Jethro: First to Fight

by Hechtl, Chris

  From the universe of the Wandering Engineer:

  First to Fight

  Jethro book 2

  By Chris “Jekyll” Hechtl

  Copyright:

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional. Any resemblance to other people is in parody or is purely coincidental. ;)

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book and or portions thereof in any form.

  Copyright 2013 by Chris Hechtl

  ISBN:

  BN#:

  Cover art Copyright 2013 by Chris Hechtl

  Copy edited by: Gord Archer, Jacob Larson, Brandon Bynum, Thomas Burrows

  Dedication:

  I'd like to dedicate this to the hard working volunteer copy/proof readers I've got.

  Gord Archer

  Jacob Larson

  Brandon Bynum

  Thomas Burrows

  Jim Olson

  Jory Gray

  Chris Mechmaster Smith

  Mark Anderson

  Tim Brown

  Rick Boatright

  Mercedes Milner

  And finally, Rob Miller.

  Thanks guys for believing in me and helping me out. Any mistakes are of course mine folks, not theirs. :)

  Table of Contents:

  United Federation Marine Hymn

  Prologue:

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Epilogue

  Author's afterward:

  Appendix:

  Dramatic personnel:

  Sneak Peek:

  Author's note:

  For those of you confused with the time line, this book takes place directly after Jethro Goes to War and in parallel to books 4-6 of the Wandering Engineer. It ends just before the end of book 6 Pirate's Bane of the Wandering Engineer.

  United Federation Marine Hymn

  (Adapted from the Terran United States Marine Hymn)

  From the falls on Montezuma

  To the shores on Tripoli;

  We fight our country's battles

  On land or in zero gee;

  First to Fight for right and freedom

  And to keep our honor clean;

  We are proud to claim the title

  Of United Federation Marine.

  Our flag's unfurl'd to ev'ry breeze

  From dawn to setting sun;

  We have fought in ev'ry clime and place

  Where we could take a gun;

  In the snows of far off moons and lands

  And in the sunny tropical scenes;

  You will find us always on the job:

  The United Federation Marines.

  Here's health to you and to our Corps

  Which we are proud to serve;

  In many a strife we've fought for life

  And never lost our nerve;

  If the Army and the Navy

  Ever look on Heaven's scenes;

  They will find the streets are guarded

  By United Federation Marines.

  Prologue:

  Captain Yan'kelly of the Lieandra clacked his mandibles as the ship exited hyperspace. “We've exited the jump point Captain. No problems,” the ops officer reported, looking over her shoulder to her Veraxin Captain.

  “Very good. Time to Protodon orbit?” the Veraxin asked, looking at the navigator. They had spent the voyage out from Antigua getting used to the newly restored ship. She was exponentially faster than before, able to hit the low notes of the Beta band with ease. Admiral Irons had been right, she was a proper ship once more. 4 months to Kathy's world from Antigua, a run that would have taken then a solid 14 months before, trudging along in the lower notes of the Alpha band of hyperspace. They would have also been out of fuel when they had arrived, but now their newly repaired fusion reactor and hyperdrive had conserved a quarter of their precious fuel. Enough of a reserve to head to Kathy's world if necessary.

  He clacked his mandibles as he waited patiently. That was good, it allowed him a buffer, some breathing room should the Protodon sharks try to extort more credits out of him for fuel. He'd love to see their expressions when they found he didn't need a full tank!

  “At least eighty five hours Captain. Give me a bit more to refine my data and get back to you on that,” Mallory the navigator replied. “We're underway now Captain.”

  The Veraxin clacked his mandibles once more. That was another thing, transiting subspace or so called 'real space' from a jump point to a planet had usually taken a week to two weeks depending on the local astrography. Eighty five hours wasn't bad for them, not with the jump point twenty three light minutes outside the oort cloud of the system. “Very well. Do we have anything on sensors yet?” the Veraxin asked. That was something else, having neutrino detectors and fully operational sensors. Their eyes were keen once more, not clouded with age.

  Chancy the sensory officer looked up with a frown of concern. “Actually we do Captain. Ships. Several of them.” His computers were still processing the video data while they waited for a return from the lidar.

  “Several?” The ops officer asked, eyes wide. “Are you sure Chancy? You know we've never had a neutrino detector before.”

  Chancy nodded grimly. “If I'm reading this new fangled neutrino detector right, yes. Besides, we're getting them on gravitics as well.”

  “How many is several?” Mallory asked, now sounding worried.

  “Now now, let's not get ahead of ourselves,” the helmsman said. “It could be a couple of freighters.”

  “It is. But more than a couple. Try 16 ships so far detected in orbit of the planet. I'm still refining the... Captain!” he turned, voice cooling. “We have a ship approaching us from the main body.”

  “A ship?”

  “Yes sir. A small one. She just changed course.”

  “Changed course. You mean she was headed here?” the Veraxin asked.

  “To the jump point sir. And sir, we're getting communications traffic,” the sensory officer reported. He pulled an earwig device off his console and put in his ear. “Localizing.” After a moment he frowned and shook his head. “Some of it is traffic from the fleet. I can't make heads or tails of the audio or the data telemetry, I'm guessing it's encrypted.”

  “If they've got something to hide, we aren't where we want to be,” the navigational officer said nervously, already tapping at her console. “Captain, if we turn around now, we can brake our forward momentum but it will take about an hour to get back to the jump point after that. Call it three hours total.”

  “We can't go back. That jump line is empty. We need fuel.”

  “We can't go back, but should we go forward?” Chancy murmured. He frowned, cupping the earwig with one hand and tapping at his console. He changed frequencies and stiffened. Slowly he turned to the Captain, e
yes troubled. “Captain, you need to hear this,” he said softly.

  “Put it up,” the Captain said.

  Chancy nodded and hit a key, taking his earwig out.

  “This is the colony Protodon to any passing ships! Run! We are under attack from Horathian pirates! Repeat run! Flee for your lives! Escape and bring warning to others!” There was a squelch of static and then the message repeated itself. After a moment Chancy stabbed the cut off button.

  “Well!” the Veraxin chittered. “We can't go back and we can't go forward. I'm assuming that ship approaching had been headed to the jump point but is now oriented on us?”

  “Aye Captain.”

  “Funny how they could see us so well just after we jumped. They must have a neutrino detection ability as well. Size?”

  “Does it matter sir? She's some sort of warship I bet,” Chancy said. “Even a shuttle with a pop gun could tear us a new one if it wanted to do so sir.”

  “True. Can't go forward, can't go back. We're limited on fuel. The other jump points?” The Captain asked, turning his eye stalks to the navigator.

  Roger poked Mallory. She oofed and then looked at her console, busying herself with it for a moment. “Captain, from the look of this the pirates came from the beta-95a3 jump point. Chancy, is that tag you just sent another fleet?”

  Chancy nodded. “Another group of ships. About a dozen.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “So we can't go there. Our only hope is Kathy's world. But can we make it to the jump point in time?” the Captain asked.

  Mallory stared at her console, crunching the numbers for a minute. The bridge was fraught with tension. Finally she nodded. “It'll be close sir, but we can make it. We'll be on fumes when we exit though Captain.”

  “That's not good,” Chancy replied softly.

  “Tell me about it,” Roger sighed. “But I'll try to save what we can. Captain, I suggest we shut down nonessential systems. Conserve what we can. Hell, convert waste water to fuel if we can do that too.”

  “Make it so ops,” the Captain said, signaling first level agreement. “Helm, lay in the course Miss Mallory will feed you. Get us there, preferably ahead of the competition and in one piece.”

  “Aye Captain.”

  “Make sure you record all this. Everything, sensors, communications, everything,” the Captain ordered. “Anything on ship sizes? Classes?”

  “Mostly small ships like the one pursuing us sir. I believe it is a frigate or gunboat. Maybe a corvette. I'm not sure, I'm not getting a good enough return from the Lidar right now. Most of the ships in the main body and scattered in various orbits of the planet seem to be frigates, corvettes, and gunboats. There are some civilian ships I recognize too, a couple of Clydesdales, a Moth, a yacht, and a tanker. About a dozen others, but most are out of range to get good readings. Two or three big boys, but we don't know what they are. They mass somewhere around 80,000 tons but they seem to vary in shape so they aren't the same class. The ship behind us...” He tapped at his console and then overlaid the readings. After a moment he pursed his lips. “Based on her mass readings, she must be a frigate or corvette.”

  “So, she won't be able to chase us for more than what? Two or three jumps?”

  Mallory frowned. She compared the readings of the pursuer with her own calculations for jump and fuel consumption. She used her most pessimistic thoughts on their speed and range, then gave it a fudge factor of about twenty percent. Slowly she nodded. “If they stay on our tail they could chase us out of Kathy's World with about a third of a tank, but we'd lose them in Beta 452C. They'd have to turn back or they'd run themselves dry. They'd need to refuel in Kathy's world in order to return to Protodon sir.”

  “I see. And no other ships are following? Attempting to cut us off?” the Captain asked, turning to Chancy. He didn't want to run into an ambush at the jump point after all their work in avoiding their pursuer.

  Chancy shook his head. “No sir, and before you ask, no, I don't have any ships detected at the jump point.”

  “Good to know,” the Captain said, using his true hands to show first hand relief. “Keep me posted.”

  As they ran across the edge of the system for the nearby Kathy World jump point Chancy reported their pursuer had changed course to follow.

  “Anything on their dialog?” the Veraxin asked.

  “Not the encrypted stuff. But I did pick up something about where they are headed next.”

  “Please, oh please tell me it's not where we're headed,” Mallory said, eyes scrunched tight as she prayed.

  Chancy shook his head. “No, it's Antigua.”

  “Shit.” Mallory's eyes popped open. They were mournful.

  “Sir, what do we do?” Roger asked.

  “Refuel in Kathy's world and keep running. There is nothing we can do except bring word to others.”

  “And from there sir?”

  “The only place we can go, Pyrax,” the Veraxin chittered. “The admiral said there was a fleet base there, let's just hope it's still there.”

  Chancy scowled. “Sir what about Antigua? They are sitting ducks!”

  “They're on their own for now. There's nothing we can do for them. The admiral was right, they made their bed, now they get to lie in it. Maybe the Navy can bail them out. We sure as hell can't,” the Veraxin said. He slumped on his stool. “Spirit of Space help them.”

  Act I

  Chapter 1

  Every morning Corporal Jethro, worked on his physical fitness training. It had been drilled into him since boot to do so, he knew the importance of keeping such activities up. As a young and fit Neocat black panther he needed constant exercise to remain fit and trim. The adage, if you don't use it, you lose it came to mind. Muscles needed constant exercise to remain toned and fit for when you needed them.

  Since the Marine gym was a rather full, smelly, and loud cargo bay, he opted out of standing around and waiting his turn and instead jogged. Sure, he didn't mind shooting the shit with his buddies, but he'd wasted two entire exercise periods doing so and had come to learn it was better to jog. Gunny had a way of dealing with those who stood around shooting the shit instead of doing what they were told. No excuses was his favorite saying.

  He jogged in the corridors, maneuvering around men and equipment in his way, their obstacles made it more enjoyable, they made him stay alert. He listened to the steady thump thump of his footfalls on the decking, and hopped the knee knockers when needed. He found that doing one pass on his back legs and one on all fours was a comfortable change, though his neck started to get a crick in it after each pass. There was something to be said about the downside of being re-engineered from a quadruped into a biped, the changes to his body sometimes hindered him when he went back during brief times. On all fours though it was less stressful on his back and hind legs, but it gave his upper body a bit more of a work out. His tail helped to keep his balance when on all fours or when darting through tight quarters.

  He wasn't the only jogger, a dozen other Marines and two squids were also jogging through the companionways. But they were all jogging their own path it seemed, sometimes running into each other in passing or funneling at knee knocker hatches. All had boots on, as required by ship rules. It sucked, in his bare paws Jethro could pad almost silently around on the deck. But after getting his foot trodden on once he'd seen the light. It would have been nicer with sneakers though.

  He'd love to do a stalk, just strip down to his fur and see how many circuits he could make before he ran out of energy. The navy however frowned on him running around cloaked. Apparently a few of the other Neo's who had the ability had misused the ability. And then of course there was his late unlamented father's actions... he sighed briefly.

  His father had been the premier jaguar assassin. As a Neo Jaguar he, and Jethro, could fully cloak, only a full black wolf with the stealth mod could claim the same level of stealth. Others like Jethro's cousin Letanga and Jethro's aunt and uncle could only partially cloak t
hemselves. They left a blurry after image when they moved that others could see.

  He'd have time to meditate and get some stealth practice in later. For now Jethro concentrated on his respiration and heart rate, keeping them even.

  On his third circuit he was stopped by a navy jig annoyed by the stomping and jogging. Jethro slowed and then stopped in front of the angry human. He came to attention and braced as the stern faced officer blocked his path, even though the squid was out of uniform. He was standing there in a tank top and gray pants, black socks,. He had a crew cut and was clean shaven, but he had a bit of a gut going. “Just what the hell do you think you are doing?” the jig demanded.

  Jethro stood at attention, getting a quick sniff of the jig's IFF with his implants. Jig Brighton Able, new to the ship's company, he'd been assigned while Jethro was in Agnosta. He'd just been promoted from Ensign off the Centurion where he'd served as the life support officer. He was young, new, but clean cut and apparently good at his job, or so his implants said. But he'd gone from life support to the same department on Firefly. Something was off about that.

  “Sir, I am exercising sir,” Jethro replied. He knew better than to salute. The usual provision about not saluting indoors didn't apply on a ship or station. But you normally didn't salute anyone except and officer, and normally only when reporting for duty. He'd also come to learn not to salute when on guard duty. The military was slowly shaking down.

  For instance, enlisted Naval personnel were called ratings, spacers, sailors, or squids. Vacuum suckers if you wanted to get technical. Officers had to be respected.

  “Jarheads,” the Lieutenant mouthed, as if it was an obscenity. Jethro knew better than to respond to that.

  “Exercising. Don't you jarheads know you are supposed to do that in the gym?” Able demanded, hands on his hips, chin out. From his look he reminded Jethro of one of those chicken things on Agnosta. He knew better than to say so.