Jethro: First to Fight (2 page)

Act
I

Every morning Corporal Jethro, worked on
his physical fitness training. It had been drilled into him since boot to do
so, he knew the importance of keeping such activities up. As a young and fit
Neocat black panther he needed constant exercise to remain fit and trim. The
adage, if you don't use it, you lose it came to mind. Muscles needed constant
exercise to remain toned and fit for when you needed them.

Since the Marine gym was a rather full,
smelly, and loud cargo bay, he opted out of standing around and waiting his
turn and instead jogged. Sure, he didn't mind shooting the shit with his
buddies, but he'd wasted two entire exercise periods doing so and had come to
learn it was better to jog. Gunny had a way of dealing with those who stood
around shooting the shit instead of doing what they were told. No excuses was
his favorite saying.

He jogged in the corridors, maneuvering
around men and equipment in his way, their obstacles made it more enjoyable,
they made him stay alert. He listened to the steady thump thump of his
footfalls on the decking, and hopped the knee knockers when needed. He found
that doing one pass on his back legs and one on all fours was a comfortable
change, though his neck started to get a crick in it after each pass. There was
something to be said about the downside of being re-engineered from a quadruped
into a biped, the changes to his body sometimes hindered him when he went back
during brief times. On all fours though it was less stressful on his back and
hind legs, but it gave his upper body a bit more of a work out. His tail helped
to keep his balance when on all fours or when darting through tight quarters.

He wasn't the only jogger, a dozen other
Marines and two squids were also jogging through the companionways. But they
were all jogging their own path it seemed, sometimes running into each other in
passing or funneling at knee knocker hatches. All had boots on, as required by
ship rules. It sucked, in his bare paws Jethro could pad almost silently around
on the deck. But after getting his foot trodden on once he'd seen the light. It
would have been nicer with sneakers though.

He'd love to do a stalk, just strip down
to his fur and see how many circuits he could make before he ran out of energy.
The navy however frowned on him running around cloaked. Apparently a few of the
other Neo's who had the ability had misused the ability. And then of course there
was his late unlamented father's actions... he sighed briefly.

His father had been the premier jaguar
assassin. As a Neo Jaguar he, and Jethro, could fully cloak, only a full black
wolf with the stealth mod could claim the same level of stealth. Others like
Jethro's cousin Letanga and Jethro's aunt and uncle could only partially cloak
themselves. They left a blurry after image when they moved that others could
see.

He'd have time to meditate and get some
stealth practice in later. For now Jethro concentrated on his respiration and
heart rate, keeping them even.

On his third circuit he was stopped by a
navy jig annoyed by the stomping and jogging. Jethro slowed and then stopped in
front of the angry human. He came to attention and braced as the stern faced
officer blocked his path, even though the squid was out of uniform. He was
standing there in a tank top and gray pants, black socks,. He had a crew cut
and was clean shaven, but he had a bit of a gut going. “Just what the hell do
you think you are doing?” the jig demanded.

Jethro stood at attention, getting a
quick sniff of the jig's IFF with his implants. Jig Brighton Able, new to the
ship's company, he'd been assigned while Jethro was in Agnosta. He'd just been
promoted from Ensign off the Centurion where he'd served as the life support
officer. He was young, new, but clean cut and apparently good at his job, or so
his implants said. But he'd gone from life support to the same department on
Firefly. Something was off about that.

“Sir, I am exercising sir,” Jethro
replied. He knew better than to salute. The usual provision about not saluting
indoors didn't apply on a ship or station. But you normally didn't salute
anyone except and officer, and normally only when reporting for duty. He'd also
come to learn not to salute when on guard duty. The military was slowly shaking
down.

For instance, enlisted Naval personnel
were called ratings, spacers, sailors, or squids. Vacuum suckers if you wanted
to get technical. Officers had to be respected.

“Jarheads,” the Lieutenant mouthed, as
if it was an obscenity. Jethro knew better than to respond to that.

“Exercising. Don't you jarheads know you
are supposed to do that in the gym?” Able demanded, hands on his hips, chin
out. From his look he reminded Jethro of one of those chicken things on
Agnosta. He knew better than to say so.

“Sir, yes sir. I am jogging sir.”

“Ah, jogging, is that what you call that
racket. Banging around, you do realize some of us are asleep right? That we
have real jobs?”

“Sorry sir,” Jethro said, eyes straight
ahead, eight centimeters above the officer's head. He hadn't realized he was
making that much noise. His mind absently cataloged the fact that the Jig
needed another haircut.

“Don't they have a machine, you know one
of those belt thingies? What do they call them, treadmills? Yeah!” the
sarcastic jig asked.

Jethro's eyes narrowed ever so slightly
at the sarcasm. “Sir yes sir. All are unavailable at this time. Or were when I
started PT.” He recognized why the Jig didn't call him by his last name. Lately
officers called subordinates by their last name. The little niggling fact that
one, Jethro wasn't technically a subordinate to Able, and two his last name on
record was 'of the Anvil cat clan' sort of put a crimp on that habit. Or the
Jig was just in a snotty mood. Which he was. Right now the best thing to do was
stay stoic. When in doubt follow the lead of others in your vicinity or keep
your mouth shut and go with the flow, answering questions as needed.

“Why are you bothering with PT anyway?
You do realize we are on a ship right? We don't have to run around with it, we
just go from point A to point B with it. That's what the engines are for.
Right?”

“Yes sir.” Jethro ground out, not
mentioning that sometimes a person needed to get from point A to point B inside
the ship in a hurry. “Sir, I am a Marine,” he said.

“I gathered that,” the Lieutenant said
sarcastically. “You'd be fracken useless as a real soldier,” the squid said.
This time Jethro didn't stop his ears from going flat. “Got something to say?”
the Lieutenant demanded, arms crossed.

Jethro kept his tail absolutely still.
Despite himself his eyes narrowed slightly and his pupils went to slits. He'd
put up with trash talk while in training, he could handle a dressing down by
this self important ass. “Sir, as a Marine I am required to be fit at all times
in case we are called to action. In a boarding action, in any form of rescue
op, or combat.”

“I see.”

"Besides sir, there are the
mandatory PT exams coming up. Every two years. I want to better my last scores
if possible."

"PT... you mean performance evals?
Get it right Jarhead," Jig Brighton Able said, not quite rolling his eyes,
but packing enough exasperated scorn in his voice to make the panther narrow
his eyes ever so slightly. Even though he was enlisted he didn't have to like
getting talked down to by a squid officer fresh out of the promotions board.

"No sir, I mean physical fitness
training sir. It's a standard sir."

Able snorted. "You jarheads are
nuts."

"We have to stay ready for combat
sir," Jethro said feeling mulish. Ever since he'd come back from the
mission on Agnosta to Firefly he'd caught some sort of flack from the officers.
At least the naval officers. He wasn't sure why. It might be the personal animosity
from the Captain, he did his best to keep out of her way.

Most of the other Marines were having
the same thing. Most of it was petty crap, harassment. They'd gotten use to
some of the ribbing but this was getting annoying. They couldn't help the roles
they were in. The navy ran the ship. Most Marines stood guard watch or were
trained in handling weapons or in damage control duties. Since they were on a
naval ship they had to suck it up and do as they were told.

"You said that already. You don't
need to be that fit. Combat armor..."

"Begging the Lieutenant's pardon
sir but I went into combat a short time ago
without
my armor. I'd of
loved to of had it, but you have to make do with what you have sir."

"I'm glad we don't have to deal
with that. Fine, carry on."

"Um... sir, the MPFT... it's a
Federation military standard," Jethro said, then caught himself at the
Jig's disgusted look. "Sir yes sir."

"Actually, the Corporal is correct,
it is a standard of the navy as well," Firefly's well known voice interjected.
His holo appeared as both men braced to attention. "Your Naval Physical
Fitness Test is coming up soon I believe Jig Able."

"Sir?" the jig blanched,
looking down at his paunch. He had hated the physical stuff. Hated it. Chicken
shit, that's what it was. He was glad he was behind a console. Now that smug
sense of security and superiority was coming crashing down around his ears.

"We have to make sure your body can
handle bursts of high gravitation or physical effort Lieutenant. I suggest you
start working out again and continue with a regime. Your fitness evaluation is
before each promotion's board, it plays a part in it, and so does your
attention to detail.” That got the jig's attention. “But the ship will be
entering the annual FARETEP testing in six weeks, which means another round of
PT exams. Your score will not only be reflective on you and your career, but on
the ship as well. It is expected that everyone meet or show noticeable
improvement over past scores."

"Aye sir," the jig replied,
grimacing. He sucked in a little. Jethro's nostril's dilated ever so slightly
in a suppressed snort of amusement. Everyone knew about FARETEP, the Fleet
Armed Readiness Exercises Training and Evaluation Program. Prep and quite a bit
of grumbling had been going on about it for some time now. Apparently the jig
hadn't known about the PT part of it though.

The AI avatar turned to Jethro.
"Corporal carry on. Do try to steer clear of the high pedestrian areas and
the decks where the graveyard personnel are sleeping though." The AI
uploaded a revised map for the Corporal to follow. “Dismissed.”

"Yes sir," Jethro replied
smartly and then moved out. He snuck a look back at the Jig. From his rather
dyspeptic expression he didn't look happy. He flicked his ears and hid a smirk
as he kept moving, trying to rebuild his pace without getting a cramp.

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

Firefly brought up the upcoming PT exams
as part of the FARETEP to the Captain and bridge officers. Commander Shelby
Logan grimaced, having forgotten about them. Firefly gently reminded them all
they hadn't been keeping up with mandatory exercise regime either.

“And who brought this up?” Captain Renee
Mayweather asked. She had matured into a graceful and poised Captain, with
enough steel behind her eyes to make even Commander Logan jump sometimes. She
had perfected her command presence over the past two years, making her the
perfect Captain of Firefly. Her dress uniform image in the Navy times didn't do
her justice, or so her crew said.

The Lieutenant Commander was technically
outranked by her ship AI who was a full Commander, as well as her XO Lieutenant
Commander Shelby Logan. However both had signed off on the raven haired woman
taking the hot seat.

Captain Mayweather had a face and body
that seemed to develop with beauty as she aged. Now that she had access to
modern medicine and a proper diet, she had filled out, put on muscle mass and
had matured in many ways. She had a lively, some would say malicious sense of
humor that kept her crew on their toes.

“Corporal Jethro ma'am,” Firefly
replied. He was aware that the Captain wouldn't like the source. The
Neo-panther had been on the Captain's shit list once already.

“Right, and who's idea was it to let
that damn cat back on my ship again?” The Captain asked caustically.

“It's only temporary Captain. His unit
is rotating here to cover Sergeant Evan Sirus. His squad has liberty.”

“Funny, they have liberty and Valenko's
doesn't?”

“They had a lot of downtime en route
from Agnosta. The Ensign is still in the regen tanks ma'am, so his squad is at
ends. Marine command has tapped some of them for other jobs, including working
in the suit morgue with Sergeant Riley.”

“Ah.”

“So these exams...”

“It's a bit of a competition,” Commander
Logan replied. “The best ship has bragging rights.”

“Right, and whose job was it to keep up
on this?” the Captain asked mildly.

“Mine ma'am,” Shelby replied.

“Dropped the ball XO?”

“A little.”

Purple Thorn waved a hand. The Captain's
gaze turned to the tiny tactical officer. “Yes Lieutenant? Something to say?”

“In the defense of the XO we did focus
our efforts on the engineering and tactical work up instead of on the broad
picture ma'am.”