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

by Hechtl, Chris

  “Which will be your final test before you move on to the next weapon system. Fail too many times and you’re out of the class.” He pointed to the rifles in front of each of them.

  “Access the manual. Do the assembly virtually three times. Firefly or the computer will monitor your progress. Once you've passed the tutorial I'll put a weapon in a box in front of you and let you give it a shot for real.” He looked around. “Now. Begin.”

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Ris'ha articulated his vertical mandibles in amused tolerance as he waited with the rest of the class. His rear eyes caught sidelong looks from the others. Most were bipeds. He and a Veraxin female were the only non bipeds in the group. He didn't recognize her, she must have been from Delta. That was too bad, he thought, it would have been fun to have someone else like him to do this with. Someone from his own platoon.

  He had put up with all the crap in boot camp just for this. Pushups? What were pushups to a species that one Terran called a snake with legs? Running now, that had been a problem since he lacked legs. That and the upper body calisthenics, mainly because the bar was higher then he was comfortable reaching. But he had excelled on the range, and excelled at the crawling exercises.

  The EVA training had been a painful experience. He used his middle hand to reach back and touch the stumps of his antlers. His previous rack had fallen off a week ago. The stubs would remain like this until a new set began to grow. Hopefully he could direct it this time, he had gotten an idea for an impressive set from an image of a Terran animal. Most likely extinct. Pity. He scratched at the itchy velvet then his eyes caught the sign at the front of the class. Vehicle introduction training.

  “All right, we're going to go as fast... Oh crap,” the unfamiliar instructor paused, glancing at the two aliens in the class. “Don't tell me you're in the wrong class,” he muttered. They shook their heads. He grimaced. “I didn't think so,” he sighed. “Okay, Well we've got only one vehicle class right now, the LAV.”

  Ris'ha sighed softly at that. He had really hoped to explore the larger armored vehicles. That was the entire reason he had become a marine. To dig into the ground, tear it up, rumble along in a mechanical beast, and blow stuff up. Oh well.

  “You'll have to suffer with VR training for the other types. You can take refreshers when we get them into production. IF we ever do,” he said darkly and then seemed to shake himself.

  “Okay, you each have a copy of the course and an abbreviated text book. If you note the manual to the LAV, or Light Attack Vehicle, you'll notice it's being changed daily. That is because we're just now developing the doctrine for it. Firefly and the Admiral had the blueprints for the thing but not any of the manuals or doctrine for it. Some of you will be writing it for future generations of Marines to use.”

  Ris'ha blinked all six eyes at that. He did like the idea of leaving his mark on the universe. Making a difference.

  “Okay.” The human instructor paced and then stopped and put his forward appendages behind his back. “We have ground vehicles to secure the ground. Simple right? Not really. Some of you may be wondering why we still use wheels and tracks instead of force emitters and mechanical legs right?” He looked around.

  “KISS,” the Naga said.

  “What was that?” the instructor said, his single set of blue eyes locked onto the Naga.

  “KISS Sir.”

  “I'm a corporal. Drop the sir,” the instructor growled. “And yeah you're right. Stealing my thunder but that's all right. KISS. Keep It Simple Stupid. In combat you want it that way. Keep it simple so if it breaks it is easy to fix, easy to drive, easy to maintain. But sometimes the simplest things in combat are the hardest to get right.”

  “Take ground combat for example. We don't use force emitters much because they give off a big honking energy signature. They also suck energy. Energy you have to get from somewhere. Nothing comes for free.” He shook his head. “We're just getting into the logistics of things, trust me, it's giving some of the brass nightmares.” He chuckled.

  “But that's not our problem. Anyone know why we don't go with legs or tails or some other method over wheels?”

  “Energy efficiency,” Ris'ha answered.

  “Correct again,” the instructor nodded giving the Naga a look. “Clearly you're a fan.” He turned back to the class. “It's all about engineering efficiency. The most efficient method to get around is a wheel. Baring that, a track, which is a set of wheels with a band to spread your footprint. Legs take a lot more energy, have a narrow footprint, and elevate you off the ground, Making for a higher center of gravity that is unstable... and making you a big target.”

  “Which is bad,” someone muttered. They'd all learned the hard way about exposing yourself on a battlefield.

  “Which is very bad. First one seen is usually the first one dead. You want nap of the earth movement when possible. That way the enemy has a limited range to hit you,” he used his hands to describe what he was talking about. Ris'ha was fascinated with how the instructor walked his fingers to show an example of a walker, and then hovered his hand to show a wheeled vehicle.

  “Which is another reason force emitters aren't used,” Ris'ha bobbed a nod.

  “Correct again,” the instructor nodded back. He turned and picked up a scale model of the LAV, and then a fighter. He held them up and then put the fighter on a stand elevated above the table, then the LAV back on the surface.

  “I want each of you to take a look when we take a break. Kneel down to the level of the table and look. Which one do you want to be in?” he asked.

  “Me I'll take the LAV. At least until we get a tank worked out,” he grinned.

  “So the marines of the old Federation stuck to the tried and true methods. If it ain't broke don't fix it,” someone in the back said.

  “The Light Attack Vehicle is our one and only production vehicle. We're keeping it as simple as we can, while making it so we can adapt the basic frame for any environment. Even space. It's a tubular frame with four wheels and an electric motor for each wheel,” the instructor said and then grimaced.

  “It is fast, and adaptable to almost any terrain. It also has a trio of force emitters that cancel out a planetary bodies gravitational force and a pair of electric fans to propel and steer it while it hovers. You only use them when you are on ground you can't cross otherwise, or when you’re on a base.”

  “The LAV can be adapted to be used in space, on moons or asteroids or on planets with different G fields or atmospheres. Unfortunately they do not have the room to test them in the station, they can only be tested on a moon or asteroid. Which is what we are going to do when we get done with the class work and each of you gets a chance to tear one down and put it back together. I hope you packed an EVA suit. If you didn't, you're just wasting my time.” He looked around.

  “Um...” A few of the students looked around and then shot their hands up.

  “Let me guess, no suit training? It's a prerequisite for this class.”

  “Well, I did, but I wasn't issued one.”

  “Were you trained by us?”

  “No sir. I ah, learned as a kid.”

  “Then you don't have training. Not by us. You have to be qualified by a certified instructor to go out. Which is a problem.” The young man looked crestfallen.

  “I've had training sir. Me and Jinx here,” a human male said jerking his thumb to a girl near her. “Alpha platoon,” he said with pride.

  The instructor scowled and then looked at the Veraxin and Naga. “You two don't have the training as well?”

  “No sir. F platoon went out and we have EVA certification,” the Veraxin replied. She flashed her IFF. Ris'ha was surprised. He hadn't recognized her. Then again individuals of other species were hard for him to distinguish. Maybe she had been one of the ones injured? He was unsure. He shot her a brief e-note but she ignored it.

  The instructor caught the IFF and blinked. “Wait, F, ah, yeah I remember. The ones who did that rescue.
Okay. Well, out of twenty, you two and the two Alpha's are the only ones going out it seems. The rest of you are mechanics until you get EVA qualified. Or we get a chance to drop you on a planet with a decent atmosphere so you can qualify there.”

  A few grumbled at that. He shrugged. “Learn to live with it folks. You should have checked the course requirements before you signed up for this. You got a problem, you can check with your gunny and see about getting a makeup EVA course. Later. On your own time and dime.”

  “We've covered most of chapter one, introduction to vehicles. At least the high points I'm going to cover. Each of you will read the entire chapter and do the quiz at the end on your own time. We've got two hours of this book crap to go through until we can dive into the hands on. Moving on chapter two...”

  ...*...*...*...*...

  “One of the things I have to get through to you is that a sniper is ninety nine percent observer. We call in the shots,” the Sergeant said standing at attention.

  Jethro's nostrils flared as he picked up an unknown scent. He did a little subtle glancing around. He was pretty sure it was coming from the rear, near the corner. He didn't want to look around though, he needed to focus on the course instructor. He had a feeling the class was going to be harder than he'd anticipated. He knew the paper side alone was one of his weaknesses.

  “A sniper observes the battlefield, and calls in intelligence or calls for fire. Rarely do you ever engage. Does anyone know why?”

  “Because when we do we let the enemy know we are in the area sir.” Shiku the white arctic Neo fox growled.

  “Exactly. It sends up a flare. That's a bad thing,” the human Sergeant nodded. “But sometimes you have to,” he grimaced. “If at all possible try to remember to pick off the closest units first, then move back down the range. You'll find that the rounds kill better at range. Close range shots are moving fast and the round doesn't do nearly as much tumbling, and therefore a lot less damage to the intended target.”

  He looked around and then sighed. “I know some of you are in love with the T, that is hitting someone in the sweet spot here,” he touched his face from eye to eye down to his mouth. “We call this the T because if you get the shot right on a human the round will penetrate easily and sever the spinal column killing the target in a split second. It is the essence of one shot one kill. However...” he paced for a moment. “However a head shot is a bitch to pull off right at range. Your target is moving, bobbing and weaving, and one wrong variable can mean he's alive, scared, but alive,” he shook his head. “Which is bad. He can take cover and then return fire or call in your position.”

  “Another reason to avoid head shots is that some species do not have the same structure as a human. Shoot, oh, say a Tarq in the head and the round would bounce off their slopped skulls. Others do not have the same centralized weakness of a human so beware.” He waited a moment while they digested that.

  “Observation, Attention to detail, Stealth, and Science. It all comes together in a first rate sniper,” the instructor intoned.

  Suddenly his chest blossomed in red gore. He dropped to the floor like a rag doll. The class looked around, wide eyes. Some were getting out of their chairs, others had hit the deck.

  Jethro felt the pulse of information coming from a transceiver near the front quarter behind the desk. He glanced that way but and then turned, focusing on the intruder. He ripped his uniform off and cloaked. The velcro strips went with tearing sounds as he dropped to all fours.

  “Peace.” He froze and turned to see the Sergeant sit up with a laugh. He brushed his shoulders off and then looked down to the red smear on his chest. “Okay, I don't ever want that to happen for real.”

  He got to his feet as the class slowly got to it's own. “Anyone know where the shot came from?”

  A few in the class pointed to the sensor ghost. Jethro turned, facing the sniper. Most of the other Neo's were doing the same thing.

  “Some of you need to brush up on your observation skills,” the Sergeant said dryly. “I take it you picked him out right off Lance corporal?”

  “She. And yes we did,” Jethro said eyes locked onto the sniper. He could just make out her profile under the chameleon gillie suit.

  “Ah,” the Sergeant nodded to the back. “You can come out Corporal.” She got up, porting the rifle.

  “How the hell did you figure it out?” she asked. She sounded more confused and frustrated than angry. Jethro's nostrils flared.

  “Smell,” Letanga growled.

  “I don't...”

  “You're in estrus. We picked it up.” Tungulria the black wolf PFC said with a snort. “It's hard to miss the smell of blood.”

  “Oh,” she blinked and then grimaced, blushing.

  “So what was that signal?” another trainee asked. She held up a fiber optic wire and tugged. It moved. Jethro's eyes followed it around to the signal source.

  “Box. See one of the other give aways is when you call in. So we've got a way around that. We send a signal out on this fiber optic line to this.” She looped the cable around one arm as she moved around the perimeter of the room. She ended at a small finger sized object in the corner. She held it up. “See? Transceiver. It lets me send and receive data. If the enemy has a detector they go for that. You can use it as a decoy like I did too.”

  “But won't they follow it to you?” Jethro asked, turning to the Sergeant.

  “Only if you are careless. You set up multiple stand off transceivers in a daisy chain and if possible booby trap them. Then when you send out a signal it goes to one once, then to another, or is broken up and sent in pieces too fast for them to localize.”

  “But that means you can still be localized,” Jethro said grimacing.

  “How so?” the corporal asked, looking up from stowing her gear.

  “If they get two points of contact they can triangulate your general position and then do an artillery or air strike to flush you out,” he replied.

  “Very good Lance corporal,” the Sergeant said with a nod. “Which is a problem. But war is about risk. Sometimes you have to take them. You can of course find ways around the problem.” Jethro gave the sniper a glance and then pulled his BDU back on.

  Letanga's eyes went a little vacant as he sat down. “How long a cable can you run without loss of signal?” he asked after a moment. The class looked over to him.

  “Ah. A light shines through the clouds. Exactly. Run cables at different lengths and in a field. Or better yet, use a whisker laser. Hit the transceiver with a laser and it will shoot out the signal to a field of transceivers. That way you're safe. As long as the enemy can't see the laser you're good. The transceivers can be kilometers away.”

  “Ah.” The class sat up straight as the Sergeant took off his shirt and tossed it onto his chair and then picked up another.

  “We're going to do some observation exercises. You are going to be given an image for a brief period. You are not allowed to use your implants to save this image right now. We will give you a moment to sketch the scene, then you will be tested on what you saw. We will do this every morning from now on. This is an important skill you will need to master. You need to rely on your own natural abilities as much as your implants. Remember, gear can fail or be spoofed. Trust what you can see and touch. Use your brain for something more than sitting.”

  ...*...*...*...*...

  “I am curious, why didn't Admiral Irons take Firefly out on a raiding mission of her own? I mean, we've got ships now to cover Pyrax right?”

  Valenko tried not to sigh. It was a pain in the butt being in a mixed class. He was one of eleven marine candidates in a room filled for the most part with navy midshipmen. Discussions usually revolved around ship tactics. The marines cadets had formed their own little study group for their own tactical studies. They'd been at it three weeks, with three more to go.

  “Well, to understand that, you have to understand the nature of Fleet Admiral Irons,” Firefly said, putting subtle emphasis
on the Fleet rank. “He is an engineering admiral. Someone who thinks of building or teaching over fighting.”

  “An empire builder,” a midshipman said with a nod.

  “By no means,” Firefly said, crossing his virtual arms. “An empire builder is a political animal. An officer who sets up his or her own fiefdom and rules it with an iron hand. Some are good, others build empires of bureaucracy that slows decision making to a crawl and it takes some major changes to fix it.”

  “Oh.”

  “So why...”

  “Who says he didn't plan on sending me out?” Firefly asked with a small smile. They blinked. A few looked at each other. “It was on the contingency plan list. Still is for that matter. But an engineering admiral is a thinker and sometimes a plodder. They want to make sure they have all their ducks in a row before they go off.”

  “They don't want to go off half cocked sir? What about the ah... enemy sir? That quote...”

  “You are perhaps thinking that while he was squandering time building the weapon the enemy had time to use theirs? That is the problem with being defensive minded. Which, I admit, Fleet Admiral Irons is.”

  “Oh.”

  “But that isn't necessarily a bad thing. Let us game this out.” The AI avatar disappeared and a plot of the system appeared. “Had the we gone off to attack Horath, either indirectly by trying to hunt down another raiding squadron, or a direct attack on their home system we would have had to go here, or here, or here. The quickest route is through Finagle, taking eight jumps. That would take the better part of six months to transit even at the max hyper band I can sustain.”

  “Oh.”

  “Once we were in the home system we would be one light cruiser against the entire system. One ship on the end of a very long logistical line, cut off from support, with minimum intel of the system and its defenses and with only two jump lines into and out of the system.”

  “What about like you said? Finding a pirate squadron and tearing them a new one?” one midshipman asked, eager.

  “To do that we would have to know where they were going to be and be able to intercept them. Intelligence we don't have.”