Jethro 3: No Place Like Home

by Chris Hechtl

  Jethro dug his toe claws into the deck; it was slick with blood from the two guys who had bled out. One had apparently been decapitated, the other had screamed himself senseless as he bled out from his missing hand. He slammed the guy in his hands against a bulkhead to subdue him, then held him there.

  The man tried to twist in his grip. Jethro felt anger bubbling but fought it down; he had to stay professional. He was tempted to just snap the bastard’s neck. It would be so easy, just a slight twist... but no, he had to stay true to form. Besides, he thought, looking at the golden eyes on his HUD, think of the paperwork involved.

  He felt his AI partner snort at that and then close her eyes briefly. He looked around the compartment. With him there in his armor all the fight and life had drained out of the Horathians in an instant. They didn't stand a chance, and they knew it. A few were fearful, a few insolent. One or two still kept an edge of sullen defiance. But they were cowed.

  Jethro slammed the ring leader up against the wall and then cuffed him with his free hand, rumbling a growl to keep the human fearful and obedient. The guy was still gasping, and only put up a feeble resistance as the panther locked his hands behind him. “Think you're the big man,” the guy gasped.

  Jethro set him down and then spun him. “What was that?”

  “Oh, so big in that fancy smancy armor,” the guy said and spat in Jethro's face. Jethro's eyes flared briefly. He snarled, deep in his throat. He put a hand on the guy's chest sinking the claws in just enough to rip the orange jumper he was wearing.

  “Oh, so tough,” the guy mocked. “Why don't you come out of that armor and try that?” he snarled.

  “I could, but why bother? If I tore you apart I'd just have a shit load of paperwork to deal with,” Jethro replied.

  He looked around and then nodded to Staff Sergeant Tony. The big yellow tiger nodded back and then flicked his ears. “I think it's funny,” Jethro said, returning his attention to his prisoner. Bast marked the man's tattoos with karats on his HUD; her scanners pierced the cloth like it was transparent. One showed an image of a woman being raped with lines under it. From the count he'd had over thirty-five women. There was another tattoo; this one of a skull. There were quite a few slashes under it, over sixty-nine. The guy was hard core.

  “What's that?” The tough asked.

  “This,” Jethro said. “How many people have you taken prisoner? Hmmm? Made to feel helpless. How many have you beaten? Raped? By that tat on your right peck I'd say thirty-five. Murdered? Sixty-nine? Wow. Thanks for that, now we can tell the prosecution that.”

  The guy sputtered, sinking into a defiant rage. His blue eyes glared at Jethro. Jethro snorted. “The tables have turned,” he said. “You're about to become some homie's round bottom boy. They'll love your potty mouth and tough guy attitude in prison. I'll bet that'll go over well. I wonder, will you squeal when they bend you over and shove their dicks in your ass and down your throat? Just like one of the girls you used to rape?”

  “You...you...”

  “I bet you'll like it after a while. A cherry like you, oh, they say once you take it that way you can never go back,” Jethro said. “And you're just trembling with eagerness aren't you?” he murmured wickedly.

  “Shut the fuck up! Damn animal!” The guy snarled, spittle hitting Jethro's armor.

  Jethro chuckled a purr, ears flicking. He was now in control of himself and the situation, and starting to enjoy it. He had been taunted by the best in boot; this piker couldn't hold a candle to Gunny Schultz or the others. “Admit it, you are looking forward to it,” Jethro said quietly. “Like a virgin,” he crooned, sing songing.

  The guy sucked in a breath and then let it out, puffing a bit as his face turned red. “Like a little virgin, all scared and excited,” Jethro said wickedly with a feline grin. He knew based on Bast's heat signature reading of the guy that he was mortified.

  “And you're eating this up. I bet you fondle yourself thinking about it,” the tough said, trying to get himself under control. He struggled but knew it was useless. He kicked the cat's armored leg, but it was like kicking a steel pillar. He did more damage to his own foot than the cat. Jethro snorted; ears flicking in amusement. He straightened, checking his HUD. Marines had filed in, securing the other prisoners. All the prisoners were being secured and searched.

  “Boy, have you got the wrong species,” Jethro replied, shoving the man into the waiting hands of two Marines. “He's all yours,” he growled. “Now I need to go clean my armor.”

  ---( | ) --- ( | )---

  Valenko checked on the Veraxin officer the next morning. They lacked a medic, so he was concerned about the bug. Esh'z refused to go into stasis; he apparently had a plan. He spent the first day in the infirmary, quiet as his implants and biology dealt with the wounds. His implants had cauterized the eye wound, but PFC Kiara had had to work on his wounded joints. She'd used hemostats to stop the bleeders until she could stitch them back together. Fortunately the cat had been quick enough and had experienced enough trauma triage during their boarding actions to be able to handle the task.

  Esh'z had complimented her on her work when she was finished. He would regrow the lost eye in a year or so; that was normal. Besides, he had three others.

  As he recovered in the crowded infirmary for a couple days he attempted to listen in to the Horathian prisoners. They remained quiet though, not talking even when the meals were delivered. Each was shackled with medical restraints to their beds and carefully monitored by the mechs and Marines stationed in the compartment.

  When he realized he wasn't going to get much from the wounded Horathian the disappointed bug transferred to his quarters to finish his recovery. He had all intel reports forwarded to him. The Veraxin fixated on El Dorado, certain that was why the Horathians had attacked him, not just because he was an alien.

  “The implications of this, that they would go through such lengths to protect a secret...to kill their own, even a brother to kill brother?” The Veraxin demanded.

  “It is odd.”

  “El Dorado by definition was a myth on Terra. It was known as a golden city, a Shangri-la. Greedy humans in the planet's past had searched for it for centuries. Could they have found such a city?”

  “Earth is long gone.”

  “I remember that,” the Veraxin replied. “I was just brainstorming. Could it be a city like Eternia on Antigua? No? What about a city station like Antigua? Or are they referring to Antigua's station?” The Veraxin mused.

  “It could be,” the bear said. “Though we know about it, so why they'd kill to protect it...” he shook his head.

  “Let us not jump to conclusions. The code name could be a cover for something else, or false information planted as enemy propaganda. It could be an elaborate ruse to draw us into a trap. Unfortunately, all we have is suppositions right now.”

  “And the fact that they are willing to kill to protect the secret,” the bear reminded the Ensign.

  The Veraxin moved his bad arm feebly. “Don't remind me, sir.”

  “Sorry,” the bear said, shaking his great head. “But you needed the reminder,” he said brutally, eying the Veraxin. “You've made some mistakes. Go over them. Fix them. Learn from them. Don't do that again.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And don't be so zealous. Work up to your target. Remember your training,” the bear urged.

  “Sir, you've had intel training?” The Veraxin asked in surprise.

  Valenko snorted. “Why so surprised? Yes, I've taken a course or two. But a lot of what I learned I learned on the beat when I was on Anvil. You don't just go up to a perp and expect them to spill. I mean, there are times when a bit of intimidation works, but subtlety works best.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “It takes time.”

  “But...I want to be the one to...” The Veraxin shrugged uncomfortably.

  “Yeah, you want to be the one to discover the big secret. Sometimes it isn't about being the one to get the glory
but being a team player. You are obviously not the one to get anything out of them, right?”

  “Yes, sir. Their Xenophobia.”

  “Right,” the bear nodded. “So, find another approach, even if it is a long-term one. Dangle a carrot, try a little honey...”

  “Honey?” The bug asked in confusion.

  “Old saying,” the bear replied seemingly amused. “You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar,” the bear quoted.

  “I thought Terran flies were drawn by blood, sir?”

  The bear fought the urge to roll his eyes in exasperation. “True, but this saying probably predates human's understanding of that. Or they meant another insect. Who knows.”

  “So why say it?”

  “Some things stand the test of time. They stay in use because they have some sort of lesson at their core. In this case, use persuasion, subtle bribes, and time instead of a direct blunt approach.”

  “Carrot versus stick,” the Veraxin quoted from his own training. “And yes, sir, I do know such things take time. And I appreciate the hint about subtlety. An outright bribe would be too obvious.”

  “Bingo,” the bear said with a smile. “For now though, stay away from the prisoners. Out of sight, out of mind. Let them settle down and see if they attempt to build a relationship with the guards.”

  “And monitor their interactions with each other to build profiles that way,” the Veraxin said, signaling first level agreement.

  “Now you're getting somewhere.”

  “Not yet, but I hope so, sir,” the Veraxin replied.

  ---( | ) --- ( | )---

  Jethro tried to talk to Bast, but he didn't get anywhere. She sent emotions but wouldn't verbalize beyond feline sounds like he wanted. He could just see her sometimes, a ghost of a flat black cat with glowing golden eyes in the background of his HUD or in his mind when he closed his eyes.

  “Look, I know you can talk, so why don't you?” he asked. She seemed to shrug on his HUD. He shook his head. “Well, you and I have to get a checkup. So behave yourself.” She seemed amused by that statement.

  He tried to talk to her, to ask leading questions as he walked to main engineering. She didn't respond, just seemed amused, then bored. He ended up stymied and frustrated. Eventually he caught up with the Tauren and spoke a little about it to Ox. He tried to keep it general and light, without crossing into the classified bits. “Regret not tagging along with the Admiral?” Ox asked when he threw up his hands in frustration.

  “No, I'm where I need to be. He is where he needs to be or will be.”

  “I know what you mean,” the Tauren said.

  “I don't know what to do. It's so damn...ugh!”

  “Maybe she's like a baby. You know, a baby Neo can't talk for a while. Humans too. So...” Ox mused, rubbing his chin with his big fingers.

  “It's possible,” Jethro replied cautiously. He felt resentment again, this time directed at him. “But I'm not sure. The problem is I don't know enough. We'll just deal with things one day at a time.”

  “I think it's past time young lady that you and I had more of a face to face. And I think since Ox is our resident suit tech and acting chief engineer, you can behave yourself long enough to show yourself,” he said firmly. Jethro jacked into a holo emitter. “Come on, show yourself,” Jethro demanded.

  She growled but then meowed. He sent her a feeling of interest, what he hoped was genuine curiosity and exasperation. “Come on, I want to see you. I remember seeing you before; you were cute. Come on, it's not going to hurt,” he said, trying to keep his voice intrigued and supportive.

  After a moment she finally step out into light on his HUD. She was a small black feline, about the size and form of a Terran house cat but obviously young. But she had hand paws and gold circuitry in Egyptian style eye makeup around her eyes. A gold collar of circuitry and code encircles her throat. Her ears seemed long. The tufts of her ears were also gold. She yawned and stretched. She was definitely feline, with her sharp needle like gold teeth and small tongue.

  She seemed like a kitten, but regal. She posed, and then licked her shoulder in disdain when he didn't respond right away. “She is quite something,” Ox breathed. The AI looked at him with a curious expression. The Tauren bowed. “A pleasure and honor to finally meet you Bastet,” he rumbled.

  She disdained a response, instead keeping her regal look.

  “Yes, she is a bit haughty but quite beautiful. And I see she has a bit of growing to do,” Jethro murmured. Bast's eyes turned to him for a moment. He felt a flicker of amusement from her. After a long moment of self-cleaning she yawned again and then curled up for a nap. Her shape faded from view after a moment until only the ghosts of her eyelids remained.

  “And that's that,” Jethro murmured.

  “I don't understand. What happened?” The Tauren asked.

  “She showed herself to us. I thought she'd be...well, not human, but well, a Neo. Not a...pet,” Jethro said. He winced, expecting a growl of disapproval but not getting one. Apparently she really was taking a nap. He snorted softly.

  “She's...a she right?” the Tauren asked carefully.

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe she's growing. Whatever is going on, and I know it's all classified up to the hilt, if she's some sort of smart AI, and I'm guessing she is, she probably needs time to grow into a person like an organic does. To make and build connections. If she's sleeping a lot that explains that. AIs make connections for their index and for other things when they sleep like we do. It's sort of when they move things from their temporary memory to their long term.”

  “Ah. So you're saying she'll...I don't know, grow up?” Jethro asked, wondering what she'd look like. A full Terran panther? With those eyes and circuits? Or would she look like a Neo?

  The Tauren shrugged. “Eventually. We're all cute at that age, or so I heard. Enjoy it while you can. I'll bet she'll be a full-on Egyptian goddess demanding you worship her before you know it,” Ox teased and then snorted.

  Jethro exhaled noisily. “Great, that's all I need. It's bad enough females like grams has us doing it whenever we show up, but having one in my head all the time?” Jethro growled. There was a brief flicker of eyes on his HUD before they lazily closed again. He sighed heartily, shaking his head.

  “With a woman in your life this...intimate with you, you're screwed Jethro, best just make the most of it,” Ox chuckled.

  “Gee thanks,” the panther sighed.

  ACT III

  Chapter 22

  “You're on Commodore,” Renee said to the ship AI, nodding at his avatar. “We don't have the reaction time to get the warning out fast enough, you do.”

  “And I have the codes. I've created a canned message. I'll squeal it and a sitrep first. The AI in the fleet will pick it up and process it and get the organics on board.”

  “Good, just as long as they don't blow us up. It'd suck to come this far only to get killed by our own side,” Janice said darkly.

  “True,” Renee said. “So let's not. Time?”

  “Ten seconds to exit,” Janice said looking at the clock. She wasn't on the clock technically, the Ssilli commander was. But she could observe.

  “Fine then. A little more warning next time though?” Renee asked mildly.

  “Sorry, concentrating here,” the alien replied.

  Renee pursed her lips. The cascading timer told her now was not the time to continue that line of discussion. The thought ran through her as the counter hit one then zero.

  Her main view screen blinded them in a brief flash and then lines, like thousands of stars flashing past zipped along the screen. As the plot stabilized and the hyperdrive wound down she looked at the ship AI. The AI held a hand up, then dropped it. “We're through the hyperspace corona. Transmitted package one point four seconds ago. Follow up package going now,” he said. He turned to the com rating. “I think you should put a call in too spacemen Spencer.”

  The spacer jerked as if startled and then nodd
ed, tapping at his controls. He spoke quietly, giving the all clear password.

  “Helm, move us off station so we don't have any surprise colonoscopies,” Renee ordered, moving a finger. Janice nodded and murmured to the Veraxin rating at the helm station. Slowly the ship moved down her negative Y axis and to her port, away from the next ship in line.

  Firefly had planned it so she jumped out two minutes ahead of the rest of the vessels in order to give her time to send her encrypted pass signal and a warning that the other ships coming in behind her were friendlies.

  Firefly and all of the ships had flown the fourteen point five parsec journey shorthanded; there had been no choice. “Well, so far so good, no one's shooting at us at least,” Purple Thorn said.

  “You were so hoping just to have some defensive practice in,” Renee teased the elf, looking over to her.

  “We'll never know will we?”

  “Well, we could always try a sim...” Renee said. “Later,” she continued, eyes cutting to the plot. The CIC was painting the plot with the latest sensor sweep. Ships and orbital fortresses were beginning to populate the plot. So were shoals of missile pods, weapons platforms and mines.

  “Spoilsport,” the tactical officer said, not looking up from her station.

  Renee smiled slightly. She'd get the elf later, they both knew that. “Sitrep?”

  “So far so good. We've gotten the challenge, and we've sent the agreed upon reply. I think the idea of friendlies coming in behind us has them confused.”

  “They may think we're a Trojan Captain,” Firefly warned.

  Renee nodded. “It's good to be cautious, but in this case unnecessary. Put me on Com,” she ordered.

  The rating looked over his shoulder to her and then nodded.

  “You're live ma'am, in three, two...” he finished with his finger and then pointed to her and nodded.

  Renee cleared her throat. “This is Captain Renee Mayweather, Captain of the Firefly. We're here, we're fine. We've had quite the adventure. We're looking forward to telling you all about it. Commander Logan, if you are listening to this, the challenge response is Butterfly. I repeat, Butterfly,” she said, reading the name off her HUD. “Now that's over with, we've got some new friends and some old ones to greet. Fleet Admiral Irons sent them along with us,” she said, smiling slightly. She turned to look at the com rating but it was the sensor rating who held a hand up.