by Chris Hechtl
The Asian woman shook her head. “I'm sorry, no.”
“So,” the lioness sighed. “Get it over with. In some ways it will be a blessing,” she murmured.
“One thing. We need the samples of your grandson Jethro before we kill him too.”
Golden eyes stared into the human for a long time. The woman thought at first that the lioness would try a futile attack, but instead the old woman just shook her head softly, as if scolding her. “Die disappointed then,” the matriarch said as she closed her eyes. She had lived a good life. She serenely waited for the wheel to turn full circle.
“I don't plan on dying at all,” the woman said. “Not like you. I'll make it quick,” she said flicking a dart at the lioness. The dart hit her target in the throat. Her throat convulsed in instinctive reaction to the insult and the poison. Her right hand paw reached for it but then fell. After a moment her breathing stopped and her body stilled.
“Good night, grandmother. Sweet dreams in the afterlife,” the woman said, getting up. She went over and pulled the dart out, then stroked the soft fur on the lioness's head. She pinched an ear, and then checked for signs of life. When she didn't find any she nodded and then left quietly.
Chapter 30
“This so sucks,” Jethro said, rolling his shoulders. He was getting tired of hauling the suit around with him all over the system. Going back and forth with it was a pain. Since the Annex was so close to Anvil, he decided to leave it in the armory there with Ox.
“He'll take good care of it,” Jethro said, reassuring Bast. Bast looked doubtful. “You'll keep an eye on him to make sure right?” he asked. She nodded. “Good girl,” he said. She seemed pleased by the praise.
“You know, it wouldn't hurt you to text me or talk to me. Or Ox. He'd love to talk with you. I bet you two would get along pretty well. He's into suits you know,” Jethro teased.
Bast just looked at him, seemingly bored. After a few minutes she yawned and then went to a doze. The panther snorted as he climbed through the hatch to the morning shuttle to Anvil. “Sure, sleep on it why don't you,” he mock grumbled.
Jethro had been recalled to the Annex for more paperwork, a face-to-face with Valenko and then to see if he could spring some more gear out of Spitterman.
Valenko, however, was tied up in meetings, and Spitterman was off station at one of the logistics stations clustered in the area. Something about an IG inspection. That left Jethro with the paper pushers and then nothing.
He checked, there was a request for another follow-up interview from the therapist Ensign Chelsi. He wished she'd get a life, interfering with his was getting old. He told her he'd pop in if he could. She texted him back with an appointment.
Jethro shook his head. He'd planned on doing a quick check in with the matriarch but she wasn't answering his calls. She too was probably in a meeting or something. He grumbled a bit to himself about how others were allowed to get on with their lives, but here he was, pulled away to hurry up and wait for nothing.
“If you're going to Anvil, put on the uniform and drop by the recruiting office and the college. Show the flag and uniform, strut a bit. Give them all a good look at what someone can do with their life,” Valenko texted him.
“Lucky me,” Jethro sighed. He felt Bast wake and then pull up a map of the station. He knew where the recruiting stations were. Well, two, the one in the college and the other in the station's main concourse. The two in the mall had apparently closed recently.
That made sense in a way, and not because of some quota competition. The station had about thirty thousand people on it, and they really didn't need four recruiting offices for such a small stable population. The demographics were plain, other than showing the flag most of the recruiting posts were make-work.
Valenko's work no doubt, Jethro thought. He marched through the dock, put up with customs and then headed to the first office.
When he arrived no one was there. But a woman pointed him to the arcade in the mall. Jethro went hunting there. He found the human Marine playing a shooter game with some teenage humans. The Marine was cleaning their clocks, impressing the hell out of them. Jethro was about to object but then overheard the Marine go on about how his training had taught him how to shoot like that. He caught sight of Jethro and winked. Jethro snorted and moved on.
The guy was good, he thought, using the arcade to demonstrate his skills and make a positive impression on the teens, all near recruiting age. They themselves might not sign on, but they might influence others to do so. He made a note of it and passed it on to the bear.
When he checked on the college office he found the usual recruiting posters and holograms, but again, no one home. He frowned, lashing his tail. After a moment he pinged the Sergeant who was supposed to be on post.
“Sorry, Gunny, I'm um, in a meeting,” the Sergeant said.
“Meeting right,” Jethro said. He oriented on the signal. “Location?”
“Um, sir, I can um, meet you in...not now honey,” he cleared his throat.
“It is 0110 hours. You were supposed to report for duty at 0900 hours. I expect you to be here on time, Sergeant, at your post,” Jethro said. “So, want to try again?”
“Sorry gunny, distracted. Family. No excuse,” the Sergeant said miserably.
Jethro frowned but then nodded. “Fine. We'll talk about this later. Where is your partner?”
“She's...in class, sir.”
Jethro nodded. “Good for her. I'll check anyway. Location?”
“Business lecture hall today, sir,” the Sergeant replied.
“Fine. Get your pants on, tell the little lady good bye, and get your ass back to your post. I'll be checking up shortly,” Jethro growled. He signed off and then went looking for the Corporal.
He found the mousey brunette in the business hall as he'd been told. She was sitting in the back row he realized, in her khaki day uniform, listening attentively about accounting. Jethro snorted and moved on. He nodded politely to awed students and staff, but kept going on his way.
“Prowling the campus, Gunny?” Matilda asked as he came out into the main concourse.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, coming to attention. She snorted. She was out of uniform, so he didn't salute. “Captain Valenko asked me to check up on the recruits,” he said.
“I see. And you noticed one is in class and the other is...elsewhere?” she asked politely. He nodded. “I know too. I've cut them some slack since they make up for it in the evenings when the kids are mostly out of class and raising hell. They help keep a lid on things from time to time.”
“I see, ma'am.”
“But you still aren't happy?”
“I'm flexible, ma'am, to a point,” Jethro said.
“I know,” she said, shaking her head. She ran a hand through her silvering hair. She had an aged maturity and beauty about her. Being an officer might have something to do with it or admin. “I thought you were in charge of the academy, ma'am?”
“Like you I get around. If no one's said anything, I'd like to thank you for getting that cluster fuck of a Marine base turned around,” she said.
He nodded, stepping aside for a pair of giggling teens. They clutched at their tablets, talking about a boy as they passed. Matilda rolled her eyes. “My granddaughter is in this mess somewhere if you can believe it,” she growled.
“Ouch,” Jethro said.
“It's bad enough when you have kids. When you also chase your grandchild,” she shook her head. “I don't envy those who have large broods,” she said. “Enough to make your hair fall out,” she muttered.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I'll take your word for it for now,” he said.
She eyed him again. “It sucks that you can't do anything about the family situation. I've read the reports; you're a good cub. I know your gram; she's quite proud of you,” she said.
“Have you seen her today, ma'am?” he asked. She shook her head. He sighed.
“She's probably out and about. Don't w
orry about her. She's a trooper,” Matilda said. “I'll tell her you asked about her if you don't get a chance to catch up with her. I know it means the world to her to see you cubs, but she also knows that you have your lives and are busy with them.”
“There are a lot of us ma'am. I'd think she'd be overwhelmed,” Jethro said. “Well, when we were here,” he added darkly.
“True.” She frowned. “Well, I've got to be going. You take care of yourself, Gunny.”
“And you too, ma'am. Good luck with your granddaughter,” he said.
“She's a handful,” Matilda sighed moving off with a wave.
Jethro watched her go and then checked his schedule. He had just enough time to make it to the interview with the therapist before he had lunch and then had his chat with the Sergeant.
He made it to a scheduled therapy session, which turned out to be bull; Ensign Chelsi mumbled a lot and seemed uncomfortable. They went through the motions, and when the time was up she seemed more relieved that he could go than he. That was odd; she normally liked to hang onto him, pick his brain more.
Jethro stretched when he left her office. Bast snorted and pulled an e-mail up for him. “Yo, heard you're on the station. Lunch? I'm in the deck seventeen maintenance shop, link attached. Meet me there, and I'll show you a lunch cart nearby that's the bomb,” he read. He looked at the header. It was from Hrriss, but the link was odd. He snorted. Perhaps the Leo had changed positions finally and gotten a new e-mail address.
Jethro followed Bast's directions through the station, taking a lift and then dropping into the bowels away from the populated areas. There were people around, but all seemed busy. All were also human. Come to think of it, why did Hrriss want to meet him in the maintenance shop? Why not at the cart itself, Jethro thought, slowing his stride.
He frowned, lashing his tail. Bast cocked her head at him on the HUD, clearly echoing his curiosity. “Well, let's ask him,” he said, pushing himself through the doors and into the maintenance shop.
The room was average, about twenty meters wide and forty long. It had metal tables in the center, equipment and tools lined the walls. There were piles of metal in the corners. Cables snaked on the floor and hung in coils from the ceiling.
Jethro recognized a few robotic devices, a couple robotic arms were attached to the ceiling. There was a defunct droid of some sort near the largest door under a tarp.
The room was half lit, just in the center. There were three entrances, one small for people to pass through and another wider one for machinery. A third door had a window, but this one was a hatch directly into the void. Apparently, the shop was on the hull and old. It didn't even have its own airlock, which was odd. It was definitely a machine shop though, Jethro had seen enough in his time. But apparently one on break, not a soul was around. He liked the quiet, but something made the fur on the back of his neck prick up.
“What the hell is this?” Jethro growled as Hrriss came in from the other door. He didn't like it; his instincts were screaming something was wrong. Bast began to react, ears flat, eyes snapping. The panther turned to confront the lion, claws half bared, ears flat.
“Hey man, you called me remember! I didn't e-mail you. Say, did you change your address or something?” Hrriss asked, hands up. “What?” He asked, noting Jethro's body posture. “What the hell man?” he growled. “Lighten up!”
“Shit,” Jethro said, looking around, now on alert. “We've got to get out of here,” he growled, noting people approaching their compartment.
“Why? What the hell's going on?” Hrriss demanded as the door behind him.
“Too late,” Jethro muttered, backing away warily. He could see most were human, but at least one was a Veraxin. He couldn't get a hard count though; the metal walls and close quarters in the corridor outside blended their heat signatures together. In a moment it didn't matter as the first stepped through the hatch.
“Well, what do we have here,” Miller said, grinning nastily. “Kitty, kitty, kitty,” he mocked. “Two kitties. This should be good,” he growled. He rubbed his hands together. “I've been looking forward to this,” he murmured.
“I still don't understand why I'm needed here,” a familiar human female voice complained.
“Shut up lady, just do as you’re told,” another voice hissed.
“Well!” The woman huffed. “You'd do well to recall I do outrank you PO,” she said primly as she entered. Jethro recognized Ensign Chelsi with a navy tech that pinged back as a third class PO named Baker in her wake pushing her along. The woman took one look at him and looked away, seemingly embarrassed and not at all happy about being there. She stunk of fear, so did the guy behind her. Not a good sign.
Behind them another group was forming up. Four humans, one of them female, and a Veraxin. Two more were behind them further back. He turned as Bast identified another exit to the room. Two more humans were there, both covering the door. He shook his head. “No, not good. Find cover and weapons,” he said softly. There were at least two covering the other exit to the room so escape was impossible. He didn't like what he was seeing. It wasn't his birthday, and with this crowd...
“What the hell? What's going on? What are you doing here Miller?” Jethro demanded as others came in behind him.
“I'm here with friends to see you go down,” Miller snarled, fists clenched as he stepped aside.
“Take them,” an Asian woman said in the center, obviously the leader.
Jethro moved instantly. He knew better than to hold still as a target. He was rewarded for his instinctive reaction when he dodged an incoming trank gun dart from his left flank. He deflected a second with a piece of metal he grabbed from the scrap pile nearby.
His instincts went into overdrive. “We're in trouble. Down!” Jethro snarled, ducking and covering. Eyes slitted, he looked around, in a half crouch as he looked for a weapon. He was a weapon, but he had to get in arms length to make a kill. That didn't seem likely with the other side carrying guns.
Bast immediately sent out an emergency distress signal only for it to be scrambled and reflected back. He felt Bast beat frantically at the block but ignored it. She'd either punch a signal out or not, he had other things to worry about. A pulse scan told him every exit was covered, and the firing angles didn't look good.
They were coming set up for a major fight Jethro realized with a sinking sensation. He heard Hrriss drop, then roll as weapons fired on the tables above. The tables were thick enough to deflect the rounds. They spanged around the room.
Hrriss covered his ears, roaring in pain and anger. Jethro knew they were in for it, and he also realized he'd have to fight. Hrriss tried to break for the door; he almost made it. Tranks tangled in his thick mane, unable to penetrate. The enemy switched to bullets though; he was cut down and riddled with rounds before he made it five meters. His body danced as he roared in pain and anger, then dropped. He coughed once and then was still.
Jethro realized his friend had been killed, and he could do nothing to stop it. Nothing but use the distraction to get revenge he thought, claws out as he came up with a plan. His hands reached for an open tool box.
“It wasn't supposed to happen this way!” The therapist babbled. “I'm not supposed to be here!” she said shaking her head. “You said this was a meeting!” she squealed in fear, voice rising into a shriek as she turned on Baker, hitting him repeatedly.
“Shut up, lady. Get down and you might survive this,” Baker snarled, crouching himself.
Chelsi turned to run, but a hammer thrown by the panther embedded itself into the back of her head. She slammed into the wall and then slumped to the ground dead or dying; he didn't care which.
He knew he was going for the soft targets, not taking out the ones that were the most dangerous. He also realized they were there for that reason, a distraction, so he tried to shift tactics.
Jethro realized that they had anticipated his abilities, most likely they had researched him thoroughly thanks to the traitors in the ro
om. They had him boxed in a confined space and were using ranged weapons. Never bring a knife to a gun fight flashed through his mind briefly.
Thankfully they didn't know everything, and of course he had primitive ways to fall back on as well. He scented the air but realized their suits were killing their scent. From the look of the Asian woman, he knew it had to be her, the Reaper. He realized with a sinking heart it was the assassin's guild. He dearly regretted opening his mouth.
The assassins were ready for his cloak with shifting IR glasses Jethro realized. “What's the matter kitty, can't handle it?” a voice said in the darkness. Jethro localized it, turning his ears. Bast painted the sounds on his plot. He was grateful; it allowed him to focus on what to do next. Unfortunately, he was running low on options.
“Can't protect your friends can you? The lion, king of the jungle...what a joke,” the voice laughed, a cruel laugh designed to sting his pride. “You couldn't protect him could you?” the voice asked.
“Just like you couldn't protect your elder,” the Asian said. That made Jethro freeze. “Yes, that's right,” she whispered in the dark, shifting to his right. “She's with her ancestors now. She went with a whimper. I wonder if you'll do the same,” she said, voice sing songing tauntingly.
Jethro realized they were egging him on, trying to get under his skin and get to his temper, make him do something stupid. He realized he had to do two things to thwart them, stay free and alive, and get the word out. After that he could focus on revenge.
Still he fought though, he used tooth, claw, and improvised weapons. He used every trick he could think of to stay alive; he used everything at hand, not bothering to cloak since it would be useless. The panther knocked over a stack of tools. He crouched, and then came up throwing. He threw screwdrivers as the lights were cut. His implants and enhanced vision cut in immediately.
The female assassin used her whip to deflect things he threw at her or those near her. Jethro hit the traitor Baker in the arm with a screwdriver, impaling it and wounding the human. He hit another human assassin in the throat, killing him. Another got his feet entangled in a cable. The panther dragged him in and then ripped his throat out. The other assassins kept to the walls, firing in on him. He threw the body out, letting the riddle it with weapons fire as he found more weapons and cover.