Jethro Goes to War (Wandering Engineer Jethro's tale)

by Hechtl, Chris

  “Delta platoon, F platoon you’re up!” the gunny said. “On your marks...”

  “Wait what happened to E?” Hurranna asked to the side.

  “Consolidated into others. Focus,” Jethro snarled.

  “You focus blacky...”

  “Go!” The gunny said hitting a gong. The troop sprang into action, running the rings and then turning a corner to the wall.

  “Go go!” DI's screamed. Jethro shouldered his weapon and then grabbed the rope just before Hurranna. In a flash he was up it.

  “Up and over, go go!” the DI at the bottom screamed as he hesitated at the top. Vertigo played with his senses briefly before he got it under control. He cat walked along the balance beam instead of dropping down the other side and then went hand over hand on the monkey bars to the zip line.

  “Shake your tail!” Hurranna growled behind him. He snarled but tried to pour on speed.

  Other troop members were taking the easier route, dropping down the wall and then moving through the muck. He got to the end of the zip line and grabbed the rope to swing across.

  “Wait,” A DI said, hand out. Jethro waited as a trooper ahead of him got out of the muck. “Go.”

  Hurranna swung just before he did. He let out a Tarzan yell and landed on the slippery slope on the other side right after her. He let go of the rope and wind milled as he tried not to overbalance. The ruck and rifle were throwing his usually perfect sense of balance off significantly.

  He made it to the next obstacle just as sound FX of explosions and screaming bombs began to play. Holograms of fireballs lit the area around them. “Go go!” a DI screamed, slamming them down onto their bellies. Hurranna leopard crawled through the muck and then took the side passage through a second level.

  Jethro tried not to look up as tracer rounds peppered the air above his head. He made it to the second stage then a DI kicked him to flip him onto his back. He felt like a turtle trying to move. He wanted to sit up but the DI's foot on his stomach prevented it.

  He shucked the ruck and then pushed it ahead of him. The DI let him go as the next troop made it to his position. “Go go! Move it you maggots! My grandmother could move faster than you! And she's in a wheel chair! Move!”

  Jethro made it through the crawling portion and paused at the next section. It was a forest of poles. Occasionally he could hear a scream or explosion. He looked around and then got an idea.

  Carefully he put the ruck back on and then grabbed the nearest pole. “What the hell are you doing Marine?” a DI snarled. He didn't acknowledge the question, just climbed for all he was worth.

  At the top of the pole he balanced and looked down. The forest of poles was a simulated death trap, a jungle of hidden traps, snipers, and pitfalls. He balanced on the top of the pole and then jumped to the next.

  He kept an eye to the prize. After this was a sandy clearing then the bell. He jumped the last three poles and then shimmied down the last one. He looked around, no one else was there. He started to jog the sandy stretch and then his eyes narrowed. Something was wrong. It was too easy.

  He dodged, and then dropped just as a round tore through the air where he had been. He crawled for all he was worth to the sandy berm off to one side. He pulled a pocket mirror and glanced around.

  “Damn,” he growled. He was pinned. He couldn't move until someone else came. He waited. Sure enough Hurranna came out just in time to get shot. She crumpled over her stomach, retching in the sand. Three more troopers came out.

  With the sniper's attention on the others Jethro crawled to the next cover spot, checked for another, and then did the same. He looked back to see bodies writhing in the sand behind him. A few had taken cover in the poles; others had made it to the berms.

  He felt a round hit his ruck but he shrugged it off. He made it to the last berm then took a deep breath. He looked back to see a trooper try to rush the course. The sniper turned to fire on the stupid kid and Jethro rolled, up and over across the platform and then lashed a leg out to kick the bell.

  It let out a sour bong. He kept rolling, getting back to cover.

  “The kids good, I'll give him that,” the Major said, watching the feed through his implants.

  “No coordination. No leadership,” Firefly responded. “He didn't even care that his squad mates were under fire or in trouble.”

  “Sometimes you have to be a cold bastard to get the job done. The mission comes first remember?”

  “Yes but this is a team building exercise.”

  “Which we're going to point out to them. And the first exercise always goes poorly. You and I both know that one. You learn from your mistakes, classic training method. But now I see why they said he's recon material. Even I had trouble keeping track of him.”

  “The ruck didn't help him.”

  “No, that's something to consider down the line. He was instinctively cloaking, but it stood out like a sore thumb.”

  “Which I suspect he'll get pointed out to him. Soon enough,” Firefly responded.

  “Let's see how the gunny plays it.”

  Jethro lapped at the water dish and then eyed the troop. As he had suspected, the bear Valenko had been held up by the wall. The three hundred kilo bear hadn't even gotten over it, even with seven other troopers trying to help. He was the only one of his team to have rung the bell. In fact from the looks of things he was the only one in the entire class of four or five hundred to do so. He felt a surge of pride at that.

  “Well, looks like everyone's going back through the meat grinder again huh?” the gunny said, swaggering through the lines. Everyone groaned at that. Jethro opened his mouth to object.

  “Something to say recruit?”

  “Ah...”

  “Spit it out!”

  “Sir, I, that is my squad completed the course sir,” Jethro said, standing at attention and looking two centimeters above the DI's head as he'd been trained.

  “You mean you did. Your squad didn't,” the gunny looked around. A few rubbed bruises. Most were standing at attention. He turned back to Jethro. “The objective was a team exercise pussy. Emphasis on team. Something you didn't get. There is no I in team. If your team mates fail you fail.”

  Jethro sighed. He'd been set up. He should have remembered that. He'd seen enough old movies to have anticipated this. Another instance of experience being the best teacher.

  “Sir yes sir,” he said going still.

  “But since I'm in a forgiving mood your squad can go last this round,” he said nodding to them. Jethro felt a faint prickle at that. They would have the longest time to recover and be ready. Perhaps they could plan something? He'd have to check with the bear.

  Schultz turned to the troop. “A and B squads form up. Five minutes to run. Get with it people! No one sleeps, no one eats, hell no one shits till this is done to my satisfaction! You reading me?”

  “SIR YES SIR!” the troops ground out.

  Chapter 3

  The next day they groaned as they rolled out of their racks. “Goddess I am so sore,” Hurranna complained. It was a familiar complaint, they were all used to it by now. Hurranna looked around blearily. She yawned, covering her mouth briefly. Her fur was matted. She tried to lick herself clean but shook as the bay lights came on. “Oh four fucking thirty,” she snarled one arm covering her eyes as they adjusted.

  “And you need all the beauty sleep you can get,” a voice said. She turned. Jethro did as well, that voice... that scent was familiar.

  He caught sight of the white Liger male as he fell from the top rack six racks down his row. He dropped to land on his toes in front of the rack. “What the hell are you doing here?” he said eyes wide. They'd been dog tired when they had stumbled in to the darkened bay a couple of hours ago. He hadn't even picked up on the scent.

  “Couldn't let you hog all the glory,” the Liger chuckled, reaching up and quickly making his bed.

  “Sergei, are you nuts?” Hurranna asked. “Him I get, but you?” she indicated the Liger's
four meter long frame.

  Ligers were one of the few cross breed neo's that had been recognized before the fall as a legitimate subspecies of Neo. Like their ancestors before them they had found that breeding a lion male to a tiger female produced an awesome beast. In this case a giant cat no one in his right mind wanted to mess with.

  Sergei was quite extraordinary, his father had been a white lion named Zhukov and his dame had been a white tigress named She-Ra. The combination had birthed three kits, of which he was the sole survivor.

  His fur was white, with faded stripes. Back in the day someone had made white fur a dominant trait over a recessive. He had a mane like his father, but it was subdued, not the full mane of an African lion. Or had been before he had been shaved, now all he had was the usual stubble. He stretched again, swishing his tail back and forth. Muscles rippled just under the fur. Four hundred kilos of bone and muscle. Neo's were like that, most were pure muscle, little if any fat.

  “You're here too, remember?” the Liger chuckled. He stretched once more and then licked his shoulder fur. “To tell you the truth, I'm not all too keen about book studies or trying out for Destiny. Which pretty much left this as a final option.” His pale blue eyes studied the others for a moment and then he went back to the serious job of self grooming. After a moment he looked up to them and shrugged. “What?”

  “And of course it lets you shoot people and break things,” Jethro said purring a chuckle. He fist bumped the big Liger's.

  “You know it. When are they going to let us use explosives I wonder?” the big lug asked innocently.

  “Never if they hear you’re in the group,” Hurranna said shaking her head. She quickly made her bed and then got dressed. “I'm for the mess hall. Hell if I'm going to take that course again without some fuel.”

  “Me too,” Sergei said rumbling a chuckle. His hand paw rested on Jethro's shoulder. You coming mate?” His blue eyes looked into Jethro's.

  “In a bit. I've got to finish,” Jethro's now expert hands tucked the hospital corners in then ran a hand paw over the entire surface to make sure not a thread was out of place. He went to the bathroom really quick, did a quick wipe down in there since it was his turn then came out and checked his PT uniform carefully.

  “So how did you get in here?” he asked, buffing a scuff off of his boot. He'd prefer sneakers, or sandals but the gunny had a thing for boots. It must be a dog thing.

  “Huh? Oh, folded in from the other half of F platoon. I got dinged up a few times in training so I had to sit out things in sickbay and need to get my groove back.”

  “Joy,” Jethro said shaking his head. “Hell if I'll carry your sorry ass,” he smiled.

  “You and what army bub?” Sergei growled playfully, giving him a shove.

  Jethro took a thoughtful moment and flicked his ears. “Yeah it would take an army for a lard ass like you,” he smirked at the giant cat. Sergei growled and then shook himself.

  “Okay, I walked into that one,” he snorted. “But just you wait...”

  “I'll be shaking in my boots,” Jethro said smiling again.

  “Let’s move people!” Valenko called from the troop bay's hatch. “Day's a wasting!”

  “Damn bears. Yogi where's boo-boo?” Sergei growled playfully. “Raided any good picnics lately?”

  “Shut it pussy,” Valenko laughed.

  “Isn't it past your hibernation time?” Jethro snickered. Valenko sighed shaking his head.

  “Who ever thought of putting you two in the same bay let alone the same platoon needs their head examined. Come on you jokers. Just for kicks you two get to eat last. A platoon is on mess duty this rotation.”

  Jethro groaned at that. “Ah hell,” Sergei muttered. He glared at Jethro.

  “You started it remember?” Jethro said shaking his head. “You pay for your pleasures.”

  “Move it people!” They turned and dropped into a dog trot to the galley.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  “So, what are you doing here Sergei? Seriously. The whole F story thing is wacked, I know you weren't with them, we've trained with them. Gamma or Delta?” Jethro asked, looking over to the Liger. Gamma and Delta platoons were the only other platoons that had aliens and Neo's.

  “I was in Gamma.”

  “So...”

  “So some dip shit fell asleep on watch.”

  “Ew,” Jethro wrinkled his nose, ears flat. “I take it that it wasn't you though?”

  Sergei gave him a long look. “Do I look stupid to you?” he demanded. Hurranna grinned. “You stay out of this,” he growled as she opened her mouth.

  “Some dip shit nodded off. DI's tossed a flash bang in to wake him up.”

  “Oh... kaayyy,” Hurranna looked confused and a little put out.

  “Flash bang. It's a stun grenade. Big boom, bright frickin light. Real bright. Brighter than the sun. Which really sucks if you’re looking right at it when it goes off.”

  “Oye,” Hurranna winced in sympathy.

  “Wasn't me. But it blinded a few people. The clatter of the thing and it rolling down the bay got a lot of attention right away. You know how we cats are, see something moving and you instinctively lock on.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I caught a piece of it,” Sergei grimaced. He shook his head. His fur was starting to grow back nicely. He had a traditional marine buzz cut though, thin on the sides, normal on top.

  “Bay went nuts?” Jethro asked.

  “Yeah,” Sergei sighed. “It got worse when the sprinklers came on spraying foam and water,” he growled. Hurranna giggled eyes wide. “Then the lights went out, even the emergency lights.”

  “Oh.”

  “Apparently this wasn't the first time the dumb ass had decided to sleep on duty. The DI's decided to teach him and us a lesson. So some of us decided to have a... the DI called it a blanket party for the jack ass who had let it happen.”

  “And they broke the platoon up?”

  “We were pretty light on numbers anyway. Less than fifty. That last run through the obstacle course knocked about ten to sickbay. Our watch guy joined him,” his lips writhed in a snarl. “They split us up to fill in Delta and F, to bring both up to strength.”

  “So we get you. Gee, doesn't seem fair,” Hurranna laughed.

  “Oh shut up,” he shook his head as they padded to the next stop. “What gets me is this is all backwards than I remember in the movies.”

  “That's because that is Hollywood,” Jethro said. He looked around. They had paused to let a cargo truck past.

  “Yeah but I remember seeing a documentary on the U.S. Marines, which is what we, the Federation Marines are based on,” Hurranna said nodding.

  “And that means?” the Gahsg asked.

  “So the first couple of weeks are supposed to be all about learning to drill and follow orders. I dunno why they make it so confusing though. I need sleep. Making us drill and only letting us sleep a couple hours sucks,” she sighed.

  “Which is what they are doing. They want us to learn to work with little sleep. To be able to function and know that we can even when we are exhausted. To follow orders even when you don't want to. It's to break old civilian bad habits before instilling military discipline.”

  “Yeah but we're not getting any of the book learning,” Hurranna growled. “Just the physical crap. The PT as they call it.”

  “So?” Jethro snorted. “They're probably afraid we'd fall asleep in class.”

  “So why...”

  “It's confusing to re-socialize us. To make us dependent on the DI's for information so we will conform to new military social patterns. Hence the bald heads,” Jethro said as he rubbed his stubble. They had just had a mandatory weekly trim the day before. It sucked. Then again they got to stand in line relaxing and not doing anything for that time period.

  “And the chickenshit we go through with the inspections. We need to break old habits and make new ones. Ones that will stick with us when the shit hits the fan.
The Hats do it to make us keep a zero excuse zero tolerance mentality.”

  “You mentioned it before,” Hurranna said shaking her head. “What makes you the expert? Tobias?”

  “Yup.” Tobias had been a marine ancestor who'd left a brief journal he had found in the clan's archive. He'd practically memorized the files he could access while growing up.

  “So when do we get our implants?” Valenko asked. They looked over to the bear. “They are dragging this out a lot longer than I thought they would.”

  “We're not exactly prime material. They've got to get us up to speed first. And drop the dead weight. Why put implants in someone who can't go the distance?”

  “True.”

  “Probably sometime after phase one. The PT crap as Hurranna our resident shrimp here calls it,” Jethro cocked his head down to the small female. She stuck out her tongue at him.

  “Once they are sure we're going to hang, that we're not going to quit they will invest in the implants. Each implant package is probably costing around a million creds a pop, so I can't blame them for waiting. That's when we'll get the classroom training. Or implant downloads as it is. Until then we'll have to work with what we've got, learning muscle memory techniques and mnemonics.”

  “What's phase two?” a new recruit he didn't recognize asked. Most likely someone folded in from Gamma platoon.

  “Weapons training normally. Field skills, marksmanship, and more team building exercises. Probably about six to nine weeks or so, not counting our time off to recover from the implant surgery,” Jethro said.

  Several groaned at that. Brenet looked around the group but didn't say anything. It was interesting hearing the recruit accurately describe the syllabus.

  “And phase three?” Valenko asked as the others settled back down.

  “Polishing, land navigation, camouflage, suit training, field exercises, and some other stuff I'm not remembering right off,” Jethro answered. “Probably ship stuff. Boarding actions, ship duties, protocol, and the works.”

  “That's it?”