Jethro: First to Fight

by Hechtl, Chris

  “Thank you,” Jethro said simply, looking up at the signs. He counted off to the one marked with the four and then rounded the hanging drape to find a waxy looking Marine there. “Sleeping on the job?” he asked. His eyes studied her form. For a brief moment they locked on the missing limb then cut away. She had an IV in her, but from the look of it it was a saline drip. He could smell antiseptic but no blood, she'd been cleaned up thoroughly. There weren't any bruises, just the missing left leg from the knee down to mark her as injured. Maimed really, but not for long. They could clone her a replacement limb back in Pyrax. He noted her vitals. She was awake, so he cleared his throat. “I happen to know you're awake.” The tip of his tail reached out and danced under her nose. She wrinkled her nose and then batted it away with a weak hand.

  Asazi cracked an eyelid. “You know it,” she murmured weakly, smiling ever so slightly.

  “Good to see you alive,” Jethro said, flicking the tail behind his back once more, and safely out of reach.

  “How'd we do?” she asked.

  “We won.”

  “I knew that. Heard that earlier,” she said. “Eggs?”

  “Fonz. You and Kovu nearly bought the farm, but it looks like you'll pull through. Harley's got a flesh wound.”

  “Shucks. Guess better luck next time huh?” Asazi said.

  “Glad you're okay.”

  “I'm not okay.”

  “You will be. They'll clone you a leg soon enough.”

  She grunted, looking away. “Not the same.”

  “You're right, this one probably will be a little shorter than the other. You'll walk all funny,” Jethro said.

  She snorted. “You're starting to sound like Harley.”

  “Perish the thought,” Jethro replied with a sniff of disdain. “You really are all drugged up if you're thinking that.”

  “Funny.”

  “Firefly's a bit banged up, but not much. I wonder, are they going to ship you back home or are they going to ship you to the station? The station hospitals are first rate, right up there with Commander Thornby. This Doctor Trask is some piece of work.”

  “Pass,” Asazi said.

  “You know they'll most likely stick you in stasis right? For the return? It could be a year before they defrost you. And then months of rehab.”

  “I think I like that idea,” Asazi said, stretching and then tucking her hands behind her head. “A year of sleep? I think I really, really like that idea after what we went through.”

  Jethro snorted softly.

  “Thinking about getting shot too?” she teased, smiling wickedly.

  “Tempting but no. I've got to get back to work. Someone's got to carry the load while you and Kovu are off loafing.”

  “It's a hard job, but someone's got to do it,” Asazi quipped with a grin. “Good to see you here. Tell the others I said hey. And tell Sergei I'll give him a noogy later.”

  “Right,” Jethro drawled, stepping back from her bed. The SBA was looking at him pointedly. He nodded in her direction. “I've got to go. Behave.”

  “No thanks. If you could send over some handsome looking nurses or SBA's...” Asazi said wickedly.

  “Ah, now I know, you're match making. Women,” Jethro said, shaking his head.

  “Don't you just know it. A nice, handsome doctor mom said...” she grinned as Doctor Standish paused in passing them by. He turned to her in confusion. She smiled again. “Yum.”

  Jethro caught the flush on the doctor's face. Even his ears turned red. The panther chuffed in laughter as he headed out.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Firefly quickly made good on its repairs with the station's help over the next week. The station provided medical support for Firefly's Marine and naval wounded as needed. It would take weeks to repair the damage to the station, some damage couldn't be repaired without admiral Irons and his keys.

  Two of the industrial replicators had been damaged in the fighting, they had been scrammed by their safety systems. Two others had been tampered with by the Horathian's. Apparently someone had gotten cute and had tried to make weapons with them, both were locked down and had purged themselves.

  The crew was surprised at how fast the station could make things, including repairs to itself and the ship despite the damage and downed replicators.

  The AI Firefly did a survey of the system, he discovered the bots and equipment the admiral had left behind. The small refinery the admiral had placed in orbit of the nearest gas giant had been stripped by the pirates and destroyed for some reason. Taylor sighed when he got that news. “The admiral entrusted us with its care. I guess we botched it.”

  “You did what you could with what you had. No sense crying over spilled milk,” Hishina said, shaking her head. “I should have helped. I knew the risks, but I was stupid.” She had really come out of her shell, now openly moving among the military personnel. Her secret wasn't quite public, but everyone in the station's command structure knew it now.

  “Yard Dog inc is still sorting out the damage. The damn Horathians did a number on equipment. And people...” Rasha looked away, biting her virtual lip. Thousands had died, thousands more were wounded physically and emotionally. Some like Regina hadn't survived their capture. Sparks hadn't taken her death well.

  “Prime station will rebuild the refinery, we don't have a choice, we need the fuel,” Hishina said quietly. The Warners turned to her. “We're going to double it, then triple it in the next several months.”

  “I missed that.”

  “You two have been busy,” Hishina replied, smiling politely. “We are also planning to build additional automated ion tugs to haul the fuel to the station since most of them had been destroyed or taken by the pirates. That took a bit to get through the debate, it seems D'red had it in his head that Mairi would lend her tug and services for the job,” she said wryly.

  “Not hardly. Not that distance. And not for a cut of the profits,” Rasha sniffed.

  “True. Which I pointed out to the council. I also pointed out that we'll need the tugs eventually. I think repairing things like the water park and other facilities can wait until our fuel supply is assured.”

  “Ah. True,” Taylor said nodding.

  “I'll send you the transcript...” Hishina said, then cocked her head, tucking her hands in her sleeves. “In fact, done.”

  “Thank you,” Rasha said, bowing to the other woman.

  “We have the two docking slips, the one the admiral built as well as the Yard Dog shipyard. Both are a bit banged up, and I understand we've lost over half our working force, but once we get things straightened out on both, we need to put them back to work. Fast,” Taylor said.

  “I know. And you have my support for both. I think we can count on most of the council right now to back it, if we word the proposals right and keep the price reasonable.”

  “As our governor said, the price of liberty...”

  Hishina held a delicate hand up. “I know. I remember. I remember the origin of that quote, I'm from Terra. The pirates used the bots as target practice. See if we can get teams to cannibalize the most damaged and use the parts to repair others as we get through the tugs and other repairs.”

  “Good call,” Rasha replied, nodding.

  “I'm not just a pretty face,” Hishina said, smiling ever so slightly. Rasha smiled back. “I'm also a Yard Dog, even though only Clio knew.”

  “I see,” Taylor said, now off balance.

  Hishina turned her smile his way briefly. “It's a long story. Yan may have been... troublesome before, but I supported you the best I could from behind the scenes. No longer. Yan will no longer be a hindrance, or at least not as much of one. He now has graphic proof of the pirates and the need to have a defense.”

  “Agreed. And we'd like your continuous input in the shipyard,” Taylor said.

  “I'll do my best.”

  “We all will. Or try to.”

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Analyzing the enemy wreckage t
hey discovered that two of the corvettes were new built. They were Frankenstein creations, with grafted on commercial grade hyper drives and engines, but the frames were new, copied from a corvette frame. As was the life support and some of the electronics, though they were civilian grade. A few bits were from cannibalized ships but not many.

  “It's a sobering thought. If they can commit something like this, you're sure it's new?”

  “Yes. Yes the frame was built less than four years ago,” the tech replied with a grim nod.

  “If they can commit something like this here now....”

  “There's no telling what they can do. Or what they have tucked away or in the pipeline. They aren't just salvaging ships. There is a level of innovation we didn't anticipate.”

  “You mean that they're making their own.”

  “Yes, and since they're willing and able to send them out this far from their home system... That more than anything else scares me.”

  “It could be an isolated incident. Testing them in the field.”

  “Or they could be ships that they used as prototypes to get the manufacturing steps down and that they don't need any more. Ships that they don't need anymore because they're making more. Making better ones. The problem is we don't know. We need intel. Badly.”

  “We need the Admiral,” Firefly sighed. The techs and officers nodded as one.

  “It seems we're all on the same page. Pity we don't know where he is,” Mayweather sighed. She rubbed her brow and closed her eyes in frustration.

  “It's not just the two corvettes ma'am. Sir,” the tech said, nodding to the officers. “It's also the gunships. I noticed they're all the same make. Knock offs of a Terran Hunter Killer. All of them. Now either someone got their hands on a depot, or...”

  “Or they built them. Why not? After all, gunships are parasite craft, they don't need a hyperdrive. They don't need a large drive, shields, or reactor either,” the XO said, shaking her head. “Damn.”

  The Captain frowned. “What I don't understand is, how could they build ships at all? I thought the lock outs prevented it?”

  “Only if they used replicators. It doesn't take a replicator to weld ma'am,” the tech said.

  “But...”

  “Metal ma'am. Metal can be formed and shaped in any number of ways. You can cast it, you can make sheets or blocks and then shape it in a mill. You can cut it with a laser, and then use a press to form it that way too.”

  “Oh? A press?”

  “A hydraulic press. The press can be used as a stamping mill to stamp out parts, or could have dies in them to do press breaks for angles. Here,” he said, going over to a bulkhead.

  “That's not really necessary... okay,” the XO said with a sigh, stopping herself as he pulled a bulkhead panel off and carried it over. He turned it so they could see it.

  “See here?” he said, pointing to the edges. “See the ninety degree bend? A press break. The shape? Throw it in a stamping mill before hand or through a pair of rollers.” He ran an appreciative hand over the piece of metal. “You don't have to use a replicator. Sometimes the old ways work just fine.”

  “And joining the pieces?” the Captain asked.

  “Spot welds to tack it together. If you need a more serious bond, screws, or glue, or a full weld. A serious weld can be stronger than the metal pieces it joins together.”

  “Okay, but you're talking about steel, but that's not steel,” Shelby said, indicating the panel.

  The tech looked at it. “So?” he asked looking at her. “You can use steel, aluminum, zinc, or an alloy. Or even plastic. It doesn't matter ma'am. Not for something as miscellaneous as this.”

  “What about power? You know a reactor? Or a hyperdrive? Weapons?”

  “Some pieces can be made like this, sure,” the tech said, going back and returning the bulkhead panel. He used the palm of his hand to slam it in place and then jiggled it to make sure it was secure. “But remember the civilian grade mentioned earlier? Booty.”

  “Oh? OH!” the Captain said, eyes suddenly wide. “So that's what they've been doing with it all!”

  Shelby crossed her arms, frowning. “That's right. The pirates have been stealing everything not nailed down. Obviously they've been shipping it back to Horath, and now we know they have been putting it all to use. They built what they could, then installed what they couldn't. It's diabolical.”

  “It's not fair,” the Captain grumbled.

  “If you aren't cheating...” Shelby said, leaving the rest hanging. She smiled.

  “Right. Not trying hard enough,” the Captain said, gathering herself. She tugged on the hem of her jacket. “Not good.”

  “Right.”

  “No, I'm thinking about...” she watched her audience turn expectantly to her. “About the numbers they have. Just how many of these ships have they built? And if they were willing to use them here... what does that mean elsewhere?”

  Slowly Shelby's eyes widened. Firefly nodded grimly, as did the Warners. “No, not good indeed,” Taylor murmured. His wife looked at him. So did Hishina. “And if these are small ships, what else have they been building? Anything larger say?” His wife shivered, reaching for him and taking his virtual hand in hers.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  They broke for a rest break, the organics picked at a light lunch then stared off as a heavy weight fell upon their shoulders. “I wonder,” Shelby said softly.

  “What?”

  “Nelson was right about the steel, I hadn't thought of it. Simple nickel steel would work for casings and a lot of things. And alloys, definitely a possibility. Using a milling machine? The press break? A stamping press?” She shook her head. “You could go a long ways making parts that way. We have a press in our machine shop here on Firefly. Now multiply that a couple thousand times in a factory? Break it down into assembly steps?”

  “True.” The Captain said. “Frightening but true. But still, it won't work for everything.”

  “No, but it will go a long ways to fill in the gaps.”

  “True.”

  “Can we do the same in Pyrax? Or here? I mean, dad's doing something like that with the orbital forts and the stations and everything...”

  “We do have all those frames,” the Captain murmured. “And unlike the Horathians, we can make some milspec parts. Not a whole ship, but a lot of other things.”

  “True.”

  “Could we do that? Go the civilian route? Make up for what we don't have with civilian parts? It's not milspec, but it's something right?” Shelby asked, fists clenched.

  The Captain set her fork down and then dabbed at her chin with her linen napkin. After a moment she set it down on her salad and then rested her hands together in front of her. “Some but not all. And no, we still can't make hyperdrives or civilian power plants either. The same restrictions apply. It's a far cry from making a cover plate to part of a reactor and making the actual reactor components.”

  “I agree.”

  “Could Antigua do it?”

  “Some I bet. No weapons, no milspec parts, but I understand they can make some civilian grade parts. EPS conduit, but we can do that ourselves, and milspec to boot.”

  “I'm thinking of the factory station. And the ground. They could make quite a bit.”

  “Yes but your father can too.”

  “Yes, but with two systems making parts, say, oh, put those freighters to work running loads back and forth...”

  “A trade?” the Captain asked, cocking her head.

  “Yeah. Why not?”

  “Okay. And the gunship idea is a good one. If they can do it, we can too. One of the things we can do is drive components. We can find work arounds with the right motivation. And we've got motivated people,” the Captain said, waving a hand.

  “Gunships are deathtraps,” the XO said, wrinkling her nose.

  “Speaking for someone who's served on one, I fully agree. But any port in the storm number one. Any platform will do right now. And quantity,
that's a big thing right now.”

  “Hmm, orbital platforms. We could make orbital forts here too... Ship in the weapons, maybe a fighter squadron...” Shelby said, tapping her lips with her fingers.

  “Very true,” the Captain agreed, sitting back. She smiled politely as her steward cleared their plates. When he was gone she frowned. “Who was it who said Quantity? Something about it having a quality?” she asked, wrinkling her nose in thought.

  “Ensign Tr'j'ck and Ensign Rator'll both have said it a time or two. But the origin is Russian I believe. Something famous. Stalin I think.”

  “Thanks for the history lesson,” the Captain said dryly. “Now you're going to have me wondering who it was and why he said it.”

  “You could always assign a midshipman to look it up as homework,” the XO said with a teasing smile.

  “Good idea,” the Captain replied, grinning a little. She turned, looking at her virtual window to the station beyond. “They need ships here. A lot of them. Not just small ships, ships like Firefly.”

  “Yes, yes they do Captain. I'm not sure how they can handle bracing and mass...” Shelby waved a hand, putting the thought aside.

  “What bothers me is all the hulls in Pyrax. Just sitting there,” the Captain said slowly.

  “Oh? We'll get something going.”

  “Not what I mean. I'm thinking about the pirates. If they know they're there... and the facilities... if this was such a juicy target, what about Pyrax?”

  “Dad would never let them get their hands on them. He'd blow them apart. Nuke the yard,” Shelby said automatically, shaking her head.

  “True. And that would be a waste,” the Captain said, leaning forward and taking a sip of water from her cup. “We've got to do what we can to make sure that doesn't happen.”

  “Agreed,” Shelby replied vehemently.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Sergeant Riley, Ox, and two other Marine apprentice armorers had their hands full servicing the armor and repairing the battle damage. Riley picked up the enemy armor, there was enough for two suits, but the rest was in his opinion, “junk”. It was fed to the recyclers.