Jethro 3: No Place Like Home

by Chris Hechtl

  The bear snorted.

  The Major glanced his way briefly and then nodded. “She's thrown together a few shooter sims for us, plus some strategic sims as well. Sergeants, you've got the shooter sims, I think we're limited to two squads at a time. The strategy sim is limited to four of us, a two on two game I think she said. We have to dial the graphics and AI down, so try to balance micromanaging with scripting...”

  ---( | ) --- ( | )---

  Lieutenant Valenko had them work on the normal hatch breach and ship sweep, but also had them plan and execute virtual hull breaches as well. Unfortunately, they couldn't practice the techniques in real life, for some reasons the squids frowned about using cutting torches and explosives, but the sims were almost as good.

  Jethro realized quickly that using Valenko's technique helped break any potential defense or at least throw it off balance. The bear had used the technique while assaulting Antigua Prime. He'd seen the recordings, the pirates had stacked up on the airlocks and choke points, blocking the door, so the Marines had made their own door where there wasn't one before. It was simple and very effective. Especially when one used the main guns of a Warhawk as a door opener first.

  Grenades were also something they couldn't practice with in real life, though they could throw simulated versions as long as they were duds. He knew it wasn't as effective as the real thing; when you saw a grenade tumbling near, the first reaction would be to dive for cover. A few Marines got into the habit of throwing it back. He didn't like that. A flash bang going off would break that habit, but he couldn't use them.

  Sometimes he felt like his hands were tied. He knew there was a limit on how far they could take the training. Before break out though, they'd mastered the basics and had settled down into teams. He still had a few bad apples and definitely some rough edges, but he knew no one was perfect.

  He just hoped and prayed they wouldn't be needed in Pyrax.

  Chapter 7

  “Captain, we're here,” Janice said, turning to the skipper. “Five minutes to scheduled drop.”

  “Fine then. All stations,” Renee said, putting the call through the ship's network. “We don't know what's on the other side of the wall, so battle stations. Good luck and see you on the other side. Mayweather out,” she said and closed the channel.

  “Too much?” Renee asked, turning to the AI avatar.

  “Just right. Though I think the tension can be cut with a knife right now,” the AI replied. He, like the other bridge officers and ratings, was dressed for the occasion in a skinsuit. It looked a bit odd on an AI, but apparently the ship's AI liked to conform to regulations.

  “I seriously doubt the bastards got a foothold into the system. But, it pays to be cautious. Besides, the jarheads aren't the only ones who need a drill to blow the rust off,” the Captain said as she checked her skin suit one more time. She nodded to her bridge crew, all the senior officers were assembled, suited up and ready to go.

  “Let's do this then,” Shelby said. She glanced at the clock and then her station readings. After a moment she looked up. “All stations report ready, Captain.”

  “Excellent number one. Helm, take us in,” the Captain replied with a curt nod to Janice.

  “Dropping through the last octave and into real space now. One minute to emergence...,” Janice intoned professionally. She let Firefly do the final countdown as she adjusted her trim with finicky precision.

  Firefly arrived in Pyraxian space in a burst of light and energy. As the energy discharge dissipated they got their first much anticipated look at the surrounding space. More than one person inhaled as the warning codes of potentially hostile warships were plotted in red on the main display. CIC quickly changed the red to green and then the blue of friendlies however.

  “It looks like we're not too late after all,” the Captain murmured. After a moment there was a muted cheer among the crew.

  “Thank the spirits of space for that. One last minute rescue is enough,” Shelby said, slumping slightly in relief into her chair.

  “We're getting an inquiry from the ships guarding the jump point. IFF interrogation protocol.”

  “By all means com, let them know who we are,” Renee replied with a smile and wave of her hand.

  The corvettes, Dupleix and Intensity, and gunship Maya, along with two orbital fortresses and shoals of mines, met them at the jump point. After being interrogated briefly the heavy cruiser was cleared to pass through the system.

  Dupleix and Intensity were new built, both of them were Apollo class. Apparently the powers that be had settled on the Apollo much like the Horathians. She wasn't certain about the wisdom of that decision.

  “It's good to see you again Firefly. Very good,” Captain Tan'ash sent. He was calling from the Maya. “We send you a warm welcome.”

  “Thank you Captain, it's good to be back,” Renee replied with a slight smile. “Any problems?”

  “Just the usual,” the Veraxin replied with a chatter from his mandibles indicating humor.

  “I see you've been busy,” Renee said, eying the forts. Each was a rock, an asteroid that had been drilled into and turned into a fortress. The exterior was covered in antenna, weapons, sensors, and various bits to make them a functional station. One section seemed to have a field of power receivers. Another had glittering fields of solar panels.

  The CIC put a warning up on a microwave ray coming from the inner system to each of the fortresses. A do not cross was tagged to the rays. The Captain backtracked the ray with her finger on the plot. They led to the solar farms and plasma tap on the local star. That was interesting.

  “I? I and my crew have mostly been spectators. The Yard and the construction crews have been responsible for those,” the Veraxin replied airily.

  “I see we've got some new ships in the fleet. Good. Good sailing,” she said, sending the formal greeting to the new corvettes.

  “Yes well, the Admiral's shipments have been put to good use,” the Veraxin said.

  Renee nodded. As the ship's long range sensor images returned, CIC populated the system map with identifying markers and projected courses and other data. CIC reported most of the warships were divided into three groups. There were ships on each of the four jump points, a force around the naval Annex and Yard, and a large group standing outside the B101a1 jump point.

  “Well, I'm glad they are taking our warning seriously,” the Captain said.

  “This? This is normal. No, we've been planning to build up for years. I'm glad we're finally seeing some movement. Up until a year ago things had gotten quite depressing,” the Veraxin chittered.

  “True,” Renee replied.

  “I'm getting a call. Are you going to be here long enough to participate in a drill?”

  “A drill? I don't think so. We need to move out quickly. We're on a tight schedule,” the Captain replied.

  “A pity. We had a drill scheduled for 0900 tomorrow morning. It would have been educational for you to play the op force,” the Veraxin said.

  “Another time perhaps,” Renee replied.

  “Yes. It's a date then. Maya out.”

  “Roger that, Firefly out,” the Captain said with a smile as the link closed. “So, they have been busy? How busy?” Renee asked, turning to her XO.

  “Definitely busy,” Shelby nodded. She pointed out the two orbital forts on station at each of the jump points and the two being towed slowly across the system to the B101a1 jump point. She touched one and an IFF pulsed. One of the IFFs was military, the other civilian. Those tugs she recognized from Valdez towing. She snorted softly.

  She checked the Yard but they were too far away to get a clear reading. The Annex was still there and quite large. So was San Diego. There were also IFFs of supply stations all around the military complexes. Some appeared to be occupied.

  Purple Thorn did a count of the ships, highlighting each of the IFFs and stripping them out of the civilian traffic. Apparently Commander Logan had pulled out all the stops, there were tw
enty-four new gunships out there, along with six new corvettes and the same number of frigates. There was even a couple destroyers and an escort carrier out there. “I'm not detecting hyperdrives in any of the larger ships,” the sensor rating reported.

  “That's because there probably aren't any to begin with, Daddy, excuse me, Commander Horatio Logan,” she paused to blush before moving on. “...Probably put everything in space that he could get his hands on. It's not like a hyperdrive is needed when we're on the defensive here.”

  “True,” Renee replied.

  “Energy readings on some of the ships are minimal. And they are moving at less than quarter speed.”

  “Again, he probably had them kicked out of the yard with the minimum gear. Hell, pushed out if necessary. I wonder how many lack shields?”

  “Too many,” Purple Thorn said from her station. The Captain turned to her. The Elf looked back at her with her large eyes. “I'm not reading anything above a particle shield on any of them.”

  Renee nodded. “Platform redundancy. I bet they have improvised weapons. The only thing we can make right now in full is life support.”

  “True,” Shelby said, coming over to stand next to her. “I for one wouldn't want to be in their shoes if the balloon does go up. Hell, it'd be like the First Terran Interstellar War all over again!”

  “Wasn't one of those battles fought in this system?” Janice asked, turning to look at them.

  “Indeed,” Purple Thorn replied. “The Tauren battleship the Admiral renamed Bismark fought here. She was caught out and made a derelict by some tricky Terran actions by the settlers in the system.”

  Shelby smiled. “I remember dad and Harris mentioning something about that. It was oh, ten, twelve years ago?” She asked thoughtfully, looking off into space. “I'd say eleven. Split the difference since I don't remember.”

  Renee smiled in amusement.

  “Dad got rip roaring drunk and he and Harris went off on one of their historical debates. They hit everything from the first war to the Xeno war, all focused on this system.”

  “Ah.”

  “A hell of a lot has happened in this system,” Shelby said, coming back to the here and now. “I wonder if our ancestors are seeing what will happen next.”

  “Probably. Knowing some of them they're enjoying the show. At least I hope so,” Renee said. She turned to the com rating. “Com, wake them up. Encrypt and transmit our log and a request to see the Commander at his earliest convenience. It's about time we got the ball rolling here.”

  “Aye aye, ma'am, compressing and squirting the log,” the com rating said.

  “And so it begins.”

  “I know. I doubt we'll hear anything until we get to the Annex though. Dad, excuse me, Commander Logan, likes to do his arguing in person, not over a what, fifteen-minute light delay one way?” Shelby asked, looking at the rating.

  “Fourteen point six ma'am, but we're cutting that down as we go of course.”

  “Of course,” she said with a nod. “Still isn't going to happen. It'll give him plenty of time to mull over it though.”

  “Well, we've had the time, might as well give him some. As long as he doesn't take too long,” Renee said. Her XO spread her hands wordlessly. “Right,” Renee sighed.

  “Time to arrival?”

  “Four days, ma'am.”

  “Well, that can't be helped,” Renee sighed, shaking her head. “Is the chief ready?”

  “And the Marines too, ma'am. As soon as we're underway they'll get busy.”

  Renee nodded. “Good. Get the boat bay to cycle an SAR either on alert or out pacing us just in case. I don't want to have to slow down to pick up a damn Dutchman, so remind them about safety.”

  “Aye aye, ma'am,” the com rating replied with a dutiful nod.

  ---( | ) --- ( | )---

  Jethro got a call reporting an accident out on the hull. He rushed to the airlock. “What the hell happened?” He demanded, seeing a body on the floor with medics all around. His implants said the body was alive, but barely. The medics and their bots were working hard to keep her alive.

  “We were working out. She missed a catch and got it right in the face. Her visor broke. She freaked,” Sergei said, sounding contrite.

  Jethro looked at the big liger who was doing his best to stand out of the way. He crossed his arms and then nodded his chin to motion behind the Liger. The liger turned in time to see a robot with swirling red lights approaching with a medical litter. He stepped aside, into a hatch combing the best he could. The robot slowed to navigate past him and then arrived at the Marine's side.

  “Let's get her on the liter and to infirmary. She's alive. She hyperventilated when her visor cracked. Minor cardiac arrest signs as well. Implants are saying she's okay, but the anoxia when her visor finally breached knocked her out.”

  “She'll be fine, doc?” Jethro asked, turning his head to look at the lead medic.

  The SBA looked up and nodded. “We'll have her on her feet in a day I think. Check with Doc Standish later.”

  “Okay,” Jethro said, getting out of their way as they left. When they were gone he turned back to the liger. “So, you want to explain to me what happened again?”

  “Team building exercise,” Harley said from behind him. Jethro turned to her. He noted the Marines clustered around. He waved them off. “The rest of you check your suits. Harley, Sergei, with me,” he said. He walked them a distance away and around the corner.

  When he was nominally out of ear shot he checked around the corner. The Marines were watching them, but they ducked their heads and seemed to get to work. He nodded and turned to the two squad leaders. “Okay, let's try this again. From the top,” he said flicking his tail.

  “We...decided we needed a bit of fun to make EVA training feel more natural,” Harley said quietly. “I remembered what we learned in DI training—making it a game sometimes took the pressure to perform off. So, well...”

  “We were playing catch,” Sergei said. “She missed.”

  “Catch,” Jethro said. He frowned, remembering the breach in the woman's helmet. It had been round, with a spider web of cracks around it. “She must have missed a hell of a pitch. There is no way you can tell me a piece of plastic did that.”

  “Um, well, we couldn't get any, and since rubber would just shatter in the cold, we um...”

  “You what?” Jethro asked, patience nearing its exhaustion point.

  “We used a ball bearing,” Harley said. She held up a restraining hand as Jethro stilled. “I know I know! It was stupid. We thought their implants could handle it. Since it was shiny it would be hard to miss!”

  “Any damage to the ship?”

  “Didn't even dent the hull or scratch the paint,” Harley said. “But well...”

  “Okay, you two idiots get to write up the incident report, then you get to go through all the headache of the formal accident inquiry and such. I'll ask the Commander and Lieutenant to get the paperwork to you.”

  “Already done,” Commander Firefly's voice said from the overhead. All three Marines stiffened to attention. “And for the record, using a solid metal sphere and a metal crowbar for baseball on my hull was stupid. Though that was one hell of a line drive,” the AI said.

  Jethro frowned. Obviously the AI had been aware of what had happened but hadn't put a stop to it. He wasn't certain what to say, so he knew his best option was to remain silent. He did frown though.

  “I'd suggest next time getting some sort of catcher's mitt rigged up. And definitely a different ball and bat.”

  Harley looked at Jethro and then up. “I think the time for fun and games are over, sir,” she said.

  “Yeah,” Sergei drawled.

  “Definitely,” Jethro growled.

  ---( | ) --- ( | )---

  Miss Persephone had met with her clients in a public tavern. The flight out had taken some time; she'd changed to the Pride and Prejudice 90 for the final leg, but she was here now, home. She'd thought br
iefly of running, but that wasn't how the game was played. She'd die for sure, die tired.

  For the first time in a long time she was nervous and rightfully so. She had every right to be; she'd failed and she'd known it. Failure was normally a quick ticket to being permanently cleaned up as a loose end, victory only slightly less so. She usually loved the thrill of fear but in others. It was delicious seeing it in their eyes. But in herself she hated it. She hated not knowing.

  Nelson nodded to her as he sat in the booth. “Pleasure to see you again, ma'am,” he murmured.

  She eyed him. He squirmed, feeling like he was meeting a predator, and not wanting to be anywhere near her striking distance. Unfortunately, that was what the job required.

  He'd thought his boss had set him up, used him as bait. Apparently not, or at least he hadn't twigged that. It still bothered him. He'd seen the old mob movies; he knew how the game was played. The best way to make a kill was to get the target to drop their guard, laugh, relax, and then kill them. With the female assassin it would most likely have to be an ambush or bomb.

  “I do so hope you aren't the messenger of bad news,” the Asian woman said, eying the slight man.

  He gulped. “No ma'am. In fact, you...I mean our mutual employer stated his regrets for the failure. He took it as a...personal failure as well.”

  “You don't say,” she said lazily, toying with her index finger on the coaster. “Go on,” she murmured.

  “Well, I, um,” Nelson batted at the sweat on his brow with a silk handkerchief. “My, these circumstances are quite...stressing.”

  “You'd think you of all people would be used to the stress,” the Asian woman said, smiling slightly. “Or is it the company?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.

  “Don't take it the wrong way, ma'am, please don't, but I like all my parts as they are, thank you,” he said.

  “Spoil sport,” she murmured wickedly, eyes glittering. “You have no idea what you are missing out on,” she said.

  “I'll take your word on that, ma'am. I'm actually here to pass a message on to you from another employer. He wishes to have a word.”