Jethro: First to Fight (11 page)

Hurranna's scut tail lashed back in
forth. Her ears were flat, a clear sign of irritation. “Will someone shut him
up?” she growled. “Honestly, some memories are best left forgotten.”

“What about plants? You're saying you
can't eat plants?” Asazi asked. She wrinkled her nose. “You drink beer, you eat
bread!” She turned an accusing glare on each of them.

Jethro nodded. “We can process some, but
it's not easy. The genetic engineering changed a few things, but not all. Teeth
for instance. We're built as carnivores so we need meat,” Jethro explained.

“Ah. I seem to remember something about
that. Scuttlebutt about bread and water nearly killing you?” Asazi asked.
Hurranna shuddered, her tail thrashing even more now. She seemed to be wiggling
in her seat.

“Yeah, it was bad,” Jethro admitted,
suddenly sober. Hurranna shuddered. Only sheer will power had kept Jethro sane.

“We can't eat most fruit and veggies but
it makes great bait for insects and rodents on the station,” Hurranna said. She
seemed to be settling down as she noticed Sergei was still uncomfortable with
the idea.

“Oh.”

“Do you have any idea how much of that
protein crap I had to eat?” Sergei growled again, one hand going to his stomach
while the other covered his mouth. “God. Nasty stuff. Nana used to stand over
me with a wooden spoon to make sure I did too.”

The others chuckled at that. “Least you
got them to make a protein shake with it over time.”

“Yeah, like that was any better,” Sergei
growled. He pushed his plate away.

“Better than having them wriggling in
your mouth and down your throat...” Jethro said maliciously.

Asazi started to turn green, one hand
going to her belly while the other covered her mouth. “Okay, god, um... let's
change the subject shall we?”

“Sure, why not,” Hurranna said. “I vote
if Jethro brings up this subject again we drop kick his black ass out the
nearest airlock. Who's with me?” She raised one hand paw.

The others looked at each other then
they shot their hands up. Jethro snorted.

“The aye's have it,” Sergei said
growling.

“So noted,” Jethro purr chuckled,
shaking his head. He couldn't help laughing though.

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

Right after mess, as the squad entered
the locker room they stopped at the sight of a new human standing there. The
human was tall, just under two meters, but thin, completely unlike the broad
shouldered, heavily muscled Miles. Still he did have some muscles, and from the
look, less than an ounce of fat on his frame. He had a clean face, narrow, with
a typical Marine buzz cut. They sized him up. The young man looked at the
predators in his midst and apparently didn't flinch. That surprised them.

The Gunny rounded a row of lockers and
nodded to the group as they came to attention. “Introductions are in order
here. Arturo 'the Fonz' Fonzarelli, Marine Private. MOS says Infantry. First
class marksman. Good in hand to hand. Private, welcome to Valenko's squad. You
can get to know the others by name later,” the Gunny said. “I don't have a lot
of time to pussy foot around here, I've got shit to do.”

“Yes sir,” Fonz said with a curt nod and
slight smile.

“Don't call me Sir, I work for a
living,” the Gunny growled. The Fonz's eyes widened and he came to attention
instinctively.

“Is he for real?” Hurranna asked softly,
sizing the new meat up as if she was stalking it.

“As you were,” the Gunny growled,
glancing her way briefly.

“I can hang,” Fonz said, spreading his hands.
“Just give me a chance.”

“Oh you'll get your chance,” Sergei
replied with a snort.

“Don't expect everyone to fall all over
you kid. You've got some mighty big shoes to fill and a lot of catching up to
do here,” Letanga said.

“I'll be fine. First in my class,” 
Fonz  said, pretending to blow on his nails and then shine them on his
shirt.

“Really,” Jethro said, eying him. “Sims?
Any real combat?”

“No, but I'm eager,” Fonz replied. They
could see from the light in his eyes he really was.

“Eager he says,” Sergei chuffed a laugh.

“Did he really say eager?” Asazi asked,
looking at her fellow human in amusement and pity. “He won't last a minute in
combat with that attitude,” she said, shaking her head mournfully.

“I can measure up just fine,” Fonz
replied, pride stung. He settled down almost instantly into a calm,
professional demeanor.

“You go with Corporal Jethro. Stick to
him like glue. His shadow,” Schultz said, eying the panther.

“A shadow of a black cat. Great,” Fonz
snorted at the joke.

“Got a problem Private?”

“No si.. I mean Gunny. No, just not
keeping a lid on my big mouth,” Fonz said wryly.

“Right. Work on that,” Schultz growled,
eying the human. Fonz nodded.

“Why me?” Jethro muttered.

“Show him the ropes, how we get things
done around here. Check him out on skinsuits, make sure he can hang. Check his
training. And see if Riley has a suit he can use.”

“Definitely not Mile's suit,” Jethro
replied, sizing the skinny human up.

Fonz just looked back with mild
amusement. “And why not? Was he a human like me?” he asked pointing to himself.

“Yeah, but well, don't take this the
wrong way, but you won't fill his shoes,” Jethro replied quietly.

“Not going to even try.”

“That too, but he meant the suit's a bit
big for you. And something tells me you're done growing rookie,” Sergei replied
with a chuckle. The Private glanced at the liger. “Miles was a heavyworlder,”
Sergei finally said.

“Ohhh,” the Private replied, catching
on. “I see.” He nodded. He'd heard of what had happened on Agnosta. By now the
events had made the rounds in the bars and had been picked apart until everyone
had been tired of the subject and let it drop.

“So, we'll see what you can do. At best,
you might get a used suit, or have to share one. At worst,” Jethro shrugged.
“Riley might be able to rig something up or you'll be in a combat skinsuit when
the rest of us play in our armor.”

“Great. The kid in the group,” Fonz
grumbled.

“Kid indeed,” Schultz replied as the
group left the locker bay. “He has a lot to learn,” he said to the others. Hurranna
nodded. “Try to cut him a little slack until he's on his feet. Remember, he
didn't have the education you did.”

“He's not a boot?” Asazi asked. The
Gunny shook his head. “Damn. What are they thinking?”

“Desperate times, desperate measures. Fonz
took the abbreviated course, sims, and sleep teaching. Right now that's all
they can do.”

“Why not get the boot camp going again
Gunny?”

“Anvil said no.”

She made a face, twisting her whiskers. “So?
Don't we have stations of our own now? Can't we oh, I dunno, rearrange a
station? Like one of them depots? All empty space?” Hurranna demanded.

Schultz eyed her for a long moment. She
was right damn it, why hadn't someone with rank come up with that? That was why
they were building San Diego after all! Sure it wasn't ready, but what about
one of the depots? He'd heard they were just sitting there, collecting dust. He
flicked his ears and then sighed. “You know, you keep talking sense you're not
going to be a Marine for much longer. They'll insist you are too smart for us.
Or worse, they'll insist you become an officer,” he said wryly.

Hurranna's eyes widened. She flicked her
ears and then snorted softly. “Perish the thought,” she murmured.

“Right,” the Gunny said. He opened an
e-mail and started writing up her recommendation. He added that the Lance
Corporal had thought it up and he endorsed it, then sent it off up the chain of
command. “There, let's see what that does,” he said.

“You mean...” Again Hurranna's eyes
widened.

“Opened your big mouth,” Asazi teased,
tweaking the lynx's tufted ears until she growled and swatted at the human.

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

Over the following week Fonz settled in.
Jethro walked him through the roles he would have, the duty roster, passwords
and various contingency plans. He uploaded a lot of reading material for the
Private to go over in his off time. Fonz claimed experience in skinsuits. He
checked out okay, but they didn't have a place to do an exercise on the ship so
he had to take the rookie's word for it. Jethro also brought the Private up to
speed as a guard on watch.

Fonz was a bit shocked by the training
regimen the squad performed. Despite their work load the squad still exercised
daily in their off time. Exercised, studied, did their usual watch rotation,
kit maintenance, and did sims. A lot of sims. He'd never done that, he'd
relished being bored in his rack, sleeping. Sleep was now a luxury, he was
lucky if he got four hours or rack time a night. When he did go down, he was
out like a light from sheer exhaustion.

His first sim training with the squad
was an eye opening experience. It was also one of the first with the big brute
of a bear, Ensign Valenko back in charge. The brown bear took it easy, staying
in the back and mainly watching their performance for a bit, until after their
third engagement, he took command of the virtual opposition force in order to
make things more realistic. Fonz had been used to the casual gamer approach,
but the squad was a no nonsense grr mentality that had him backpedaling in
shock. They took it seriously, sometimes very seriously. He was constantly
jerked up by the team, ordered about and that rankled a bit.

“Move! MOVE!” the Gunny said during the
first sim combat the next afternoon. Fonz moved, but to the left, opposite the
cover he should have rolled to.

“Get your act together Marine!” Sergei
roared at him, providing cover fire as the squad assaulted a building. The
liger had a head band on, was snarling and firing from his hip as if he was
some sort of cartoon character.

Fonz looked for Jethro but couldn't find
him. “Some partner,” he growled. “I thought we were supposed to stick
together?!” he yelled. That was a rookie mistake, his yell and his lack of
cover was an open invitation to the enemy squad who killed him. He felt the
impact of something stitching his chest and then everything went black for a
second. Fear twisted him until his he realized his HUD was still up. He swore
as he was thrown into limbo and then was forced to watch the rest of the
engagement as a ghost. He hated that, he'd rarely ever died in a sim before,
now it was almost a regular event.

The new meat made rookie mistakes,
sometimes playing the hero to prove himself. The first time he made mistakes,
they patiently explained to him how to get it right. The second time the Gunny
jerked him up with a bark. “There are rarely second chances in combat! Get your
ass squared away fast mister!”

The DI tone caught Fonz unaware. He
later asked what the Gunny's problem was to Jethro, did he have it in for
humans? “You don't get it. He was our DI in boot,” Jethro told him, flicking
his ears in amusement.

Fonz's eyes went wide. “Oh, sucks to be
you.”

“You do know we're all veterans of F
platoon right?” Jethro demanded. That caught Fonz between the eyes.

“F platoon... um... Shit.” Every Marine
had heard of F platoon, the boot platoon from hell. The boot platoon that set
the gold standard for all others to achieve. A platoon of misfits, genies,
Neo's and aliens, who had somehow beaten the piss out of every other boot
platoon. So far no one had yet to come close to their rankings. F platoon had
become a legend.

“Yeah,” Jethro said, smiling just enough
to let the human see his sharp teeth. “F platoon. And Gunny Schultz was our DI.
And yes, if you think he is a bastard now, I'll just tell you he's being
nice.
”

“This is him
nice
?” the Private
asked, goggling at him. Jethro nodded, cold sober. “Shit,” Fonz said.

“Yeah, Gunny ate raw recruits for
breakfast. He did shit to us you wouldn't dream of. This? This is piffle. Cake
walk. Knowing we survived what he put us through then is what makes us keep
going here.”

“Shit.”

“This is recon, this is the big boys. So
get with the program or put in for a transfer. We're the best for a reason, we
don't have time for stragglers who can't keep up,” Jethro growled. He also
explained, in training you give a person a few chances to get the job right,
explaining as needed. But if they make excuses or can't wrap their head around
the problem then you either jerk them up hard or replace them.

“Replace them,” the human echoed, making
a face. He didn't like the idea of washing out. His pride couldn't handle it,
couldn't even handle the thought of the stigma that went with it.

Jethro shrugged. “It's as simple as
that. Like the Gunny said, there are few second chances in combat. Get it wrong
and you not only end up dead, you end up getting your teammates killed too. We
don't want that obviously.” He eyed the human with utter seriousness.