Jethro: First to Fight (45 page)

The class broke up. A few congratulated
the panther as they left. Finally the Major and the Captains were the only ones
remaining. “A word Sergeant.”

“Yes sir?” Jethro replied with a sinking
sensation.

“An excellent first lecture young man.
Excellent. Do you have any ideas on how to correct the smell issue?”

“It's not likely to be a problem with
pirates,” Pendeckle muttered.

“I'd rather it wasn't a problem at all,”
the Major replied crossing his arms.

“I'd suggest using some sort of nano
deodorizer or some other method sir. Something to not only remove the scent but
to replace it with a local scent,” Jethro mused.

The Major rubbed his jaw. “Smart.”

“It's a start sir. Masking a scent is
possible but not a wise idea. I did some reading. Hunters used the scent of
their prey's urine to mask their own scent.”

“I'd rather not smell like piss thank
you,” Captain Pendeckle said dryly.

Jethro turned to the Captain. “I'd
rather stay alive sir. No offense but I can always shower back in base sir,”
Jethro replied. “Sometimes you have to get dirty. Sometimes you have to roll in
the mud if that's what it takes to get the job done.”

“Noted,” Captain Pendeckle replied, jaw
working. It rankled a bit to get jerked up short by a Sergeant in front of the
Major, their boss. The Major grunted giving both men a look.

“Good work young man,” he said with a
nod. “Write up your suggestions and forward them to me and the Captain. Also
any other ideas you have to improve training. That walk through the park is a
good idea.”

“Yes sir. Sir any word on San Diego?”

“No, I'd hoped we'd get the park going
but the navy is still having problems getting the engineering sorted out. I
think Agnosta is looking more and more likely. We'll see.”

“Yes sir,” Jethro said coming to
attention.

“Dismissed son with our compliments,”
the Major said with a nod. Jethro stiffly walked out.

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

In a rare surprise Private Harley Quinn,
Neo hyena was assigned as a shooter replacement to Hurranna and Hurranna's
replacement Mirilax. Harley was an old friend from F platoon, so she integrated
with the veterans easily, much to the annoyance of Fonz and Kovu. She picked up
on the hand signs and the squared away get it done attitude right off. But in
their off time she was as much of a joker as Kovu, frequently playing practical
jokes on the boys.

Valenko read her jacket again as she
went to work with the squad. She was good, but her jokes tended to wear on her
old squad, one of the reasons why she had only gone up the ladder a few rank
tabs. She'd actually made it to PFC, but had lost a stripe after a particularly
nasty prank had gone wrong.

She seemed to have mended her ways, so
he decided to give her a chance. As long as she didn't get carried away that
was. She had also gotten her quals as a backup sniper and back up medic. That
said something right there.

The foxes Pamplona and Shiku were both
up for their last empty slot. Both Verpines were good, damn good at being sneak
specialists. Both were lance corporals now, snipers. That would cause a
headache with Kovu and Jethro. Jethro was the lead sniper of the squad, Kovu
was coming along fine. Both Verpines were lead snipers in the squads they were
in currently, which was an issue.

Besides, he was getting a little sniper
heavy. He needed another shooter. He frowned and then passed on them.

Private “Curious” George might be an
interesting rifleman, but a bit of a problem. The Neo-orangutan was a joker
like Harley. Could he deal with two, no three jokers in the squad? It'd
definitely keep everyone on their toes, but they had to sleep sometime! No, he
would be better off passing.

Now, Daka, he was someone to consider. A
growing male gorilla, he was another graduate of F platoon and had actually
applied to join Valenko's recon squad repeatedly. Daka was pretty mild, he'd
pick someone up by the ankle if they irritated him. He didn't have much of a
sense of humor, but he was good troop. Daka had been driven into the Marines by
his silverback, the male had driven him out when he had entered puberty. That
had to have sucked.

No, Daka wouldn't work with Harley, he'd
probably tear the hyena apart. Knowing her, she'd probably do something stupid
like try to shave the gorilla in his sleep. He frowned and made a mental note
to lock his door.

What he wouldn't give to have one of the
Agnosta brood. He looked at their jackets and then frowned. He hadn't noticed
until just now, but over ninety percent had been Neo's from F platoon. Only a
small handful had been human. That was odd. Or was it? Had Major Forth stacked
the deck with his best people?

He went over the other candidates with fresh
eyes. He'd just done that, looked for Neo's over a human. He felt a little
annoyed at himself. Finally he turned his attention to one human, a blue eyed
blond with a cool look. Clive Bret, PFC. Good records, no bad marks, recon
qualified, rifleman, heavy weapons certified, back up medic, suit and armor
certified, but interested in command track, or at least noncom track.
Interesting. He made a quick gut call and signed off on the papers for the PFC.

“We shall see,” Valenko murmured softly,
tapping his lips with one long claw. “We shall see won't we?”

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

The new financial year was declared
nearly seven months after the return of Destiny. Recruits joined the Marines
and navy despite competition from the militia and subtle prodding by the
governor and colonial mayors. The down tick in the economy was just getting
steam, with admiral Irons away things were settling down and the jobs that had
been planned were not appearing as fast as everyone had hoped. The one bright
spot on the horizon was the Navy. They were taking in just about anyone. They
were also willing to train a recruit, provide them housing, food, medical care,
and do the same for their family. In an economy where experience mattered, that
was vitally important.

Some of the recruits were older people
with little or no hope of steady work in the new economy. Some had lost their
jobs due to health reasons or because they had been replaced by a repaired
piece of equipment. Many however were young, people out for a chance at danger
and excitement, adventure and seeing new places. Young people striking out on
their own for the first time, full of life and ready to make a name for
themselves. Quite a few people were just interested in a steady pay check and
getting out of Pyrax.

Volunteers were divided, sixty percent
preferred the navy but did not have the education, skills, or mindset to handle
being on a ship. Those of course could be trained or compensated for. Many who
lacked an education opted for the Marines, militia, or some of the various
security outfits starting up.

The governor's militia swelled its ranks
but had trouble with what to do with all those people. The governor attempted
to pay for the militia by diverting the tax funds from the military to the
militia once again but this time JAG was ready and filed petitions with the
court to stop such activity. Governor Walker seethed as the case made its way
through the courts. His blatant attempt at stealing the funding was squashed by
Judge Hershey. The Pyraxian congress deadlocked on an amendment to fund the
militia through other sources when the militia's initial budget was examined.
Apparently less than five percent had actually been used by the militia, the
rest of the funding had disappeared in dozens of shell company subcontractors
without any sign of benefit to the system. Quietly the governor's supporters
refused to back him and allow more graft. The public exposure of the corruption
forced them to turn their back on him.

Without ships, facilities, or funding
the militia became something of a joke in the system. The governor's staff did
their best to distance the governor from the project, refocusing on finishing
the capital colony.

With funds finally becoming available
Horatio expanded the construction of San Diego and accelerated the Agnosta base
project. However there was still the problem of all the recruits. They were
coming in, but in small job lots every week.

The problem of all the recruits kept
rearing its head until a novel solution was promoted by Veber. The Centaurian
suggested the recruits be put into stasis. Volunteers would be paid for their
trouble, and well cared for.

Reluctantly the Major and Commander
Logan had the recruits put into stasis. Only volunteers were allowed, any who
refused the order were quietly given their discharge papers and escorted out of
military space. The recruits who did volunteer were given full medical as a
major incentive. Each would receive a full regen, antigen, therapy, Ident
implant, and body implants for their troubles. They would have sleep teaching
and information downloads and would enter an accelerated training class once
they were awakened. They would also receive a marker in their jackets, a merit
to consider for future promotions.

That drew several hundred recruits, but
many wavered, afraid of what would pass while they slept. They were also given
a further incentive, a  bonus, one hundred credits for every day they were
in stasis. This would serve as an incentive for them and for the officers and
bean counters to get their collective acts together.

Finally, the Marine recruits were
informed that they would be shipped to Agnosta and would wake on the new world.
That also gave them an added incentive to go with the program. The naval
recruits would remain behind in Pyrax.

Not that it was so easy. Some things
were easier said than done.

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

The new year also started a dating fad.
That led to a swarm of weddings as approvals for marriages worked their way
through the bureaucratic red tape of the navy. Credits for housing and other
things were worked out. Some families would receive pay for being split up when
a spouse was sent to Agnosta.

Clive Bret had settled into the squad,
and was the first to get married. He was a quiet sort, perfectly squared away
with a no nonsense approach to combat. He got along well with the other members
of the squad. They hadn't known he had been dating until he had asked them to
attend the wedding. Valenko put in for the time off and it was granted.

They threw him a bachelor party on
Anvil. Due to their implants the Marines weren't that hung over the next day.
Clive's eyes were a little bloodshot, but he made 'the movement as required'.

The albino Lotus had been in the wedding
party, she had looked like a bright white beacon in her dress. She had silk
flowers of white as well, it was a stunning look for the cat. She seemed
embarrassed by the attention the bridal party received.

Lotus had done well with the Neo
Marines, they had referred her to their friends. She had dozens of clients, so
many she had been forced to hire on two assistants and rent office space. She
was a bright spot on the employment, small start ups like hers expanding to
take on new roles.

The matriarch encouraged the Neo's in
the military to marry in order to transfer as many civilian Neo's to base
housing, away from Anvil and the hated Neo/alien life support tax.

Some Neo's and alien families would
follow their spouses to Agnosta when military transport was available in the
future. That was a big bright spot on the horizon.

A special election was finally called to
replace the delegates who had died with the former speaker or for those who
disappeared or were charged with felonies related to the admiral's exile. “It
was about time,” Horatio mused as he scanned the news articles. Each special
election was a local affair in the individual colonies the delegates and
representatives were supposed to serve. Special interests attempted to flood
the air waves with propaganda and smear campaigns but some more honest
individuals did get elected. “Will wonders never cease. There is some light at
the end of the tunnel.”

“Until their compatriots corrupt them,”
Thornby replied with a smile.

“You are such a pain in the ass, you
know that?” Horatio growled. That earned him an even bigger smile.

“Me, I'm hoping it will shift things a
little our way. Or a little further away from Walker. Give us some breathing
room or something. I'm sick and tired of the damn knife fighting and
corruption. I'm pretty sure John Q public is too,” he growled.

She nodded. There had been a series of
scandals over the past eighteen months since Congress had gaveled into session
for the first time. The newly elected promised change and an end to the
corruption and gridlock. It was fascinating, seeing them so full of life and
promise. Horatio however had heard such things before. But he was reserving
judgment, trying to keep from being too cynical. They really could change
things.

Of course the new blood wasn't enough to
fully influence the congress but it was a start in the right direction as far
as Horatio was concerned. Many of the new delegates and some of the older ones
were reported to have bonded over the past two days, forming contacts and
tentative alliances. A few were even putting in calls to look
him
up.
That was an interesting twist, either they were serving an olive branch in the
hopes of building a contact with him, or for some other reason.

A few had been assigned to the military
oversight committee. He was amused by that. They had no authority over him, the
only thing they could do would be to withhold funds... which they were doing
anyway. He
still
hadn't gotten the full amount from the last tax
collection. Or the one before that.

The new committee had called him in for
an interview yesterday. It had been a supposedly informal affair, but more than
one politician had hinted that maybe he should retire and hand over the reins
to someone younger and more pliable. That bothered him.

He had invited a few of the more
friendly representatives to tours of the yard as well as some of the ships. A
few had graciously agreed immediately, a few others had cautiously backed off,
stating they had to check their calendars before responding to such a request.

It was curious which would use the tours
as a photo op for their own ends. Hopefully the smarter ones would save that
sort of nonsense and ego stroking for near the end of the tour. He had no
intention of letting journalists tag along for the entire tour, nor stopping
every ten minutes for pictures. He made a note to only tour areas with a view
of nonsensitive areas.

Of course each of them promised the
problems with the credits would be ironed out just as soon as they got on their
feet and he weathered the assorted hearings and other procedures. He didn't
have high hopes of anything happening anytime soon.

He knew the general idea of a committee,
it was a collection of individuals gathered together to avoid collective
responsibility for a problem, or to avoid solving said problem. A favorite
euphemism of his time was to kick the can down the road and make it someone
else's problem. He hadn't been certain Walker and his cronies had known that
trick until they empaneled blue ribbon committees to investigate the Vesta
incident. They had come forward clearing all involved in the incident and
labeled it as 'an unfortunate misunderstanding for all involved.' Of course no
charges had been filed.

The next general election was scheduled
in nine months. Half of the congress was up for election then, the other half
wouldn't face their electorate for another two standard years and nine months.
They would be joined by Governor Walker.

Walker would be lucky if he managed to
remain in office that long. So far he had beaten off two attempts to impeach
him by steering the bill to a committee to be tabled in the congress and one
recall drive by the public. He had gotten off on a technicality. It was
annoying that he managed to get the recall effort derailed by pointing out that
the font size was too small. All signatures to put the recall on the ballot had
to be tossed. Of course the proponents of the recall effort only redoubled
their efforts after that sort of slap in the face.

This new investigation into the
disappearance of his secretary Nancy O'Dell might be the last nail in his
coffin. The governor's office was making all sorts of noises about being open
and honest with investigators, but behind closed doors sources told a
completely different story. And those same closed door sessions were starting
to make their way into the media presentations. Walker had so far dodged
implications in her disappearance, but that might not matter for long.

Horatio frowned as he read another
request then looked up to the view screen. April was there, talking while
holding a microphone in front of her. “Miss O'Neill seems to have bounced
back,” Horatio said, sitting back and looking on.

The yeoman turned to the view cast and
then back to his boss. “It seems that way sir. I believe that's her request?”

“Yes. She wants to interview Valenko's
squad.”

“Why?”

“I'm assuming it was because they were
on top, but it may also involve their action on Agnosta... or she could be
fishing for more. She's a good influence for us though, us meaning the navy,”
Horatio said.

“That she is sir. Are you going to allow
it?”

“Well, I think she's getting heartily
tired of interviewing naval personnel. She's not interested in tech, more
interested in people. I'm sure we can work something out,” Horatio replied.

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

Jethro was ordered to do an interview
with April O’Neill a week after his first lecture and a few days after the
special elections were finished. Apparently the reporter had been working her
way through various prominent figures in the military and was now focusing on
the Marines. The panther did a bit of background check on her and was impressed
with what he had found out about her.

She was beautiful in a human way. She
had a frisky attitude, a lively smile and sparkling blue eyes. Her flame red
hair has regrown since her return nine months ago on Destiny, and it was even
more silky and fluffy than before, though it was short, not quite shoulder
length. She had some work done, her yellow jumper was still a trademark but she
now wore matching yellow boots. She seemed to be a living flame, beautiful and
alive. He could see why the admiral had taken a shine to her.

“Nervous?” she asked, smiling politely
as he took a seat on the seat she had set up for him.

“Does it show?” Jethro asked, slashing his
tail. He didn't understand why they had insisted he do this, if he was supposed
to be a secret, why the interview? Sometimes what the brass did made no sense.

“A bit.”

“I'm sorry you didn't get more time with
the admiral. You sound like a nice person ma'am. Good for him,” he said.

So you've met?” she asked, smiling a
dazzling smile. Normally a Neo would be on guard by such a show of teeth, but
there was genuine humor and interest in her lively eyes.

“Yes ma'am,” he said. “Briefly, just
before I enlisted. He announced it when I was in the infirmary and I signed
on.”

“Ah,” she said nodding. She looked at
his fruit salad, his list of campaign and award ribbons on his left lapel.
“Quite the salad,” she said.

“I've had a busy couple of years ma'am,”
Jethro replied.

“Yes, let's talk about that,” she said,
crossing her knees and picking up her tablet. She tapped the stylus against her
full lips briefly as she scanned the document.

Jethro tried to ignore the hovering
cameras around them. It was easier than he had thought it would be, after his
experience with sensor balls he had learned when to tune them out.

He realized she had gotten him to lower
his guard almost immediately. She asked about each ribbon and he explained
them, then expanded on the story when she gently prodded him for more details.

He answered questions, explaining each
incident and what happened. He stuck to his orders, keeping his cloak a secret.

He was humble, which was amusing to her.
He kept the report simple and dry, a stiff report of the engagement, no
attempts at glorifying his own part in it.

“So, a Sergeant, E-5. I salute you on
your recent promotion.”

“Thank you ma'am.”

“With all this new blood, it must be
interesting, lively even.”

“It is ma'am. We've received four new
personnel to the squad after an equal number were promoted to other squads or
assigned to other duties. But we've managed to remain on top, through hard work
and a bit of luck. Recon rocks,” he said, smiling a little.

“Yes, I had heard that your recon squad
was quite good. Number one,” she said, smiling.

“Recon is the cream of the crop ma'am.
We don't accept excuses, we work hard. Each of us train daily, sometimes around
the clock.”

“That must make sleeping hard.”

“Sometimes ma'am. But combat doesn't
wait for someone to take a nap. Sometimes you have to function when you're
hungry, sore, dirty, and tired. We've learned that, both in sims and on
Agnosta.”

“I see.”

She tweaked him about combat pay and
then surprised him about the taxes, and how Pyrax has changed the tax code,
closing loop holes, one of which now made anyone in uniform pay fifty percent.

“That explains why so many people are
now volunteering for military service,” he said.

“Oh?” she raised an eyebrow and tapped
her chin thoughtfully.

“I had thought it was because they
wanted to defend their home. The medical and educational options are also
factors of course but the taxes may be playing a part in things as well.”

“That and the economy. But the Neo tax
is probably why the Marines have seen a one hundred and forty percent increase
in Neo recruits over the past month,” April replied with a knowing nod.

Jethro blinked at her in shock. “Neo...”

“You didn't hear?” she asked, blue eyes
now a little wary. He shook his head. “Well, then, I'm afraid to tell you that
the Pyraxian government has issued a charge on Neos. They are calling it a fair
and balanced life support adjustment. An additional tax if you will since their
bioforms take up so much space and life support.”

Jethro scowled. “That's...” He reached
with his implants to find the data she was referring to.

He was annoyed. He found out about Neo
taxes as well. His total take home had just dropped to twenty five and a half
percent. He realized he didn't really need it, but his family, burdened with
such a heavy lean would. With a pang he decided then and there to give most of
his money to his family.

“Well, I guess I'm glad I'm leaving
soon.”

“Yes we'll get to that in a moment.
About the taxes? Do you think the navy really needs that much money? Don't you
think you're overpaid?”

“Anyone who has ever been in combat
knows it's not enough, nor do we do it for the pay ma'am,” Jethro replied. He
reached for the figures and got a pie chart. “According to my numbers, seventy
percent of the navy's budget is paid for out of its own pocket by sales of
parts and raw material and services. The remaining thirty percent is supposed
to be made up from taxes. The navy doesn't charge for legitimate emergency
services, like the rescue at Port-a-Prince and others,” he countered. She
nodded.

“As you know, the navy has a reputation
now of helping colonies or spacers if we can get a ship to them in time.”

“I see. And yes, I did know all that.”

“We have ships scattered all over the
system. That's a part of our job, we do it, and do it well.”

“Yes you do.”

 “But back to manufacturing... I
see an article about that. An example was selling life support parts and even
selling manufacturing equipment to make stations and space colonies.”

“But they aren't getting done. They're
being warehoused. People don't know how to use them or they're sold on the
black market. The prices keep going up despite the navy's sales.”

Jethro spread his hands. “That's not our
fault ma'am. We provide them with the tools, it's up to them to get off their
ass and learn to use them properly. We can't do everything for them. Even
though they demand we do.”

“True.”

“A lot of times the navy doesn't charge
for something, or we give ten times the value of something. Or barter. And
people resent that too.”