by Chris Hechtl
Jethro led the group as they shuttled over to the space station. Security was tight, each of them had to go through layers of security scans and ID challenges the deeper they went into the complex. A Veraxin PO intercepted them outside the captain's door. Instead, the group was escorted into a conference room and then told to wait until someone came for them.
Captain Lyon was waiting there for them. “Sir?” Jethro asked as he came to attention. The captain waved them to take a seat and then went back to his tablet.
Jethro shrugged slightly to his party and then indicated they should find seats. He looked around the room. It was a fairly basic conference room. He was surprised to find more people waiting in the conference room. He did a nose count and found that Captain Lyon was the only officer. Jethro was the senior noncom. He recognized a few familiar faces, like Corporal Blue Eyes, Sergeant Tunisia Asami, Private Roarack, and Corporal Omri Vidal. Omri, the captain, and two others he didn't recognized were the only humans in the group.
Since the last time he'd seen the captain had been on Protodon, he assumed the captain and a few of the noncoms and enlisted had shipped over from there.
It occurred to him that a large percentage of the group was snipers or sneak specialists. Judging from their BDUs just about everyone had gone through the RECON course. Roarack was the one exception, but he could be excused since he was still new to the military community.
There were twenty people in the room. Not a bad number he thought, though they leaned heavily to Neos he noted. A quarter of them were F Platoon like him.
He wondered what it was all about as he took a seat. A new behind-the-lines mission like they'd speculated before? But there were no medics and only the captain for officers. It didn't make sense he mused.
They sat for a few minutes before Shiku finally lost his patience and asked what it was all about. Jethro flicked his ears to the other snipers. It was a common game among snipers, to remain quiet and see who would act first and impetuously. That usually meant they would be dead. Shiku apparently ignored it in the heat of the moment.
“So, none of us know? You sir? Can you drop a bone and give us a hint about what's going on?” the Vulpine asked, clearly exasperated by the situation. “I hate hurry up and wait,” he said.
“For a sniper, you've got issues then,” Jethro murmured.
“Okay, I hate bureaucratic hurry up and wait games,” Shiku said, clearly exasperated at making the first move and being teased about it. The others snorted. Eventually, all eyes turned to Jethro and then to the only officer in their midst.
Captain Lyon shook his head. “I have no idea. I just know we're supposed to report to Admiral Irons directly.” The captain eyed the assembled group. “Do you have any ideas?” he asked, turning back to Jethro.
Jethro shook his head and flicked his ears. “No, sir.”
“Great. I'm the senior-most Marine officer in the star system apparently, and I don't have a fracking clue what is going on. That just makes me feel peachy,” the captain said sourly.
“With a little patience we'll find out,” Jethro said just as there was a knock at the door. All eyes turned to it as it opened. A yeoman stuck her head in the door. “Admiral Irons is ready for you now, gentlemen, ladies,” she said formally.
“Good. Let's get this show on the road,” the captain said with a nod.
They trooped silently through the outer layers of the staff bullpen. Heads and eyes looked up at the motion of a group moving through the area. Jethro didn't like being a spectacle when he already had a target on his back, but he had no choice.
<)>^<)>/
“Sir, they are here,” the yeoman said over the intercom.
The admiral looked up. “Send them in,” he said. He smiled slightly as Captain Lyon led Master Sergeant McClintock and other hand-selected noncoms and enlisted into the office. The group of twenty came to attention smartly and saluted as one.
Admiral Irons rose from his chair and returned the salute smartly. “At ease. And Jethro, for the record, you've got the medal now too. I know it's a hazy area, but you are supposed to receive the salute,” he said.
“Technically, you have it too, sir,” the Black Panther said quietly, flicking his ears as all eyes turned to him.
“Bast,” Admiral Irons said, pointing to a holographic emitter on his desk, “front and center. We need to fix your rank, young lady. And we have a lot more to discuss,” the admiral said as Bast's avatar appeared on his desk. “Now, the reason I gathered you all here is to be considered highly classified—code level Deep Blue. You are not to speak of this or matters pertaining to it to anyone. If they ask, you are to refer them to the senior officer in charge of this new unit or to me. If necessary, point to the UCMJ if pressed. Now, at ease. We have a lot of ground to cover …”
The admiral paused to allow the group to collectively catch up mentally. They were all pretty sharp, but he knew they were a little off balance and might have a bit of travel fatigue. Bast appeared next to Lieutenant Fletcher and Commander Sprite. After a moment, Protector joined the group on the desk.
“For some of you, the old expression “blood will tell” is appropriate. All of you are here because you have what it takes to go one step further than RECON. Most of you here are descendants of a rare group, the Cadre.”
Jethro noted the others stiffen and an air of excitement seemed to permeate the air.
“That's right. We're starting the Cadre Initiative. Captain Lyon will be handling that as well as RECON and overall SPECOPS. He's going to have his hands full until we can get more officers up to speed in all three branches of SPECOPS,” the admiral stated. “That includes oversight of the Navy SEALs,” he said, looking directly at the captain. “And the Army Delta Group once they get sorted out.”
“You can say that again, sir. There goes sleep,” the captain said ruefully.
“Trust me, once you get your special implants and nanites, sleep won't be as critical as it once had been. Unfortunately for you, Captain, you are one of the few here who does not have Cadre in your genetics, so you are going to get the full treatment,” the admiral said with a shake of his head.
“Just getting everyone up to speed will be quite a project, sir. I interacted with Cadre; I know the supermen had a lot of toys tucked away inside them. Are the Navy medics up for it here?” the captain asked carefully.
“Doctor Thornby is. Or, I should say will be once she's brought on board. I'll have to be on hand for each of your surgical proceedings as well. You nineteen …,” the admiral shook his head.
“Nineteen, sir? There are twenty of us,” Pamplona reminded him.
“Nineteen. One of you has already received Cadre implants,” the admiral said, looking at the arctic fox. When she blinked in confusion, the admiral pointed to Jethro.
“So that's how you've gotten so good!” Letanga breathed accusingly, glowering at Jethro.
“Don't blame it all on his A.I. and implants. He was good before Bast started to wake-up. He just got a lot better when he and I finished initializing her, his armor, and Bast finished his implant upgrade,” the admiral explained. “The last part was bravery and the willingness to not quit. His heroism in Kathy's World and elsewhere has proved he is Cadre material.”
Jethro squirmed a bit uncomfortable and embarrassed. Bast merely smiled on his HUD.
“Bast …?” Pamplona asked, indicating the A.I. avatar on the admiral's desk with the other three A.I.
“His personal A.I.,” Commander Sprite explained. “Those of you with Royal Jelly, that is, artificial DNA packets passed on through your bloodlines, have part of an A.I. in there. It helps you manage your cloak,” she explained.
“I thought we had to do exercises; you are saying we have to access an A.I. to do that, sir? But I've been doing it before I joined the Marines, ma'am!” Letanga said, wrinkling his nose and ears flat in confusion.
“Yes and the A.I. have been sleeping. It is actually only partially there. The other half is in yo
ur armor,” Sprite explained. "When you get your armor, the A.I. will wake-up and become fully conscience."
“So, each of us will get our own A.I., ma'am? Like you were with Admiral Irons?” Gunny V'z'll asked carefully.
“Got it. You'll be linked—your armor, you the meat-sack, and the A.I. for the rest of your life.”
“Which is why this is voluntary. You will be a god of war,” the admiral explained, dead serious as he leveled a cold look on all of them. “You are going to be dangerous. You know some people are getting nervous about military personnel, especially those who suffer from PTSD. It is going to get worse once we enter more combat theaters. Now imagine what a Cadre member is exposed to during their career and the level of concern for one of you popping off. So, you will have to prove you can handle it and that you’re up for the challenge. This isn't a gift. It's a burden—a terrible one at that. And one that will affect you and your children … if you live long enough to have any,” the admiral stated.
“Already done for some of us, sir,” Letanga said, pointing the tip of his tail to Jethro.
The admiral cracked a small smile. “I heard,” he said. He nodded to Jethro. “Congratulations,” he said.
“Thank you, sir,” Jethro said with a nod.
“Any signs of Cadre material?” Sprite asked.
Jethro's ears went out then he shrugged. “Yes, ma'am. They are all showing signs of cloaking ability. But the black cats are the best at it as usual.”
“At such an early age?” Sprite asked.
“I think Bast being awake had something to do with it, ma'am. My father never mentioned an A.I. nor did my aunt,” Jethro said, glancing at Letanga. The leopard shook his head. “Nor did Tobias say anything,” he said.
“That's because it is one thing among many that is classified, just like the Royal Jelly. Your family has been keeping your cloak quiet.”
“It's actually an open secret for some, ma'am,” Tikaani said.
“True,” Tungulria said.
“Also true,” Shiku said. “Just out of curiosity, sir. You mentioned this is voluntary? What are we getting ourselves into? Other than the implants and A.I.? I like the suit, but I'm not really a door knocker myself,” the fox said ruefully.
“Me either,” Pamplona said.
“I'm not asking for you to step up now. Commander Sprite will give you the briefing material to go over,” the admiral said, nodding to the A.I.'s avatar. Sprite nodded back. “If you have a problem or question, you can ask her.”
“I'm in,” Jethro said.
“I knew you would be,” Letanga said. He heaved a sigh. “Hell, I'm in too, sir,” he said, raising a sheepish hand.
“I advise you to read the briefing material first to see what you are getting yourself into. You will be under tighter military law for life, even after you retire,” Sprite warned.
Jethro grimaced but then nodded.
<)>^<)>/
Once they were out, Captain Lyon led them through security to the shuttle. Jethro had them detour to get their gear, including his suit, which was a hassle to spring out of customs and security. Once he had everything sorted out, they took the shuttle down.
It took a couple hours to get his suit and the personnel settled. Fortunately, their arrival had been anticipated so they had quarters.
They ate a late, quiet meal in the mess. Jethro worried briefly about someone talking out of turn, but they behaved themselves. Even text messages were forbidden unless they were encrypted or within certain areas.
Apparently, everyone was lost in their thoughts or going over the Cadre paperwork. Once he returned to his quarters, Jethro bedded down and opened the file to begin his own brief on the Cadre Initiative.
Some of it was mild. Drop commando material and RECON material he knew. He hadn't known they could do a drop on a planet from hyperspace though. That was a new wrinkle that apparently the Cadre had kept under wraps. There were a few more that had highly dangerous and possibly suicidal written all over them. Boarding a ship in hyperspace fell under that category.
According to the write-up, each of them would have to pass a battery of psychological and physical tests, also education, skills, and integrity tests. All of it seemed easy he thought, right up until he started getting into the breakdown of some of the crap they expected him to live up to.
The implants he knew about as he did the A.I. and suit. The sections on the Royal Jelly made him groan in fatigue and despair. He closed his eyes and scrubbed his face to try to wake-up a bit more. Why couldn't they make it easier on him? Just a simple bullet point? Apparently someone didn't like that idea. They wanted full disclosure. He shook his head.
There was a lot of boiler plate he had to wade through. Apparently a bot was attached to the file and monitored him. He had to check off that he understood sections. In a few places, he had to take a quiz just to prove he'd read it.
He had to acknowledge warnings about security, classification, and a big warning about having nanites in his body. He snorted. He'd already signed off on that when Bast had woken.
The usual warnings against revealing information were stiff as were the penalties for doing so. They would have access to highly classified and sensitive information so it was understandable. He didn't like that his A.I. would monitor him for a breach and possibly stop him. But he knew it was in his own best interest to behave.
The question was: when could he break that protocol? What about if the mission hinged on some sort of disclosure? Or something else? That was something he had misgivings about. And what was he supposed to say to Shanti and the kittens? The rest of his family? He shook his head and made a note to find out.
The warnings about suicide protocols were heavy. He already knew some of them. The fact that the nanites in his body could be used to tear him apart wasn't something he wanted to think about.
He paused to think about what he was getting into.
Essentially, what the Cadre process did was take Marine RECON and other branches of SPECOPS along with evolution and cybernetics to the pinnacle of what modern civilization could achieve—organic being, A.I. nanotech, and weapons, a synergy.
It made him wonder about Irons and how he was making it all possible. What was the admiral? If not Cadre, then what? He had not one, but three A.I. within him. How the hell had they done that? Why?
Or he had, he remembered that Commander Sprite had moved out after the death of Defender. Did A.I. die as an organic did? He scratched his head as Bast yawned pointedly on his HUD. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “I get the hint,” he said, stifling his own yawn. What had that done to Admiral Irons? What would it do to him if Bast died?
She yawned again and then let her eyes droop.
“Okay, not fair,” Jethro said, yawning for real. “That's catchy,” he protested. He shook his head blearily and logged out of the program. He'd deal with it in the morning he thought as his movements slowed with fatigue. He checked the chrono and grimaced.
“Frack,” he muttered. He got up, stretched, went to the head, and then went back to bed.
How would he be able to handle it? He shook his head and tried to put the errant thoughts aside. He was borrowing trouble. Some things were best not thought of since there was little he could do to change them and worrying about them just caused problems. He stretched out on the bed, let his eyes close, and then let Morpheus take him.
<)>^<)>/
Bast woke once Jethro's biorhythms settled into their normal sleep patterns. Well, not normal, since he was troubled.
She knew he was highly troubled by the Cadre Initiative and some of the things involved in it. She also knew he knew that she was extremely for the Initiative. She had held off trying to talk to him because she didn't want to pressure him.
It was a monumental life-changing decision. One he indeed had to consider carefully. But it was also something she knew he was up for. And ultimately, he'd already taken steps in that direction, given how she was awake and they were tied tog
ether.
He'll figure it out she thought as she went through her evening chores. She set programs to watch over him, checked others carefully, and then settled herself into her own sleep.
<)>^<)>/
When Commander Sprite had a rare moment to think to herself, she turned some of her processors towards questions that continued to plague her. It was never good for an A.I. to get too obsessive about a problem they couldn't solve. They had subroutines to help mitigate it, but sometimes those subroutines were overruled. Like in this instance she thought; she couldn't let these questions go so easily. Not when the admiral continued to occasionally drop hints about them.
Maddening hints she thought.
Chief among her list of questions was what else the admiral had gotten from the former president? She hadn't been aware he'd gotten the keys to the Cadre during that conversation. Apparently, he'd gotten the keys to the entire Federation during that recording from the former president and the files he'd embedded. Odd, since she hadn't noted the transmission of any data. Could he have gotten them after she had decamped? Other files?
She wasn't certain.
She wondered about how the former president had managed to see through time to know about the admiral's survival.
Time travel …? It didn't make sense. Oh, it had been theorized for thousands of years. Some scientists had tried it, but they'd never proven it could work. How? How had the former president seen through time at the moment of his impending death?
It had to be something to do with space travel. Hyperspace bent space, and space was intrinsically connected to time. But every attempt to find a way to bend hyperspace in such a way as to bend time instead of space had failed utterly. Or had it?
She felt a ping, ending her microsecond of thought. “Commander, do you have those budget numbers for the Cadre yet? I asked Captain Lyon, but he is still reading the initial briefs and doesn't know yet. He referred me to you since you know how much has been earmarked for Phase I's first fiscal semester. Can you run them past me?” Lieutenant Fletcher requested.
