The cat looked at the Asian human and nodded. “Yes? Can I go now?”
“Oh no, we're just getting started. I was wondering, have you kept up with your brushing and flossing?”
“No... um...”
“Doctor K will do. Or just Doctor or Doc,” the dentist said, smiling as he sat on a stool. “Open,” he said, indicating the Liger's mouth. The liger frowned and then opened his mouth.
“Oh my,” the dentist said, shaking his head and then sighing. “I see you haven't. And from the X-ray you have one abscessed tooth. Maxilla premolar number 109. You also have a cavity, mandible 402. Mandible 409 is gone, there is nothing but the root. Which we will need to fix as well.”
“This is going to hurt?” The liger asked stupidly.
“Hopefully not now. Later yes,” the doctor said. “Well, you will feel a bit of pain when I inject you, just a prick here and there in your gums. The cleaning will make up for it. I'll schedule you for a follow up for fillings as well. At least you don't seem to have many cavities. I take it you don't eat much sugar?”
“No. I eat meat doctor, carnivore,” the liger replied, flicking his ears.
“Oh, well, that's good,” the dentist said, laying out a tray of probes, syringes, and other wicked looking devices. One looked like a pair of wire cutters. “Now, you are my tenth Neo, but my first Neocat, so bear with me a bit,” the dentist said, taking a probe with a mirror on the tip and then looking around in the Liger's mouth.
“Just relax your jaw, this will take some time,” the nurse urged, holding a hose that was making a sucking sound.
Sergei rolled his eyes and tried hard not to flex his claws to shred the now hated chair.
...*...*...*...*...
When he was finished, he wasn't in pain, but he had memories he'd rather forget. Memories of teeth moving and jerking in his head, exquisite and disconcerting sensations of cracking sounds that made his fur stand on end. He winced, touching his cheek. He had a mouth full of wadding to keep the bleeding at bay. He felt it with his tongue gingerly and then grimaced.
“I still don't see why you don't use nanites and quick heal,” he complained, or tried to. It sounded like a mumble.
“Nanites are expensive. They are also harder to come by with the admiral gone. We have to reserve them for emergencies, not for routine things like this.” He winced, he'd had a hell of a time with that tooth, the doctor had twisted and pulled a lot. He'd warned the liger that it was a long one, the roots up in his sinuses. He hadn't been kidding.
“Besides, it's added incentive to take better care of your teeth yourself. Right?” the nurse teased.
He nodded emphatically. He had a bag of toothpaste and a brush in his hand. The brush was tiny, he'd have to find something better. He vowed he would, he didn't want a repeat performance. The doctor had gone on about how he could have an implant replacement, he'd declined. He'd live with the lost tooth, hell if he'd go through that again. He grimaced when they came near a mirror, then stopped. His once yellowed teeth were now pearly white. He stared.
“Surprising what a nice cleaning can do huh?” the nurse asked. He nodded. “It will help with your breath too. You'll get a cleaning every visit.”
“And um, when do I have to do this again? No offense but...”
“But you don't want to do it anytime soon,” the nurse laughed softly. She nodded. “The doctor used the laser to cauterize the wound. You're nanites should take care of any bacterial infections.”
“I'm a cat, ma'am, we tend to eat a lot of raw meat.”
“Which is a problem,” the nurse replied frowning. “Don't eat with that side of your mouth for at least twenty four standard hours. And if you get something stuck in your mouth, swish your mouth back and forth and let the spit dribble out, don't hack and spit. That will tear open the scabs and you'll bleed again.”
“I see.”
“Some people have trouble with the taste of blood. Since you are a cat...”
He waved a hand paw and then examined his claws. He'd ended up clawing the chair anyway. They weren't happy about that, but he couldn't help it. “I'm used to the taste of blood, just not my own. I'm a Marine ma'am,” he said.
“Sure, now he's all brave,” Hurranna teased him, flicking her ears as he came out into the room. He wanted to give her the finger but restrained himself with the human officer sitting in the corner.
“Ma'am? I think you are next,” the nurse said, indicating the lynx.
Hurranna's face fell as Sergei smiled sweetly. “Oh shit,” she muttered.
“You were saying?” Sergei said, flicking his ears.
“Oh shut up,” she sighed, getting to her feet.
...*...*...*...*...
The various exams include security checks. Those with classified knowledge or those flagged by NCIS or ONI underwent background checks and interviews, including polygraph readings. There were some protests, but when word got around that the protestors were being flagged as people with something to hide the protests dried up magically.
ONI and NCIS agents flushed out a few low level people who broke regs including Ensign O'Dell. O'Dell's story poured out in two hours of questioning. The two lieutenants took his statement and then left him miserable in the interrogation room as they reported to the Commander.
“Poor sap. He didn't know he was telling his sister classified material and that she was passing it on to her boss. Or so he says,” Agent Sekim said. He was a crusty old bear, he'd started as a Marine volunteer under Major Forth. He hadn't lasted long past the initial combat, he'd been diagnosed with epilepsy so he'd transferred to ONI. Since he had been a cop and detective on Anvil, he'd done well there interviewing the surviving pirates with his buddy, Ensign Montgomery. But Sekim just couldn't handle being under someone younger than he was, so he transferred to the newly forming NCIS when the admiral and his AI started putting it and the Judge Advocate General's office together.
ONI, NCIS, and JAG didn't get a lot of love and attention from the rest of the navy. No one wanted them around unless they were needed. Their agents had been forced to learn largely on their own, with some initial guidance from the admiral's AI Sprite and Defender. The Admiral and both AI had given them links to continue their training, but they'd found that going through the various archives of movies and video programs had helped to spark interest in their fields. They had honed their interrogation techniques on the Horathian pirate interviews, learning to read body language and learn when people were reluctant to say something you were interested in hearing.
Irene Teague was a new comer to ONI, she'd joined after the pirate attack. She'd been a student in the newly formed Anvil College and had taken an interest in the investigations after overhearing a few of her fellow students discussing it in the lunch room. The normally shy and mousy woman had volunteered to join ROTC and the off mentioned comment had steered her career into ONI.
She'd come to love it. She always loved watching and reading mysteries, teasing information out of people was fascinating. She'd also loved the old spy vids as a kid, her dad had dozens of the movies and she'd watched them all. The gadgets had been intriguing.
Over the past year the young woman had blossomed. Martial arts training had helped her self confidence, and taking down an irate pirate who had slapped her had helped her self confidence grow by leaps and bounds. Of course the fact that she had implants with fully enhanced strength, speed, and toughness had played a part, the poor guy hadn't stood a chance. And it didn't hurt that her second boyfriend had been a bit of a sub, deferring to her needs first in the bedroom once he'd seen her in uniform. Seeing his eyes widen and his pants bulge the first time she'd tried a command look on him was something she still treasured and occasionally giggled about. The steamy role play had been an incredible turn on that had gotten them through two quarters before they'd parted company.
She blushed, wanting to twist like an errant child as she watched the Commander digest their report.
Logan looked at
their report on his tablet. Finally he set it down in front of him. “I'll bet. And the sister?” he finally asked.
Sekim shot Irene a look. She smiled, deferring to him. Sekim was a fossil, a parochial old fart. She'd learned to defer to him despite their rank differences because the older man had a wealth of knowledge and experience. She wanted to use that, so she put up with his quirks like her boss Lieutenant Montgomery had said.
Sekim cleared his throat. “Nancy O'Dell, first and missing secretary to the esteemed Governor. That's where it get's interesting. This Nelson character has been pumping the Ensign, trying to get more out of him. Apparently he had been telling his sister stuff casually up until a short time ago, the usual how your day was. But now that she's missing...”
“And he's still giving them intel? Why?”
“He said they promised to help him find her if he kept giving them information.” The ONI agent snorted. She looked at her counterpart who also shook his head.
“I'm betting that went over well.”
“Yes, the guilt and realization has eaten him up. I'm wondering what happened to the girl.”
“Dead men or in this case a woman, tell no tales. I'm fairly certain she found something out or outlived her usefulness and someone, possibly even Walker himself did her in. It could have been an accident.”
“Is anyone investigating?”
The Lieutenant shook his head. “The family hired some PI's but they were spooked and dropped the case. All dead ends. No one at Justice seems interested in it. I think Judge Riley might take a look if it passes him officially.”
“Ah. Nice stink to it.”
“I think the governor's opposition may be banking it for later. Trot it out when he's vulnerable and then tear him a new one. Or dethrone him.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah.”
“So, what do we do about O'Dell sir?” the ONI Lieutenant asked. “We can't promote him, we can't trust him again.”
“We leave him alone,” Logan replied. The Lieutenant stared at him. “Yes I'm serious. We flip him. He works for us, now he'll pass on only what we want them to know. And he reports what they want to know and who they tell him to contact to us.”
“I see,” the Lieutenant said nodding. “A double, no, triple agent.”
“Something like that. The young man wants to make amends, we'll let him do so. And we'll let him stick a knife in the bastards that killed his sister while we're at it,” Logan replied.
After they left the Commander's officer the NCIS agent turned to the ONI agent. “So, you buying all that?” Frank asked. He wasn't sure what to make of this plan. It was more than a little dangerous for the Ensign.
Irene cocked her head. She was reluctant to go into details in public, but as long as they kept it light, she'd play along. “Some. But he's got a point, if we leave him in place we'll be able to keep track of what he says and to who. And the enemy will be less likely to flip more of our people,” The female agent said cautiously. “It's classic counter intelligence strategy actually.”
“Maybe,” Frank replied grudgingly.
She shrugged. “It's worth a shot. We'll have to be careful on what we have him tell them. Honesty is the best policy. We can work in lies later.”
“Or evasions. Since they're playing cute about his sister he can be too. Brief him then cut him loose. We'll see if he can take the pressure.” the ONI agent said. “This'll be interesting,” she said. She was already thinking about the software modifications they'd need to make to the young man's implants to monitor him. They would be tricky. She wondered if Nelson even realized the implants were recording devices? It would be interesting to see his expression when he did find out. Eventually, down the road... certainly not now. “Interesting indeed,” she murmured wickedly.
“Yes it will,” the NCIS agent sighed. “Indeed it will.”
...*...*...*...*...
Hurranna stepped on Jethro's toe. He looked down at her. That was a no no, they were after all, in their dress blues. They were standing honor guard at parade rest while they waited for the ceremony to begin. The Marines were grouped together instead of with their ship's companies. There were hundreds of beings there, a group from each ship. Officers were in dress whites, with hash marks on their sleeves and gold braid. The enlisted squids were in naval uniforms of white, but they had ballcaps on instead of the covers the officers sported. Some of the squids had Plankowner embroidered in the back of their ballcaps. He wasn't sure what to make of that. He scowled at the stage and podium before responding. “What?” he asked through his implants.
“Oh, oops, forgot,” she replied, opening her side of the chat window. “Um, any truth to the rumors?”
“What rumors?” He texted back. There was a slight breeze from the air conditioning, making the flags and pennants on either side of the podium flutter. He hoped they'd get it over with soon, Neo's didn't like standing in shoes, and dress shoes sucked. He'd have sores and blisters all over soon.
“Um, scuttlebutt says we have to do this every ninety days,” Hurranna said.
“You're kidding me,” Sergei said appalled. Unfortunately he had said it out loud, looking down at her. Schultz turned a glare on the liger. The liger stiffened, flicked his ears and returned to parade rest. “A colonoscopy every Ninety? Are they serious?” he demanded in the chat.
Jethro sighed. This was getting out of hand. Hurranna flicked her ears. “See what you started?” he accused.
“Sorry,” she said, eyes dancing.
“Right, sure you are,” he chatted back. His ears half flattened. He'd picked up on a few things, but he wasn't sure what was what. “From what I know, we're going into a regular cycle of tests and stuff.”
“Shit.”
“Frack.”
“Hang on,” Asazi said. “Not all of us are involved. Well, some of us,” she said, entering the chat. “Is this a private party or is anyone invited?” she asked and then added a smiley face. Sergei snorted.
“No, by all means, join the party,” Jethro said. He could sense other chats around him. The NCO's were big on quiet, but not on net chatter. At least not while they were waiting. During the ceremony would be a different thing.
“So... Thirty, ninety, yearly,” Asazi said. “That's my take.”
“Thirty and ninety are tear downs and stuff. That's for vehicles maintenance. Vessels too.”
“Oh.”
“And no, we're not involved in most of it. The regular squids get to deal with the stuff. We might get dragged in for the damage control stuff, inventory, or what have you. That's also every month.”
“Shit.”
“No, we'll have our own headaches with inventory, spit and polish, the usual crap,” Jethro said. “Plus proficiencies.”
“The proficiencies are dead easy. It's the inventory and spit and polish that bugs me. Who cares if I've got a scratch on something? If it won't come out it damn well won't come out. What am I supposed to do then?”
“Tell me about it,” Hurranna said, rolling her eyes. She even added a set to her chat icon.
“We're going to have inventories, kits, the whole shebang when we have ninety day checkups. Plus anytime we have a diplomatic visitor come by. That means shoes shined within an inch of your lives, the proper creases in uniforms, the works.”
“Lovely.”
“So, the safe thing is to keep on it at all times. That way it's not such a chore when it comes time to prove everything works,” Schultz interjected into the chat. The chat group quieted. “Which is why we're going to continue doing that little thing. And every other little thing to spec. Got it?”
“Aye aye Gunny,” Jethro replied instantly. The others echoed that.
Schultz turned ever so slightly to look at Jethro over his shoulder. “Carry on then,” he said in the chat and then his image darkened.
“Okay,” Jethro said. “Like the boss man said, we keep it real. Keep up our training and keep our kits, work, and sleep places squared away
. You know the drill.”
“Aye aye.”
“And you know why too. At least you should. We ever go into combat, we'll need that stuff in tip top shape and a zero defect mentality. So you see some yahoo doing something...”
“Shut it down?”
“Well, I dunno. I haven't gotten that far in the handbook. It's not really our department unless it's in the family. But keep it in the family. The squad.” He grimaced. He really shouldn't have to bring this up, it wasn't his place. But someone had to address the problem. He wasn't sure what Gunny was doing about it, possibly individual counseling. He was aware he'd stepped in it but now wasn't sure how to back out of it.
“Point.”
“Don't get stupid. Don't pick a fight, don't tattle unless it's serious. I know you know the rumor about people selling shit,” he texted, then grimaced. Over a hundred enlisted of both the Marines and navy had been brought up on charges for embezzling or selling military gear. Most of it was minor shit, some of it had been lost or given to family. It was still on their ass. For minor offenses they were charged for the cost of the item plus it's replacement, and usually given a Captain's mast. But more serious stuff got you in hack bad. Two of those people had been newly minted naval officers in supply. That didn't bode well. JAG was coming down on them like a hammer, turning them into examples.
The problem was he knew why they needed to keep their kits in good order, if you didn't have it when you needed it, you were SOL. Lacking something could get you killed in combat, or even in a training exercise. Which was funny, one Marine had tried to bull through a training mission after giving up part of his skinsuit life support system of all things. He had lost it in a poker game. How stupid could you be to do that? Jethro thought. And he'd compounded the problem by trying to hold his breath while they did a seal test. He'd passed out from anoxia. He'd been lucky he'd survived.
The luckless Private was now in such deep pucky he needed a periscope to see daylight. He would be in hack for a long time to come, he'd pretty much toasted his career. He'd tried to resign only to find out that option wasn't available. The navy was done playing nice and wasn't about to turn the other cheek.
Jethro: First to Fight Page 15
