Jethro 3: No Place Like Home (29 page)

“I was afraid you'd say that,” the Marine muttered closing the link. He was tempted to throw a breaching charge but decided against it. Knowing his luck it would go off and blow the ship or they'd catch it and throw it back. He glanced back at the rest of the squad. None of them were looking at him for the moment. He was point man; the rest of the squad was waiting on him.

He hit the alert button. Debs, L'rna, Hart, Paige, Seven, Tigger, and Niner looked up. “We've got the shitty end of the stick,” Bart said. “Debs, Hart, get them stable then follow the rest of us in. On three,” he said. He pulled an MRE out as the others set up. Bart balled it up to look like a grenade and then threw it over his shoulder down the corridor. He counted three with the fingers of his free hand and then moved as fast as he could.

“Frack! Grenade!”

Bart heard the pirates hysterically yell grenade and grinned as he turned the corner and charged, weapon firing to keep the enemy's heads down.

He knew it wouldn't be enough though as someone blindly pointed a Gauss rifle around the corner and opened up with it.

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

Jethro noted the map changed; he glanced at it. He was slipping past the opposition with his armor's cloak and then tearing them apart with lethal efficiency. He paused, noting the green of the bridge but an exclamation point. He checked around him and then hit it. He froze briefly when the IFF of one of his people blinked red. “Damn,” he muttered.

Rounds began to pepper the area where he had last been. “Yeah, I'm coming,” he growled, deep in his throat. He still had some work to do, some pirates to send to hell in a fitting tribute to the fallen Marine.

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

Half the Marines from Firefly joined Lieutenant Gustov in boarding and securing the Battlecruiser while the other half fanned out to secure the nearest ships one by one. Admiral Rico and most of the senior officers had committed suicide rather than be captured so the heart and brain of the Horathian fleet had been splattered over a bulkhead.

The bridge had been torn apart in the last bit of fighting, but Private Quiposki's sacrifice had done the job; it had gotten the rest of his squad in to cut the head off the dragon. When the final desperate fighting was over the senior officers there were all dead, and most of the bridge ratings were severely injured.

With their officers dead the fight in the Horathians hit a hysterical pitch and then slumped; the situation devolved into every man for himself. Their coordination had already been shot filled with holes due to the battle damage and computer viruses; taking out the bridge dropped them into small pockets to finish the job. All hope left them. Some of the small pockets held out defiantly, but most of the exhausted crew surrendered rather than eat a bullet or breathe vacuum.

Once Adrienne was secure the Marines shifted to the other disabled enemy ships. Firefly's Marines were fresh, fully trained veterans and numbering near a full platoon. They had Warhawks as well as two pinnaces. Half of the Marines also had powered combat armor.

Once they secured the bridge, engineering, and armory of each ship, there was little the surviving crew could do to fight back. Most were too busy either trying to survive or falling all over themselves surrendering anyway.

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

Post battle chores seemed never ending for some. Ships drifted as men and women fought for life, either against the enemy, or against the mounting damage, or the pitiless void that was ever crushing the life out of them.

The butcher’s bill was heavy. Every squad except Jethro's had taken casualties, some fatal. Major Pendeckle and Firefly dispatched shuttles to pick up the wounded on a priority basis. Until then the squads had to make do with the medics and equipment they had on hand.

Ensign Ufda was injured by an IED while securing the factory ship Carnegie. Twelve enlisted Marines were killed taking and securing the fleet train. Lieutenant Pongo had half a squad killed taking the Gypsy Rose. The purple Neo Orangutan grimly reported a hostage situation on board in the number one hold, with ten slaves confirmed executed. Another five hundred were reportedly in there, being held by six terrified Horathians. The ape grimly insisted that they would get the prisoners out. The Horathians survival was considered doubtful.

Ensign Esh'z had been tasked with securing the various small ships in the system. After losing two Marines on the first ship, the Ensign had opted to breach each ship then go in hard. When he finished his list of ships he reported two more casualties but no more fatalities. He also had only three captured Horathians to show for it.

Once Bounty and Firefly had their own damage under control naval crews were dispatched to follow up the Marines to secure the ships. Prisoners were scanned to make certain they were disarmed and then herded to secure locations. Once the squads reported the primary objectives secured, Marines went through the ship, compartment by compartment hunting for survivors trapped in the wreckage or pirates who thought they could hide. The Marine implants proved them wrong.

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

Jethro rubbed the small of his back. After he and his squad had taken the reactors, he'd left them behind to help mop up any resistance before he'd been tasked to hit and take the secondary bridge of the Battlecruiser a few hours ago. His armor's weapons, shields, and stealth ability had made the tasks easy; his squad had just come along behind him to clean up the mess.

When the ship had been declared nominally secured he'd swapped places with a Navy prize crew before he'd been kicked off to board and take the Antelope Fast attack Destroyer with two other squads. Valenko had taken two others to secure the Arboth class Destroyer leaving Ensign Ebensher in charge of mopping up any hold outs.

The Antelope had surrendered after light fighting, taking the better part of an hour all told. Most of the fighting had gone right out of the pirates once they realized the Marines had armor and knew how to use it. Fortunately, none of the squad had been killed before the pirates had realized it, though there were some injuries. He frowned as his IFF pinged an incoming officer. He turned in confusion; he didn't recognize this Lieutenant Gustov. “Sir?” he asked.

“Um, Sergeant Jethro, right?” the bluff human asked. He had a healing cut on his chin and smelled of disinfectant. Most likely he'd just sprung himself from the medic's clutches.

“Yes, sir. Sir, I don't recognize you,” Jethro said.

The human looked him up and down, studying him briefly before he turned to the bridge of the captured destroyer. “I'm new. Aren't you supposed to salute officers?” Gustov asked mildly.

“Um, sir, not in the field, sir,” Jethro said, flicking a look to Gusterson who was working on a Horathian casualty. All the Horathians were handcuffed with their hands in front. Lieutenant Valenko had just left to take a lot to the brig.

The greyhound medic flicked his ears and then returned his attention to his patient. “This one's stable,” he said, moving on to the next.

“Oh, must have missed that lesson then,” Lieutenant Gustov said with a frown. He shook it off with a brief shrug. “Sitrep?”

“Stable sir. We have secured the bridge, engineering, power rooms, drive rooms one and three, and the armory.”

“Why not two?”

“Two is in vacuum, sir,” the panther replied. He sent a schematic to the new officer.

Gustov studied the schematic and then nodded. “You're superior officer is Lieutenant Valenko?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Jethro replied.

Gustov nodded again. “Very well. Carry on, Sergeant,” he said, exiting the compartment. Jethro turned briefly to watch him go.

“Wonder what that was about?” Ox asked through the squad link. The squad had an open channel to all compartments. Ox was in main engineering, keeping an eye on things there.

“No idea,” Jethro replied and then flicked his ears. “Hopefully, not my problem,” Jethro said.

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

Jethro noted the Antelope’s original wall of honor was fouled with graffiti. Some jerk had taken a torch to it, burning off some of her paint with a welder, most likely setting a fire in the process. A ship's paint and hull were designed not to burn, to smolder and go out under most circumstances. To do that sort of damage, burning in the three legged swastika of the Horathian empire into the wall, that took time and patience. He shook his head and moved on.

He noted that the ship's bronzed builders plaque was also missing. There were several of the plaques, one on the bridge, one in the wardrooms, and one in engineering. He wondered if the others were too. He stretched, then realized all his idle woolgathering was a sign he was tired. He stretched again, wishing he could unzip and get a nice scratch in. Then he felt something on his back. Something was moving and it freaked him out. He twisted, but realized it was in the armor. After a moment he realized it was some sort of massager, somehow the suit was massaging his back and shoulders.

“That feels good,” he purred. He felt something respond distantly, but he was too tired to interpret it.

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

When the Admiral got a better grip on the situation he ordered Firefly to dispatch her last remaining shuttle to the Echo with search and rescue orders. Meia and Dita were picked up as well. Their fighters were a bit shot up, and almost out of fuel. Fortunately, the shuttle deployed a robotic arm and refueled them with enough fuel to recover on Firefly since Bounty's boat bay was a mess. They were quiet when they returned, but from the report the boat bay officer passed on, looking about like wide-eyed tourists.

Renee shook her head. She wasn't sure where the admiral had gotten these people from, but it was obvious they were only half trained.

Her shuttle reported recovering a dozen fleet personnel from the corvette. Some had wanted to remain behind to recover their ship but had been overruled by the Admiral. Renee was too busy keeping an eye on other things to pay attention to the conversations going on.

Doctor Standish and Firefly's infirmary were working tirelessly with Doctor Glenn and his crew to save those they could. The worst injured were being shipped to Firefly since she had the better infirmary. She had quickly been overwhelmed with wounded Fleet and Horathians. They spilled out into the nearby companionways and compartments. The decks shivered with their helpless groans.

Renee checked the status board. She couldn't believe it had only been a few hours. She bet the others thought ages had past. Everyone was exhausted but still working hard. She was proud of them.

The Admiral's little courier ship Phoenix and the Clydesdale were the only two friendlies left. Shuttles had been dispatched to them; in fact, the same shuttle bringing in the crews from the Echo and Romeo was headed to the Clydesdale named Lassie. She frowned thoughtfully. According to communications, the courier ship had reported three of her four man crew were still alive but at least one was severely wounded. She passed that on to infirmary, as well as a link to the patient's readings.

From all reports Phoenix was a write off. Even the Admiral would be hard pressed to salvage her. She didn't doubt he could, but she wasn't sure if his sentimentality would come into play or not. The Admiral seemed different somehow. More....no, harder. He had a renewed purpose and was showing clear signs of leadership. He also sounded like he didn't want to discuss his orders too, which was good.

The Admiral had spent a bit of time explaining things in Pyrax, more to get his people on board and understanding what he needed to accomplish than some sort of issue with leadership. She realized that now. It had undermined his authority a bit, but it had scored some points as well. Sailors and Marines appreciated it when you kept them in the loop. And they seemed to feed off his willingness to explain and listen. But she also knew that it was a two edge sword. Sometimes you didn't have the luxury to explain an order, it had to be obeyed and right smartly too.

As she watched Renee noted the icon of Phoenix change from a friendly ship to salvage. She frowned and then nodded. So much for sentimentality. Every sailor hated the idea of losing a ship. To send her to the breakers was a heart-rending situation. But, from the looks of it, they had no choice. They had too many cripples and not enough to go around. Phoenix would live on, rise again in the parts and materials she would share to keep the other ships alive.

Lassie, the Clydesdale, had been hammered Renee realized. After the action had wound down, she'd gotten a chance to see Commander Sprite's log of the battle. She'd been astonished by it and its risk. Admiral Irons had taken what amounted to a token force into the heart of an enemy fleet that had out-massed his own by over a hundred to one and torn it apart. And all because of that one ship. She had been stuffed with missiles. Apparently, and she was still getting confirmation on the facts. Apparently the Phoenix had been used as a lure to draw the enemy fleet out of position. Then a Ssilli on board Bounty had dropped her and the remaining ships onto an opposing force. The freighter turned munitions ship had dumped the pods out and then launched them into the face of the oncoming barbarian horde.

It was madness. It was brilliant, and scary in all the things that could have gone wrong. Obviously some had; Lassie, Romeo, and Phoenix were wrecked proof of that. As she watched Lassie was designated as salvage. She nodded.