Jethro 3: No Place Like Home

by Chris Hechtl

  Before the Captain could answer, the com officer interrupted her. “We're getting a request from Bounty. It is Commander Sprite requesting our log,” the communications officer Sampson reported.

  The Captain frowned and then motioned to the ship's AI. “By all means send it Commander. Sitrep?”

  “We're still getting reports and a headcount is tentative. We've got two trapped crewman DCC is working on digging out now. They are the last.”

  “Understood. CIC, sitrep?”

  “Arboth is holding station with the Queen Adrienne as are we. Bounty has some shield harmonic issues as well as some severe battle damage. We're reading heat spikes and atmospheric venting in her stern. Fighters are on station with the Horathian fleet train. Warhawks have made delivery and are returning. We've gotten a signal; they are encountering stiff resistance but have gotten penetration of the target.”

  “Good.”

  “Glad I'm not in their shoes right now,” Shelby murmured. Her Captain looked at her. She shrugged. “Don't get me wrong, I like a good fight, and I'd love to see that ship. Hell, command her maybe someday. But right now?” She shook her head. “I know my limits. My place is on the bridge,” she said, indicating their surroundings.

  “My sentiments exactly number one. Let the professionals do their jobs.” She turned to the engineering rating. “Once the Marines are off and we've picked up any criticals, have our people standing by for prize duty. And contact the Bounty, ask them if they need help with damage control.” The last order was directed to the communications officer.

  “Aye, ma'am,” Sampson replied with a nod.

  “Doctor Standish here. All wounded crew are stable now. I'm setting up the least injured in a temporary ward in the rec room with one of my SBAs. The critically injured have been stabilized and placed in stasis for the time being. I'd appreciate Commander Firefly looking in on them from time to time. I have a feeling I'll be busy,” the doctor said over the intercom.

  Renee looked up. “Good work, doctor. Get your people sorted out and reset. It won't be long before we've got more customers for you,” she said.

  “Customers she says,” the doctor muttered darkly. “Understood. Infirmary out.”

  “Boat bay, send an available shuttle, pinnace to Bounty. Tell them to take on any wounded they have.”

  “Aye aye, ma’am. We've got all remaining shuttles on standby, launching one now.”

  “That leaves us one left, Captain. Should we send it out?” Shelby asked. The Captain had kept two shuttles in reserve in case of need, overriding Major Pendeckle's request for all of them. Now she was glad she had.

  “No,” Renee replied softly. “I want at least something in reserve. At least for now.”

  Chapter 12

  The Marines planned to hit each of the ships in succession. The Battlecruiser was the priority; she was still active to some degree and most of the opposition was on that ship. Therefore, she drew their hardest hitters.

  Valenko's teams with the majority of their powered combat armor and combat experience drew the Battlecruiser; the remaining Marines would hit the nearest ships once the shuttles became available. That meant getting the Marines in fast and the shuttles on their way to recycle for their next stop.

  It also meant they were dangerously overextended, Valenko realized. There was little reserve, and Firefly was at least fifteen minutes out. She was staying carefully out of range of any ship that could come alive again, or worse, scuttle trying to take the Federation vessel with her.

  The very real threat of a scuttle had more than one Marine concerned. They knew that they could buy it just as easily with an IED, Gauss round, or a knife though, so the wiser ones did their best to put the concern out of their minds.

  As they went in Valenko got an update. He scanned it quickly, noting a highlighted section for his eyes specifically. There was a report of Marines on the Battlecruiser, but the bear wasn't certain what it meant. He checked the IFF as they went in. A handful of blue lights winked on, all clustered in one location. After a moment he started getting a feed from them. “Okay people, by the numbers. Expect heavy resistance. Check your IFF; we've got friendlies on the ship. Jill, you are going to relieve them,” he ordered. The Neocanine nodded and hand signed to her people.

  “They are getting hammered and may be punchy so let them know you are coming,” the bear said. The canine nodded. Valenko turned to Jethro. “Gunny, take your squad and hit the reactors; I'll take main engineering. Corporal Wade, you take the bridge.” Wade nodded her head and put her helmet on. “Sergei, hit the armory and secure it.”

  “A bit like shutting the barn door you know,” the liger muttered. He hunched his shoulders when the bear gave him a dirty look. “Just saying,” he muttered.

  “Quinn take your people and secure the main axis points. Once we cut the bastards off we can go through them one pocket at a time if we have to.”

  “Consider it done br'er, bear sir,” the Neo Hyena said.

  “Cute. Panashe, secure the CIC and back up bridge. Pick the one you are closest to and then go from there.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Each of you have secondary objectives once the primaries are secured. If we take heavy casualties regroup on Quinn or wherever we've got the largest amount of people.”

  “Sir, we're not going in the boat bay or lock...” Private Quiposki said.

  “Hell no! Don't do what they'll expect! The pilots know to hit the breaches. Seal up people! Buddy check!” The bear growled, closing his visor.

  “Shit,” Sergei muttered, closing his visor and then checking himself and then his buddy.

  ---( | ) --- ( | )---

  “Sir, we've got to do something! They are all over the ship!”

  “Damn flea ridden lice! Frack them!” A voice with authority snarled. “We're done for, but the least we can do is take these bastards with us! Engineering! Overload the reactors!”

  “Engineering link is down, sir!”

  “Then damn it do it from here! Do the same for the engines!”

  “Yes, sir! The self-destruct though?”

  “It's dead. That damn computer virus took it out. I wish it was online, but this will work just as well. Hell, overpressurize the fuel system and then vent it into the life support.”

  “Sir?” A startled voice replied. There was a sound of a smack that even made the Marine wince. If he could hear it from here, even with his enhanced hearing and listening device than he knew it had to have hurt.

  “Do it!”

  “Aye aye, Sir! Venting...it'll take some time to build up pressure!”

  “Just get it done. You two, see anything?”

  “Someone's at the door,” a voice growled. “Just waiting for him to stick his head around the corner so we can blow it off,” the voice continued.

  Private Bart Quiposki frowned thoughtfully. He had overheard the officers and ratings on the bridge snarling about the self-destruct. He replayed the conversation in his mind as he glanced back to the rest of his squad. Two were down, light wounds. They didn't have a medic with them so Hart and Debs were trying to treat Corporal Wade and PFC Nahele the best they could. That cut their squad almost in half.

  “Venting in five, sir!” The rating said. Bart glanced towards the bridge and then sighed, resting his head against the bulkhead briefly and closed his eyes.

  “Fine then,” the Horathian officer said. Bart frowned. “If anyone comes in overload the reactors and then destroy your station,” the man growled.

  “With what, sir?” the rating asked, voice quivering in fright.

  “I don't know! Just hold them off for five more minutes! You can at least do that right?”

  Bart frowned. He had to do something, something no doubt stupid. He did a quick inventory. Unfortunately, he was fresh out of flash bangs; the two centimeter spherical grenades were about the only thing he could use on the bridge. He checked the squad through his link but found they were out too. The fighting to get to this
point had been intense.

  He did a quick peak with the tip of his weapon, under the barrel of his C-42 Impaler was a tiny camera. Gauss rounds hammered into the corner he was behind as he withdrew the weapon. Not good, he thought, checking the recording. They had the hatch and corridor leading up to it bracketed with crossfire. Anyone who stepped into it was dead meat.

  Time to buck it up the chain of command. He flipped open his link to the panther. “Gunny, they're working on blowing the ship!”

  “Then do something about it!” The panther snarled back. From the background sound he was in the middle of combat and didn't need the distraction.

  “I was afraid you'd say that,” the Marine muttered closing the link. He was tempted to throw a breaching charge but decided against it. Knowing his luck it would go off and blow the ship or they'd catch it and throw it back. He glanced back at the rest of the squad. None of them were looking at him for the moment. He was point man; the rest of the squad was waiting on him.

  He hit the alert button. Debs, L'rna, Hart, Paige, Seven, Tigger, and Niner looked up. “We've got the shitty end of the stick,” Bart said. “Debs, Hart, get them stable then follow the rest of us in. On three,” he said. He pulled an MRE out as the others set up. Bart balled it up to look like a grenade and then threw it over his shoulder down the corridor. He counted three with the fingers of his free hand and then moved as fast as he could.

  “Frack! Grenade!”

  Bart heard the pirates hysterically yell grenade and grinned as he turned the corner and charged, weapon firing to keep the enemy's heads down.

  He knew it wouldn't be enough though as someone blindly pointed a Gauss rifle around the corner and opened up with it.

  ---( | ) --- ( | )---

  Jethro noted the map changed; he glanced at it. He was slipping past the opposition with his armor's cloak and then tearing them apart with lethal efficiency. He paused, noting the green of the bridge but an exclamation point. He checked around him and then hit it. He froze briefly when the IFF of one of his people blinked red. “Damn,” he muttered.

  Rounds began to pepper the area where he had last been. “Yeah, I'm coming,” he growled, deep in his throat. He still had some work to do, some pirates to send to hell in a fitting tribute to the fallen Marine.

  ---( | ) --- ( | )---

  Half the Marines from Firefly joined Lieutenant Gustov in boarding and securing the Battlecruiser while the other half fanned out to secure the nearest ships one by one. Admiral Rico and most of the senior officers had committed suicide rather than be captured so the heart and brain of the Horathian fleet had been splattered over a bulkhead.

  The bridge had been torn apart in the last bit of fighting, but Private Quiposki's sacrifice had done the job; it had gotten the rest of his squad in to cut the head off the dragon. When the final desperate fighting was over the senior officers there were all dead, and most of the bridge ratings were severely injured.

  With their officers dead the fight in the Horathians hit a hysterical pitch and then slumped; the situation devolved into every man for himself. Their coordination had already been shot filled with holes due to the battle damage and computer viruses; taking out the bridge dropped them into small pockets to finish the job. All hope left them. Some of the small pockets held out defiantly, but most of the exhausted crew surrendered rather than eat a bullet or breathe vacuum.

  Once Adrienne was secure the Marines shifted to the other disabled enemy ships. Firefly's Marines were fresh, fully trained veterans and numbering near a full platoon. They had Warhawks as well as two pinnaces. Half of the Marines also had powered combat armor.

  Once they secured the bridge, engineering, and armory of each ship, there was little the surviving crew could do to fight back. Most were too busy either trying to survive or falling all over themselves surrendering anyway.

  ---( | ) --- ( | )---

  Post battle chores seemed never ending for some. Ships drifted as men and women fought for life, either against the enemy, or against the mounting damage, or the pitiless void that was ever crushing the life out of them.

  The butcher’s bill was heavy. Every squad except Jethro's had taken casualties, some fatal. Major Pendeckle and Firefly dispatched shuttles to pick up the wounded on a priority basis. Until then the squads had to make do with the medics and equipment they had on hand.

  Ensign Ufda was injured by an IED while securing the factory ship Carnegie. Twelve enlisted Marines were killed taking and securing the fleet train. Lieutenant Pongo had half a squad killed taking the Gypsy Rose. The purple Neo Orangutan grimly reported a hostage situation on board in the number one hold, with ten slaves confirmed executed. Another five hundred were reportedly in there, being held by six terrified Horathians. The ape grimly insisted that they would get the prisoners out. The Horathians survival was considered doubtful.

  Ensign Esh'z had been tasked with securing the various small ships in the system. After losing two Marines on the first ship, the Ensign had opted to breach each ship then go in hard. When he finished his list of ships he reported two more casualties but no more fatalities. He also had only three captured Horathians to show for it.

  Once Bounty and Firefly had their own damage under control naval crews were dispatched to follow up the Marines to secure the ships. Prisoners were scanned to make certain they were disarmed and then herded to secure locations. Once the squads reported the primary objectives secured, Marines went through the ship, compartment by compartment hunting for survivors trapped in the wreckage or pirates who thought they could hide. The Marine implants proved them wrong.

  ---( | ) --- ( | )---

  Jethro rubbed the small of his back. After he and his squad had taken the reactors, he'd left them behind to help mop up any resistance before he'd been tasked to hit and take the secondary bridge of the Battlecruiser a few hours ago. His armor's weapons, shields, and stealth ability had made the tasks easy; his squad had just come along behind him to clean up the mess.

  When the ship had been declared nominally secured he'd swapped places with a Navy prize crew before he'd been kicked off to board and take the Antelope Fast attack Destroyer with two other squads. Valenko had taken two others to secure the Arboth class Destroyer leaving Ensign Ebensher in charge of mopping up any hold outs.

  The Antelope had surrendered after light fighting, taking the better part of an hour all told. Most of the fighting had gone right out of the pirates once they realized the Marines had armor and knew how to use it. Fortunately, none of the squad had been killed before the pirates had realized it, though there were some injuries. He frowned as his IFF pinged an incoming officer. He turned in confusion; he didn't recognize this Lieutenant Gustov. “Sir?” he asked.

  “Um, Sergeant Jethro, right?” the bluff human asked. He had a healing cut on his chin and smelled of disinfectant. Most likely he'd just sprung himself from the medic's clutches.

  “Yes, sir. Sir, I don't recognize you,” Jethro said.

  The human looked him up and down, studying him briefly before he turned to the bridge of the captured destroyer. “I'm new. Aren't you supposed to salute officers?” Gustov asked mildly.

  “Um, sir, not in the field, sir,” Jethro said, flicking a look to Gusterson who was working on a Horathian casualty. All the Horathians were handcuffed with their hands in front. Lieutenant Valenko had just left to take a lot to the brig.

  The greyhound medic flicked his ears and then returned his attention to his patient. “This one's stable,” he said, moving on to the next.

  “Oh, must have missed that lesson then,” Lieutenant Gustov said with a frown. He shook it off with a brief shrug. “Sitrep?”

  “Stable sir. We have secured the bridge, engineering, power rooms, drive rooms one and three, and the armory.”

  “Why not two?”

  “Two is in vacuum, sir,” the panther replied. He sent a schematic to the new officer.

  Gustov studied the schematic and then nodded. “You're superior off
icer is Lieutenant Valenko?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Jethro replied.

  Gustov nodded again. “Very well. Carry on, Sergeant,” he said, exiting the compartment. Jethro turned briefly to watch him go.

  “Wonder what that was about?” Ox asked through the squad link. The squad had an open channel to all compartments. Ox was in main engineering, keeping an eye on things there.

  “No idea,” Jethro replied and then flicked his ears. “Hopefully, not my problem,” Jethro said.

  ---( | ) --- ( | )---

  Jethro noted the Antelope’s original wall of honor was fouled with graffiti. Some jerk had taken a torch to it, burning off some of her paint with a welder, most likely setting a fire in the process. A ship's paint and hull were designed not to burn, to smolder and go out under most circumstances. To do that sort of damage, burning in the three legged swastika of the Horathian empire into the wall, that took time and patience. He shook his head and moved on.

  He noted that the ship's bronzed builders plaque was also missing. There were several of the plaques, one on the bridge, one in the wardrooms, and one in engineering. He wondered if the others were too. He stretched, then realized all his idle woolgathering was a sign he was tired. He stretched again, wishing he could unzip and get a nice scratch in. Then he felt something on his back. Something was moving and it freaked him out. He twisted, but realized it was in the armor. After a moment he realized it was some sort of massager, somehow the suit was massaging his back and shoulders.

  “That feels good,” he purred. He felt something respond distantly, but he was too tired to interpret it.

  ---( | ) --- ( | )---

  When the Admiral got a better grip on the situation he ordered Firefly to dispatch her last remaining shuttle to the Echo with search and rescue orders. Meia and Dita were picked up as well. Their fighters were a bit shot up, and almost out of fuel. Fortunately, the shuttle deployed a robotic arm and refueled them with enough fuel to recover on Firefly since Bounty's boat bay was a mess. They were quiet when they returned, but from the report the boat bay officer passed on, looking about like wide-eyed tourists.