Jethro: First to Fight (80 page)

“That's for Torg,” Riff snarled, looking
over to his still flaming buddy. He felt tears prick his eyes as Gwen reached
for Torg, then dropped her hand and head. After a moment she turned. “Get the
fire extinguisher. Put him out and then cover him with something. Someone get
the door, weld the sucker shut. We've got work to do.”

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

For the past ten days a few of the
cybers had used holo tricks to distract the pirates. They were getting wise to
them though, so only the most sneaky of holos worked anymore.

Some of the more pacifistic of the station's
ruling council had tried to negotiate with the pirates. Two of their organic
number, both humans volunteered to take their terms to the pirates.

“Now look, we both know it's hopeless.
We're offering you an honorable way out,”  Francis said, shaking her head.
She piously put her hands together. She'd been roughly searched when she had
presented herself to the pirates. She wasn't sure where her companion Darlena
was.

“Right,” Major Zimmer said distractedly.
Even though the space battle was lost, he still went about, business as usual.
A pirate put his hand up under Francis's skirt. She slapped it away. The man
gloated, laughing as he reached for her.

“Keep your grubby paws to yourself!” she
growled. “I'm a member of the station's ruling council! I was appointed to the
position by Governor Randall himself!”

“So?” the pirate asked.

“So I'm a person of some importance. As
is Darlena,” she sniffed, nose high. “Do have some respect.”

“Respect must be earned,” the Major
said, then turned to a video feed. Francis's eyes cut to the screen in time to
see Juliet sheltering a bunch of alien and human kids behind her. “What are you
doing? What's going on?”

“Nothing much,” the Major said. “You may
fire,” he said, then turned to another soldier.

“Fire! What did he mean...” She gibbered
when she saw the pirates open fire, cutting Juliet and the kids apart. She
stared, blank eyed. The pirates would talk about something as if they were
civilized, but then calmly order children to be executed on a side channel.

“You're barbarians,” she said in an awed
voice.

“You have no idea what we are. Take her
to see what's left of her friend. We'll send their heads back as a message to
the stationers.”

The woman screamed as two men grabbed
her roughly and then started ripping her dress off as they hauled her out. She
kicked and writhed, but there was nothing she could do to stop them. Finally
she broke down into sobs and let them drag her away.

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

The council had watched the entire incident
through Francis's implants. They had been tempted to warn her of Darlena's
fate, but had in the end hoped it wouldn't be the same. Obviously they had been
wrong.

Sid and Emily Berkheart called the
council's attention to the executed women and children. Silently Sid put up a
freeze frame just before the firing squad had fired. Between the alien kids and
the Horathians was Juliet.

“No,” Emily said softly. “Who's going to
tell Romeo?”

“He's dead. He died an hour ago,” Taylor
said gruffly.

“Did she know?”

“She may have. I don't know. It doesn't
matter now.”

Two of the pacifists committed suicide
rather than see their home torn apart by barbarians once more. They left notes
saying they just couldn't handle the violence anymore.

Rasha wasn't sure whether it was for the
good or not. On the one hand they weren't a hindrance anymore. Nor were the
idiots who had gone forward to negotiate and had gotten shot for their trouble.
But they would be missed by their friends.

“Cop out,” Taylor muttered. “They took
the easy way out rather than admit their world view was wrong. Good riddance,”
he said.

Rasha was a bit appalled by her
husband's point of view, but couldn't disagree with his logic.

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

Kenny Kennet, ostracized by council, mad
with rage, decided it was finally his chance to get even. He had been run off
the council after the Yard Dog incident. Now he saw his chance for revenge.
“Major Zimmer, a moment of your time,” Kennet said, waiting for the Major to
look up. He'd taken careful pains to make certain the other cybers were
distracted. He wasn't quite sure what was going on outside the station, all the
exterior sensors were offline, but he knew it was something important.

“Who the hell are you?” the Major asked,
looking at the holographic image. “Another idiot trying to negotiate?” he
demanded.

“Well, in a way. I'd like to propose an
agreement. Spare my life and I will let you know where the cybers are.”

“Cybers? Did you say cybers? Is that who's
been interfering in my plans?” Zimmer demanded, eyes flashing dangerously.

“I, um... Yes,” Kennet said, shrugging.
“Cybers. I am a cyber. We are quite valuable, a bridge between man and
machine,” he said diplomatically.

“Right right, I know all that,” Zimmer
said. “So you were involved in this?”

Kennet's eyes widened. “No no, not me,
I've been, exiled, I guess you could say. Ostracized by my peers. My so called
peers. So, I'd like to make new ties. A new beginning so to speak.”

Zimmer stared at him. Finally he leaned
forward. “Where. Are. They?”

“In the command center. I can show you
the way,” He informed the Horathians about the hidden cybers. Kennet watched as
the Major ordered a Lieutenant to gather a force and follow the cyber's
directions. The Lieutenant gave the holographic image a single look then nodded
sharply to his boss.

“It's this way,” the rogue cyber said,
indicating the axial to command. “No offense, but we've been right under your
nose this whole time. I hope you understand, we were just trying to survive.”

“I see,” the Lieutenant said
noncommittally.

“Your Major sounds like a good leader,”
Kennet said as the humans loaded up into a lift car. The tube doors closed and
the machine took off, moving through the station. “I cleared the way. Once
you're inside you can dictate terms to the others. I can watch over them from
the inside to make sure they behave of course,” he said, trying to feel the
Lieutenant out.

When they arrived on the command deck he
waved them into the outer ante room with a slight flourish. “It's just through
here, the command deck of the station. Beyond that is our inner sanctum of
sanctums.”

“Find them,” the Lieutenant said coldly
as his men spread out around him warily. “Find them and smash the pods. We'll
rig explosives to make sure they're all dead,” he growled. He pointed to the
inner door leading to the command room.

Kennet's holographic eyes went wide.
“Now wait, that's not what we agreed... oh shit!” Kennet wailed as other
holograms appeared around him. The doors locked behind the Lieutenant's squad
and the air began to rapidly evacuate from the room. “No!” Kennet said. “I
didn't mean it!” he wailed.

“It's a trap!” the Lieutenant said,
triggering his explosives. The room rocked as the explosives went off, tearing
it's interior apart.

Kennet was suddenly struck sober by what
he had almost done and about being caught. He backpedaled, babbling to D'red,
Yan Fu, and the others. None however were paying attention to him.

Other cybers recognized his treachery,
it was rather hard to miss since they had been carefully monitoring the pirates
from the moment they arrived. “We've got to do something about him, he could
get us all killed. Now they know we're here, where we're at.” Taylor and Rasha
Warner spoke to the others as they slapped up defenses.

“You brought this on yourselves when you
turned your back on me!” Kennet's voice echoed through the system.

“Take me back!” Kennet babbled 
over and over. but Yan cut him off. The Asian leader cut him from the net and
all sensory information, driving him insane in seconds. It was cruel but
necessary.

“We'll have to kill him. For what he's
done....”

“We'll deal with him later. If there is
a later.”

Once he had a secure beachhead Valenko
paused, letting his people consolidate the gains that they had. “Time to make a
call,” he said. He frowned at the report. Gauss rifles were a bit more than
he'd expected. They threw twelve gram rounds down range, punching through the
thin skin of the station in some places. The Marines in armor shrugged such
fire off, but those in skinsuits were taking a beating.

Of course they were giving back some of
their own, the Marine Gauss rifles, the C-42 fired steel jacketed tungsten
impailer darts half the size of the Horathian rounds, but twice the mass and
four times the striking power. And their rifles didn't blow up if they were
fired too much, always a bonus in combat.

“A call? At a time like this? Oh wait,
the brass,” Sergei said, turning slightly. A robot was nearby, one of the bots
they had borrowed from Firefly. It was a repair remote, allowing the Marines to
repair damage or find ways around problems.

“Just watch your zone Sergei,” Valenko
said dismissively. He called Zimmer on an open frequency.

“What? Who the hell is this?” an angry
voice replied.

“This is Lieutenant Valenko of the
Federation Marines. I'm looking for your commanding officer, a Major Zimmer, or
whoever is left in charge.”

“Um...”

Another voice came on after a pause.
“Wait one,” it said gruffly.

Valenko turned, pretending to buff his
nails. It was a silly look, but something that amused him. “I'm not going
anywhere,” he said.

“Find that damn signal. I want its
location,” Zimmer snarled to his subordinates. “Who the hell is it?”

“A lieutenant sir. Um, Valenko.”

“Lieutenant? Just a lieutenant?”

“I...”

“Never mind. I could give a shit,”
Zimmer said, eyes turning to his screen. His intel shop was shaky at best, they
had after all, fallen on their face time after time when he'd ordered them to
get him a proper map of the station. Someone had been cute, they'd overwritten
the map in the computer network and had even changed all the directional signs
his people ran across.

“Yes?” he said, finally, clicking the
microphone. “This is the Horathian commanding officer.”

“Ah,” Valenko said. “Finally.”

“Are you the Marine in charge?”

“Of this assault yes. Of all the
Marines, no. That would be Captain Pendeckle, he's a bit busy coordinating all
the Marines all over the system right now. So, I've been tasked to take this
station.”

“Really. You're nowhere near taking this
station,” Zimmer taunted.

“Really? I think my people are doing
quite well. Quite well indeed. You humans are very overconfident.”

“Wait, what did you say your name is?
Valenko? I thought you were human? Russian? Isn't that a Russian name?”

“Indeed it is. And my ancestors were
from Russia at one point in time, but I'm not human. Far from it. I'm a Neo
bear. A grizzly I believe the term is.”

“You...” the Major stared, clenching the
microphone tightly.

“And yes, I'm in charge of dozens of
aliens, humans, and Neo's all sent here to kick your ass. But I'm feeling good,
I've been given orders to try to avoid further bloodshed if possible. You know
your fleet is gone. You're alone. Right?”

Only a growl answered him. Valenko shook
his head. “I'm calling to offer you the Horathians terms of surrender.”

“You're giving up?”

“Cute,” the bear rumbled. “No, I'm
asking you to give up.”

“To... to a bear? To scum? A Neo? A
piece of trash??!” the Major sputtered. From there it devolved into cursing and
saying rather nasty things about Valenko's mother and his sexual orientation.
Valenko tuned most of it out. Clearly the Horathian was furious at the idea of
talking to a Neobear Marine, let alone surrendering to one. Valenko was amused
by the other's rage.

“I'm trying to get you and your people
out of this in one piece Major. Take the offer, it's the best you are ever
going to get.”

“Frack you and your damn offer!” The
Horathian raged, spittle coming out of his mouth. “I'll see you in hell you
scum before I'll surrender to the likes of you!” He was beyond losing it. The
Marines had cut his people to shreds.

“You've lost Zimmer, you just haven't
seen it,” Valenko said as if explaining it to a child.

“We'll see about that. Come any further
into this station and I'll... I'll detonate it. She'll be a thousand kilometers
of debris by the time I'm through!” he snarled and then laughed. He cut the
channel.

Valenko frowned and then sent a copy of
the recording of the conversation to Firefly. Wiser heads then his had to be
brought in on this.

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

“Can he do that?” the Captain demanded,
looking at her staff.

“No idea Ma'am. We have to assume he
can.”

“Well, we better damn well find out!
Now
people!” the Captain growled.

“We can't tell if he's bluffing or not.
We can't see any fusion weapons with the station's reactors functioning, they
just block out the neutrinos. We're getting so many false targets from all the
micro fusion reactors as well, don't get me started on fissionables,” the
Veraxin sensor officer chittered.

“Can you narrow it down at all?” Shelby
asked.

“No. Which is a problem.”

“Can we hit them? Use our grasers to
punch holes into the station and kill large pockets of them?” Purple Thorn
asked.

“It's possible, but also possible that
we could hit something vital and kill a lot of people. And we wouldn't know if
they really had a weapon until they used it.”

Captain Mayweather wanted to use a
graser for surgical strikes to take out the pirate leader or large pockets of
pirates near the surface of the station.

“We'll get it done Captain,” the 'Major'
Pendeckle informed her softly. She turned to look at him. “He's bluffing, he
doesn't have a weapon. His boss wouldn't have sent him in to secure the station
with a nuke, that's stupid. They wanted that station intact remember? It's all
a bluff to buy time. For what I don't know.”

“So what do we do?”

“My people do what they do best. We'll
go in there and dig them out. The hard way. We can't afford civilian
casualties.”

“But...”

“Marines know the risks Captain. We'll
soak up the damage. I've got the other ships companies on standby, as soon as
we can, I'd like to pull some of them off and then send them in to reinforce
Valenko.”

“But the bomb... if there really is one
we'd be dooming a lot of people,” Purple Thorn said.

“And I'm saying there isn't one. He's
nuts. No we'll get it done ma'am. Just let us take our turn,” the 'Major' said,
looking at the Captain. “It's what we do,” he explained to her. “It's
our
turn to do our job and
your
turn to sit on the sidelines ma'am.”

“I hate being a cheerleader,” the
Captain grumbled.

“Darn. I thought you looked good in a
uniform,” the 'Major' said absently. The Captain glared at him but he ignored
it and got back to work with his staff.

“Sometimes we just have to trust our
people to get in and get the job done. They'll do it or die trying,” Shelby
murmured to her Captain. The Captain nodded, eyes troubled. She knew the odds
were long.

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

Now that Kennet had given away the
location of the command center, Zimmer had dispatched two squads to secure it
and kill the cybers. He knew the only way to get off the station was to seize
it by the throat fast, no more pussy footing around. It was a race to get to
the command center first.

He didn't know what had happened to his
erstwhile Benedict Arnold, nor did he care. He'd find a way to win this without
help.

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

When Jethro was certain he was close to
a pocket of enemy moving to his objective, he stowed the rifle. He broke it
down into four parts and then stowed each in a compartment in the armor. Then
he crouched on all fours and relaxed. His breathing slowed and he entered the
cloak. A moment later his suit did as well.

He was tempted to get in ahead of them
but he knew they were expecting resistance from the front. They probably had
eyes on their rear and flanks too, so he had to get cute. He looked up to the
ceiling. Perfect. His tail lashed and then he leapt. His claws dug into the
supports holding the false ceiling together. He heard a mild groan, the hangers
really weren't designed to hold his sort of weight. He dropped to the deck once
more, rolling in the air to hit on all fours, then bounded forward. It would
work, but he'd have to be careful on how he did it. An airlock would work best.

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

Private Nap nervously looked around as
he moved, trying to keep his head and not shake like an idiot. “Move!” the
Sergeant snarled behind him. He gulped, moving forward. He was stuck on point,
he'd trade any position for this. He had no choice, the cold bastard behind him
would shoot him without even thinking if he refused. He made it to a junction
and paused, looking left, then right, then left again before he moved forward.
He heard a sound to the left and froze, holding a fist up. He looked to the
left but didn't see anything. He frowned and then waved forward, moving out
again.

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

Jethro didn't dare let out a sigh of
relief as the point paused and then passed. He could have done this on the
ground, but he knew the stealth wasn't quite perfect. Good yes, but not
perfect. The trick was to not be where your enemy usually looked. Ground and
eye level were two such places. Which was why he was pressed tightly to the
ceiling, waiting for the first squad to pass.

When a dozen men had made it past, one
stopped and yanked another by the scruff. He pointed to the intersection. The
kid nodded and then crouched, holding his shot gun in front of him pointed to
the right. He scanned the left and right, waiting for the rear squad to catch
up.

Jethro noted the kid was in some sort of
armor, an exosuit of struts and motors much like an ancient suit from the
twentieth century. Crude, but apparently effective. It had some armor tacked to
it, a pirate's cross bones on the chest and a heart with a number four there as
well, but it all smacked of improvisation.

The Horathian's had a mix of weapons,
Gauss rifles were the most common. A few had shotguns like the private, a
couple others had salvaged Federation weapons. Two had crew service plasma
rifles attached to their E-frames.

The point for the second squad met up
with him. Jethro's eyes narrowed. This guy had a skin suit on, one that had
armor applied. It must be heavy, but the big human wore it comfortably. The guy
behind him had the hips, torso, and lower limbs of a militia powered armor, but
it lacked arms. His arms were bare, just bare skinsuited arms sticking out
holding his weapon. It had a space suit helmet on, one with a Mohawk and a pair
of Mickey mouse lights on top. The armor was crude, some of it militia grade,
but it's more than he expected. This was definitely going to get interesting.

Two more men followed, then an officer.
He could tell because the man had gold pips on his collar and was urging his
men to move faster 'or else'. Unfortunately for the officer he'd disdained one
of the crude suits for a camouflaged suit. The green suit made him stand out in
the gray corridor. Jethro crept closer until he was above the men. Then he
dropped, striking hard.

His claws raked into the back of the
human, and his falling weight dropped the human onto his face. Jethro reached
out to the stunned guard and rammed a fist through his chest, then turned and
raked his claws against another unarmored human. The man went down with his
throat and face tore up, but the arterial spray hit the cloaked panther.

“What the hell is it?!” the Horathians
shrieked.

“Who cares! Shoot it! Shoot!” the
Sergeant said, looking back. Jethro crouched and snapped the officers neck as
he yanked his right fist out of the dead guard. He saw the Horathian's level
their weapons in his direction and thought he was safe. He growled, crouching
low, but his eyes widened when his suit hesitated and the rifle barrels tracked
him. The muzzle flash made him yowl in surprise, throwing himself to one side
behind the still falling corpse of the guard. His vision caught sight of his
blood soaked arm and he sore vilely at his inattention to detail.

He rolled the body out in front of him
then ducked into the passage. Horathian's followed so he bounded on all fours
to the next cross section, zig zagging and even running on the walls and
ceiling to throw off their aim. When he was out of sight he shook himself, then
carefully checked his status. No hits, and he was at three quarter power. He
took a grenade out of a pouch and pulled the pin. He counted a three count then
lobbed it back the way he had come. He heard someone scream grenade then the
shrapnel grenade went off. He threw another one, this one a smoke grenade, but
didn't trigger it. Instead he took a rag out and wiped the blood off his armor.
He scowled. The blood wasn't coming all the way off, in some places it was
smearing. Not good. He needed a shower. It would have to do. He triggered the
smoke grenade and then turned, dropped low and rounded the corner, getting back
into the fight.