by Chris Hechtl
Another method was to get them in and out one at a time under military transport as someone interested in joining up. He didn't like that idea though. It was tantamount to unlawful in his eyes, so he set the thought aside right away.
Then he had another thought. How could he get them and others to the annex in the first place? They obviously couldn't go to the annex itself; they didn't have clearance. But they had to get here … he frowned thoughtfully as his mind raced. Mariska and her partner had obviously gotten here, so they could make it this far. But a group? Stage them through a nearby colony before they got to Anvil … Would that work?
“Mariska, where have I heard your name before,” he murmured. Silently Bast put up an ad for him to look at. His eyes scanned it. The female had traveled to Anvil after being offered a job on the station to replace Hrriss. She had accepted when she had heard the Neo/Alien law had been in the process of being nullified.
“She's got enough money then. One month, maybe two at her job and she'd have enough for a ticket off of Anvil to Agnosta or money to get her friends and family to Anvil in small groups,” he growled softly. According to the footnote in the article, the female had held out for more perks until Anvil's administration had started to shop for someone else. Jethro shook his head. He wasn't sure where Bast had dug that little tidbit up.
“She's obviously looking a gift horse in the mouth,” he said. Bast nodded. “And trying to take advantage of me. Thanks for watching my back,” he said to her. She flicked her ears and then went back to watching the crowd as it slowly dispersed.
<(>~^~<(>
Jethro got a chance to see Hurranna again nearly a week later. They met up in a bar at the last moment to keep others from joining in or finding out. It was a rare occasion for the Neolynx; she was at the annex on a supply run for her ship and had a thirty-six-hour layover.
The Neolynx had been assigned to an assault shuttle on the escort carrier Kittyhawk. She had been promoted to staff sergeant with an eye to taking on warrant tabs eventually. For the time being she was training under Deja's direction and his prototype Marine Air Wing, or what little they had of it. Deja had been promoted to W-1 warrant rank. The Selkie was the Marine's squadron commander. The escort carrier had one squadron of regular navy Cobra class fighters, one squadron of Mitchell's bombers, one half squadron of support craft, and the half squadron of Marine Cobra fighters. They had at one time planned to have a full squadron of Marine fighters but that had obviously fallen through.
“They don't seem to know what to do with us,” Hurranna said shaking her head. “I mean, training was a pain in the ass. Commander Valdez is good, I'll give him that, but some of it was a joke for us. We sort of fell through the cracks for a while until Deja stepped up and started handing out assignments on his own initiative.”
“Which is why they gave him the warrant?” Jethro asked.
“Nah, I think that was because he did all that stuff on Firefly. They've been trying to get him to switch to the Navy, become a helmsman, but he's holding out. He wants to fly.”
“I see.” Jethro flicked his ears. He could understand that on some levels. He watched Hurranna take a swig of her beer.
“This sucks. I mean, I wanted to fly, not just trash haulers but other stuff. So far all I can get is sim time and ten traps in the Cobra trainer. But at least I qualified now.”
“Ouch.” Jethro nodded. “Well, there is that.”
“Yeah, go figure. There are a lot of warm bodies who want more than being a dumb grunt you know,” she said, wrinkling her pert nose at him. “No offense,” she said wickedly, eyes gleaming.
“Some taken,” he jokingly drawled, saluting her with his beer. She snorted and flicked her ears.
“They'll figure it out. Undoubtedly you'll serve as a nucleus of the Marine air wing once production picks up. We need air support on the ground, or will eventually,” Jethro said.
“Agreed. I'm just glad I'm not stuck running a trash hauler all the time,” the Neolynx complained, rolling her eyes as she plucked at the beer bottle's label with her claws. “Now that I've qualified on the fighters I can go toe-to-toe with the navy pukes in the simulators.” She grinned at him and flicked his ears. He chuckled. “They hate that,” she said wickedly. “I can kick their ass because they've underestimated me so often. I like to sneak in during an engagement, plug in, and take over an A.I. opponent when they least expect it.”
Jethro purred a chuckle, ears forward in appreciation.
“One thing I don't like is the paperwork. I'm glad I've moved up the ladder from wrench monkey to the hot seat. None too soon too since the IGs are cracking down on things like that. Every I has to be dotted, every T crossed. Regular inspections and maintenance on every boat or fighter.”
“Ah. He nodded. “I bet you hated breaking a nail,” he teased, taking a swig.
She chuckled. “You could hear me yowl from one end of the Kitty to the other. I still do since we're expected to help out on maintenance,” she said with a grimace.
“At least you're not afraid of getting your paws dirty. Grubbing in the mud and muck with us grunts cured you of that,” he teased.
“Says you. I'm a lady and we have appearances to maintain,” she said, pretending to lick a shoulder. He chuckled again. She flicked her ears his way.
She patted him on the shoulder. “What about you? Did you find a nice nurse to play naughty games with?” She teased him maliciously. “Someone to settle down with and have a passel of cubs?”
He groaned.
“What? It's a good thing to get your pipes cleaned every now and then. You know the old saying, a soldier who …”
“Won't frack won't fight. Cute.” He snorted. “No, I had security goons all over me. Still do,” he said, nodding over his shoulder to the discrete pair of NCIS agents who had tailed him. She looked then flicked her ears in humor. She saluted the men with her beer.
“They are supposed to be discrete,” he admitted. “But …”
“But stand out like a sore thumb. Got it.” She grimaced. “I should be going, I can't afford to get snookered like I'd like to. If I have too much alcohol in my system tomorrow, my implants won't let me fly. Worse they'll rat me out to the likes of them,” she said with a twitch of her whiskers.
Jethro nodded. He set his empty bottle down. When the bartender came over to get it, he slid the long neck over to him and then used his implants to pay the tab. “We're done.”
“Very well, sir,” the bartender said. “Have a good evening,” he said, eying the two of them.
Jethro snorted as they got off the bar stools. He saw Hurranna look away in embarrassment at the implied comment.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” she said, pulling out a chip from her right thigh pocket. She held it out to him. “Deja asked me to ask you if you could deliver this.”
“And it is …”
She wrinkled her nose and flicked her ears. “Love letters most likely. He found a clan of Selkies on Agnosta. Since you are headed that route, he asked if you could deliver it. Lately his messages have been returned.”
“Um …” Gingerly the Neocat took the chip. Instantly Bast accessed it and put the contents up in a folder on his HUD. He didn't open it though. “I'm not sure about delivery. I can get it to Agnosta …”
“We'll,” she said, eying him. “If you're not willing to do something for an old buddy …, you know, go out of your way, go the extra kilometer for someone who's been trained with you, damn near gotten killed …” she made to take the chip back.
“All right all right,” Jethro said, clenching his fist around the chip to keep her from taking it back. “If only to stay in his good graces. And yours.”
“Cute. Directions are on the chip. It is remote. Good luck finding it.”
“Gee, thanks,” he drawled.
“Think of it as a scavenger hunt. It'll be good for you to get out in the bush and away from a desk.”
“Right,” he drawled eying her. “Tell me you don'
t miss it.”
She eyed him and then shrugged. “Okay, I miss the squad. I do miss trees from time to time, especially when I want to stretch and claw something. Which …,” she made a face. “Is all too often on that tub. But you get used to it. You'll find you get used to a lot if it gets you where you're going. Or where you want to go. But it's not all it's cracked up to be,” she said, shaking her head. “Not by a long shot.”
“That bad?”
“Oh, the smells alone …,” she wrinkled her nose and wiggled her whiskers. “It'll curl your whiskers and make your eyes bleed! I'm just glad I'm short and feline. It's a blessing and a curse I tell you. The smells and sounds are bad but getting about is a might easier since I can step lively. Only I can get stepped on if I'm not careful,” she said with a grimace.
“Ah. Yeah, tiny little thing that you are, I'm not surprised.”
She poked him then snorted and flicked her ears. “Yeah, right.” She looked up and grimaced. “Damn it,” she muttered. “Speaking of which, I've gotta run. My shuttle is leaving early. Apparently, they finished up their meeting, and the brass wants to expedite.”
“Problem with the alcohol?” he asked, now concerned.
“I'll take a sober up,” she said, holding up a stubby finger to the bartender. The bartender looked up from where he was at, nodded and came over with a small bottle. The Neolynx downed it in one gulp then grimaced at the taste as she wiped her chin. “Nasty ass shit,” she said.
Jethro paid for the medicine before she could. She narrowed her eyes at him then snorted. “Thanks I guess.”
“Treat a lady right. I remember that from … her,” he said.
“I know. I'll take some protein to go. You can put it on his tab,” she said, grinning slightly at the panther. He snorted but waved a hand as the bartender handed over some jerky. “Thanks. This should help me get the last of the beer out of my system. What a way to ruin a buzz though,” she grumbled, downing the pieces of jerky.
“At least you don't have to pay for it,” Jethro griped. The sober up and teriyaki beef jerky had been nearly ten times the price of the beer. He was good for it but it still sucked.
“My implants are already juicing up,” she said as she watched one of the NCIS agents get up hastily and go out ahead of them.
“See you when I see you,” Jethro said outside the bar, holding his fist out. They bumped fists then to his surprise she hugged him.
“Don't get any ideas; this is just my time of the month,” she growled then chuckled.
“Ah, I thought I smelled something funny.”
“Funny,” she growled. He chuckled. “Stay safe,” she said gruffly. “Or at least stack ‘em like cord wood,” she said, looking into his eyes.
“Definitely,” he growled as they parted.
<(>~^~<(>
Captain Valenko stopped in to see him briefly while the cat was in rehab. The rehab wasn't really necessary, but it was something to do other than sit in the room and stare at the walls or get further entangled with the political mess in the star system.
The recently promoted bear was stuck in the star system as senior marine officer until he could get that promised transfer to Agnosta and a company command. Scuttlebutt held that he was being groomed for bigger and better things, most likely command of a battalion after he completed his tour. His present duty to go out to clean up the mess in the Marine squads throughout the star system seemed to be trying his patience.
“I'm on my way to another damn stop. The Pyrax senior staff complains all the time when I'm not in to sit in on their meetings but they want me to go here, there, and everywhere in the star system to get everyone back on track,” the bear grumbled.
“Need any help?” Jethro asked eagerly, mentally cataloging his travel kit.
“Jethro, I'd appreciate it, but I can't impose however much I'd like to,” Valenko growled. He heaved a heavy sigh. On the bear it was impressive. “I can't though, orders. You're under security lockdown for your own protection until this mess with the assassins is sorted out,” he said. Jethro's ears went back as he grimaced in distaste. “I am getting very tired of shuttles. I have to catch another one to go to the orbital fortress near the Gaston jump point. The sergeant there has been locking horns with the officer contingent on board. I am traveling with a circus of IG, NCIS, and JAG people,” he said.
“Bureaucrats?” Jethro asked, wrinkling his nose and flicking his ears.
“Bosche moi, yes,” the bear grunted in full irritation, eyes snapping. “The worst kind, the ones that stick their nose into everything. And even worse, they have the right to look at everything right down to the size of your underwear, what you had for breakfast and why. The questions they ask!” He threw his massive hand paws up in disgust. “Everyone's worried about a witch hunt so they duck and cover over the stupidest of things! As if we care who is sleeping with who?” The bear shook his massive head.
“But someone does because they are afraid,” Jethro reminded him.
The bear eyed him for a moment then heaved another sigh. “You are right of course. And sleeping in the chain of command is a big no no,” the bear rumbled darkly. Jethro nodded.
“At least IG and JAG are finally all over it. They've been turning a blind eye to a lot of things in order to keep everything working. But it's not working right,” the bear said. “I've got a lot of paperwork and crap to deal with. And of course not enough warm bodies. Not enough to fill the slots once we pull someone for an investigation. And I've got commanders screaming for replacements I don't have.”
“I wish I could stay,” Jethro said.
“No you don't. You are good, don't get me wrong, but you'd go crazy dealing with crap like this. And from what I heard, you're a target. Anyone around you could be collateral damage,” the bear rumbled.
Jethro winced. Count on the grizzly to not pull any punches.
Valenko patted him on the shoulder. He looked up to meet the bear's brown eyes. “You'll be fine. Go do what you do best in Agnosta, then see what else the colonel wants you to do. We'll see each other sometime soon.”
“Hopefully they can get the squad back together someday,” Jethro said.
“Yeah. I'm now the senior recon officer, and I'm stuck here.” The bear shook his head. “It was me or shipping in Myers or Pendeckle. Pendeckle was recently promoted to Major, and he's putting together a battalion of troops. Crack troops of all disciplines to hit the hot spots the admiral wants us to.”
“Ah.” Jethro nodded. Bast looked up in interest on his HUD.
“Yeah, I thought you'd like that. You'll probably be tapped to help train them or at least the recon elements. Make sure they are up to our standards,” the bear rumbled. Jethro nodded.
“See you around the galaxy, sir?” Jethro said, saluting him.
“Not if I see you first,” the bear said, returning the salute with his own as he went to the door. Jethro watched with a slight fond smile as his friend left.
“He can take care of himself,” the panther murmured to himself and to Bast. “But I don't envy him. Not in the slightest,” he said, stretching.
Bast blinked gold green eyes at him, then yawned. She flicked her ears and then curled up on his HUD and went to sleep. He snorted when tiny Z's floated over her head after a moment. “Spoiled,” he said as he got up and went back to the bench.
Chapter 2
In between sets of eating, sleeping, watching the video screen, or doing rehab, the panther was treated to repeated interviews with First Lieutenant Teague, agent Frank Sekim, and eventually Lieutenant Commander Montgomery. The Neocat was surprised his situation had gotten bucked that far up the chain of command. It was obvious that they were keenly interested in the case; he could tell when the two agents got bored with the usual line of questions. And despite his repeated assurances, they insisted on going over the entire proceedings again. It wasn't like anything had changed.
This time it was different. When he finished going over it, Commander Montg
omery nodded. “Yes, your story hasn't changed. You obviously don't have anything more to contribute,” he said.
Lieutenant Teague nodded. “I told you so, sir,” she murmured.
“Yes, you did. But we had our reasons for keeping him under wraps. Including the extended convalescence even though he clearly didn't need it.” He turned to the panther. “You have to understand, Gunnery Sergeant. They were doing their jobs.” He said, nodding to Teague and Sekim. “You two can go,” he said. The NCIS agent and Intel officer nodded and left quietly. “We needed to tease out as much as we could.”
“Yes, sir,” Jethro said, bobbing a nod. “I definitely feel like I went through a wringer,” he said wryly, flicking his ears. The commander nodded. Jethro wondered briefly if that was a part of the process, to teach him not to get into so much trouble in the future or suffer the consequences. “And I don't suppose you'll tell me anything in return about the investigation.”
“In general terms perhaps. Not a lot. We are rolling some of their network up. Not enough though, there are always sleepers and others to consider. And with people coming into the star system all the time …”
“I understand, sir,” Jethro said, rueful.
“Sir, this may be above my pay grade but … why didn't the programs in Miller's implants flag him? Or any of the others for that matter?” Jethro asked.
“You'll have to talk to someone in IG or JAG about that,” Monty said, eying the panther sternly. From his expression it was clear to the panther that it wasn't a good idea to do so.
“I did try to ask when I was interviewed, sir. They shrugged it off or changed the subject. I thought the implants were supposed to flag that sort of thing? Stop it?”
Monty frowned thoughtfully. “Imagine if the implants flagged everything. Even petty crime. Falsehoods, all of it. No one would tolerate it. Jaywalking?” He shook his head. “No, it wouldn't happen. They had to find a balance.”
