by Chris Hechtl
Jethro felt relief that wiser heads had taken a hand. He was glad he'd handed command of the project over to Valenko. It was only a short time later that he'd found out that Major Pendeckle had sent him over for that very purpose.
“Tricky old bruin,” Jethro grumbled, then laughed. He'd been played, well and good. He was still amused when the bear tapped Jethro to throw a quick outline together to get them rolling. Once he'd handed off several projects to the corporals to oversee, the bear called Jethro and his ensigns in for a sit down.
Together they had a constructive brain storming session laying out what they'd like to see based on the base's construction blueprint, with a schedule. They identified what was a priority and then worked on the lists for each. Valenko waved Jethro out to check on the teams while he and the other officers wrangled over the details.
Jethro felt relief. The grizzly had the seniority and the experience to handle the project. He'd also taught the panther a lesson; he wasn't micromanaging everything but delegating what he could to those he knew they could handle it. He was testing the corporals as well, giving them the chance to prove themselves. The same went for the ensigns, giving them each a project and then letting them go to it with a minimum outline but a tight deadline. It would be instructive to see how everything came together Jethro thought.
“This is fun. A lot of work, but hell, better than looking at dirty walls and grumbling about it,” he said. Bast flicked her ghost-like ears at him and then closed her eyes.
---( | ) --- ( | )---
When he had some free time Jethro took a moment and wandered the base. He got to know it a bit better, discovering the public areas like the mess, rec areas and public park. Up until his arrival, the Marines had been using the Navy side of things, and hadn't been very welcomed for their intrusion. That was being sorted out now with Pendleton's own facilities coming online. In fact they had just brought in cooks and support staff to handle things there.
Since things were well in hand, the panther took a moment to do something different. He visited the Ssilli. The two aliens were getting along well or so he'd heard. He entered the compartment and looked around, blinking in surprise at how large and...ocean-like the sphere was.
There was a walk around the perimeter with a metal hand rail. It was a bit slick in some places where splashes had washed up but nice. There were also rocks; some of the area had been designed to look as natural as possible given the artificial design.
He'd heard of such things, aquariums. He wondered if there were viewing windows below and made a note to find out later. He looked around until he found what he had been looking for, the Ssilli.
The two seemed supportive of one another, tangled together in a knot of tentacles. Jethro heard a splash from the rocks off to his left. He turned, surprised to see a small knot of Neo otters off doing the back float.
“Ahoy landlubber! Not many come to see the water, care for a dip?” one of the otters said, waving a tiny hand paw.
“Not now thanks,” Jethro said, leaning on the railing. “Just here to pay my respects,” he said.
“Ah, the young lovers?” One otter asked, swimming over to him. Jethro crouched down and then sat on the deck, legs dangling over the water.
“Yes,” Jethro said as another floater came over. The otters had tools on their tummy. One worked at a filter cleaning crud out of it.
“Come in for a dip?” The second otter asked. “You don't seem the type,” he said in a high voice.
“No, no swimming today. I'm tempted. I can swim, but I've only got a short time to be here,” he said. “Maybe another time.”
“Ah, pity,” the second said. “You look like you'd be fun to play with,” he said, holding the filter under his arm he flipped over and dove.
“Okay, sorry, manners I know. My name is Gunnery Sergeant Jethro McLintock. I'm the lead NCO of the Marines right now, and you are?” he asked pointedly looking at the otter still with him.
“Gnash,” the otter said chattering his teeth. “Heard of you. We're from Epsilon Triangula. Have you heard of it?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” Jethro said nodding.
“Really?” the little guy said, now excited. “Been there?”
“No, never had the honor. Maybe someday,” Jethro said. “Admiral Irons mentioned it,” he said.
“He did? You've met the great man?” the otter said. Suddenly heads swiveled and then dove. In moments furry heads were all around him. They chatted excitedly, asking questions. Jethro chuffed a laugh.
He found out they had come in on a freighter while Firefly had been away. They had been desperate for water so had signed on as reservists. When Captain Logan had found out he'd offered to rescind their contract and have them sign on as civilian contractors, but they had refused. They took care of the filtration and cleaned the tank while some of their number went to school in the college and academy.
They were after the Command to turn the sphere into a proper habitat, which to him sounded like they wanted to make it more comfortable for them. They went on about how Irons had found a cure for some parasite they and the other swimmers on Epsilon had been cursed with.
He saw a pair tossing an inflatable ball. Someone had replicated plastic toys for them to play within their off time along with the special tools they needed to work with. They wanted to import and plant sea weed, coral, fish, and shellfish. Apparently, they wanted to stay, there was even some discussion of aquaculture farming and exports to the system.
Apparently, Captain Logan liked the idea, something about shellfish and real lobster. He was a hit with the otters.
Jethro saw a shape in the water, at first thinking it was another otter ;he ignored it. But then out of his peripheral vision he recognized the familiar top of a head. He turned in time to greet the Selkie when he came over. “Deja! I thought you were off on Firefly!”
“Not for want of Captain Mayweather trying,” the Selkie said, waving a flippered hand to his furry friends. They waved small hand paws back. “She wanted to keep me, especially after the run to Antigua and back, and then loosing the Commander over there,” he said, indicating the Ssilli.
“I thought she'd have you hauled off,” Jethro joked, then winced when the Selkie froze. “Sorry,” he said.
“Not your fault Jethro. A little tact would have been nice,” the Selkie said sadly.
“A problem gentlemen?” a computer voice asked. Jethro came to attention as the Ssilli came over. His implants translated their speech for him, it was picked up by hydrophones and then sent to him. Ordinarily the station AI would handle the translation, but it was rude for her to intrude, and besides, she was rather busy.
“Sorry, ma'am, no, just came by for a visit,” Jethro said.
“Ah,” the alien said. He felt his IFF ping. Bast seemed resentful but Jethro flicked his fingers and tail for her to quiet. After a moment she did. “Gunnery Sergeant McLintock?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Off duty?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jethro replied.
“I remember seeing you on Firefly,” her male partner said. “Briefly.”
“Yes, sir,” Jethro said, nodding to the other Ssilli.
“How is the crew of Firefly?” Nat'aroka asked.
“Well ma'am, I think. I've been assigned to this base temporarily,” Jethro admitted. He still wondered why he'd been stuck in the system when the convoy to Antigua had departed. They could have given him a ride after all, dropped him off in transit. But apparently command had had other ideas.
“And you were discussing...I'm sorry for the intrusion but my sonar detected your distress Sergeant,” the alien said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Deja said.
“I...stuck my foot in my mouth ma'am. Deja was.. a slave like you, to the pirates. He doesn't like helming a ship. Though he is a shuttle pilot. I thought you were off on that duty?” Jethro asked, cocking his head to the Selkie.
“Off duty for a shift,” Deja replied. “Routin
e maintenance,” he finished.
“Ah,” Jethro replied with a nod.
“You should switch to the Navy. It is where you can do the most good,” Nat'aroka said to Deja. He frowned. “I've seen your records, I've served with you remember? You did quite well on Firefly. Very well. Almost as well as one of us, and that is saying quite a lot.”
“Experience, ma'am. I do admit it wasn't as hard to get back into it as I'd thought.”
“Time. Time heals wounds. The scars remain, but they will wear over time. Never smooth, but enough,” the being said, her rubbery skin shifting in color as she spoke. “Time also moves in a circle, and we come back to where we started from time to time. Never the same, but with fresh eyes and more knowledge. Time, time to consider what to do, time to think, time to change. To change others. To make a difference. I suggest you consider your options. You can do so much more good for all at the helm of a ship.”
“I'll...consider it ma'am,” Deja ground out.
“Do so carefully please. If not now, then later,” she said with a wise eye stalk in his direction. “And do get some additional therapy if necessary. Talking about it does help.”
“I know a therapist who could help there,” Jethro offered.
Deja snorted. He backpedaled as furry beings popped up splashing about. “What about us? Can we fly a starship?” An otter chattered excitedly. Others joined in.
“I think you don't have the attention span to handle it, but I could be wrong,” Ensign Tra'l said, sounding amused even through the translation program. “Of course if it was a game...”
“A fun game! Yes! To fly the stars! Is there fish in the sea of stars? We've heard about it...is it good eating?” one of the otters demanded.
“Oh boy,” the Ensign splatted, blowing a mist out of his blowhole. “I'm not certain what we've started here.”
“Likely the beginning of something new,” his mate said. “It is too early to see. But I would welcome you all to the rebuilt navigator's guild. When we get around to getting it going again,” she said.
“To the future ma'am,” Jethro said with a nod. “As you said, all things in time,” he said with a bow. She waved a tentacle in response.
---( | ) --- ( | )---
Miss Persephone met her team what she quaintly thought of as the locker room. It was a store room, off the books and not on any station map. There was one strategically located in every major colony for their private use. It was swept regularly and guarded unobtrusively.
She would have preferred to have picked up some gear and then done the job on her own. But with the numbers involved she needed the backup. She didn't like it though, but that was spec in the contract. They had to attend to all the targets, quickly and quietly.
She looked at the men and Veraxin in the room and nodded. The humans were wearing tight body stockings, ancient things. They were designed to prevent errant DNA from being left behind. As smart clothes they could also morph and change color into various outfits. Two were dressed as janitors, appropriate since they were the cleaners.
“It has taken a lot to get our targets where we've wanted them. A lot of preparation and careful schedule changes. They won't be on Anvil long. We have our orders, no loose ends. I need to finish something first. Finish setting the box up, then go through the plan. Get it right, remember who you are dealing with,” she said coldly. The others nodded silently.
“This isn't going to be a normal kill. We're up against one of our own. One with combat training and plenty of kills,” her second said, holding up a pair of goggles. “And we'll have a lot of trouble come looking the moment they know he's gone.”
“It ain't going to be easy,” the Veraxin said, putting a backpack on.
“I'll handle the primary. You just box him in for me and take care of the leakers,” Miss Persephone said, adjusting her boots and then picking up her favorite toy. She was tempted to just hook it to her belt but instead she coiled it, feeling its length carefully.
“Are you seriously going to bring that?” her second asked. He shook his head at her basilisk look. “Fine, whatever,” he growled.
“With the number we have, we're going to have a mess on our hands. Make sure none escape the net,” the woman said, wrapping an overcoat on one arm. The coat would conceal her body stocking and weapons from potential witnesses. She spritzed herself with a spray, it would destroy her scent.
“That is why you called in the cleanup crew,” one of the men said harshly, packing his gear.
“Get it right. We can't afford any mistakes with these targets. All have implants.”
“Joy. That means we'll have to double up on the jamming and find a way to create a false feed or they'll be wary. And if we don't spoof their IFF signal the station AI could see them go off grid and raise an alarm,” the man said looking up in thought. He turned and started pulling electronics gear from a nearby shelf.
“Handle it,” Miss Persephone said.
“Like gold dust. You just don't screw up your end,” he said not looking at her. He paused when he felt her light touch on his back, nails running up his spine. She grabbed his brown pony tail and pulled back for a moment, brushing her favorite toy against his right cheek briefly.
“Do be polite to a lady,” she murmured.
“Enough. We all have our orders,” another voice said. “Act professional,” her second-in-command said eying her.
She looked over her shoulder to the other cleaner than let the first go. “Just...getting into character,” she said with a smirk. She adjusted her outfit and then unzipped her top a little more. The suits the others wore always amused her. Hers made her look like what she was, a professional dominatrix. Their black suits and black hoods made them look like a cross between a ninja and a sub in a gimp mask. Goons, she thought, pursing her lips. Her own goon harem. Eight including the harem. They should be enough. They'd better be, she thought firmly.
She adjusted her bra a bit, making certain she was the center of attention in the room, as it should be. “I am,” she said firmly.
“Whatever. Don't you have someplace to be?” Her second asked.
“Yes, I'm going,” she said, strutting as she walked out.
The first cleaner looked at the other. “She's getting to you. You need to stop baiting her.” The others shook their heads, not interested in getting in the middle of the mess.
“She's lost her edge. She's gotten into the thrill of it, and you know what that means,” the second said, shaking his head. They'd all heard stories about how she'd lost it. How she had started to revel in her kills. That was a strict no-no with the guild.
The second-in-command sighed. “Yes, more work for us in the future. And she will be...a mess to clean up.”
“Two birds with one stone?” The first asked hopefully. The other six killers looked up in surprise. One looked at them coldly.
The second-in-command scowled blackly. “Don't even think that. We don't do anything without orders from above; you know that. She's not the contract. Focus on the targets. This will be tough, perhaps as tough as her failed mission.”
“Perhaps her last,” the first said with a malicious chuckle.
---( | ) --- ( | )---
Miss Persephone strutted as she went to see an old friend. It was rather convenient for her that the elder lived in what was now a mostly abandoned part of the station. Since those few who did live there were busy at work, she had no trouble with potential witnesses. A knock on the door and a smile and the elder even let her in.
“I hadn't known you were still on the station,” the lioness said, eyes widening only briefly. “Come, share a cup of tea with an old woman,” she said motioning with a hand paw.
“I'd love to,” Miss Persephone said, smiling politely. She had been raised by her grandmother to follow some of the old ways. She rarely had time to indulge in them, but when she could, she did. Falling back on the ancient traditions of the tea ceremony seemed to help center her, help her focus. She took a seat kn
eeling across from wooden table. She looked around as the matriarch busied herself in the kitchenette. “Quaint,” she said.
“It serves its purposes,” the elder said, coming back with a tray. Her hands trembled slightly, but she followed protocol and knelt with the tray. The Asian woman smiled politely as her hostess poured the tea in a precise move. The ancient flowered tea cup was exquisite. She admired it for some time as her hostess rearranged herself across from her.
“These joints do get stiff after a time,” the lioness said chuffing. “Do make certain to keep exercising. It will keep you from becoming decrepit over time like me,” she said.
“Time is unkind to many,” the woman said nodding as she cradled her cup. She felt the warmth in her hands, like a friend. “You seem better. You have your vision back,” she said. “I had heard.”
“Yes, they fixed it some years ago for me. It has done wonders for me, allowing me to see how this station and her people have changed so much in such a short time,” she said, flicking her ears.
“Yes, many changes,” the woman said softly. “Time does move on,” she murmured, taking a sip. The elder smiled and sipped at her tea as well.
They spend some time admiring the tea set as protocol required, making small talk before the woman noted how much time had passed. Some things shouldn't be rushed, but unfortunately she was on the clock. “Do you know why I am here?” she asked finally, setting the cup aside.
“Not if you don't tell me,” the elderly Neolioness said, amused. The human admired how easily the elder had deflected her question.
“I'm here to kill you, elder,” the Asian woman said with a slight bow. “My apologies to be so impertinent.”
The lioness stilled for a second, and then set her cup of tea down carefully. “I see. Can an old woman ask why?”
“Because you are in the way. And you have to die.”
“I see. The assassin's guild I presume?” The lioness asked, completely poised and serene.
“Yes.”
“And you of course won't identify who ordered my death.”