Jethro: First to Fight

by Hechtl, Chris

  “Another killer?” Deja asked, trying to think of Terran predators. Could it be something else?

  “Orca,” the young male said simply.

  “Orca,” Deja echoed. Kirima snorted and got up. She moved off with the net. She stretched it out and looked it over. He watched her for a long moment.

  “Orca, they live?” he asked. “Killer whales?”

  “Yes. Black and white they are. Big, bigger than us. No arms, but flippers, fluked tails. They swim fast. They make clicking sounds that tear at your stomach. If you are close it sends shivers up your spine. The call too, the hunting call. I have heard it, but few have ever survived seeing them.”

  “Interesting,” Deja murmured. His implants clamored for more information, apparently Orca were very important. He did a quick search and scowled even darker. They were dolphins, a species thought extinct, hunted down by the Xenos. Incredibly gifted hyper navigators, but flighty sometimes.

  From the sound of it, the killer whales were unmodified, and only a handful of the Selkie have survived an encounter to bring back word to the tribe. Some had seen the tell tale dorsal fins while ashore, the massive black and white bodies coming up to blast water spray while breathing, then diving once more.

  “How did you survive?” Deja asked a young male.

  “Either they weren't hungry in my ancestor's case...”

  “Or in my grandam's case she managed to get out of the water in time,” another Selkie told him. They explained to him about how the Orca can be brutal ruthless hunters. They trapped seals and Selkie on ice flows and then use waves to wash the helpless prey into the water so they could be thrown around and then devoured. “It's not really cruel to them, they throw the seal or Selkie to thrash them, to break the body up so they can eat it easier,” an old woman said. “We do the same with some of the hardier fish. Or we take it on shore and beat it against a rock,” she said, sharpening a knife with a leather strop. He shivered at that thought.

  “They can also rush the beaches so it's best to pull back. That's why we're well above the high tide line,” a young Selkie informed him. They shivered.

  “You'd think the white death was scary. You are wrong. The white death will rush you from below and it's over. The Orca are smart. They work as a team. They will come after you if you beach, and if you go on an ice flow they will find a way to wash you off. If you see the black and white get out of the water. Far out of the water. And stay there until they are long gone.”

  At dusk the team was ordered to return to the shuttle. “It's going to be dark. Twenty four hours of dark,” a wolf murmured.

  “It's been dark before,” Deja replied. “They've gotten through it. They'll get through this too. They are survivors,” he said.

  The wolves looked at him with some interest. He saw the looks over his shoulder but turned his attention to his duties as copilot.

  “At least you know you're not alone anymore,” the pilot said aside to him.

  “True. But I'll be damned if I'd live like that. Hell with that.”

  “Agreed,” the pilot said with a nod. “I'll take flying any time over grubbing in the dirt and ice, wondering if a polar bear is going to think of me as a nice snack.”

  “Naw, you'd get stuck in their teeth. All bone and gristle.”

  “Gee thanks,” the pilot replied with a soft chuckle.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  First Marine and navy leave on Agnosta. No boots, just veteran troops. Before the jarheads and squids had been limited to taking leave on the base. With its limited civilian facilities there wasn't much to do except unwind. That was changing, the Major had recently opened up to taverns and civilian businesses on the base, but they had yet to open.

  Pressure had mounted to let the men and women go to the mainland to unwind and see the sights. The Major had resisted the impulse to just let them go until he was certain he had sufficiently trained MP's to handle any issues as shore patrol.

  The first Friday the enlisted had practically stormed the gates of the space port and harbor to get off the base. “It's nothing personal sir, but hell, I've been cooped up long enough!” A Marine said in passing, throwing a quick salute the Major before he dropped into a flat out run to catch up with the crowd.

  The Major shook his head, laughing. They didn't have far to go, or many locations. The first leave would be in the New Landing Spaceport or the harbors along the coast line. Fishing ships lined up the harbors to transport the Marines to the shore, all for a fee. One group was already working on a ferry business, converting from the catch as catch can fishing business to the higher paying ferry.

  Most of the Marines stormed the towns whooping and hollering and hitting the various bars to unwind. Major Forth had taken the precaution of warning the mayors of such behavior. The mayors had taken the warning in stride, but they had been more focused on the credits the soldiers would be spending in the towns when they were there for the three days.

  Businesses sprang up overnight, including plays and food venues out of homes and out in the open. Of course one of the oldest professions was in full force, though only quietly advertised.

  Marines had been strictly warned to watch their P's and Q's. Any behavioral infraction would be landed on full force by first the natives, and then the Major with a mast or court martial. They kept to groups and tried to watch each other's backs.

  Of course the Major knew it was like holding back the tide, Marines would be Marines, bar fights and other issues would crop up. But that was why he'd sent in the shore patrol to keep things from getting too rowdy and out of control.

  Kovu was on guard duty first night. He knew better than to resent the restriction, he knew he'd earned it. Besides, it wasn't as much fun to go on leave without Kiara. Maybe with the rest of the squad, but most had stuck to the base to rack out for some reason. He hadn't caught on that they were catching up on day to day chores to make it easier for themselves when they returned. They were also enjoying the peace and quiet, since the bay was empty. The lion's behavior had improved, Valenko lifted the bar and allowed him to participate the second night with the squad.

  Sergei had found a rather garish Hawaiian shirt to wear, it was open in the front but truly eye searing. Fonz wore shorts and his leather jacket. Asazi wore a tank top and shorts, but she kept a jean jacket handy. She wore sunglasses like Fonz. Fonz stuck to her side like glue.

  Military Police, commonly known as shore patrol when the Marines were off base, were kept busy. MP canines and others were on shore patrol. Sergeant Shep eyed Valenko's squad but they put their hands up, all on their best behavior. The Neo German Sheppard snorted and waved them on their way. They filed into a half full bar, followed by the MP's.

  Of course most of the Marines were in civvies, so there was no rank. Their IFF's told each other who was who, so they were deferential to officers once they realized who they were. That didn't stop a few from messing with drunken officers, but most officers kept their decorum. They all quieted when the shore patrol showed up. Jethro felt a little conspicuous, like a mouse under the eye of a circling hawk.

  “You fellas want a beer? First round's on me,” Jethro offered. But they smiled slightly and shook their heads no. Jethro nodded and they filed past. After the MP's were out of sight Kovu picked a fight by “accidentally on purpose” using the tip of his tail to flick a waitress's skirt up. She was annoyed but one of the farmers took umbrage.

  The large farmer got up and stormed over to them, fist clenched. Kovu turned lazily, elbows on the brass bar. The man wound up for a punch but the lion just smiled. That made him hesitate. A single low growl and flash of teeth had the farmer backing off. The mood in the bar went cold, the natives were obviously upset and restless. Since it was a bit ugly from the looks other natives shot them Valenko paid the bar tab and then had them move on to greener pastures.

  They returned to base hung over but still functional. Their sleep in on Sunday was interrupted by a call from the navy. “You're serious? Y
ou mean the big bad squids can't find their backsides with all the damn sensors they've got?” Fonzarelli joked. Kovu raised a hand high. The human tried to jump for it, but he missed the high five from Kovu and ended up face first on floor laughing. The squad snickered at his expense.

  “Whatever it is, it can wait,” Jethro said. He'd checked the header, that was true, there was no priority tag. Just an update on their next scheduled space exercise and a request for confirmation.

  On their third day of liberty they took a day trip on a fishing trawler to a sea town. Fonz was none too happy about the pitching ship, but his implants kept his gorge down. They arrived on the slippery docks a bit green, but no worse for the wear.

  Asazi dragged them along the shops to shop, then they hit a few of the restaurants and looked at the sights. At first the native people weren't very welcoming... until they noted the credits the Marines were spending in the bars, shops, and restaurants. Then they took more of an interest in things.

  The usual bar fights and other mischief cropped up when Sergei whined about the lack of beer. Sergei was tapped a few times to help but usually got himself in more trouble in the process since he was inebriated. Fortunately they extracted themselves without any charges being filed and without the shore patrol showing up.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Other Marines had a grand old time when on leave, some went in directions they didn't expect.

  Lance Corporal Ris'ha the Naga driver who had first tested the LAV's on Agnosta almost a year ago befriended members of a vehicle club his first night. The club had been organized by the few remaining vehicle owners on the planet in order to keep their vehicles working, and to exchange tips on repairs. The group had organized themselves into taxi's to transport the Marines to and from the spaceport.

  “We're having so many problems though!” a mechanic said, working under the hood of one of the vehicles. And parts! Don't get me started.”

  “Do you know of anyway to get a slip ring off and back on? We have no clue how they got it on. But the liner is cracked and needs to be replaced.”

  A male human came over. “Use a torch,” he said.

  “A torch?”

  “Yeah. Heat the outside up slowly, keep the torch moving around. Don't get the slip ring too hot. Then use a dead blow and something in the general shape but smaller to knock it out.”

  “Okay.”

  “Sorry,” the human said, holding a hand out. “Machinist second mate Rowley. If you heat the metal up it expands, giving the slip ring inside a chance to move.”

  “Okay, so we can get it out but um... How do we get it back in?” the mechanic asked.

  “Cool it,” a Veraxin chittered. “Machine shop steward third class X'ra. Nice to see you Rowley. You too Ris'ha.”

  “Nice to see you too bug,” Rowley said with a half smile. “Been stepped on again?”

  “No, but not for a lack of you trying,” the smaller Veraxin chittered, showing second level laughter and resignation.

  “Cooling it shrinks the molecules. The entire slip ring is what you cool, not what it goes into. Cool it with liquid nitrogen, then get it in. Get it in straight not in at an angle and you're good. Once the slip ring warms to room temperature, it'll expand by that lost micron to its old size.”

  “Oh.”

  “It's a trick we've just started relearning ourselves.”

  “I see. I'm not sure we've got the precision tools to do that.”

  “Well, I can see if I can do it at the shop,” Rowley said.

  “I can help too,” Ris'ha said, not to be pushed out of the group.

  His offer of helping them with fabricator support from the machine shops on the base earned him a few beers and new friends. They spent a bit of time going over the various vehicles, comparing this feature or that. He was joined by a pair of Marines, one a machinist, another an electronics tech. Both were keenly interested in making a copy of the vehicles for their personal use. That was brooded about for a while. They determined that they needed a copy of the plans to get the ball rolling on such a project.

  That contact led to the librarian Mr. Custard who had a ton of ancient material, including manuals of the vehicles and some of it military books. The paper versions were terribly old, crumbling.

  The Naga was prompted by his implants to ask about an orbital fort in the history of the system. Curious, George checked. It took some time, but eventually they did confirm that Agnosta never had an orbital fort. That disappointing news was passed up through channels.

  “Do you know what happened to Admiral Irons?” George Custard asked.

  “Last I heard he left Destiny in Triang for another ship. I'm not sure which direction,” the Naga replied.

  “Oh.”

  “Do you think he'll ever come back?” George asked.

  “I hope so. I doubt he'd go to Pyrax, but he might come here.”

  “I'd like that. We heard a lot about what happened in Pyrax. Nasty stuff there. We also saw his video, we know he was telling the truth. He'll not have a problem here.”

  “You've met him sir?” the Naga asked.

  “Why yes, in fact I have. Haven't you?”

  The Naga waved his true hands no. “No, I never had the honor. Great man,” the Naga said with a sigh. “He has done so much, so many incredible things. How did you meet?”

  “Well, as it happens, we were the delegation team organized by the mayors to negotiate with the Destiny people,” George said, looking off in memory. He talked to the Marines about the admiral, how he was a man of honor and how he had helped them. Jim and Chumly were with him playing checkers, both nodded politely to the Marines.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Major Forth wasn't sure about the project but allowed the Naga and his friends to scan the materials into the database, starting with the books they didn't have on file. He, like a lot of military personnel, was fascinated by the new treasure trove of knowledge.

  When they were finished with the project the originals were placed in vacuum sealed containers and then put in a vault. New versions were printed. The Major arranged for the library to have E-books and e-readers as well, he negotiated to have thousands of tablets and small solar panels made and distributed to the librarian and to schools on the planet. They dumped Petabytes of information into the library database.

  The Major allowed the Marines to work on parts for their vehicles as long as they paid for the materials out of their own pockets and did the work on their own time. He remembered the axiom about it being better to give permission for a project over having them go behind his back and do it anyway, undermining his authority. It would mean more wear and tear on some of the equipment, but most could be replaced easily.

  “Any ideas on the paint?” Chumly asked, picking at a spot of rust on his rover. He hated seeing the rust, it worried him.

  “The paint is or I should say was a powder coat. What they did Chum, was coat the paint in a special powder using an electrical charge to attract it and hold it to the part. Then they baked it on. It's like glass, an incredible bond,” Rowley explained patiently.

  “Well, if it's so great, why the rust?”

  “Because of seven centuries of people scratching it up, scuffing the paint down to bare metal, or idiots like you who are scraping it off.”

  “The rust got under the paint.”

  “Yes it did,” Rowley said. “Once the bare metal was exposed to air it was like a scratch, the rust in the air got in and started to eat away at it. What you've got there is a cheap rover. The better ones had special self healing paint like we use in the military.”

  “Coooool. Can I get some?” Chumly asked, looking up.

  “Sorry, no,” Rowley said, slapping his arm. Chumly's face fell. “But I can see if I can do a trade and get some civilian primer. Something with a rust inhibitor in it. Let me make a call,” he said.

  “Thanks Rowley.”

  “I'm wondering,” Rowley mussed, rubbing his chin. “I've got a te
n year contract. You know, if we can get some people, maybe we can open up a machine shop here on the mainland,” he said, indicating the garage. “Or even a small factory that makes LAVS. Really, the frames are just bent tubes. We can do that with a couple tube benders and a welder.”

  “Yeah?” Chumly asked, getting interested again.

  “Yeah. We can see who else is interested. Call it a start up. Maybe when my ten is up I can switch to the reserves and do more. But for now I can only do stuff on my off time or on leave.”

  “Yeah,” Chumly said, face falling.

  “But that doesn't mean we can't get the ball rolling,” Rowley said, smiling again.

  “True. So, where do we start?” Chumly asked expectantly.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  A second act of generosity was arranged, they followed up on a promise and donated weather, GPS, and radio systems to sea vessels and sea communities after two vessels carrying troops had been temporarily lost at sea. The quick thinking of the slightly hung over Marines had allowed them to call in with their implants. Normally their implants were quite short ranged, but pooling their signal allowed them to get a mayday off to a passing shuttle. A SAR Prejudice arrived some time later and towed them back to the base.

  Grimly the Major required that all sea vessels that ferried Marines and goods to and from the mainland must be seaworthy, have navigational aids, and have a proper crew and training in using the equipment. He also added a provision that they have enough life jackets and life boats in case an evacuation was necessary. That put a severe crimp on the small boats that came to transport the Marines, but he grimly held to his standards.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  A letter from Cheetara arrived at the base that Monday. Many Marines were hung over. It was shaping up to be a horrid Monday. Noncoms who weren't nursing their own hangovers were out in force, getting Marines to their feet and off for a nice therapeutic fun run.

  Sergei was amused when he received a copy of the e-mail, so was Jethro. Jethro contacted the cheetah using the frequency she had provided. He bounced the signal through a military communications satellite.