Jethro 3: No Place Like Home (10 page)

“Sergei, get your ass to work. Someone want to tell me what's going on? You're supposed to be stowing your gear,” Jethro said, coming in behind Spitterman. “We're hot racking, three to a bunk, so it's going to get friendly. Get over it.”

“Who the hell put you in charge? I'm the noncom here,” Spitterman said, turning to glare at Jethro.

“Who are you?”

“He's the yahoo who came on deck and started to throw his weight around,” Sergei said.

“Shut it you. I'll deal with you in a moment,” Spitterman growled.

“Any time, any place little human,” the liger growled softly, deep in his throat. A few of the Marines around him looked at him in sudden discomfort.

Jethro felt the Staff Sergeant ping him. He held off on the IFF for the moment. Like most of the Neos he wasn't wearing a jacket; it was hot in the compartment. With so many bodies in a confined space it was heating up fast. It was only going to get worse as more and more piled in. Hopefully, the squids were doing something about it. Probably not though, he thought. He'd have to look into it shortly he thought with resignation.

“Wait; you’re that panther, Sergeant Jethro. Well, as it happens…,” the human said, turning to show his right arm. He tapped meaningfully on his rank again. “I've got you by date of rank,” he said smirking.

“Yes...and no, Staff,” Jethro said, noticing the Marines had quieted in the bay. He'd rather not have had this particular pissing contest in such a public venue, but he hadn't chosen it or the timing. He'd tried to catch the Staff before he'd come on board, and he'd even e-mailed him. Apparently, the human hadn't gotten the message, or if he had he'd ignored it.

“Point of information since you didn't get word. Yes, I was recently promoted to Staff, but since there was bound to be some confusion over the command chain and since I'm the one with combat experience, the powers that be decided to do a little something about it,” Jethro said. “I'm now a rank above you. A brevet promotion for now,” the panther said. He pointed the index claw on his right hand to his left shoulder patch and tapped it meaningfully as he pinged his own updated IFF.

Spitterman stared at him, clearly off balance and aghast. “They can do that?” he demanded, wide eyed. “That's not fair!”

“Damn right they can. So soldier on,” Sergei said in passing. Jethro shot him a dirty look. The Liger shrugged but kept going.

“Spitterman, why are you here?”

“Are you kidding me? A combat ticket in my dossier, something to put in my memoirs and a sure fire way for promotion and glory!”

“Ah hell,” Jethro sighed.

“Never be in a foxhole with a hero; ten to one he'll get your ass kilt,” Harley quipped in a text message. Jethro flicked his ears in appreciation of her humor.

“Look, Spitterman, we're going into full-on combat.”

“I know that! That's why I'm here!”

“Yeah well, if you're going to keep up, you've got to lose some kilos. And hell, I don't know where to start. We're going to do assessments one everyone and training twenty hours a day, every day until we actually do see combat.”

“Oh shit. Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Jethro said with a feline smile. He was starting to enjoy seeing the fat tub of lard sweat. He knew he wouldn't enjoy the smell for long though. “And here is the kicker, we could very well die if the ship gets blown full of holes. But if we survive that, then well, we get sent into a ship filled with pirates hell bent on killing us. And if they realize they are screwed, well hell, they might just hit that old self destruct...”

Spitterman was as pale as a ghost when Jethro petered off. He gulped a few times, and then took out a marine hanky to wipe at his sweaty brow. “I...um, never thought of it that way,” he muttered.

“Well, the good news is, you've got a long time to think about it. When you're not exhausted or too busy busting your tail to do so. So, for now, get squared away and then hit the noncom meeting.”

“Meeting?”

“I'm calling one ten minutes after the last noncom is on board. Training is Sergeant's work, and we've got our work cut out for us.”

---( | ) --- ( | )---

Jethro recognized a few familiar faces in passing. Lars Owens, Betty Paige and Zebo were welcome faces. All were veterans of the First Agnosta Marine Expedition, so apparently someone somewhere had scrounged them up from whatever rock they had been hiding under. Apparently Zebo and Paige had been demoted recently though, both had been Lances when he'd last seen them, or so he thought. He nodded. He knew they wanted to chat, to find out what the hell was going on, but now was not the time. Jethro motioned them to keep moving. Lars nodded and poked the others into motion.

A few familiar faces Jethro could do without. The human Presley was okay, but he was another shooter. He was a hell of a brawler in the bars though, he'd been up and down the rank a bit. His IFF said he was a PFC.

It was the familiar Samoan that got a groan out of the panther. “I know right?” PFC Keoni Nahele said, eyes crinkling in humor. “Good to see you too...gunny. Hell, we'll catch up some other time bro,” he said in passing, shouldering his sea bag and duffel and damn near bowling over everyone around him. Anyone that could gave the big human a wide berth.

Jethro shook his head, watching the human go silently. That complication he could do without.

Jethro heard a feline step and turned to see a female lioness behind him. He nodded politely. There were a lot of Neos and aliens in the group; apparently, the damn tax in Pyrax had chased quite a few people out of the system and into the arms of the military. He wasn't certain if he should be glad about that or not.

One thing was for certain, they definitely had more room to roam and grow on the planet. That was a good thing—no more strict birth control, nor the dark times of having to kill off most of a litter if you accidentally went over it.

Sir, Private Kiara reporting,” the lioness said, voice mellow. Jethro blinked.

“You've been assigned to us?” Jethro asked.

“Yes, sir,” Kiara replied, sending him her orders. “Sir, I've gotten my stuff squared away, but I haven't seen Kovu. Did he, um, stay behind in Antigua?”

Jethro frowned, ears half flat, tail still. He wasn't certain at first how to handle the situation. Finally, he realized the only way was to be as gentle but honest as possible.

“Kovu...”

“He's not dead. I checked the lists,” Kiara said, interrupting him. Jethro held up a hand. “Sorry,” she muttered, thrashing her tail.

“Look, I'm sorry to have to tell you this,” he said. She mewed softly. “But...”

“Is he dead? The bastard. I was mad before...” she sucked in a breath, eyes wide. She seemed to still be angry with him.

“No, not dead. Stasis.” Jethro quietly explained to her that Kovu had been severely injured by an IED and was in stasis. She stiffened and mewed in disappointment.

After his explanation she sniffled, ears flat. “I'll...I'll kick his ass. For getting us both into trouble and for...getting hurt. His stupid, stupid ass hurt! Why did he have to go and do that!”

“It happens Private. Sometimes it's the luck of the draw. His number came up unfortunately. Fortunately, it wasn't his final call. He's pretty battered though. You can go visit him in the storage compartment if you want.”

“I...thank you. I'll...I'll do that when we have off time though,” Kiara said, now sounding uncomfortable. “I'm not certain I can look at him that way though,” she admitted softly.

Jethro nodded, ears forward. He understood her pain and indecision; it was hard to see a friend like that, in pain. It made him feel so damn helpless. “Okay, well, my advice is to put him out of your mind. We're dropping him off in Pyrax.”

She blinked in confusion. “We're going on from there?”

“It's a long story. You'll get a brief when they make it official. For now, check on the others, help anyone get squared away. We've got a lot of training to do.”

“Yes, gunny,” she replied with a nod. She came to attention.

“Move out, Marine,” Jethro ordered. As she passed him Jethro made a note to possibly leave her behind with Kovu in Pyrax. He wasn't certain what her mental state would be going into combat and leaving him behind. He'd have to see.

Chapter 5

Jethro was amused to hear Spitterman had tried to get off the ship right after their initial meeting in the troop bay. Spitterman had a single counseling session with Valenko before he shut up and quietly went back to work.

“Welcome one and all,” Jethro said in his impromptu office.

“I like the office, very...not you,” Ox said, looking around the cargo compartment. He sat on the edge of a canister.

“Yeah, I'm not big on baggage. This was the best I could get on short notice. Besides, wardrooms are for officers; we work for a living,” Jethro said, nodding to the Tauren and then to Riley and the others.

“Yes, sir, that we do,” Riley growled.

“I've called you all here because we need to be on the same page. Riley, Ox, sorry, but you're each going to be spending more time in rank then playing with your tools. Though you may get borrowed by the suds to help out on their end if Chief Chowler needs it.”

Riley snorted. “I always liked the idea of showing the squids they can't find their ass without a map.”

“Cute,” Ox said. “I've been spending a lot of my off time with the engineers,” the Tauren said.

Jethro nodded. “I know. But you have been trained by Gunny Schultz, so you are up to speed on what we're going to do. Fortunately, most of our enlisted are shooters, some admittedly fresh from boot camp. We're going to spend the next hour going over the lesson plan for the week while they get squared away.”

“And if they aren't?” Sergeant Spitterman asked. “Squared away I mean. Sometimes it takes time...,” he stopped when the others looked at him.

“Then they'll find out quick just how fast they should be moving. Like I said, we can't screw around; we've got to get them squared away, working as a team and then trained in boarding ops. Once we've done that we're going to have to test them on first aid, prisoner handling, and whatever else we can think of for specialized training.”

“Lovely,” Riley sighed. “There goes sleep. I'm assuming armor training too? You do realize I've only got so many sets in the armory right? We left some behind in Antigua.”

“Yes, but you've got a couple sets you and Ox have been repairing, and I know you've got at least one or two that the users can no longer use. Figure it out. We need everyone in a suit when the ball goes up.”

“Everyone,” Riley mused.

“Wait, what happened to the other users? I mean for the other suits?”

“They died,” Ox said sharply.

“Oh.”

“Or they are in stasis. Either way, they won't be needing the suits now, and we will.”

“And when they wake up?” Riley asked.

“Cross that bridge when we come to it. Spitterman,” Jethro said, turning to the human Sergeant. “Go over the TOE when you get a moment; find out who has some armor training or requested it in their MOS. Pass that on in an e-mail to me and CC it to Ox and Riley here. We'll get it done.”

“Okay, can do,” Spitterman said with a nod. “When?”

“Today,” Jethro said, turning away. He looked at the Lance Corporals. “Still up for this?” He asked, flicking an ear towards the now quiet Sergei.

“Yeah, I mean I think so,” the liger said. He'd been quiet for the entire meeting. Jethro nodded.

“All right, you, each of you are going to be handling a squad or half squad. We've got three hundred people, that's ten people in thirty squads.”

“Including the Major, oh, you didn't count him?” Spitterman asked.

“No, I did. He'll have a squad with him that will act as his HQ squad and staff. The same goes for each of the officers. I'll have my own squad, so will you, Riley and Ox.”

“Armor?” Riley asked.

Jethro and the others looked at him. He snorted and spread his hands. “What, you think just because I make the armors I wouldn't make one for myself? Hello people!”

Ox snorted softly and nodded to Jethro.

“Fine then. Ox, Riley and Lieutenant Valenko's squad will have our armor, as much as we can scrape up. We'll need at least a squad of EVA qualified people, two if we can swing it.”

“That'll be tough,” Spitterman said. “Most of the grunts don't have the training.”

“Riley, you're the suit tech, so, you get that too.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Don't mention it. Borrow Ox if you have to. See me if you have any trouble,” the panther said tightly. He paced a bit as he checked his bullet point. “Okay, handled that, now, specialists with each squad. I don't know how many corpsman we're getting; with our luck we'll just have the three we've got on hand.”

“Gusterson and the others? You think they can handle three hundred?” Sergei asked, sounding doubtful.

“No. Which yes, I know is an issue. Hopefully, we'll figure something out; though the way things are going, we may have to wing it. Spitterman, lists for Ox and Riley on EVA people, also any equipment we've got on hand. We've got a short time before we leave people, so anything you or your people need, get the list to our officers so they can expedite it. What we can't make we'll beg, borrow, or hell, steal if we have to.”