Jethro: First to Fight (10 page)

“They can't, people have been using it.
It's salvage. They found it adrift and abandoned. When I heard about that, I
got this new idea. I've turned it over a few times, I think we can pull it off
Gerald. If we get all the pieces moving at the right time, and in the right
direction.”

“Okay...” Long replied cautiously.

“And the best thing?” Walker said,
smiling a feral smile. “Pulling this one over on Logan should make him come
begging to us for support. He'll be playing in our arena then,” he chuckled.

Ensign Valenko recovered slowly after another
round of skin grafts and fur regeneration. The skin itched constantly. He was
been threatened by the doctors that they will sedate him or put his hand paws
in casts if he dared to scratch with those oversized claws of his. He grumbled,
but tried to be on his best behavior. He didn't mind the teasing of the staff,
calling him a teddy bear, anything as long as he wasn't floating in a regen
tank anymore.

It took him another week and all his
self control to get through the worst of the recovery after his last dunking in
the regen tank. He still had scars, his fur was patchy at best, but they had
rebuilt his damaged eye back to new. Better than new really, he had some new
features in the eye that he hadn't had before. He was curious to know if Gunny
Schultz also had such abilities as well.

He ran into his two daughters in the gym
while doing mandatory PT rehab.

“What are you doing here?” Corporal
Anastasia accused him. She was glaring. Fortunately the gym was only sparsely
populated and she'd kept her voice down so he didn't have to call her on her
insubordination just yet he mused.

His other daughter Private first class
Netia elbowed her sister. “Knock it off,” she growled. “She didn't mean
anything by that
sir
.”

They really did look a little alike,
sisters from the same litter of course, Valenko thought. The Corporal was
slightly larger and more aggressive than her sister. She had a black streak on
her spine and a raccoon mask around her eyes. Her sister was lighter, with
almost blond fur.

“It's all right,” he said softly. He
knew his ex-wife had poisoned the girls against him. He'd seen it often enough
when he had run into them on the station over the years. He'd hoped with time
it would change. He had gone along with it, shielded them from the truth. He'd
hoped they would have grown out of it, torn through the naivety and innocence
of youth and started asking questions, most importantly
why
. To see with
mature eyes what it had all been about.

“I'd think you'd be in an officer's club
sir
,” Anastasia growled. “More your speed isn't it
Sir?
”

“I have to do PT just like you Corporal.
Well, even more than you since I'm in rehabilitation still,” he answered. He
was annoyed that all the downtime had made him so soft. A week or two off was
all it took to lose muscle tone sometimes.

“You are?” the Private asked suddenly
concerned. He touched his face and eye.

“Oh yeah, that's right. Couldn't
duck
?”
the Corporal asked acidly.

“Plasma burn. We didn't know it was
coming until it tore Private Chirby apart. The second shot got my ruck. Corona
got my face and back,” he said as he pumped iron. He listened to the clank of
metal on metal as he moved the weights. Somehow the sound was soothing on his
jangled nerves.

Both daughters shuddered at that tid bit
of information, and for good reason. Every Marine hated plasma fire if they
were on the receiving end. It was far worse than an old fashioned flame
thrower, facing the heat of a sun contained in a packet of mail no one wanted
to receive. For once wonder of wonders they were on the same page. A fragile
truce existed. He knew it wouldn't last. He finished his last rep and sat up
panting slightly.

“Look, off the record,” he mimed taking
his officer insignia and putting them down. “From father to daughters. Let it
be.” He spread his hands apart imploringly. “I am not the enemy. I'm not your
mother's enemy. I am most definitely not
your
enemy. I've loved you
girls and still love you despite the attitude you inherited from your mother. I
still love
her
very much despite what she has done and what she has said
about me to you and to others.”

“She? What did she do?” the Private
asked as her sister opened her mouth to hotly protest. She shot her sister a
shut up look.

“I don't like what she did. I can't change
it. I tried to... hell,” he sighed shaking his head and closed his eyes in all
too familiar pain. After a moment he opened his eyes and met theirs. There was
sadness there, a sadness both of them hadn't expected. “Girls, your mom and I
were in a difficult situation. I tried to get us out of it, but we ran out of
time and the bastards wouldn't give us more. Your mother chose Tolkien. It's in
the past, it's over with. It's done.” He scowled blackly. “We can't bring him
back. Nothing can change that.”

“Tolkien?” the Private asked, eyes
searching.

“Your brother,” he replied softly.

Both of his daughters reared back as if
they had been struck, eyes wide, slack jawed. Apparently she'd never told them
the truth, Valenko thought. Well, it was about time someone did. “What about...
wait, him? We had a brother?” the Corporal asked, thoroughly confused but
equally wary of where this was leading. She felt like they were jumping off a
cliff and falling.

“We... I tried to protect the three of
you when you were born. But word got out and so I tried to broker a deal to
transfer you on the next flight out of the system. But the port admiral ordered
one of you put to death. Your mother chose Tolkien,” he said, jaw clenched.

“You lie!” the Corporal said, eyes wide
as she reared back. “Mother said it...”

“What that I cheated on her?” he asked
shaking his head. “I'm a Neo grizzly remember? Not many on the station. One
other to be exact.
Her
.” He spread his hands apart. She was a brilliant
tech, which had required her to stay on the station under the technical
Retention Law one of the various Port admirals had implemented three centuries
prior.

“Um...” the Corporal looked torn.

Her sister searched his face, looking at
him, seeming to peer into his tormented soul. “You're not lying,” she said
softly, eyes anguished. He ducked away and rumbled a sigh.

“No I'm not. Check the records. You'll
find it all there. Ask Smithy, he'll confirm it. So will doctor Thornby if you ask
her. Your mother never forgave me for what happened. She's hated me to this
day. I don't blame her. A husband is supposed to be able to
protect
his
family. I failed in that,” he said bitterly, the last coming out at a near
whisper. He closed his eyes tightly in pain for a moment.

“We didn't know,” the Private said
softly, shaken. She glanced at her sister who was struggling with her own
emotions and trying to put the entire thing into perspective. She didn't look
like she was handling it well.

Valenko's eyes met her's once more.
“Check the records,” he urged. “Talk to your mother and your mother's friends.
I kept paying the child support so they wouldn't kill you as well. That should
be in the records. I tried.” He looked at both of them in anguish. “I tried. I
did. Honestly I tried to do what I could.”

“I believe you,” the Private said, hand
paw reaching out. She gently stroked his own. “Daddy I do.” She hugged him
suddenly. He rumbled a sigh, closing his eyes and nuzzling her fur.

Her sister however left without a word.
He closed his eyes, savoring the small victory he had for what it was.

...*...*...*...*...

Valenko was still on medical leave for
another week, but that didn't stop him from dropping in on the squad. The
veteran survivors of Agnosta greeted him with back slaps despite his exalted
officer rank. He wasn't just an Ensign after all, he was a squad mate and a
member of F platoon, the boot platoon from hell.

“So you're back?” Sergei demanded.

“No, just visiting. I figured Gunny is
keeping you out of trouble, but just in case he's too busy I thought I'd drop
in on you.”

The others chuckled, looking at Gunny
Schultz. The Gunny snorted. The Doberman flicked his ears briefly.

“We've got a new addition. Paperwork
came through this morning sir,” Schultz said, looking at the bear.

“Oh?” Valenko asked, raising an eyebrow.
They'd been expecting new replacements. They squad had been reluctant to allow
it, but it was time.

“Private Fonzarelli. New recruit fresh
out of the abbreviated boot program. Human male,” Schultz reported, sending a
dossier file to the Ensign's in-box with his implants. Valenko grunted, opening
it. He could get the basic stats from the kid's IFF, but the dossier had a more
in-depth file. A human male stared at him on his HUD. He had piercing eyes and
black stubble for hair. “A rifleman. Three months experience in basic infantry.
He went through the accelerated boot program,” Schultz said, making a
distasteful taste. “He comes recommended by Lieutenant Silverman.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Replacement for Miles,” Schultz
informed them. The bear nodded slowly. He'd expected it. He'd hoped to pick
someone up from F platoon, but that just wasn't in the cards. F platoon was
scattered all over the system, they were all making names for themselves, and
rising through the ranks to noncom or even commissioned positions. Still, it
was a bit short for a general infantry man with only a few months on his ticket
and a less than stellar training record to get a recon posting. “Another
shooter is in the pipeline, a Veraxin female. We'll be seeing her a bit later.”
That sobered their meeting.

...*...*...*...*...

After the bear had left, the squad
headed to the mess deck. The galley was full as usual, so they patiently took
their turn standing in line, shuffling along until it was their turn. Once they
had their trays full they took the seats in the Marine section and wolfed down
the food quickly so the next grunts in line could sit.

“What was that slop?” Hurranna asked.
She wrinkled her pert feline nose and twitched her whiskers in annoyance.
Whatever it was it obviously didn't agree with her tender feline sense of what
was and wasn't edible.

Jethro wrinkled his nose and poked at
the remains on his tray. “What in the mess? I'm not sure if it was soybean
surprise or some spam substitute.” There was even a line to get rid of the
trays. Once they dumped the wreckage into the recycler and stacked the empty
trays they headed back to Marine country.

“You can tell we're becoming
institutionalized if they start screwing the mess up like that!” Hurranna said
shaking her head mournfully.

“It's just because they're low on
protein. At least it's not nana Matriarch's bug soup,” Jethro replied. He was
curious about how low on protein Firefly really was. It wasn't like they
couldn't recycle a lot of the protein. Like Hurranna just pointed out they
could grow protein in the form of soy or other beans if they do not have any
real meat available to vat clone and grow, but it was a poor substitute for
Neos. They flopped down on their racks and got comfortable. Sergei immediately
closed his eyes, one arm used as a pillow. From his flicking tail they could
tell he was still annoyed. Jethro glanced at Hurranna, but she was looking at
herself in the mirror on the inside of her locker door. He turned back to the
liger.

Sergei was also looking a bit dyspeptic.
He groaned. Jethro flicked a glance his way. The liger opened his eyes and
glared. “Do you have any idea how many of those damn things I had to eat?” he
demanded.

Jethro chuckled shaking his head. He
picked at his slop as he reminisced. Bug sandwiches and stew were a not quite
fond dinner memory from their childhood. When protein sources would get low the
pride would cut back on rations and the kits were the first hit. Kits were
expendable, they could always make more after all. It was the law of nature
with their kind. Or at least it was. The matriarch would try to make up for it
with any source of protein.
Any
. She knew the importance of keeping
their generations going. She admitted once that she'd gotten the idea from a
very old anthro cartoon about a lion cub who befriended a warthog and a rat
thing. Some sort of dog... he shook the thought off.

“What's he talking about?” Asazi asked,
pointing the end of her fork at Sergei and looking from one Neo to the other.

“Trust me you don't want to know,”
Hurranna said, laying back with her hands over her stomach. She closed her
eyes. “Crunchy tacos with twitching legs sticking out... Yup, them's were the
days. Made going through survival training in boot a snap after that.”

“Huh?” the heavyworlder asked, looking
to Jethro. The panther flicked an ear her way.

“You don't want to know. Seriously
don't,” Sergei said, not opening an eye.

“Um...”

“Protein is protein. Going through that got
me through Gunny's version easily,” Jethro said with a snort. “At least nana
used seasoning,” he teased.

“Oh god.”

“Um... will someone clue me in?” Asazi
asked, starting to look annoyed.

“You. Don't. Want. To. Know.” Sergei
growled, eyes still closed. His claws flexed in and out a few times.

“It's well, back when we were kits
protein was scarce,” Jethro explained uncomfortably when Asazi didn't look like
she was about to quit.

“Oh.” She blinked for a moment. “Oh!”
her eyes widened as she finally put the pieces together.

“And the light dawns,” Jethro teased,
ears forward in what passed for a smile in his kind.