Jethro Goes to War (Wandering Engineer Jethro's tale) Read online

“Easy for you to say.”

  “Yes. Easy to say. Hard to do. Talk is cheap,” Schultz growled. He shifted his amputated arm to draw attention to it. “But even without this, and this,” he pointed to his eye patch. “I'll still kick their asses. I'll make sure they know it too.”

  “Which is the point. Scare them straight and keep them there once you do. We need them to follow orders even if they don't want too. It's your job to get that through their thick heads. So when it comes to crunch time they wont freeze up in combat and get killed or get their team killed,” The Major said with a nod to Schultz. “I'll be looking in from time to time. When I'm out Lieutenant Pendeckle or Ensign Halsey will be the officer in charge.”

  “Yes sir,” the trainers said together.

  “If that's it then we've got a lot to do before tomorrow,” Forth said. The Major rose. They hastily followed suit. “Dismissed with my compliments. Get some rest. You'll need it.” He nodded as they about faced and walked out.

  Chapter 2

  Jethro watched quietly from the shade of the statue. The quad was quite busy, and well lit. Something he wasn't at all in favor of. Being a creature of the dark he preferred skulking around where it was quiet.

  They were in a rented park on a deck he'd never been on before. The park was big, quite large, with trees being planted around the perimeter. A path was there, some dirt path that ran along the entire perimeter. He wasn't sure what that was about. The trees and old statues were nice though.

  He tugged at the collar of his gray sweats then grimaced as he heard the stitches rip a little. Damn thing. Human thing. Every Neo hated clothing. It itched like no tomorrow after a few minutes of wearing it. It matted his fur, making it hard to groom properly. He rumbled a sigh. “This oughta be good,” a voice said from the group sitting or lying in the grass nearby.

  He looked over to see a marine straight out of an old recruiting movie coming over. He was whipcord thin, and since he had a dog's body, obviously a genie. Most likely a Neo. He was wearing pea green marine khaki's, with a lighter green top. His uniform was crisp, with fold lines that looked sharp enough to cut with. A crop was tucked under his good arm. The other sleeve had a prosthetic claw just before the elbow. He had a classic drill instructor wide brim cover on. With that eye patch and snarl he looked like he meant business.

  He marched through the quad not looking left or right. People instinctively straightened and got out of his way. Students, teachers, staff. It didn't matter, they all scattered in his wake. Behind him two more DI's followed.

  “On your feet maggots!” he snarled, coming to a parade rest in front of the group. Some of the group jumped to their feet. Others rose with fatalistic indifference.

  “Now hear this. You sorry excuses for recruits are about to enter hell.” He smiled. On a Neo-Doberman hybrid as battle scarred as he was it wasn't a pleasant sight. He sniffed the air. “Pussy. Get your ass over here,” he growled. He turned to look squarely at Jethro.

  Surprised Jethro froze and then hissed. His fur fluffed up and then he quietly came out of the shadows to join the back of the group. “Welcome welcome all,” the Doberman barked, looking around. His wide brimmed hat turned as he looked them over. “I see we need to sort out you lot. Normal humans over there.” He waved a clawed hand towards another DI. “The rest of you get to learn from me.” He pointed to the yellow foot prints painted onto the tarmac. “Feet on the marks move it move it!”

  Hastily the genies and aliens moved to obey. A few of the larger species had to be guided to the back. He had them dress ranks by standing with one arm outstretched.

  “You people are too stupid to pour piss out of a boot with printed instructions on the heel! All right we're going to do this right. Human twits that way.” The human DI pointed with his crop when they didn't move fast enough.

  The humans in the group looked surprised and then went off to the other DI. “Move like you mean it maggots!” the DI's snarled. They moved into a trot, and then run.

  “You've all had your shots and your check up. Your nice long chat with the doctors to make sure you're playing with a full deck. You're not, you are after all, volunteers. That alone says your IQ isn't double digits. You'll see why in a short while,” he said. He had a slight smile on his muzzle. Jethro noted it wasn't a particularly nice smile at all. That didn't bode well.

  “In a moment corporal Jefferson is going to go around with a bag. Anything contraband goes in the bag. This is your one and only free pass. Don't waste it. This is your one chance to get this right. We catch you with something contraband and you'll wish you'd never been born.” He glared around with his brown canine eye and then turned. His eye patch and battle scars made him look particularly vicious.

  The DI assistant walked down the rows with an open bag. A few things were thrown in after he paused and looked at someone.

  “For those of you who don't know, this is your fall in position. When I or another DI, that's Drill Instructor, tell you to fall in you better damn well do it,” the doberman growled as he glared. “Fast.”

  The DI's marched up and down the ranks smacking recruits to get them to stand straight at parade rest. Seeing what was going on the others behind tried to follow suit.

  “There are six hundred and twenty recruits. Thirty seven washed out before getting here.” He let them digest that fact for a moment. “You lot are a platoon. That's one hundred and ten wet behind the ear pups to take a rolled up newspaper too whenever I feel the urge.” His lips curled in a nasty smile. “I'll be perfectly happy if there is only one of you left when we're through.” He looked around.

  The Dalmatian next to Jethro seemed to gulp. His tail drooped and his ears flattened. “I so wish I'd chosen firefighter now,” he muttered, practically whimpering. Jethro snorted softly.

  “My name is Schultz. Gunnery Sergeant of this man's marine corps. gunny Schultz is an acceptable alternative. I'm the right hand to god. Which for those of you who don't know is Major Forth in this man's corps,” he said. He looked around. “This is Corporal Brenet and Lance Corporal Jefferson. They will be assisting me. If any of us tell you to jump you do it and ask how high on the way UP.”

  Jethro tried not to roll his eyes at the cliché. Goddess of space. Terrible. Just terrible. Right out of a bad movie. He schooled his features to a deadpan as the human DI nearest him looked his way.

  “All right, the rest of you are the freaks of the group. That's F platoon for fuck ups if you don't know who the fuck you are.” The DI turned looked around. Someone in the front row snickered.

  “You think that's funny recruit?” He turned in a flash, hat brim right up against the leopard's nose.

  “Yeah, just a bit.”

  “That's sir yes sir! And you better damn well learn it fast! Drop and give me twenty!” The DI stepped back and slapped the cat's shoulders. Surprised, the cat looked over to the DI as he fell forward into a push up. He started to bounce back but the DI rested his shinned boot on his back. “One.” He looked around pushing down with the boot.

  “The rest of you sissy pussy fat ass dregs can join in!” He swept them with a baleful glare. Jethro dropped fast. Others went down slow. “Let's make it a hundred since you don't know how to move when I tell you to move. Now ONE!”

  One hundred painful pushups later Jethro was ready to shred something but his arms felt like lead. He'd done push ups before, but not like that. He looked around. A DI cuffed him until he got onto his back. “That's right sit ups! Get on your ass like you know what you’re doing and move people!”

  They were led through a grinding exercise regime and then let back on their feet. Several of the platoon were already fighting mad. “Time for a nice stroll around the quad. Fall out, Move it MOVE IT!” the DI's screamed.

  One by one and then in groups the recruits moved off at a trot and then run. Jethro kept pace with the others and looked around a little. He wasn't winded, more amused than offended by the abuse. So far he had taken more guff from his own clan than f
rom the DI's. Somehow he felt a little disappointed.

  His platoon were all alien or genies. Somehow most of the normal humans had been traded to other platoons for Neo's or aliens. They had a lot of Neo's and only a dozen or so aliens.

  Neo's of just about every persuasion that was still alive; orangutans, chimps, gorillas, ursines, cats, dogs and others were there. Over the centuries most of the inter breeding had turned them into mutts. Only a few stood out in recognizable sub breeds. There were only a handful of aliens he recognized. A Gahsg, Veraxin, Naga, and a Tauren. There were two aliens that he wasn't too sure about though.

  Most of the aliens that had joined the Federation military preferred a career in the navy over the marines or army. At least that was how he had thought of it from what he had pieced together. He wasn't sure why. He knew there were other predators out there. He nearly stumbled over a fallen runner and so returned his attention to the course.

  The humans were running in groups as well. But for some reason they had been shaved. Even the females. He felt unease. He remembered how and why they did that now. He prayed to the goddess of space that they didn't do that to him. Damn if they'd turn him into a pink skin. He had a hell of a lot more fur than a fricken human did.

  His nostrils flared and then tried to close as he jogged past a place where someone had made a mess. So much for that big breakfast they were fed this morning. He looked away, trying to breathe through his mouth as he watched another human puking off to one side. A DI was on him, yelling at him to get moving.

  “Panting all ready pussy? We've just started!” The Dobie DI said, jogging near him. He wasn't sure if the DI was joking. Neo's didn't sweat like a human. They had to relieve excess heat by panting.

  “SIR no Sir. Just trying to avoid the stink!”

  “Aw what's the matter? We too good for you? Well a little sweat is good for the soul pussy. Get your ass moving. Faster! Like you mean it! Or I'll give you a reason! Like light your tail on fire! Shove this stick up your ass!”

  “SIR YES SIR!” Jethro had learned one thing, don't piss the gunny off. He ran for all he was worth.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Two days of relentless drilling had Jethro feeling like his entire body was on fire. Apparently he'd only thought he'd been fit and in his prime. He grimaced as he ran a clawed hand paw through what was left of his head fur. The gunny had been sadistic with that. At least he'd stopped at their neckline though, Jethro thought, feeling the stubble. Damn. He probably looked like one of those bird creatures. The ones with no feathers on their heads.

  “It'll grow back. It's only fur,” the lynx growled licking her paw.

  He turned to her in surprise. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “Integration. They washed out quite a few people so they are throwing us together,” Hurranna answered.

  “Oh joy,” Jethro sighed. “There goes the neighborhood.”

  “Hey, it's no picnic from where I'm sitting either pretty boy,” the bald lynx female snarled.

  “Weren't you ah...”

  “Go on say it,” the female said, her claws coming out. Her eyes dilated to slits as her ears flattened. She wasn't much more then a meter tall but she was still intimidating. What was it with him and females?

  “Um, dancer at a club? The Devil's Duce?” Jethro asked lamely. He vaguely remembered her scent as a kit years ago. She'd gone off with her family, or so he had thought.

  “You could say that.” She studied a claw and then turned a narrow eyed look on him. “You want to make something of it?” she hiss spat. Her scut of a tail flicked back and forth.

  “No he doesn't,” an ursine rumbled. “Get over it Hurranna.” The grizzly platoon leader growled as he entered the barracks. “You’re Jethro?” he asked.

  “Yes sir.”

  “Fire watch?”

  “Yes sir. Though why...” He shrugged.

  “Protocol. Discipline as well,” the ursine replied and then shrugged. “You'll get the idea soon enough.” He turned to the lynx female. “Don't you have something to do or should I find something for you to do? Like check your assigned chore?” he growled. “Cleaning the head wasn't it?”

  “Ah no...” She turned, backing away. “Damn it, I just did that. I'll just go check my gear,” she growled. She dropped to all fours and bounced off fast. The grizzly snorted a huff then turned back to the panther.

  “We ah, actually knew each other. I grew up with her for a while when we were kittens. I don't think she remembers though,” Jethro said.

  “Probably not.” The bear yawned a gaping mouth yawn. Jethro flinched at the show of teeth.

  “Oh sorry,” the bear said with a shrug. “All this sleep deprivation. It sucks.”

  Jethro wasn't so sure, but he wasn't going to argue about it. “Not enough hours in the day.” Jethro nodded.

  “Nah, it's to keep us off balance so we'll break old habits and pick up the new ones faster. And to teach us to work when we feel like we're half dead,” the bear rumbled.

  “Probably,” Jethro agreed, remembering something from his reading. He'd tried to read some of the family archive again before pre-processing but he'd only gotten through a few bits. Searching through the journals was a pain. It was even harder since most of the pride's copies had been hidden or lost after the eviction he thought with familiar pain. He ran his hand through his buzz cut again.

  “It'll grow back. Quit running your hand through it and you'll eventually forget about it,” the grizzly said. Unconsciously he ran his hand paw over his own bald head. “Damn stupid custom. I can see the need but it's a damn nuisance.” He shook his head. “Least it's just fur. I'd hate to have feathers or other things.”

  “You studied marines?” Jethro asked surprised and curious.

  “Yeah.” The bear nodded. “Like I said, it'll grow back, at least some of it. You'll have a marine buzz cut though.”

  “I saw that sir. My ancestors were marine recon.”

  “Oh?” The grizzly sat back amused. “Think you can hang?”

  “I... think I can. When I'm ready.”

  “You've got a lot to learn sonny. But knowing that is half the battle.” The grizzly sniffed. “DI Dobie is afoot. Best look busy,” he turned. “Attention on deck!” he called out, warning the platoon.

  Voices growled in protest but the mixed platoon leapt to its feet/paws as they were trained. The Naga slithered out of the bath and tossed a towel over its shoulder to the pile. Its tail tip caught the towel and stuffed it into the basket. From the look of the antlers the Naga must be a male. Then again the DI's had given the Naga a trim as well so he couldn't tell for sure. He cut his eyes to the door as he smelled the human approaching it.

  “Attention on deck!” A DI growled as the hatch door slammed open. He looked around with a stony face as he noted the group. “Ready for your surprise inspection I see?” he asked, one eyebrow raised in surprise.

  The recruits groaned softly at this. GI parties were hell they'd learned. The DI's eyes twinkled. “All right you maggots let’s get moving. Fall out!” He watched as they double timed it out of the barracks module and into the corridor.

  The barracks were inflatable habitats the navy had made. Right now they were attached in groups to universal ports which were docked to the station. It didn't pay to think about what would happen if one of them lost pressure or if say someone hit the wrong button and the entire group were tossed off the station. What he feared the most was one popping off like a rubber balloon, shooting out it's contents as it tore away from the station.

  Jethro looked down the row to see other platoons out of their barracks. Occasionally clothing, bedding, and even mattress material was being tossed out into the corridor as foul mouth DI's listed complaints. He winced.

  “Eyes front!” The platoon leader growled softly.

  He sighed as he watched the DI go to work. “We're in for it,” he muttered.

  “Doesn't matter. Don't let them see you flinch. Don't give
them the satisfaction sonny,” the ursine growled softly out the side of his mouth.

  “You call this head clean! I'll have you lick this damn thing clean if that's what it takes! There are smears on the glass! And what's this? A corner untucked!” Jethro winced. It was going to be a long day.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Gunnery Sergeant Schultz watched the marine recruits stumble through the simulated rain course and shook his head. “Rain, on a freaking space station of all things,” he said. “You call that rain?” he growled looking around. They'd rigged the sprinkler system to drop the water. It came in a steady dribble.

  “It's the best we can do gunny.” DI Brenet replied behind him. He crossed his arms. The gunny turned, water dripping off his hat brim.

  “Oh I know. But training for it...” The DI assistant, Corporal Jefferson growled. “Stupid if you ask me.”

  “Luckily no one did. A little rain is good. Builds character,” Schultz growled. He twitched his nose. “Besides, someday they are going to drop on a planet. They need the experience.”

  “Are we going to do snow storms next?” Jefferson asked looking sarcastic.

  “Don't tempt me. You'll be right there with them if I do,” Schultz growled.

  “Rain and mud are worse than snow actually,” A voice behind them said. They turned and then went to attention at the sight of the Major. Major Forth was in rain gear, but didn't seem at all bothered by all this wet stuff.

  Jefferson went to salute but the Major growled. Schultz turned to him. “Sorry sir,” the gunny said.

  “Yeah. Sorry, ah, sir,” Jefferson said looking sheepish. He dropped his hand. “I'm still getting used to all the protocol.” Getting used to when and where to salute was still an issue the new marines were learning. For instance, they weren't supposed to salute while in the field. It was considered a bad thing. Something about snipers.

  “You and them both,” Major Forth said. The major nodded to the recruits stumbling along. Most were completely splattered with the thick mud one of the DI's had added to the course. A chimp fell on her ass in the mud. She got up swearing and throwing her arms to fling mud away.