Jethro: First to Fight (4 page)

Right now a lot of the recruits were in
four categories. The people wanting to get a better education, the ones who
wanted to support themselves or their family... those were the better ones,
they were ready to listen and in most cases eager to do the job. The dreamers
wanting a new and better life with a bit of adventure, and then there were the
lay about sods who wanted a free ride without having to actually work. They
thought it was just shining a seat with their ass and staring at a console.
Free medical care, implants, just kiss the right ass and you're kosher.

The parasites were coming out of the
colonies with a vengeance. All thought they'd get their kicks, look pretty, and
many thought they would be an admiral in no time. Resentment over how stifled
the command structure had become was a problem. Also, after the return of the
first Marine Expedition to Agnosta, several people have realized they really
could die in the job they were in. That apparently had made the rounds and
sobered the worst of them.

A lot of the parasites were people with
nowhere else to go. They either signed on out of desperation, or in order to
try to con something... or were coerced into doing so after committing some
crime.

He really couldn't blame the colonial
leaders, the colonies really needed only so many people to run them, the excess
needed to do something. Normally they did make work, stuff to keep busy or
stuff a droid or drone could do. Or “service work” another growing headache
they were going to have to deal with soon.

There wasn't much of a backlash yet
against repairing the robots, but there was a tide of resentment for those who
didn't have a job and sucked up resources. A colony couldn't afford that, and
space colonies like Pyrax even less so. It was no wonder that artists,
musicians, and other entertainers were few and far between in Pyrax.

Anvil had its own share or problems, her
repairs and restoration had drawn thousands to her to share in her new found
wealth. Some had been worthy to stay, but he'd heard a lot of grumbling lately
about the refugees. There was a growing transient population on the station.
Some were students, they had overtaxed the dorms and were now sleeping in the
park or in the halls or hot bunking. Things were getting crowded.

Pyrax had a population that was expanding,
with only so many places to expand into. Not many people knew how to make a
colony. Sure Capital Colony was supposed to be the showcase, but so far that
had turned into a debacle of corruption and overspending. Everyone was looking
at the navy to clean up the mess. It wasn't their job!

There were three startup companies that
were on the books as colony makers. One company was called just that, colony
makers. How original. He liked Sod busters. Unfortunately not one had the
industry or ability to actually do the job. Again, dreamers, they can talk the
talk, but they can't walk the walk. They can't actually go beyond pretty words
on paper.

He rubbed his jaw. No, the more he
thought about it the more Agnosta was sounding appealing. It would solve a few
of his problems. But it would open up a can of worms with the politicians. He
wasn't sure he was ready and willing to deal with them just yet.

There was however, something he could do
about the colonies. He'd have to look into it carefully, but maybe he could
sell some of their surplus to the 3 start ups, see if they would put it to use
and not warehouse it or resale it. He'd have to look into that, he mused.

John had left him in one hell of a lurch
here, he knew, in some ways he resented it. This exile a year ago was a problem
and an ever growing one the longer John was out of the system. Dealing with
Walker, the public, and the various corporations cropping up was getting to be
a headache. Spirit of space! Before the Xeno war he'd been a Yeoman himself!

Agnosta had been a bit of a headache.
He'd approved the mission, it had sounded like a good way to get some of the
Marine equipment tested, get some face time with the colony administers, check
on their progress, and maybe get some idea of what had happened to the admiral.
Losing a pair of promising Marines hadn't been a part of any of that.

He knew intellectually he was going to
lose people from time to time. They'd lost dozens during training, some were
washed out, but others had died. Some of the Marines had been wiped out in a
training exercise, the infamous 'geyser minefield'.

But for now, he wanted a tour of the
yard again. He was a techy at heart, he loved hands on and he'd be damned
before he'd let anyone keep him behind a desk anymore than necessary. John,
admiral Irons, had had the same feelings. He'd had a bit more discipline in
containing his ire and handling the political crap though. But one thing they
both agreed on, sometimes it was good to get away, even if it was only for a
couple hours. “It's good to be the boss,” he said nodding to his yeoman in
passing. The yeoman sighed, knowing his boss was off playing hooky while he was
left with the paperwork. “Hold the fort,” Horatio said, nodding as he tucked
his cover under one arm and left the administration center.

“Don't forget your appointment at one
sir!” the yeoman called, leaning over the desk to see his boss and make sure he
got the message. He could have sent an e-mail to the Commander's implants but
that would have been overkill. Horatio waved a hand to acknowledge he'd gotten
the reminder but didn't look back. He'd get a quick look and then lunch then
head back for his conference call with Firefly and the others at 1.

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

“Any word at all on the investigation?” Horatio
asked, turning to Firefly. He was starting to regret that kielbasa on a stick
he'd had for lunch. He was getting some heart burn despite his implants. Spicy
sausage did it to him every time. He loved the stuff but without someone like
Shelby around to nag him about his intake he always over indulged.

The AI avatar pursed his lips. “ONI
isn't saying anything. They are keeping things tightly compartmentalized until
they know more. Either that's because the trail has gone cold or someone high
up is leaking information.”

“That's always a good sign,” Horatio
sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Your hypothesis?”

“I think they're still trying but they
don't know how to ask the right questions and don't have the skills to really
do the job. You're all learning on the job so to speak.”

“If we are, the saboteurs in the yard
are as well. You'd think they'd slip up.”

He'd heard about Destiny and all the
hijinks on that ship. Someone had gotten that virus onto the ship. The virus,
the screw ups with the swapped cargo... the list went on and on. So far the
Office of Naval Investigations, or ONI had drawn a blank. All the hard suspects
involved had either disappeared or had been confirmed as dead. That told him
whoever was behind it was playing hard ball. It also tied the sabotage to the
swapped cargo.

To be fair, ONI Pyrax was one of the
smallest departments in the navy. It had 24 officers and 20 enlisted. They were
a bit top heavy with officers, but each was a semi-trained investigator and
interrogator. Or so they said. Unfortunately Horatio spent more time on the ops
and logistics side of the navy instead of taking a broad interest in things.

Admiral Irons had set up each branch of
the navy with a kernel of interested officers and enlisted. He'd turned his AI
loose on briefing each, providing them training materials and then for the most
part, left them alone to absorb and muddle through their duties, learning on
the job when necessary. ONI had cut its teeth for the first time while
interrogating the pirate survivors. In fact some still did interrogate them,
picking at their stories and trying to tease out new tidbits of intel that had
been over looked. Some were showing definite signs of being good at their job.

Which explained their focus, they were
focused on exterior threats, the Horathian pirates. Only when the admiral had
been exiled had Horatio steered them to keeping an eye on the domestic side of
things as well. Their department head was a hard headed former private
detective named John Montgomery. He was now first Lieutenant Montgomery, he'd
started as an Ensign interviewing the surviving pirates. He'd developed the
protocols to do so.

“You'd think that but survival is a
powerful motivator, as well as a stress inducer. The ones that couldn't handle
it either backed out or transferred or were disposed of. We may never know.”

“I think we can narrow down the suspects
right there,” Horatio said, eyes narrowed in thought. He stopped playing with
the stylus in his hands and looked at the AI. “Everyone who has worked in the
yard and died is a suspect as of now. So is anyone who quit, transferred or
disappeared.”

“None have disappeared,” the AI
reported. “Do you understand that you've just quadrupled the suspect list?”

“Is that all? Well we have to start
somewhere. Tell ONI I want a report. It can be off the books but I want to know
something now. They can protect their sources, let them play their games but I
want results.”

“I am shooting them a memo now. Done,”
Firefly reported.

“Good. I don't like what's going on, what
the implications are. We need to get a lid on this. If you can sit in on any of
their interviews please let them know.”

“I have Commander but most of it led to
dead ends.”

“Most of it?” Horatio pounced, eyes
glittering.

“The leads we have generated are still
undergoing investigation. They are... thin. Circumstantial and well... third or
fourth hand rumors. You said you don't want a witch hunt.”

“If I can't have a body I'll settle for
a witch hunt if it will flush out the perps or make them a bit more cautious
about playing games. Pass that onto ONI and let the Lieutenant know he better
have something for me by the end of the week or I'm going to take a personal
hand in things. He doesn't want that, trust me,” he growled.

“Yes Commander.”

Horatio waved a dismissive hand. “Now,
what's next?”

“The yard. We were discussing the build
schedule...”

The staff looked over the details of the
various construction projects and stockpiled gear. They were building
everything they could, and anything they couldn't immediately use was
stockpiled for later use. They had enough to build a hundred ships of every
class, but not the critical components, which was intensely frustrating. “Sir,
the latest orbital depot is full. The next one is coming online in a week.
Until it is finished materials will have to be stored outside it or elsewhere.”

“Great, that'll be fun. Moving it to and
from vacuum.”

“It's work. We've got to keep our people
busy and we've got to keep it up. It goes the same for yard growth and the
various stations. I want to hit the ground running when we're back on track.
Until we learn otherwise we stick to the revised plan.”

“That's a lot of stuff Horatio,” Firefly
replied. “Enough to refit second fleet.”

“And it's going to keep growing. We'll
turn out a sublight corvette every three months to add to system security.”

“Can we sell off some of the more common
components?” Firefly asked. Horatio blinked at him. “I'm talking about life
support modules and equipment. General tools, that sort of thing. Also surplus out
anything older than a year that we don't need to hang onto. MRE's for
instance.”

“An interesting idea. That would free up
some of the space in the existing docks and help with our public image.”

“Seems like a lot of make work for the
warehouse people.”

“It is and it isn't. I see your point, I
don't want to draw too far down though in case of another emergency like the
Port-a-Prince solar flare.”

“Good point.”

“But check the records and draw up a
plan to sell some of the MRE's and other equipment or trade them for things we
need.”

“That's an idea. You know we can't build
milspec hardware but I understand Anvil can build some civilian tech we can't.
It's civilian grade but something is better than nothing. Like oh, say, fusion
reactor parts.”

“Really?”

“It's civilian grade like I said. Same
for the EPS conduits. They've got a glut since a recent order was canceled due
to the economic downturn.”

“We can certainly look into it.”

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

Governor Paul Walker paced in his
office. He was a big man now, important. 'Paul the people's man', that was a
slogan from his election campaign. 'Governor Paul, the man who could do it
all'. The most important man in the system. He was handsome, charismatic, and
he knew how to play yes man when someone applied the right influence to him. He
had a beautiful wife and 3 children, all of which complimented him and helped
him secure his current position.

He was building another office in the capital
colony, one more commiseration to his rank and style but it had yet to be
completed. For now he was stuck in a former council room until they finally got
the damn capital sorted out.

He regretted all the graft that went
along with the project now. Sure he'd had his hand in the till, but he hadn't
expected it to make much of a difference. Skim a bit here and there and no one
would be the wiser. But in assigning jobs to his 'friends' and his 'supporter's
he'd created an incredible headache. Cost over runs, lack of supplies, delays,
fees for delays... it all snowballed into a tangled knot. And at the center was
graft and skimming. Everyone had to have their cut of the profits.