to his schedule and grew cross and blunt. He coldly told the complainers to either deal with it or go back to the ships and wait. Word got around to suck it up.

  Slowly the base housing situation began to sort itself out. The squad bays were constructed the second week after landing. Once the bays were complete the Marines moved in. Then the construction crews turned their attention on temporary billeting for the civilians until more permanent homes could be completed.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Base housing on the ground was much different than expected. Some had expected apartments, and the Major had been sorely tempted to go that route. Instead he'd gone for a more... traditional approach. Full suburbs with homes were constructed from blueprints in certain sections of the island.

  Grading and pouring the roads was easy, building the homes was a bit different. It took a month to get the first homes completed, not without some teething issues in the construction process. Once they passed inspection the first families moved in.

  Clive Bret lived with his wife in base housing. That made things interesting in training and unscheduled exercises. His wife worked as a clerk in base administration, though she had been going for a teacher degree. “It's... different,” Clive said quietly.

  “Living with a civilian? I'd think you'd of gotten used to it. You weren't born a Marine,” Harley teased.

  “I know. And she's part Marine in a way. She's damn scary, won't let me get away with anything. She's on my ass if I miss the hamper or leave the toilet seat up,” Clive said, making a face.

  The men chuckled in sympathy. Harley just rolled her eyes. She flicked a glance to Asazi who snorted and took a pull of beer.

  “So, domestication going well?”

  “Seems that way,” Clive joked, taking another pull of beer. It was getting to be a hot day, they were in early spring, but there were thunderheads on the horizon. The humidity was up, playing merry hell with the wind and construction time table. Too much humidity in the air and too much wind had paused the project they had been working on near 1400.

  “Did I mention she's pregnant?” Clive asked, when everyone was quiet. That got him a round of shoulder slaps that made him wince. The squad hooted and congratulated him.

  “Man they do grow up fast! Only a couple of months ago he was learning to walk and zip his boots together, now he's picking out baby clothes! Damn!” Valenko rumbled. The officer's pub was closed so the enlisted bar had lit the no rank sign. There were three paths to becoming a Marine officer. Currently officers had to come up through the ranks, serving some time in enlisted before mustanging into an officer's commission. Everyone was still learning on the job, they were reinventing the corps from the ground up.

  The other two methods were through the college program or the soon to be opened Annapolis academy. It was no surprise that Major Forth and the current crop of officers favored the mustang method. Sometimes the best method was to learn hands on. There was a bit of grumbling about having classroom nerds in charge of veteran Marines in both enlisted and commissioned circles.

  That did open up the problem of fraternization. Having a beer with someone you went through boot with wasn't a big thing as long as you were both enlisted. But when one received a commission, it suddenly became an issue for discipline. The same for socializing, which was a pain in the ass when say, an enlisted buddy sent you a wedding invitation. The corps was still feeling things like that out.

  “Feeling your age?” Jethro asked. He knew the Lieutenant missed his daughters growing up.

  “A bit,” Valenko rumbled. He downed his beer and then wiped at his muzzle. He set the beer down with a tap. “I've got to split, papers and all that. Good work Bret. Good luck,” he said with an earthy chuckle as he headed for the door. “You'll need it,” he said over his shoulder.

  “How far along is she?” Asazi asked.

  “Three months,” Clive replied, waving to the Lieutenant as he exited. “And thoroughly sick of the morning sickness. You'd think in our day and age they'd have something better than salted crackers for something like that.”

  “They might but it might affect the baby's development. Or it might not but your wife doesn't want to chance it. Either way, both will survive. Women have been going through it for thousands of years after all,” Harley said, for once
not making a joke. “You on the other hand...” She grinned. “You may not survive if she is in a foul enough mood and gets her hands around your throat.”

  “Me?” Clive asked, rearing back. “What'd I do?”

  “You knocked her up good and proper. So you're a dead man,” she teased. “Wait until diapers, teething... Oh boy. If you aren't around for that then you're dead.”

  “Shit,” Clive said head in his hands. “All that? I'm so screwed,” he said mournfully. The squad laughed, slapping him on the back once again.

  Chapter 23

  When the ships were unloaded the freighter crews were thanked for their services and given two weeks ground side leave. Some visited friends they had made on Parris Island, most however went to the civilian space port in New Landing city. They spent hundreds of credits there, giving the economy a much needed kick in the pants.

  When the last returned to their ships and refueling was completed the ships were escorted back to the Pyrax jump point by Hecate. Only one of the freighters would be returning sometime in the future, one of the freighters was set to make regular supply runs to the growing base.

  The factory ship remained in orbit, working on the various projects. Shuttles made the run from the factory ship to the planet, bringing up supplies from the planet and down finished goods and materials. Some of the exported equipment had to be assembled on the ground. Ox frequently found himself tapped to help there. The Tauren was also in charge of shipping dozens of powered armor down to the planet and the newly finished morgue on Parris island. His request that the wearers bring their own suits down in a drop had been denied, the Major wanted to keep wear on the precious armor down to a minimum, though he did appreciate the thought of testing it in field conditions.

  Once Destiny, the last of the freighters made the jump, Hecate left the dispatch boat at the jump point to return to the inner system. The little frigate refueled at the planet's growing fuel farm and then went to its assigned position guarding the B452c jump point. There the frigate oversaw the tugs assembling the jump point defenses. It was a long run to the jump point from the inner system, but they didn't dare let Hephaestus sit on the jump point to make what was needed. A factory ship sitting on a potentially hostile jump point was just asking for trouble.

  The frigate and dispatch boat were to remain in the system as the official naval presence until another ship could be brought on station to rotate them out. In a few short months it would be Firefly and Hephaestus’s turn to return to Pyrax.

  Hecate made a great occasional training opponent for Firefly. The larger ship had most of the advantages of course, but Hecate occasionally managed to win a few of their simulated scenarios. Normally by escaping from the larger ship's range and pretending to run to the jump point.

  “It's like toying with a mouse. Fun but we're not really learning much are we?” Mayweather asked after their last exercise terminated. They were still working out the best place for Hecate to sit out her sojourn. Her Naga Captain Ssri'allth wanted to sit near the B452c jump point to protect the system.

  Doctrine of course was divided. There was some wisdom for being right on a jump point, you could get some critical intel to the rest of the system or get some major hits into a ship as it translated down from hyper and was vulnerable.

  The frigate had limited energy weapons on board, each had a very short range, under a hundred kilometers, so it made sense. But she also had a very finite missile supply. Sitting on the jump point was also suicidal, your enemy would be coming through under power while you would be holding station, virtually sitting still.

  Still, that edge of getting in the first licks was important. Especially when you were a small fish going up against larger sharks.

  But it also meant you were on station far from any support for lengthy time periods with no warning of an incoming ship or fleet. You had to be on your toes at full red alert for that entire period... which wore down both men and equipment quickly.

  The good news was that they had a handful of Frankenstein orbital defense platforms and shoals of missile pods in orbit of the planet and at the jump point. The bad news was that they required a starship or some other platform to control and direct the weapons in an engagement. The weapons platforms had to be serviced and refueled constantly to remain on station, otherwise they drifted away. They also required a tug or tractor to keep them where you wanted them, always a chore.

  Conventional wisdom dictated that they sit in orbit of the primary target waiting for a ship to come in and then reacting to its hyperspace translation. No current ship could hide a translation at a known jump point. Neutrino detectors and other sensors could give a rough approximation of who had come through the jump point as well.

  But that let the enemy pick the time and course to the planet which was a problem.

  Right now they were working on an alternative. Hecate's Captain Ssri'allth had taken the advice of his XO and weapons officer and had suggested Hecate sit in orbit of the gas giant near the refinery platform. There he could watch the system and build an intercept vector if an enemy came in and shredded the defense platforms. If he was tricky enough he could do it without being spotted. If the ships were too big or too numerous for him to handle he could go into stealth or hightail it to the Pyrax jump point.

  Of course Hecate had been a little put out that Firefly had spotted her when she tried to ambush the larger ship despite her simulated damage. Hecate was just too small to mount truly effective stealth systems, that was quickly made apparent to her and to the crew of Firefly. A frigate was a compromise... to many compromises of fuel, drives, ECM, and munitions.

  If the balloon ever did go up when Firefly wasn't around Hecate would have to signal the dispatch boat to get the word out to Pyrax and then shadow whoever came into the system. They just couldn't go toe to toe with anything larger than another frigate, even with the defenses they had on the jump point. That wasn't something any of the naval personnel nor the Marines on the ground were happy about.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Once the basic structure of the Main Operation Base and spaceport were complete, as well as the basic firebases, attention turned to the training facilities. The men and equipment took their hard earned experience and started making the boot camp or 'Recruit Depot' as it was formally called, parade grounds, exercise facilities, obstacle course and other facilities. Gunny laid out the plans and oversaw construction personally, using his hands as blades to indicate roads, buildings, and other structures. No one argued with him, not even the handful of officers.

  Jethro occasionally stopped in to lend a hand when the squad was in camp and not on a guard rotation. He felt like he was playing hooky, but it helped to familiarize himself with the training facilities. It was one thing to have a map in your implants, quite another to have it in your mind. Muscle memory as the Gunny said. Know your terrain.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  One of the other major projects was the Naval Hospital. It was constructed in phases, with a basic trauma center first, followed by wards and specialty facilities to follow on in successive phases. Once it was complete recruits would get implants, personnel could go there for everything from a hangnail to major trauma, and it would serve as a training facility for medics on the planet.

  The recruits in stasis were shuttled down and stored in a warehouse next to the hospital. Once they were 'decanned' the stasis pod would be refurbished and then shipped out to Pyrax for reuse.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Six weeks after the initial landing, a small fishing schooner came to the island. The occupants had seen the landing, and reported it to the fishing village on the mainland. They had been laughed at by their friends, who told them about the Marines and their mission.

  A Marine beach patrol spotted their vessel and called it in. They met their dingy as it landed on the shore. Six young men, two women, one Veraxin, and the bearded male Captain came ashore on the incoming tide. Instead of treating them as potential hosti
les, Lieutenant Myers showed some tact and diplomacy and invited them to a tour and supper.

  They rode in the LAV's back to the main base. The kids from the boat were enthralled by the growing Marine base camp, their heads swiveled about and they pointed excitedly to this feature or that feature.

  Myers noted the Captain wasn't too happy. “Something on your mind?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I used to take my kids here, picnicking,” the Captain said gruffly. His eyes wandered around. “I honeymooned on this island with my wife twenty years ago.”

  “Oh.”

  Clearly, the Captain was a little put out that his private hideaway had been co-opted. Apparently the island had been an occasional spot for families to go to camp, and for ships in the area to stop at and re-provision when needed.

  “We've negotiated a century lease on the island chain,” Myers said, trying to keep things on the up and up. I'm sure your community will see some of that income. Also we're providing medical training as well as education and job opportunities to all Agnostans.”

  The ship Captain grunted, but didn't respond.

  Major Forth found time in his schedule to meet with the visitors. “I'd like to welcome you to the island, but I've been told you've been here before,” he said, shaking hands with each of them.

  “How?”

  “How what?” The Major asked simply.

  “How'd you know?” the oldest lad asked. He had to be at least nineteen. He was broad chested, brown from years in the sun. He had a white shirt and pants on. He was barefoot, apparently most of them were. Some used their toes to hold the rat lines in the rigging, their toes were callused and strong.

  “I sent the Major a text message,” Myers interjected. “When I asked him if he was available for a quick visit,” he finished.