Jethro: First to Fight

by Hechtl, Chris

  He jotted out a quick e-mail thanking her and approving the plan, then sighed. He checked the schedule. He had another hour before the next shuttle to Anvil supposedly took off. He wasn't sure, the last three had been rescheduled. An alert e-mail hit his HUD. Apparently they were serious this time as he swung his legs off his rack and grabbed his space bag. He looked to see the others following suit.

  “Going my way?” he asked amused. Hurranna chuckled, but didn't answer, small hands flashing as she folded her uniforms and carefully packed her space bag.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Hurranna, Sergei, Letanga, and Jethro made their way from the shuttle's docking port through customs and into the interior of the station. Letanga split off with a silent wave, most likely heading off to see his folks.

  They entered familiar cat territory a few minutes later. Sergei sniffed the air in appreciation, then intercepted a football tossed his way. He chuffed and then tossed it back, eyes twinkling as a young tigress came over.

  “Glad to see he's in a good mood,” Jethro said, looking over his shoulder.

  “You going to do that thing? With Lotus?” Hurranna asked. Jethro nodded. “I'm going to do it too. Sergei and Letanga said pretty much the same thing.”

  “We'll have to come up with terms. Knowing Lotus she'd try to get us to let her pay us for the privilege,” Jethro said with a rueful sigh.

  “Maybe. I heard grams was working on that though.”

  “Oh great, the one selfless woman I happen to know and you females all gang up on her because she's making you look bad,” Jethro grumbled.

  Hurranna chuckled. “Yup, she's giving the rest of us a bad name. Can't have that,” she said, flicking her ears in humor.

  They split up and he headed off to the male guest quarters. This was their first full two week leave since boot. He was totally confused by the lack of direction right off, he changed into civvies and then stalled, unsure what to do. He had Lotus's link, but he didn't want to dive into that right off.

  “Not sure what to do?” a familiar voice asked softly from the doorway. He turned with ears forward, eyes brimming with amusement as the matriarch greeted him. “What no hug?” she asked dryly.

  He chuckled, coming over to exchange cheek rubs with her.

  “Now that's better. Sergei had to bear hug me. I think he'd do well as a chiropractor, he popped my back lifting me up off the deck,” she said.

  Jethro chuffed in humor, flicking his ears. “Hurranna and Letanga settling in?”

  “They are with their families. You my grandson seem to be a little lost,” she said. The elderly lioness looked at him with wise grass green eyes.

  He sighed. “I can't fool you can I?” he asked.

  “No, so don't bother trying,” she said.

  “I'm... not sure what to do. I'm going to see Lotus...” He shrugged.

  “She's busy. Busy for the next several days actually,” the matriarch replied. “Why don't you try to unfocus. Take in a game, drink a beer, relax and live a little,” She gently urged him gently.

  “Okay, I'll try grams,” he said softly.

  He did try, but the games and talk bored him. He didn't understand it, the angst people got up over a stupid sports game. Getting all upset over a game. Sports turned to video games, but he was wasn't interested in it. He tried meditation, but got bored with that as well. Restless he started exercising once more.

  Lotus finally made an appointment with him. He flicked his ears to the shy female. She was tiny, barely a meter tall. She was sweet, communicating by a tablet and text to voice reader. Hopefully something could be done about her soon, she deserved to have a voice.

  She set him straight with his accounts, set up a system of investments as well as programmed scripts for his automatic donation to the clan. She even went over his tax filing, correcting a few things and getting him a small refund.

  With that finished he thanked her and returned to trying to think of some way to relax.

  When he had trouble settling the matriarch sicked the kits and cubs on him. He had been surprised that the clan was no longer limited to just felines, now there were canines, ursines, and even a few chimerians he couldn't lump into one species. They all seemed to get along fine, which surprised him. The kids were a terror with each other, playing and having a grand old time.

  Horse playing with them was a blast, but eventually their energy wore him down. Finally he got drawn into story time. The kits were at first intrigued by his stories, but eventually they grew restless and tired of the stories of simulated combat. That got them into mischief.

  He started to enjoy training the kits, teaching them a few things he had learned with the matriarch, his father, and even a few things from the corps. He was surprised that they had other species in the clan crèche as well. There was a story there, but he never got the chance to ask the first week, grams had been all but a ghost.

  A week after they had arrived he finally caught up with grams for a cup of tea. She was quiet, in her nook with her shawl and rocker. A tablet rested in her lap. She smiled softly, aware of how the others protected her quiet time. He'd heard from some of the kits that she took more naps. He wondered if that was true. Grams had been known to sham, to get a kit to relax by pretending to sleep in a rocker. When the kit drifted off into slumber land she would carry them to a bed and tuck them in, then go about her business.

  “There are a lot of kits and cubs,” he murmured.

  “More than you know. Our population has exploded. We can have multiple births unlike the humans. It is a problem, everyone got on the bandwagon with having a kit when the admiral was around. Free love and all that,” she said wryly.

  He snorted. “Sorry I missed it,” he murmured.

  She gave him a sad look. “Unfortunately grandson, you can't mate with anyone here.”

  “Oh?” he asked, waving a hand to the pictures on the bulkheads around him. They were of various kits and adult cats. He pointed to a pair of leopards.

  “They unfortunately, are related to you darling. They are your first and second cousins,” she explained and then took another sip of tea. He grimaced. “Kissing cousins are bad for the blood. We've had enough of that as it is,” she finished.

  “Ah.”

  “Also, most are in a relationship. Some with cats of other species. The doctor is helping us with the medical issues.”

  “I see.”

  “The Neo clans are consolidating on Anvil. The other colonies have driven them out with this blasted Neo and alien life support tax talk.”

  “Shit.”

  “It's not official yet, but it's making its way through the committees in congress. Some of the colonies like Vesta have already enacted it, or at least started taking chunks out of Neo and alien pay. That's not going over well with them, so they hop a shuttle to here... Where we have to find something for them. The job market on Anvil has dried up.”

  “Oh, lovely. Well, there is the Marines.”

  “True.”

  “This is so bull.”

  “Yes, quite, it is bullshit. But we can't do anything about it. Anvil hasn't enacted the tax, and it seemed to be the gateway to the stars. Some of the clan leaders wish to leave. Others are encouraging our people to enroll in the college or in the navy.”

  “Or Marines,” he murmured.

  “True,” she replied, flicking her ears in humor. “There are other clans out there among the stars, we have been gathering information about their locations. Hopefully we can send some of our people to join them.”

  “Maybe,” he replied softly, thinking of his own breeding.

  “You can mate, just not breed here,” she said as if reading his mind. He snorted. She gently explained to him about a few Jaguars she'd heard of. She had checked, none were on the station and there weren't any in the last census. His grimace darkened further into a brooding one. “The good news is that as a Marine you will get chances to see those distant worlds... someday. Make sure you take full ad
vantage of such opportunities,” she murmured.

  He admitted he'd had thoughts about breeding, but had been distracted with life in the corps. “All work and no play made him a dull boy,” She reminded him gently, teasingly. She flicked her ears in humor at his embarrassed reaction. “Even the ladies appreciate an occasional romp with the right kind of male,” she said. “Perhaps that is a good idea, get your tubes cleaned so you'd settle down, and act less like a tomcat.”

  This got him laughing. “Eventually you will find someone for you Jethro. I know you want that deeply. A mate. It's programmed into us. It is a worthy goal.” She patted his arm. “Maybe in another system.”

  He was amused by that and nodded.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Relaxing one evening, Jethro received a media feed. He flipped through the various channels, there were a lot of them these days it seemed. He remembered when there had just been the station information channel and Knox news. Now there were dozens of networks, all vying for attention. He decided to take a moment to listen to each in turn. He regretted that decision almost right away.

  He was disgusted by conservative think tank opinions that the navy was being “heartless” in turning away refugees attempting to take over the stations. “After all it was made in Pyrax by Pyraxians with our materials! The governor should seize them with eminent domain!” One rather loud mouth human said. From the way he was dressed and sitting in an overstuffed leather chair he'd never really worked a day in his life.

  The panther flipped to the Knox news to get a fresh perspective. Knox always told it straight. There was a piece about the navy offering to make space colonies for a price, as well as selling some of their assets and how it had been going on for months. “So all this hoopla over the navy being heartless is bull. So, if it's bull, you know it, we know it, they know it, the question is why are we talking about it? They don't want these people here, they want them out, but even if the navy bent over backwards and gave them every station what then? They would have no food, no water, no life support... no life. The navy ladies and gentle beings is not a charity. It is there to protect our system and our sector from the pirates, to aide in disasters such as the port a prince solar flare and others, and to keep the peace. Not a hand out. They don't want to give hand outs but they expect the navy to do so? Does anyone else wonder why? And why now?”

  Jethro grunted. He copied that rant to his system and then posted it to the Marine forums.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Ox was drawn into the orbital fort design effort, despite working with Riley the armorer as his apprentice along with his duties to the squad and standing the occasional guard shift. The project intrigued him. The open nature of the design process did as well. The challenges were interesting, so far the various teams hadn't managed to figure out work arounds for the various flaws in the design. The replicator blocks were a major bottleneck.

  He used his experience with the shield and flight pack projects and turned the problem questions on their head. “If you can't go through, go around, there is always an answer, always a compromise. We may not like the fix, but if it works...” the Tauren said, tapping his chin with a screwdriver.

  “If it's stupid and it works it's not stupid. Gotcha. Like that shit Jethro tossed to the XO,” Riley said. By now everyone had heard about how the panther had casually come up with the idea of using a solar farm to solve the energy crisis.... which come to think of it, Riley thought, now rubbing his chin... “That may be the answer staring us in the face,” he said softly.

  “What?” Ox asked.

  “The farms. Solar farms.”

  The Tauren's massive nostrils flared in amusement. “Too far out.”

  Riley shook his head stubbornly. “Beamed power. Look, the conventional approach is to find a way to rig a poor man's fusion reactor right? Or a fission reactor. Or fuel cells, I've heard a few of the ideas are just plain nutty. But what about beamed power?”

  “And if it's interrupted in combat?” Ox asked.

  Riley shrugged. “Superconductor batteries. Stuff the fort with them. Enough to say, power the place for a day or a week or hell! Even a year!.”

  “Interesting. You are referring to a siege.”

  “In peace time the power wouldn't be needed anyway. Just enough to keep the batteries topped off and to run life support, sensors, communications, and stuff right?”

  The Tauren nodded slowly. “True.”

  “Okay, so...”

  “Now what?” Ox asked. He jotted the idea out in an e-mail made certain he made it clear Riley had come up with it, then shot it off.

  “Weapons,” Riley said. “I've had that problem too. We can't make missiles or missile launchers. We can't make energy weapons either. So, we've got a fort, stuffed with sensors and stuff, but it's just one big target.”

  “A target without shields.”

  “Yeah well, I thought about that already,” Riley said dismissively. Ox cocked his massive Tauren head. “Sure, remember the shields we've made? For armor? Why not do the same for a fort? Plate shields over the vitals.”

  “Um...”

  “Course we'd have a hell of a time with power... and getting hit with ship weapons...”

  “Not to mention if you only shield vitals it draws a map for the enemy, gives them a target,” Ox rumbled.

  “Yeah,” Riley sighed. “That too. But we can, I dunno, set up dummies and decoys,” he said.

  “True,” Ox said, eyes wide. He dumped these ideas into an e-mail and sent it as well.

  Firefly caught the e-mails and having an idle moment tuned in to the conversation. Ox finished repairing the pauldron he'd been working on and then set it on the worn counter. “Any more ideas on weapons?”

  “Huh?” Riley grunted. “Um, no, old school maybe. Chemical rockets and shit like that I guess.”

  “It's possible,” Ox said. “We can make parts for missiles. We don't have to use a replicator to make things after all. Not for everything,” he mused thoughtfully.

  “True,” Riley said. “Hey, what about kinetic weapons?”

  “Bullets?”

  “Sure? Why the hell not? They used bullets in point defense for a while right?”

  “Um...”

  “Yes,” Firefly replied, entering the conversation. “Are you referring to linear weapons Sergeant Riley?” the AI asked.

  “Yeah,” Riley said nodding. “Them things. I was thinking about making man portable ones a while back but well, everything and all,” he waved his hands to indicate how busy he was.

  “I see. A linear actuator is a good idea. Scaled up we could apply it.”

  “We could?” the stunned Sergeant asked, now wide eyed.

  “Yes.”

  “And then of course you could just stuff the asteroid with fighters and bomber craft,” Ox said casually. The AI's avatar turned to the Tauren. “I mean, you could fit what? An entire carrier group in a rock over a kilometer in diameter? They could then be on alert to an invasion.”

  “That is a very good idea,” the AI responded, nodding.

  “I actually am guilty of remembering that and not making it up sir,” Ox replied. “I remembered a story from my youth of a member of my family who served briefly in an asteroid fort as ground crew before being reassigned to the Nimitz.”

  “Fascinating,” Riley said. “But not what we're doing,” he said, waving to the armor pieces around them. Ox looked at the human and then nodded.

  “I believe you have solved quite a few of our concept issues Sergeant. Good work, both of you. Let me know of anymore,” the AI responded. When Riley just stared in surprise the AI cut the signal.

  “How did he um...”

  “I sent an e-mail,” Ox admitted. “And put in that you were the one thinking this stuff up.”

  Riley stared at him for a long moment. “Tattletale,” he finally grumbled, looking away. “I was just brainstorming. Bullshitting,” he said, eying the Tauren.

  “Yeah, well, it was
good bullshitting,” Ox rumbled, chuckling. “And it might get some people moving again.”

  “Yeah well, next thing you know they'll want to promote me or some stupid thing. I'm where I want to be, they'd better not,” Riley growled.

  This time the Tauren did laugh out loud, even when Riley turned to glower at him and then threw a rag over the Tauren's massive face.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  During his next 3 day pass, Jethro had trouble sleeping. He was now constantly dreaming of being in the suit. He started to have chronic lower back pain the second night. At first he'd considered it to be a product of his sleep position or muscle strain from working out, but when he checked his implant feed he realized the pain wasn't muscle related. It throbbed, a warm uncomfortable feeling, almost like a long term tooth ache.

  Rubbing his back he looked up the pain on the web. He found it could be kidney stones from drinking too little water and too much of the beer and other human drinks. He vowed to cut back. If he didn't feel better soon he'd have to see the doc, something Marines weren't at all thrilled with after the last rounds of poking and prodding.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Near the end of their leave, Jethro hooked up with some of his squad mates. It was too early to hit the bar, so they hit the park and gravitated to the basketball court. They sat on the picnic tables in the shade, eating a light lunch as they contemplated what to do next with their dwindling free time.

  Hurranna nodded her chin and flicked her ears to the humans on the basketball court. “Think they'd let us play?” she asked, looking over to Fonz.

  “Dunno,” Fonz replied, nonchalantly leaning back on his elbows. “I'm not sure it's worth the effort.”

  “Lazy,” Hurranna teased.

  “Nah, I know the Gunny will have us doing drills when we get back. But I also meant we'd cream them,” he said, turning to grab his beer. He took s a swig. “Right?” he said.