Jethro: First to Fight (47 page)

“Aye aye sir.”

“Restrict the liberty for now until
things settle down again. Order anyone off on liberty out of uniform.”

“Aye aye sir. It will make them less of
a target that way.”

“I'll not so sure anyone will be a
target but I'd rather not loose anyone over this idiocy.”

“Understood sir. I'll pass it along with
the other orders,” Vicky replied with a sober nod.

“Good. Out,” he said closing the link.
He sat back and rocked back and forth. “Now... what am I missing?” he asked
softly.

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

The Major and officers discussed the
pirates. It was an ongoing discussion, one they've had many times before and
would undoubtedly have again. And again. “The problem with this is we've got
some sketchy stuff and the rest is all supposition based on supposition. A
house of cards. We need to make some assumptions, but we're starving for intel
here,” Doctor Thornby said. She'd been frustrated by the insistence that they
look into the pirate implant tech again. She was finished, there wasn't
anything else they could learn, they'd even taken apart corpses with nanites to
get as much out of them as possible.

They had serial numbers from the
electronics, which supposedly meant something, plus data in their chips.
Monty's intel shop had gone so far as to recover the spaced pirate bodies for
additional autopsies. A grisly task, she didn't envy the NCIS Medical Examiner.
He was swamped, from what she had heard he was only taking them on one at a
time when current work was slow.

“I keep telling you, the pirates that
were captured or bagged here in Pyrax or on Agnosta only had information
implants, not enhancements. It was all crude, hack and slash really, something
like what I could have done before the admiral had arrived had I wanted to do
so. Some of the implant hardware I believe you traced back to other people, so
they must have taken them from their bodies and reused them. The new stuff was
unpowered and crude. They don't have the ability to take electrical energy from
the subject's neural net. At least not yet.”

“How?" he demanded. “How could they
even have that? We didn't have that until the admiral came along!”

“I know, believe me I know. Well, it
looks like a hack and slash. Stuff they yanked out of others. Maybe out of
cadavers who knows. But I'm betting this is going to change.”

“Oh?”

“Now that I know the techniques I
believe it wouldn't be a big stretch to create tech to do this outside of
replicators and nanotech. crude, but effective.”

“Really? How effective?”

“I'd say some of it is eighty percent on
the level with our information implants. A lot of the information processing is
a problem though, but the basic linkage... not to mention tissue rejection...”
Her face had a faraway look for a moment. She nodded as her eyes cleared. “Yes
I'd say about eighty percent.”

“But you said they lack information
processing? And no enhancements?”

“Yes, that's outside the person. And a
part of that is training as well. From the looks of this it's simple
information and command and control.”

"Ah."

"Did they have that? Extra
processors on the hardware side?"

She blinked. "I'm not sure. It's
not my field after all. I'll have to check. I gather by the time we knew that
they had implants half the captured ships had been rebuilt."

"Oh," the Major frowned.

"Which they may be getting a handle
on. We don't have the intel."

“Whoops,” the Major said, getting the
memos from the Commander. His eyes canned the documents and then his lips
pursed.

“Problem Major?” the doctor asked.

“Yes and no. Mostly the usual crap. I've
got to bawl someone out that I'd rather pat on the back. And we're a go for the
mission.”

She nodded, eyes wise. “Ah,” she said.
“The panther. Yes, He was done the service proud with what he said, he told it
as it was. But that's not quite what people were ready to hear. I've heard some
of the scuttlebutt,” she said.

“So have I. I'm not happy about the
other orders but we'll make it work. If you'll excuse me Commander I need to
get a handle on this and pass it along.”

She made a brushing motion as she
nodded. “By all means. And pass my respects on to Jethro. The lad did good.”

“Not that I can tell him that,” the
Major said with a sigh. “But I am going to counsel him on keeping a lid on his
temper.” He grimaced. “And a better lid on his mouth,” he said as he got up and
headed for the door.

“Yeah, that's a wise precaution,” the
Commander nodded.

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

Ox had a meeting with the doctor and
geneticists. Doctor Martel apologized for overlooking him. She took samples and
put him on the endangered species list. He was not happy about the high
distinction. Since he was such a rarity they discussed taking him off active
duty and putting him on protected status. He gently refused the option. “I am a
Marine. I don't know if there are more Taurens out there, if I'm the last so be
it. I know it's a burden but I also know I can't sit around and study the walls
ma'am. I'm an engineer and I'm a Marine. I intend to live my life to the
fullest as my family would have wanted.”

“That's...”

“Short sighted I know doctor but I
insist.”

She held up a hand. “Let me finish. I
was going to say that is commendable. I'll put it in the records son. I think
we have all the samples we can take for now. I'd like to continue taking
samples each time you have a physical if that is okay with you.”

“Yes ma'am,” he said bobbing a nod with
his massive head.

“All right then,” she replied, pursing
her lips. “Your next scheduled appointment is in a year. Please stay out of
trouble until then,” she said.

“I don't know about trouble ma'am,” he
said getting off the gurney. It groaned as his massive mutltiton weight shifted
off of it. “I am a Marine after all. But I'll do my very best not to get killed
if only not to disappoint you,” he said dryly.

She eyed him and then smiled a little.
“You do that Corporal. Now, send in the next guinea pig I mean volunteer.”

“Funny,” Ox snorted as he left.

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

Jethro was called into Major Forth's
office a few days after the interview. He knew what it was about, so he
remained stoically at attention as he was reprimanded for the interview. It
wasn't as bad as he'd thought it could have been. The Major was more resigned
to what happened. The Major just didn't have his heart into it and from the
subdued twinkle in his eye a lot of what Jethro had let slip had been on the
Major's mind. April had been right, he'd been set up. But it was a reminder to
keep a low profile and watch his mouth though.

“No follow up interviews with the other
networks Sergeant. I mean it. Any contact with a reporter clear it with the
public office.”

“Aye aye sir.”

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

April looked him up in a bar a few hours
later. “So, Jersey finished reaming you a new one?” a familiar voice asked.
Jethro turned. He'd tried to ignore the red head as she had stalked him across
the bar, but now he couldn't avoid her without being impolite. He sent a text
message to the public affairs office and then hit record with his sensors.

“Just a bit ma'am,” he said with a
shrug. “I stuck my foot in my mouth. I was fairly certain I would, it was only
a matter of time. I am a Marine after all,” he said.

“True,” she said laughing softly. “I'm
off duty, this is off the record, so don't get bent out of shape,” she assured
him. He nodded. She flicked her hair as she sat down, smiling as the bartender
set a beer down in front of her on a coaster. “I see you've got a link open to
public affairs. They're inquiring about this talk,” she said, grimacing.

He blinked surprised. “You have implants
ma'am?” he asked. She nodded, smiling before she took a pull of the long neck.
“Yup,” she said after she set the beer down. She showed him the jack on her
left hand and then brushed her hair aside so he could see an alpha jack at the
base of her skull. “I received them when Doctor Thornby put me back together. I
asked John a lot about his. Apparently he insisted I get my own.”

“I see ma'am.”

“They really come in handy. I'd love to
do some undercover work with them, but I'm just too famous now. Someone would
recognize me, even if I wore a wig,” she said, making a face.

The panther nodded. “Most likely ma'am.
And there's the danger too. People who know you were in a... relationship with
the admiral might take their ire for him out on you,” Jethro said.

“So, you're saying I need a body guard?”
she asked, toying with the stem of her bottle. She smiled as he squirmed a
little, twitching his tail. “Are you volunteering?” she asked, fluttering her
eyes.

He chuffed a laugh, flicking his ears.
“Ma'am, I've got a job. I'd suggest getting some muscle if you feel
uncomfortable, or sticking to safe areas. But you're a reporter, safe isn't
really your thing is it?”

“No,” she said coyly, taking another sip
of beer. “Not really. And I was safe when that plasma breach happened,” she
said sounding a little bitter. She shivered.

“I'm sorry ma'am, I didn't mean to
disturb you,” Jethro said kindly.

She shrugged after a long silent moment.
“It's over and done with now. But something occurred to me after that
interview. I never did ask you how you met John.”

“It's not much of a story actually
ma'am...” He related how he had met the admiral briefly in the infirmary. “He
really impressed the hell out of me, coming in wearing his coveralls and cover.
I mean, it would have blown me away had he worn his whites, but I'd seen some
peacocks on the station, that um, guy, the tailor,” he waved a hand.

She nodded.

“So I wouldn't have taken him too
seriously had he been in full uniform. His abilities did impress me though, me
and others.”

“I see.”

“But really? It was the way he was. The
way he just got things done. He rolled up his sleeves and made it work. That
blew me away. I've wanted to be a Marine, dreamed of it since I was a kit. I'd
learned the stories of my ancestor Tobias, I wanted a return to that. A return
to honor and duty. Not scraping by, wondering when the power and air would run
out, wondering where my next meal would come from and if I'd have to kill
someone to get it.”

He paused and took a long sip of beer,
getting his emotions under control.

“So, he touched you too huh,” she said
softly, looking down and toying with her coaster.

“I think he touched a lot of people.
Good and bad. He woke us up. We've been sitting here, wringing our hands
because no one was getting anything done. He taught us that if we wanted
something done, we had to get it done ourselves. He gave us a kick in the pants
and showed us what needed to get done.”

“I know,” she murmured softly, then
smiled. “He's a damn good man. Sometimes a little naive, I thought he was
cracked when I first heard of him,” she said, looking over to Jethro. She
smiled wryly at his expression and then explained to him a bit about what
happened. He had heard that there had been a relationship, but hadn't realized
how deep it had gone until he heard the soft sorrow and longing in her voice.

“He left me a message. He's not coming
back to Pyrax,” she said. “Never.”

“But you could go to him,” Jethro said.

She stared at him for a long moment. He
shrugged. “That is if you could catch him long enough. I don't think he stays
long in one place,” he teased.

“True,” she laughed. She held up her
bottle to him. He held up his. “To Fleet Admiral John Henry Irons. A great man
and a great friend. Where ever you are, we support you.”

“Here here ma'am,” Jethro said, clinking
his bottle to hers as others around them echoed the toast.

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

After talking with April Jethro felt a
pang of guilt. He searched his feelings overnight, wrestling with his conscious
and couldn't get a wink of sleep. He stared up at the ceiling counting tile
until he finally came to a decision. That made he now wasn't sure who to take
it too. Finally he decided to find and talk to the Gunny.

“What's on your mind?” Schultz asked,
shining his boots. Jethro nodded. The Gunny had taught them to take care of their
gear. He was also good about leading by example.

“Gunny, um, off the record.” He looked
around and then closed the door. Fortunately as the senior noncom on the ship
the Gunny had a small closet sized quarters of his very own next to the Marine
barracks bays.

“Sure. Pull up a stool,” the Doberman
said, pointing the toe of his shoe toward the only stool in the room. Jethro
glanced at it and hooked it with a foot to drag it out of the corner where he
could sit on it. He adjusted his tail and sat.

“Seriously off the record,” Jethro said.