Jethro 3: No Place Like Home

by Chris Hechtl

  “Get up. Go eat and clear the suit. Recharge it later. You haven't moved about, but I bet you've used a lot of energy just with the processors,” the ship AI said. “Make sure you drink plenty of fluids. The nanites are keeping you from dehydrating, but it's a good idea to replenish the water with a fresh supply to allow your body to get rid of waste products. And you need more supplements and minerals,” the AI said. “Part of that tired feeling is a lack of food.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jethro said, going through the motions as he got to his feet and moved out. He felt better as he made his way to the mess. More awake, alert, though he wasn't sure for how long. He keyed the helmet off, ignoring the soundless protest from Bast. He took a breath of fresh air, then another. He nodded to a Marine in passing and then kept moving.

  He had strange feelings, curiosity he realized weren't completely his own. His head and sensors darted about on their own, scanning this and that with a sense of wonder which amused him. After he ate though he felt tired again. “Now what? I can't keep doing this,” he sighed.

  “Go get cleaned up. The nearest head is down the companionway and on the starboard side. When you've finished, let me know,” Firefly said.

  “Thank you, sir, for being so helpful. I don't mean to be a bother,” Jethro said.

  “I know you don't, Gunny. And yes, I am very busy, but I have my orders too. Don't worry about it,” Firefly responded.

  Jethro did his business in the head and then stepped out. “Done,” he said, sending a signal to the ship's AI. Bast wanted to close his helmet, but he fought the urge. He realized she was acting shy; she only wanted to close the helmet when other people were near. “It's okay,” he murmured softly, trying to reassure the AI.

  As he looked around he noted a feeling of interest, of...kittenish delight at everything. Everything seemed new, yet old. The eyes on his HUD were bigger, brighter. They seemed to dart around to look at things. His suit had a mind of its own, constantly pulling him off to see something. He learned after fighting it to just go with it. He looked like a drunk to a few people. Commander Firefly intervened and ordered the crew to carry on.

  “I'm going to go to the troop bay, sir,” Jethro said.

  “You may want to reconsider that; the Marine troop bay is rather full and in use,” Firefly said. Jethro stopped. The ship AI redirected him to an unused closet.

  Jethro keyed the closet open. There was a janitor droid in the corner, some supplies, but not much else. “In here, sir?” He asked, sounding doubtful.

  “In there. As the old saying goes, any port in a storm Marine,” Firefly said. “Don't tell me you can't sleep anywhere? You're a Marine,” the AI teased.

  “Yes, sir. Just...I don't want to get into trouble or anything. I don't want to be reported AWOL.”

  “You aren't. I've got your back son. Just get in there and relax,” the AI said.

  Jethro got in, closed the hatch behind him and then sat. His vision adjusted to the stygian darkness.

  The panther felt his partner's disappointment, then yawn. After a moment she started to get sleepy. He did as well.

  He tried to stay awake to read some of the files the Admiral had uploaded to him. It didn't make sense. After a couple of pages his mind drifted and he too fell into a doze.

  Chapter 18

  Captain J.G., acting Commodore Firefly, was busy, busier than the AI had ever been. He'd had a brief exchange with Commander Sprite, a sort of catching up, with an exchange of logs and then a large amount of orders, note files, tutorials, and even a few suggestions. The AI skimmed the digests, some were encrypted, but others he noted were open for all. Some were even directed to the various colleges.

  The ship AI was still up nearly maxed out on his computing capacity. There was just too much to do and the clock was ticking exorbitantly downward to zero, the time they had to depart.

  What bothered Firefly the most was that there were no orders to that effect yet. Not in regards to most of the ships in the fleet. He checked the status, using his newly acquired flag rank. Many of the ships were functional again, in fact most were. But some were barely functional, ships like Xavier, the Arboth destroyer, or the Antelope destroyer, formally known as the Cream de Corsair and rechristened the Mary Apple after the newly deceased former Captain of the destroyed corvette Romeo.

  The ship's AI was fortunate though; if he was busy, he knew Commander Sprite was doubly so. The admiral's chief aide and adjunct was everywhere, overseeing the repairs, the crew shuffling and integration, coordinating the logistics, and overseeing the intelligence gathering. The AI was even cooking off dumb AI for the various warships, while also interfacing with the Admiral in the replications efforts.

  Was the Admiral considering a suicidal frontal attack on the Horathian empire Firefly wondered? It was possible, the AI thought, checking the tankers in the small rag tag fleet. They had the fuel to get them to Finagle, one jump away from Horath. But they'd have to refuel there, and if they ran into an enemy fleet along the way...it would be ugly, the AI realized. He didn't have the spare processing power to run sims, which bothered him, but he knew it wouldn't be good. No, they had a fleet train and some of the ships were barely held together. No, something else was afoot.

  Firefly was certain the lack of orders wasn't due to the Admiral keeping anything under wraps, he was probably still wrestling with his own conscience while trying to decide what to do. The smart move would be to return to Pyrax, at least initially. There he could take control of the military forces, and if necessary, declare martial law, order investigations, and have a general political house cleaning there.

  The AI realized that was something he, and probably a lot of the military people wanted, but not necessarily the proper thing. It would definitely skirt the constitution, and he knew from past experience the Admiral was loath to tamper with a democracy. No, Admiral Irons was going to do something else. What, was the question.

  The AI decided to turn it into an experiment in perspective. He applied what the Admiral knew from their intelligence digests as well as the updates he had passed along. Two things struck out right away—the increased activity and formal fleets the Horathians had put together and the means they were doing that. Specifically, the new construction that bothered the ship AI as well. The ship AI and no doubt the crew had passed on stories and reports of their adventures, including the First Agnosta Marine Expedition, the bases the Marines had built there, and the near shut down of the Yard. The AI judged all would be relevant to the Admiral's decision, including the recruiting posts on Gaston and other worlds. After a second of processing in between indexing one of Oasis's memory files the AI judged there were two actions the Admiral could do.

  One, the Admiral could return to Pyrax, ignore the politicians, and build up for war. He could rebuild his fleet, resupply it, then strip it to the bone and then head in to enemy space for a final confrontation. Or what Firefly hoped would be a final confrontation.

  He judged that approach suboptimal based on the Admiral's past behavior and what intelligence they had available. They had confirmed reports Horath had capital ships, at least three, possibly more. They were defensive, none had active hyperdrives according to their sources, but that just meant they couldn't run if the Fleet came in to hammer Horath flat. The resulting battle or battles plural would be...ugly. Not on the order of the Xeno war, but close enough, the ship AI judged.

  The other option, the one he judged most likely, was that the Admiral would split their fleet. He would sent the worst damaged ships and most of the civilians back with Firefly to Pyrax, while he went on to another location. Most likely Antigua, judging from the Admiral's anticipated reaction to Captain Mayweather's message from Governor Randall. She had waited to pass it on until this moment the ship AI noted. They hadn't discussed it, but he judged the Captain was of the same mind he was, the Admiral belonged in Antigua, where he could do the most good.

  The ship AI noted the Admiral's approach and judged his mood as on a precipice
. With the right nudge he'd go over the edge. Hopefully this would work, he thought.

  “Antigua was quite different Admiral,” Firefly said as the human entered the wardroom.

  “Now you're reading my mind Captain?” Irons asked dryly.

  “Excuse me?” the ship AI asked, momentarily confused. Sprite chuckled.

  “Never mind. You were saying,” he asked as he took a seat.

  “Admiral, Antigua has changed. They were hit, not as bad as what you've told us about Hidoshi and the other worlds, but bad enough. Thousands dead on the station and on the planet.”

  “I see,” the Admiral said softly.

  “They've turned over a new leaf. We've left them a lot of ships and a skeleton crew to grow around. I know Commander Logan, excuse me; Captain Logan was planning on sending a relief mission to send supplies and to recall Fuentes. I have a personal message from Governor Randall to you, sir,” Captain Mayweather said, looking him in the eye. “He wants you back, sir. He's apologizing for what he did, and is desperate for you to return.”

  “Desperate,” the Admiral said.

  “Sounds about right. You fought the enemy off. I'm surprised he's not blowing it over,” Sprite said.

  “He's changed, Commander,” Mayweather said. “I didn't get a lot of time to talk with the man, but I did get a sense of him. He's cut from a different cloth than Walker. He's...I don't know, cleaner.”

  “I'll bet.”

  “Give them a chance, Admiral, they may surprise you. This Randall sounded sincere, and at least he's not a snake like the one we've got in Pyrax.”

  “True.”

  Irons mused over that. Randall had been a pain in the ass when the Admiral had been there, but he had genuinely not wanted the Admiral to leave. He was technically the lesser of two political evils. His personal message from Randall with a formal apology had been nice.

  “What do you think? He's not as bad as Walker. I've read the reports the Captain filed about him,” Sprite said to the Admiral.

  “True, he's not Walker. And Antigua is different than Pyrax.”

  “From what intel we've got, Randall is the man. Or at least the best we've got, Admiral. If we're going to have a chance in holding this together...”

  “All right,” the Admiral said nodding.

  “So, more running?” Sprite asked, sounding aggrieved and heartily tired. “You're not planning a frontal assault on Horath are you?” Irons shook his head. “Oh thank the spirits of space for small favors then,” the AI said sounding relieved.

  “I'm done running, Sprite.” He frowned. “We are done running. It's time to stand and fight.”

  “So are we returning?” There was a note of excitement in the AI's voice. Almost glee.

  “In a manner of speaking. But not to Pyrax.”

  “Oh hell, another long jump Admiral? Are you serious? With these ships? They are barely held together with band-aids and bailing wire! Rigging tape still...” Irons held up a hand to halt the complaint.

  “No. Not there either. We're returning to the one place we have a hope of standing firm and actually beating the Horathians at their own game. But we're going north by way of Kathy's World. I heard there is a Horathian ship in orbit there.”

  Captain Mayweather had picked up that little tidbit during the post battle interviews and computer interrogations. Her intel officer had picked up a partial memo of a ship that had been dispatched with extra soldiers to fulfill the task force's original objectives of taking Protodon and Kathy's World. The ship was a converted freighter, but there was no telling what havoc they could have unleashed on the supine ice planet.

  “We'll have to find out what is going on there, and if necessary, liberate them. Or not. We'll see.”

  “Antigua?” Sprite asked, sounding suspiciously excited.

  “Antigua it is,” he replied with a firm nod.

  “Hallelujah! About damn time,” she said with some satisfaction in her voice.

  “Don't rub it in, Commander,” he growled.

  “Well, I would never say you were slow and pig headed...sir,” Sprite said with a malicious twinkle. He snorted. “But I am glad you finally came around.”

  “We'll see. First we've got to get there. And we've got some work here to do beforehand.”

  “We are just outside Pyrax...” she suggested.

  “No.”

  “Just checking,” Sprite said, holding her virtual hands up. He shook his head.

  “What about Miss O'Neill?”

  “She'll understand,” Irons said quietly.

  “So, we're really doing this. Antigua,” Sprite said, testing it out. She sounded as if she didn't quite believe him.

  “Antigua,” Irons echoed. “And perhaps a visit into the past,” he said looking directly at her.

  Sprite looked uncomfortable for a long time. She had urged him to go there several times. Now that he was willing to pass that Rubicon she was no longer certain it was a good idea. Sometimes the past was left buried. There was no telling what they would find there, and the distraction could prove fatal in more ways than one. “What brought this change? The battle?”

  Irons pursed his lips and then shrugged. “It's time to put away ego. We've got a lot more at stake. I was just reminded of it. And well, this,” he waved a hand to the reports floating around him, “That just confirms it.”

  “If any of it is true,” Sprite replied.

  “I'm betting some of it is. Which means we've got to get our collective acts together and start working together. That means, among other things I need to pack my wounded pride and get with the program.”

  “Or we'll all hang separately,” Sprite replied with a moue.

  “Nothing concentrates people more than the threat of a hanging,” Irons quoted.

  “But the ships...”

  “Are going to need a lot of care, work and training. We've got some time on our hands, months in transit. We'll put that to good use. And if you can get over your objections, I'd hope you could help with some AI crew as well.”

  “A mother, at my age,” Sprite teased, smiling coyly. “Again.”

  “You've got the hips for it,” he teased right back.

  Sprite's eyes widened fractionally before she chuckled. “Admiral, that's the first time I've heard you say something like that!”

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “Don't be. It's all good. I'm glad you are starting to get a handle on things.”

  “We need to get the ball rolling.”

  “That sounds suspiciously like a lot of work coming,” Sprite said warily.

  Irons chuckled. “You know me so well,” he said.

  ---( | ) --- ( | )---

  Word of the plan hit the scuttlebutt grapevine like a lightning bolt. The crews reacted to the plan in various ways. There was a mix of excitement from some, but also disappointment, a trace of lingering resentment, concern and confusion on Firefly. But there was acceptance from the officers and from those who knew the situation.

  There was some debate on who would go where in the mess halls of the various ships. Some of the recovering refugees requested a return to Pyrax, some wanted to join the Admiral in his journey to Antigua. The AI forwarded the requests dutifully. That caused an additional shuffling around of the fleet personnel.

  Jethro heard about the intended plan and nodded wisely. He was still adjusting to Bast's presence, but he was now awake longer, more alert. He also realized the AI had been shy, making him sleepy after he had eaten in order to get him out of the area of other people.

  Shy or jealous of his contact with others. That had to end, he realized, and decided to do something about it. “So, the suit,” a tech asked.

  “It's special. Classified,” Jethro said. “I can't go into detail but...” he shrugged helplessly.

  “I'm okay with that I think, sir,” the tech said.

  “Gunny. I work for a living,” the panther said, cutting the new tech some slack. Usually you corrected a person if they stuck thei
r foot in their mouth a few times. If they didn't get it, then you had to step up the correction, using a bigger clue stick until they caught on. Most of it was just learning; the protocol would eventually seep in with time and training.

  “I'm...I can't get into details, but I've got an AI here with me. She's a bit shy, but she's adjusting.”

  “Really?” the tech asked, wide eyed. “An AI in the suit?” he asked, clearly interested.

  “Yes,” Jethro said. “She is young and well, adjusting. We've bonded. Look, it's complicated. As I said, I can't get into details. But well, I'm not malingering or anything. It's taking time to adjust.”

  “I see,” the tech said, nodding thoughtfully. His eyes were still wide with wonder. “You know, I've heard of AI, it's so...stellar to meet one. I mean, Firefly, excuse me, Captain, no, that's not right,” he said frowning thoughtfully.

  “Commodore,” Jethro supplied helpfully. “He's brevetted to Commodore since there can be only one Captain on a ship,” the panther explained patiently.

  The tech nodded, face clearing. “Yeah, that's right, sorry. I'm new. I just signed on a couple days ago.”

  “It's okay, we'll cut you some slack for a while. You'll get up to speed. You know you're in for some training when you get to Pyrax right?” Jethro asked. The tech nodded. “And probably college work.”

  “I know,” the tech said, smiling. Jethro flinched, feeling Bast's fight or flight reflex kick in. He had to remind himself, and her in part, that it was a natural reaction in humans to smile with their teeth showing, not a threat.

  “So what are you doing? Coding her?”

  “No,” Jethro said, shaking his head. “I'm not trained for that. I'm not an engineer by training.”

  “So...”

  “I'm a DI. Sniper, shooter, and of course noncom. The suit is old, before the Xeno war,” Jethro said.

  The tech's eyes widened again, comically wide. Jethro snorted softly in amusement; he should be used to that reaction he thought. He noted other crewmen, including a couple Marines he didn't recognize were listening in.