Jethro: First to Fight (21 page)

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

Jethro's idea sparked other ideas from
the squad. Sergei wanted a mortar system, something beyond what his suit
currently had. “I want tubes on my thighs, my hips, everywhere!” he said.

“You know you won't have any place to
store ammo right?”

“Um...” The liger's ears flattened
outward. “Shit.”

“Right,” Riley drawled. “Sometimes kid,
it's not the number of guns your suit sports, it's the amount of ammo you've
got, and how you use the guns you have. Besides, stick tubes all over this
thing and you'd have a serious mobility problem.”

“True,” Sergei sighed, clearly put out
over having his dream shattered by a healthy smack of reality. “Okay, so that's
out.”

“What about a sniper?” Letanga asked.
Riley and the others turned to him. “You know, something big, long ranged?”
“A long gun. Kid, we've got them,” Riley said, waving a hand.

“But not a beam gun. Or a kinetic gun.
Rifle I mean. I'm thinking something big enough for the suit to handle,
something that will really make someone stand up and take notice.”

“Um...”

Jethro flicked his ears and then nodded.
He turned to the computer and started to pull up specs of weapons. “I'm sure
there is something. If it's kinetic it'll be heavy and limited by ammunition
and energy. Letanga, any ideas?”

“A point defense laser would be nice,”
Letanga said, grinning.

“Too much power needed,” Riley said
automatically. “Barrel length...” He looked at them. Both cats had their ears
forward, their body language showed intent interest. “Shit. You are serious.
You are fracken insane you know that? Think of the recoil!”

“True. Something kinetic or beam. A
Gauss gun is too heavy though it might work if nothing else is possible. A
graser from a fighter or assault shuttle if you've got it, maybe something from
a front line tank. If not a particle beam. Not plasma, plasma has too much
spread and is too short ranged. By the way, a beam weapon has no recoil Riley,”
Letanga gently reminded the Sergeant.

“Shit,” Riley said, shaking his head.
Jethro pulled up an image of an armor holding a three meter long rifle. He
triumphantly showed it to the others. “Now that's an elephant gun.”

“Damn, it's a telephone pole,” Riley
muttered, rubbing his brow. “And it's not my shop, I do armor, not weapons a
ship or fighter uses... damn.”

“I found something I like too!” Sergei
said, showing them an image of a suit with tribarrel Gatling guns mounted under
each arm. Belts ran to a large ammo pack on the back. Sergei grinned. “Can I
have one? Can I? Can I?” he asked eagerly.

“Oh boy,” Riley said.

“It's Christmas!” Jethro joked, slapping
the armorer on the shoulder.

Riley made a face. “Maybe for you. But
do you have any ideas on the stress these systems will put on the armor? How to
mount them? Keep the feeds from kinking? Storing ammo and parts? Weight and how
swinging one of those things around will affect the servos and pistons in the
armor?”

“If it's been done before...” Ox said,
rubbing his chin. “I wouldn't mind the Gatling guns. No offense Sergei, but
you're a mortar maggot, your job is in the rear.”

“Ah, I don't get to have any fun,”
Sergei retorted, crossing his arms to pout once more.

“We don't even know if any of this is
even possible!” Riley said, still shaking his head.

“We can find out. I believe both systems
are from systems we have on hand. The Gatling guns are an old design. It's been
adapted to just about everything, from point defense before beam weapons took
over, to vehicles and fighters.”

“And this long gun came from a fighter
as well,” Letanga said. “We can check stores, see if they have any.”

Riley sighed, shaking his head. “Fine,
figure out what you need, make a list up, then we'll write out the report and
submit it up the chain of command. If Major Forth approves it I'm going to
request he and all of you have a section eight exam. You're all screwballs.”

Sergei grinned, flicking his ears to the
other cats. Jethro snorted. “We're just trying to do our part.”

“I'm never going to get any sleep,”
Riley grumbled.

“As long as we're a danger to the enemy,
we're happy,” Ox said, already getting to work. He was already working on CAD
designs for the machine shop to fabricate. The mounting brackets would be
tricky.

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

“Everyone, may I have your attention?”
Valenko rumbled. They turned to look at the bear. Most were wrist deep in a
project. “We don't stand on ceremony in situations like this,” Valenko said
over his shoulder. He turned. “Private?” he asked.

“Sorry sir, slow I know,” a Veraxin
chittered, entering the armory. He nodded as she daintily stepped into the room
before he turned back to the room at large. “Squad, this is Private Pa'nash.
Nickname Panache. She'll be taking Chirby's seat and armor.”

“I’d like to say it's a pleasure to be
here but with Chirby as a precedent, not so much,” the Veraxin chittered.

“A bit of a downer aren't you?” Hurranna
asked, sizing her up.

“A bit. And I also know I'm in for an
uphill battle here. All of you are F platoon. I volunteered beforehand, so I
never had the benefit of boot. But I did see combat in boarding the ships,” she
said.

“Good to hear,” Sergei said, looking up
briefly while his hands continued to tune a servo's range of motion.

Jethro wasn't so sure. All the Marines
who had volunteered in the first wave had been drafted to higher positions. She
for some reason stayed or was left behind. Or demoted. He wasn't sure.

“Usually Gunny Schultz handles
introductions like this but he's been tapped for other duties. He'll check in
later. He's an old friend of Panache, so behave.”

“Yes sir.”

“Aye sir.”

The bear turned to Riley. “Sergeant,
she'll need Chirby's suit refitted to her body pronto.”

“Okay,” Riley replied. He sized the
female Veraxin up. Her body size was almost the same as a male's but there were
some subtle differences in form. He sighed. “Into the scanner,” he said,
sending a signal to the armory to open the scan booth door. The Veraxin turned
to the bear. He motioned her to move. She bobbed a nod and waved first level
acknowledgment followed by second level embarrassed retreat and then moved into
the scanner booth. Riley went with her.

“Sir?” Asazi asked.

“Yes she's a bit long for her rank.
She's a damn good shooter, and an able communication's tech. A bit squeamish on
medical matters, but everyone has their quirks. No I don't know all about her,
I just found out about her a moment ago when Firefly dumped her orders to
report to me. It came out of the blue, apparently paperwork in Bupersonnel
finally got processed or something. I'll look into it.”

“Okay.”

“Get her up to speed. I mean that. All
our tricks and stuff. Check her out. I got a brief email from the Gunny saying
she's good troop, so we'll take that part on faith. She'll need to hack the
black too. If she can't she's out. Hell, if she can't dance to any of our dance
tunes she's out on her...” he looked at the door. “Um, rear thorax. Whatever.”

“Okay. We'll get her sorted sir,” Jethro
said.

“You can count on it. Another girl!”
Hurranna said, smiling to Asazi.

“Hell, just with you two us guys are
outnumbered, surrounded, and most of the time, outgunned,” Jethro said,
flicking his ears.

Hurranna exchanged amused looks with
Asazi. “Nice of him to finally notice the obvious,” she said.

“Funny.”

“At least he did, Sergei still hasn't
figured it out,” Asazi said.

“Figured what out?” Sergei asked
disinterested, looking down at the arm he had on.

“Never mind,” Hurranna sighed, looking
away.

“Carry on,” Valenko said and left the
room.

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

When they were ready, they ran several
in squad tests on the shooting range and in virtual reality before the bear
asked for a combat sim. Unfortunately they would be down several people, Gunny
Schultz was off on a training mission and had taken Veraxin Private Pa'nash
with him. Valenko had managed to hang onto Letanga, but he knew they were in
tight. Hopefully the new gear would work right and he wouldn't end up with egg
all over his face. Setting this test up had been a nightmare in scheduling.

“Are you sure about this?” Lieutenant
Silverman asked. She was a bluff Marine, quite good at her job, but a little
too butch for some males. She came off as gung ho, trying to keep up with and
be superior to the men. Even some women had a hard time dealing with the woman.
For one thing she shaved her head bald, and insisted other women in her troop
did the same. Not a regulation Marine hair cut, but skin. She even shaved her
eyebrows. “My people have had more time in the suits since you people were on
Agnosta. I also happen to know you are down a couple people,” she said
wickedly, smiling.

“I seem to recall you got your suits
when we went to Agnosta Lieutenant,” Valenko retorted. “Besides, we're the
first to get full suits, and we're the first to build them with Sergeant Riley
from the ground up. I bet if you check your numbers again you'll find my people
have a lot more suit time and suit sim time than your people.”

Silverman made a face. She pulled the
numbers up and then blanched, Valenko was right, his people had each of hers by
a good hundred hours. Some like the panther had nearly double that. “How the
hell...  When do you people
sleep
?” she demanded.

“Sleep when you're dead,” the bear
growled. His ears flicked as he got his game face on. “You up for this?” he asked.

She nodded, now sobered. “I think I'm
glad it's just a sim. It is just a sim right?” she asked, looking around
nervously.

“Well, we'll see,” Valenko said.

“Oh shit,” Silverman said, signaling her
suit to drop her visor.

“Ready?” he asked. She nodded assent.

“Retreat to corners. Five minute
warning,” Firefly said over their link. They were doing this in a depot
station, in an empty warehouse module that was over a kilometer wide and two
kilometers long. Well, not quite empty, they had left over a megaton of
equipment and cargo pallets inside to serve as obstacles and cover.

Valenko crouched, watching the digital
timer count down. “Remember the plan,” he said simply. “Stay off the coms,” he
said at T minus 1 minute. It counted down in a cascade to five, then
four...“Times up, here we go,” Valenko said, and then silently he hand signed
to the squad to move out.

They moved out in a Chevron formation,
Asazi on point with a shield raised. Gusterson was on her left with a shield, Fonz
on her right. Sergei was off to their right behind a two story stack of
pallets. Ox anchored the left side of the line. Valenko covered the rear.
Jethro anchored the right side in Sergei's place. For once his unique suit
wasn't the star of this particular show.

Asazi held up a fist indicating stop,
then waved to go again, slowly creeping forward. Jethro checked on Letanga.

The leopard broke off from his rear
position and climbed into the scaffolding, moving into the crane system before
he set up shop. He had his massive sniper rifle handy. He was only going to
have six shots before he ran out of battery packs. Jethro snorted as the
leopard deployed camo netting over himself and his rifle. He was in a poor
location, but he didn't have a choice, this place lacked proper cover and he
needed a high point for what was coming. He looked around and then nodded. Next
time, he thought, mentally marking a position near the left bulkhead on his
HUD.  After all, the pole gun had nearly an unlimited range.

His distraction made him fall behind the
team. The bear hand signed with both hands to close the intervals. Jethro
nodded and picked up his pace.

Suddenly Asazi raised a closed fist
indicating freeze. Each of them froze in place, not moving, barely breathing.
Asazi waved her hand down, indicating take cover. Slowly they slunk to a deeper
crouch. The cats dropped to all fours and crept to cover. The female
heavyworlder indicated a force coming up and measured out a hundred meters with
her hands. The bear nodded as Asazi set up a series of cameras and then fished
out fiber optic line to their temporary command post.

Hurranna signaled flank. Valenko nodded.
He signaled to Ox to set up shop, then both took cover behind the nearest set
of pallets. Ox moved forward, setting his beast down and then keying the prime
sequence. It was a boxy thing with extended legs to keep it from tipping over.
Ordinarily he'd anchor it with bolts into the deck or ground, but since they
were using low power shots he could get away with not doing that. He hoped. He
moved back to cover.

Sergei scowled then moved to his left
after dropping a micro camera on top of a stack of pallets. It had a bad angle,
he could just make out part of the kill box. It did give him the range, which
was what he needed anyway. He set up his mortars to cover the kill box. He
didn't like not being able to see, but he planned the firing arcs anyway.