Jethro 3: No Place Like Home (2 page)

The grizzly nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Jethro took the list of his mistakes in stride. It was dispassionately applied with the Major warning him to be more careful about exposing himself to the enemy. Fortunately for the cat there were few; he had been off on his own for most of the battle. He had been delegated a solo mission to sneak behind enemy lines and secure the command center of the station and keep it out of enemy hands. It had been a close thing; he had taken out two squads of Horathian soldiers, one of which had been equipped in its own crude powered armor.

He had briefly felt a little guilt over not being there for the squad. After all he was its senior noncom; his place was with his people. But he also had the only working armor that could cloak, which was why he had been given the mission in the first place.

When his part of the debrief was finished, Jethro took the time to visit Asazi and the other wounded Marines in the infirmary. The most critically injured had either been left in Antigua Prime's hospital to recover or had been put in stasis. Now many of the remaining troops were being prepped for stasis as well.

Lance Corporal Asazi had lost a leg during the fighting on Antigua prime. Private Harley had gotten off with a flesh wound; she was already back to duty. Asazi had been lucky to survive; others like Private Kovu and Private Fonz hadn't been. The human Fonz had been stupid and had paid the ultimate price for it. The young neolion Kovu had gotten hit by an IED and had been put into stasis to keep him alive. The plasma had eaten him up and cooked him a bit. It would be months of surgery and rehab before he was out of the pod and back on his feet again.

Asazi was in stasis as well; she had been placed in it shortly after the battle. “Popsicle,” the panther said, eying her frosted-over tube in the storage compartment. A nurse looked up at him, then nodded as she recognized him. After a moment she seemed to shrug and then go back to the tablet she had in her hands.

He checked Asazi's readings, but he had barely a clue what they really meant. Alive, that was all he knew. His ears flicked as he walked around and then leaned against her pod. “Well lady, you'll be pleased to know we're headed to Agnosta and then home,” he murmured softly. He knew she couldn't hear him, but somehow it felt better talking to her, letting her know in some small way that he still knew she existed.

He talked for a brief time, and then left, patting her tube in passing. The nurse monitoring the compartment looked up as he left. He flicked his tail and then stepped through the hatch and back to work.

---( | ) --- ( | )---

Jethro checked on the Marines on the ship. There were thirty-nine veterans left on the ship, two of them officers, and the rest of the 210 were raw recruits of various species. They were packed into the Marine troop bay and surrounding compartments. His own squad had been remarkably untouched by the poaching that had gone on in Antigua. He had to count himself lucky; some squads had been decimated in the fighting.

Of course that might have been because First Lieutenant Valenko, the Neo grizzly officer in charge of the squad, had kept his people together on purpose. They were the best after all. Valenko was one of two Marine officers left on the ship, the other was Major Pendeckle. Captain Dana Harley had taken the remaining Marine officers to keep an eye on things in Antigua. The two officers had their work cut out for them keeping an eye on the Marines and recruits on the ship.

Sergeant Jethro McLintock was one of only a handful of noncoms trying to keep a lid on the circus. He was increasingly finding his time was divided between running around the ship and keeping a lid on the bored recruits, trying to find something for them and others to do, or do projects his boss assigned to him.

As a Neo panther, Jethro had one of the rarest of gifts, the ability to cloak himself. Only his cousin Letanga and a few other Neos had the ability, but none could cloak as well as the panther could.

Sergeant Ox, the Tauren of their squad, was also busy. He was splitting his time up between activities with the squad, working in the armory with Sergeant Riley, their armorer, or helping Chief Engineer Chowler's people in Navy country. Jethro had also heard the Tauren dictating a video letter to someone, most likely one of the Taurens they had left behind in Antigua. Jethro felt for Ox; he was glad the big guy had found more of his species.

Private Harley Quinn, Neo Hyena, was surprisingly quiet, which was ominous for the practical joker. She was another veteran of F platoon like most of their surviving squad. Jethro wasn't sure what Harley was up to. The one time he'd checked in on her she'd given him a saucy wink. That alone had told him two things she was okay, and that she was up to something. Hell, for all he knew she could be laying low knowing he and the rest of the squad expected something...which was a prank all on its own. Keeping them looking for something that wasn't coming. He snorted wryly. He wouldn't put it past her wicked little female mind.

She did her duty, so he really couldn't say anything. Though if she dragged it out for too long she might be surprised that one of the others might do a preemptive strike to get it over with.

PFC Sergei wasn't much of a role model for the kiddies; all the big white liger wanted to do was eat and sleep. He grumbled a lot but stood his post and generally kept an eye on things like he was supposed to. One growl from him was enough to cow practically any troublemaker in the troop bay.

The Veraxin female Private Pa'nash, also known as Pinashe was spending a lot of time with the counselors. At first Jethro had thought it was a posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD) flashback brought on by the recent combat in Antigua. Then he had discovered she was serving as an assistant counselor helping others. It seemed the Veraxin had faced her ghosts during the crucible of combat and had come through stronger for it. Or at least he hoped so.

PFC Clive Bret, their sole surviving token human, was stoic on duty. He tended to brood, spending a lot of time dictating letters to his pregnant wife back on Agnosta. Valenko had briefly questioned the private to see if he had any concerns after being in combat, people realized their mortality when they married and settled down. Bret hadn't brought anything up though and he didn't want a transfer, so Valenko decided to let it slide for now. They could always work something out when they passed through Agnosta if necessary. Though from what the scuttlebutt said, there wouldn't be time for any leave.

Their medic Petty officer Gusterson, a Neo greyhound, was up to his elbows in the infirmary helping out there. Since the ship had taken on not only the wounded but also the recruits, Valenko had let the greyhound be where he needed to be.

---( | ) --- ( | )---

Corporal Deja nodded to the Marine guarding the bridge as he reported for duty. Commander Firefly was off shift, but he dutifully signed on through his implants. Once the computer passed him through the security check and cleared him for the bridge the Marine guarding the bridge stepped aside slightly and nodded.

Deja nodded slightly back in passing. He saluted First Lieutenant Purple Thorn. She didn't look up from her screen, merely saluted and waved a dismissive hand towards the navigational tanks.

Deja made his way to the front of the bridge where the tanks had been set up next to the normal helm station. There were two vertical tanks, anti-gravity tanks designed to let a user float in a virtual environment while piloting the ship. They were new additions to the bridge, added to aid him in piloting the ship.

He was a Marine, normally he wouldn't be at a helm station. He'd given it up when the Admiral had freed him and his crew mates on the freighter Destiny from the Horathian pirates over four years ago.

They lived in interesting times as some liked to say, and what he wanted wasn't what the Navy and civilization necessarily needed. Case in point, he was here, ready to take the Conn once again, something he had never wanted to do again. This time it was different though; he was doing it to save lives, his own included.

When Firefly had received word of Antigua's impending invasion they had raced to the rescue. He had been asked to volunteer his services at the Conn. As a Selkie, he like many Marine mammals had the inner ear and native ability to pilot a craft or starship better than virtually any being in the known galaxy.

Firefly and her crew had banked on that ability; it had allowed them to indeed race to Antigua's rescue in record time. Now they were doing it all over again, this time with engineering issues cropping up. Twice in the past week they had a near disaster with a node or engineering fault. He knew they were running on borrowed time. Hopefully, when they were in subspace external repairs could be made quickly.

“That you Corporal?” First Lieutenant Janice Yu asked. Lieutenant Yu was chief hypernavigator of the ship. She was an old Firefly hand and had also served with Captain Mayweather as a civilian on their ship the Carib Queen until that ship had abandoned them in Pyrax to die. Instead, they had lived and thrived.

“Yes, ma’am. Reporting for duty.”

“Good. I'm about done in here,” Janice said as the spare pod opened. He realized she had signaled it to open. She probably was tired as she sounded. He could understand it, flying Delta was hard. It was like swimming in a current, sometimes against it, which was exhausting and nerve wracking.

“Ma'am, I'm here to relieve you,” he said formally.

“I'll be relieved in a minute. Just as soon as you get your bald butt in the tank and log in,” Janice said as he climbed into the tank.

He snorted softly. He had worked with her now off and on for months, most of their rough edges had been worn smooth. She still was a bit jealous, but she'd gotten over it and seemed to think of him as an asset and a friend. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

“God I'll be glad to slow down and take our time,” Janice muttered as he jacked in. He connected cables from the inside wall of the tank to his implant ports. They couldn't afford the slight delay wireless connections caused. Even a millisecond could mean the difference between life and death.

Once he had signed into the system he closed his eyes and felt data flowing into him. His implants processed the load and then projected a sea around him. He felt the force emitters below him spin up, lifting him off the deck. Additional emitters in the ceiling caught him in a suspension. He could move freely, both in virtual or his body. He tested it, running through the preflight checks with a professional air.

“I wish I had implants like this when I had been on Destiny,” the Selkie said, scanning the log. There were no incidents. He was glad of that.

“I'll bet,” Janice replied. “Hell, me too for Carib. She was a sweet ship.”

“Think she's still around ma'am?”

“Who the hell knows! I don't really care now. I mean, I miss a couple people on her, but not her Captain. I've moved on for the most part,” she said, voice tightening ever so slightly.

“Sorry ma'am.”

“Don't be. You didn't do it. You've been through your own hell. I shouldn't be ragging on you anyways. You're a good sport doing this. Thank you. If I never said it before...thanks. Thanks for doing this,” she said.

Deja wasn't sure what to say. He slowed his usual routine, a bit uncomfortable.

“You know, when you were first put forward I didn't want you. I resented the hell out of the intrusion, and the implied insult that I couldn't handle it. After seeing how you fly though...,” she snorted softly. “I have to admit, I developed a serious case of envy over your heritage.”

“It's not all it's cracked up to be ma'am,” Deja said as she silently worked. “It's as much a curse as it is a...gift.” He snorted at his statement in self-depreciation.

“Don't get me wrong; I appreciate you, even though you are dumb jarhead,” she said. He exhaled noisily, this time in humor. She shrugged. “Having an extra hand in Delta has made it easier on us in the nav department. Again, thank you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I'm regretting letting so many of my people stay in Antigua. Not that I wanted to stand in their way of getting their own ships, but hell, this is a bitch when we're shorthanded,” Janice said candidly.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She shook her head and relaxed, slumping a bit. She wiped at her brow. “Damn. It takes a lot out of you doesn't it? Or at least me it does. I never thought Delta would be so hard.”

“For me too ma'am. I'm used to swimming for long hours though.”

She eyed the Selkie. He felt a bit self-conscious but kept his cool. After a moment she nodded. “True, you are more built for this than I am. I keep forgetting it. Well, we'll have to juggle the schedule a bit so you'll have more downtime before we exit. At least a shift off.”

“I thought we were stopping in Triang ma'am?”

Janice shook her head. “No, the skipper wants to get to Pyrax ASAP. We don't know when the attack will hit there.”

“I see. So we're skimming the systems again?” Deja asked, not sure he liked the idea. Skimming a system was dangerous. He was the only one who could safely navigate the crisscross course around a system's periphery in hyper to get from one jump point to another. They had briefly considered finding a jump point that avoided crossing the system but that had the high potential of running them off course.

Of course, skimming a system wasn't without its own inherit dangers. A mass in real space, also known as subspace, projected a mass shadow in hyperspace the larger the mass, the larger the shadow. A ship could brush off interactions with small masses at lower hyperbands. But if they impacted a mass square on or hit too many in a short period of time, it could overload the ship's systems and potentially cripple or destroy the ship.