Jethro: First to Fight

by Hechtl, Chris

  “We know Jethro's suit can do it, we just don't know how they did it. More testing,” Riley sighed. “More sim work. Think we can get Veber to help again?”

  Ox grunted in reply. “Okay,” he said, nodding to the medic and stepping back. “Your turn. Just don't try the blade. We need to lock that down Sergeant,” he said over his shoulder.

  “Right,” Riley grunted.

  Gusteron took the simple route, deploying the shield, then deactivating it. He activated it again and then tried various poses. “Can it detach?”

  “We're working on that. Right now no. It can if you've got a battery with it, but it needs a support where the arm is.”

  “Oh.”

  “We're thinking of a simple stand or something.”

  “Rigger's tape maybe? Tape it to something in the field?” Gusterson asked.

  “Hey! Block this!” Sergei said, tossing a ceiling tile fragment. Gusterson put the shield out, the tile ricocheted off the shield. “Cool!” the liger said.

  “Just clean up the mess Sergei,” Valenko ordered.

  “Sir, yes sir,” Sergei said, getting back to work.

  The medic trained to use them to defend himself and a fallen patient against incoming fire while treating wounded. Intrigued with how well the design was working, they worked out a shield wall as well. They even tried out metal shields with mixed results.

  The Major and Gusterson had them extend the idea to portable shield generators. They dug through the archives to find designs but were limited on what they could make and therefore do. But they didn't let that stop them for long. If they couldn't do something straight forward they looked for a work around. Ox was the one who tumbled into interlocking portable shields into first the shield wall, and then into a bubble.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  When Ox and Riley hit a seemingly dead end with the shields, or were sidelined waiting on simulations, software patch writes, or parts, they turned their attention to neglected work or other ideas. Jethro's favorite project was put into the spotlight, a flight pack for the combat armor.

  At first the impromptu think tank considered force wedge pods, using force emitters to neutralize and or provide thrust. But the large power demand, slow initial acceleration, and high energy signature ruled the concept out.

  “Getting them into production is an issue. We still can't get shields! Let alone this,” Riley said, shaking his head.

  “It would also interfere with any ship that launched it and would be hard to control at best,” Veber the Centaurian programmer said, killing that dream.

  Instead they went back to the Keep It Simple Stupid concept. Since the super high tech way wasn't viable, they went the low road. They adapted the flight packs from MMU's into wing like pods with RCS thrusters on winglets and wing feathers. These were mounted to universal ports on the back of the suits that were usually used as attachment points for a robotic arm to hold or carry a large field piece such as a heavy plasma cannon, mortar, or anti-aircraft turret.

  The entire thing was over designed, complicated and a maintenance nightmare, but it looked cool. For some it made the armor look like a black winged angel, to others a demon.

  The wings required additional fuel tanks. The entire set up wasn't cloaked on Jethro, but they would allow a level of mobility and flexibility in space that he hadn't had before. Which was the whole point of the project.

  “Why not just use an MMO?” a visiting Private asked.

  “Cause this is cooler,” Riley replied, hooking up the fuel tanks. He'd grumbled about the complexity, but he defended it against outsiders. The suit had several fuel tanks, one on the back between the wings, smaller ones for the RCS pods strapped around each boot, and a final tummy tank for emergencies and braking. All were jettison-able.

  Jethro would also carry an equipment pod complete with bot to carry it, and as much ammo and batteries as the suit could manage. The entire arrangement was ungainly as hell walking around in the ship. In flight simulation it moved like a drunk mule at first.

  “You realize these are for space right? I mean, I can't imagine using them on a moon or say, on a planet,” Riley said, zip tying hoses together and out of the way.

  “Why not?” Sergei asked. “I thought, I mean, angel and all, come out of the sun...”

  “You just like the idea so you don't have to walk,” Jethro teased.

  “Damn skippy,” the liger growled. Jethro snorted.

  “Back oh,” Riley looked up and tapped his chin. “Oh, I think I saw it in the archives dating back to the 19th or 20th century Earth they fooled with jet packs and stuff like this. They thought it'd be great, I mean, a one man recon squad right? Or jump up over obstacles or into battle right? Up, up, and away right?”

  “Sure,” the liger replied with an eager nod.

  “Yeah, and you're in the air when you do it. Big noise, flash of light, sound, big 'here I am sign!” Riley replied waving his hands around as he said sarcastically, glaring at the liger. “Which draws attention to you, and oh, every idget with a rifle.”

  “Um,” Sergei suddenly looked sheepish. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “I hadn't thought of that,” he finally admitted.

  “Right.”

  “But we can use it for some ops.”

  “Like? The more I work on this the more I think it's not going to be feasible in the field.”

  “Um,” Jethro frowned. “My idea is for someone to I dunno, distract the enemy. Draw them away from where I'm coming in, then come in behind with a squad or so and pincer.”

  Riley snorted. “And what about point defense? You try this on an alert ship it doesn't matter how noisy the distraction is. Any computer could cut you up.”

  “True.”

  “But that doesn't include oh, say a civilian ship. Or station. Or dropping onto an asteroid or moon,” Valenko rumbled.

  Riley glared at the bear. “Who's side you on bruin? I'm trying to keep the fool from getting killed you know,” he growled.

  “Which isn't your job Sergeant,” the bear rumbled. “I can see some limited use for this. I wonder...” he mused, drumming his massive claws on the counter.

  “What?”

  “Well, you made them jettison-able right? So oh, he could accelerate, then turn over, brake, and then cut the wings loose and coast in. Maybe go into stealth...” Valenko rumbled, glancing at the cat.

  Jethro nodded.

  “And final braking?”

  “Hope you got air bags!” Sergei joked, slapping the panther on the shoulder. Jethro snorted.

  “The suit has integrated inertial dampeners right? So he could land like any cat...” Valenko said eying Jethro.

  “On his feet. Yes sir, with my claws I should be able to manage it. I don't like the idea of a rebound if I can't dig in though. Dutchman and all,” Jethro replied.

  “We can work it out. Give you a one shot harpoon and line or something,” Riley said looking at the bear.

  “Now who's on who's side?” Valenko joked.

  “Ah hell,” Riley sighed, shaking his head. “I'm gonna shut my yap and get this done before I get into any more trouble. Soon you'll be expecting me to try this fool stunt,” he grumbled.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Jethro did a first field test of the armor in vacuum before testing the wings. Since he had over a thousand hours of vacuum time he had no qualms being in his suit. After all, he had his skin suit on under the armor.

  “You've got to earn those wings,” Hurranna joked when she heard about the project. She was sitting in flight ops, manning a shift to get her flight deck qualification hours.

  “I thought you wanted to be the pilot,” Jethro teased right back, still nervously checking his life support and seals. It was his third time. You can never be too careful. He remembered how jittery he'd been going out for the first time as a boot. He'd gotten over it. The worst bit was the waiting for clearance.

  “Yeah I am, but if you strap those suckers to my suit I'd en
d up half way across the damn system before I figured out how to shut them off,” the lynx said wryly over the circuit.

  “You know, you're not really making a good case for you becoming a pilot,” Jethro teased.

  “Oh shut up,” she sputtered, laughing.

  They had a few incidents testing the flight pack on the test stand, but the concept seemed to work well. Jethro grinned, he had an idea to use the packs to infiltrate an enemy station or ship. Visions of flying around in the interior were quickly ruled out however.

  The Major became interested in the project and had them do a field test. It was an exhilarating and terrifying experience for the panther. They did it well away from San Diego, in the shadow of the artificial moon and away from any prying eyes.

  The test went well until Jethro's fuel mix misfired. The compressed hydrogen mix wasn't quite one hundred percent clean, a small micron of dust made it sputter and clog the emitter. It wasn't enough to do serious harm but it was a scare. He ran out of fuel and drifted into the full light of the sun, managing to turn away just in time. His suit adjusted itself, changing the visor polarity on its own. He muttered a thanks. He felt something respond, but wasn't sure if he was dreaming it or not.

  Deja was riding a shuttle in a Dutchman training exercise, he was called in to recover the panther. Jethro was amused to discover that Deja had been sent out to track him for the exercise. He was also glad. Had he not had the back up things could have gotten ugly.

  They analyzed the flight and talked about what they now know. The fuel in the pods were limited so they had to ride in on something else. A throw away sled was possible. A comet or other body was also possible, but a close pass would be highly suspect and would take ages to get to a target. In a time crunch that wasn't a viable option. Valenko suggested riding in on the hull of a shuttle. Coming in attached and either getting off after the shuttle docks or before and maneuvering to a different lock.

  “Distraction,” Jethro mused.

  “Hmm... Yes.”

  “What if we pulled a bait and switch?” Jethro asked. He smiled a tight lipped smile and flicked his ears at his boss. “Like our final exercise? Remember the crucible?”

  The final boot exercise was a week of hell called the crucible. They had experienced the full tour, a boarding action, a full on combat sim on Anvil that had torn one of the park decks apart, as well as combat drops on one of the local asteroids. The icing on the cake was the series of ORS, Operational Readiness Surveys. Being nitpicked by outsiders on scratched equipment after going through what to some was as close to combat as the Marines could provide had rammed home the whole joke about if you can't take the joke you shouldn't have joined.

  F platoon had maxed the combat sims, blowing away most of them and set the standard for others to try to rise too. However they had been dead last in points for the ORS. They had proven the maxim true, those who could fight did. Those who looked pretty, couldn't fight worth spit.

  “Um...”

  “Put the shuttle in on a hostile dock. The enemy will naturally pile in to repel boarders. But the docking is a ruse. Come in to dock but instead we make a jump to a nearby lock.”

  The bear's eyes narrowed. “Or we could go in for one dock and then shuffle to another at the last minute. Make them redeploy on the fly.”

  Jethro snorted, flicking his ears forward. “True, take all the fun out of it.”

  “You really want to float around in space with point defense lasers trying to pick you off?” the bear demanded.

  “Well... when you put it that way, no not especially, but I want to lay the option open. Can we do a sim?” Jethro asked, turning to the Ensign.

  Valenko rumbled, rubbing his chin. His skin still itched but he manfully kept himself from scratching like he wanted to. “Harrumph, let me see. I'll draw up a scenario. You two work on the details. I'll see if I can get Gunny or someone else to run the opposing force.”

  Jethro wrinkled his nose. He knew what that meant. “Shit,” he said with feeling. He really didn't object in theory, after all, he didn't want a gimme. They needed an honest evaluation of the tech and tactics. Someone hard, harder than a real world scenario maybe, but that was how F platoon played the game. They played hard, they trained hard, and they played for keeps.

  The bear smirked. “Put your foot into it.”

  “Yeah. But um, one request. Can we make this a blind test? Let them think of what they have in mind, but don't tell them what we've got beyond a repel boarders scenario.”

  The bear chuckled, nodding. “Ah, yes, that's good. Just remember they've seen your tricks during hell week. Plus they've read your reports on the new tech toys and things we've been working on.”

  “Can we do a hard suit test? I mean, we've got a couple of dozen people in armor now. Use the suits or a full up...”

  The bear reluctantly shook his massive head no. “No, something tells me that's out. We're up for a full test yearly but this year has a full schedule with the setting up of the base. We'll see. Sims for now I bet. I'll pass it up higher though.”

  “Okay.”

  “And I'll play ref since I know what you have in mind.”

  “Okay,” Jethro sighed.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Jethro's idea sparked other ideas from the squad. Sergei wanted a mortar system, something beyond what his suit currently had. “I want tubes on my thighs, my hips, everywhere!” he said.

  “You know you won't have any place to store ammo right?”

  “Um...” The liger's ears flattened outward. “Shit.”

  “Right,” Riley drawled. “Sometimes kid, it's not the number of guns your suit sports, it's the amount of ammo you've got, and how you use the guns you have. Besides, stick tubes all over this thing and you'd have a serious mobility problem.”

  “True,” Sergei sighed, clearly put out over having his dream shattered by a healthy smack of reality. “Okay, so that's out.”

  “What about a sniper?” Letanga asked. Riley and the others turned to him. “You know, something big, long ranged?”

  “A long gun. Kid, we've got them,” Riley said, waving a hand.

  “But not a beam gun. Or a kinetic gun. Rifle I mean. I'm thinking something big enough for the suit to handle, something that will really make someone stand up and take notice.”

  “Um...”

  Jethro flicked his ears and then nodded. He turned to the computer and started to pull up specs of weapons. “I'm sure there is something. If it's kinetic it'll be heavy and limited by ammunition and energy. Letanga, any ideas?”

  “A point defense laser would be nice,” Letanga said, grinning.

  “Too much power needed,” Riley said automatically. “Barrel length...” He looked at them. Both cats had their ears forward, their body language showed intent interest. “Shit. You are serious. You are fracken insane you know that? Think of the recoil!”

  “True. Something kinetic or beam. A Gauss gun is too heavy though it might work if nothing else is possible. A graser from a fighter or assault shuttle if you've got it, maybe something from a front line tank. If not a particle beam. Not plasma, plasma has too much spread and is too short ranged. By the way, a beam weapon has no recoil Riley,” Letanga gently reminded the Sergeant.

  “Shit,” Riley said, shaking his head. Jethro pulled up an image of an armor holding a three meter long rifle. He triumphantly showed it to the others. “Now that's an elephant gun.”

  “Damn, it's a telephone pole,” Riley muttered, rubbing his brow. “And it's not my shop, I do armor, not weapons a ship or fighter uses... damn.”

  “I found something I like too!” Sergei said, showing them an image of a suit with tribarrel Gatling guns mounted under each arm. Belts ran to a large ammo pack on the back. Sergei grinned. “Can I have one? Can I? Can I?” he asked eagerly.

  “Oh boy,” Riley said.

  “It's Christmas!” Jethro joked, slapping the armorer on the shoulder.

  Riley made a face. “Maybe for
you. But do you have any ideas on the stress these systems will put on the armor? How to mount them? Keep the feeds from kinking? Storing ammo and parts? Weight and how swinging one of those things around will affect the servos and pistons in the armor?”

  “If it's been done before...” Ox said, rubbing his chin. “I wouldn't mind the Gatling guns. No offense Sergei, but you're a mortar maggot, your job is in the rear.”

  “Ah, I don't get to have any fun,” Sergei retorted, crossing his arms to pout once more.

  “We don't even know if any of this is even possible!” Riley said, still shaking his head.

  “We can find out. I believe both systems are from systems we have on hand. The Gatling guns are an old design. It's been adapted to just about everything, from point defense before beam weapons took over, to vehicles and fighters.”

  “And this long gun came from a fighter as well,” Letanga said. “We can check stores, see if they have any.”

  Riley sighed, shaking his head. “Fine, figure out what you need, make a list up, then we'll write out the report and submit it up the chain of command. If Major Forth approves it I'm going to request he and all of you have a section eight exam. You're all screwballs.”

  Sergei grinned, flicking his ears to the other cats. Jethro snorted. “We're just trying to do our part.”

  “I'm never going to get any sleep,” Riley grumbled.

  “As long as we're a danger to the enemy, we're happy,” Ox said, already getting to work. He was already working on CAD designs for the machine shop to fabricate. The mounting brackets would be tricky.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  “Everyone, may I have your attention?” Valenko rumbled. They turned to look at the bear. Most were wrist deep in a project. “We don't stand on ceremony in situations like this,” Valenko said over his shoulder. He turned. “Private?” he asked.

  “Sorry sir, slow I know,” a Veraxin chittered, entering the armory. He nodded as she daintily stepped into the room before he turned back to the room at large. “Squad, this is Private Pa'nash. Nickname Panache. She'll be taking Chirby's seat and armor.”

  “I’d like to say it's a pleasure to be here but with Chirby as a precedent, not so much,” the Veraxin chittered.