Jethro 3: No Place Like Home (25 page)

Jethro felt something, a phantom within him snort for some reason. He frowned, hitting pause, but there was no further response. He shook his head, not really understanding what had just happened. After a moment he hit play once more and settled himself down to listen.

“In these uncertain times we must band together to get things done. The Admiral has led us by example, doing what all thought was the impossible,” Walker orated sternly.

The speech went on to sharply divide the actions of
Port
Admiral from
Fleet
Admiral Irons, even showing images of each and video to showcase the stark differences. The video was a bit graphic when it came to the actions of the Port Admiral. Jethro wondered briefly why no one had brought that up before. Then he remembered...the news agencies, even Knox news had refused to air them. Some of it was blurred out, but enough was there...he frowned, wondering where Walker had gotten the footage. And why he was doing it now.

Then he remembered something. Walker was up for re-election this year. It was a tight race. Some said
very
tight. Walker needed all the upward momentum he could to keep his job. He exhaled noisily.

“It is regrettable that the child accuser and his parents didn't live to discuss this with investigators. No doubt those who were overwrought with the situation acted hastily, or they truly did commit suicide. We shall never know. Irregardless, this discrepancy has been a hindrance to returning things to normal and clearing the Fleet Admiral's record. That discussion will hopefully have ended with this broadcast.”

“Right. Sure. I'll just bet it has,” Jethro said, eyes narrowed. He knew now where this was going. He noted the video was a few seconds away from ending so cut it off and shut the file.

Jethro returned to the here and now and listened as fellow Marines in the troop bay picked apart the speech and talking heads while going about their daily life. Cynicism was deep, but there was an odd bit of humor in it as well.

Indeed, he judged that cynicism was great over the speech, which was to be expected considering the audience. He was curious about what the civilians were saying. He frowned thoughtfully. He couldn't trust the talking heads, each spun the story towards their own ends. That much was obvious.

He overheard comments from other Marines in the bay over the Governor and his speech. Was it an act was the still the main topic as well as pardoning not just Admiral Irons but all those involved to put it behind them and move on as a people, not let it tear us apart.

Jethro thought about that, cocking his head. The implications to him personally were now interesting. He wasn't stupid enough to come out and say anything though. Those that did know wouldn't say anything either. At least he hoped so.

“Yeah right. He's covering his
own
ass. I bet he was neck deep in the whole thing,” Jethro growled softly to himself.

“They won't implicate him any further and the various investigations and committees will die,” Sergei said from his rack.

“Maybe that's a good thing. I mean we need to move forward,” Harley said.

“True. I hate to admit it, but the bastard is right about that,” Sergei growled. “Still doesn't mean I have to like him.”

“I know. And I'd love to get a chance to meet him in person. A lot of Neos and aliens here would I bet,” Harley growled in agreement.

“But now with him in charge. He's involved. But...” another Marine said. This one sounded human.

“But he's the Governor. I think we need to give him the benefit of the doubt,” another Marine said, sounding enthused.

“Maybe.”

“He's worried about Antigua,” another Marine commented with a laugh.

“He should be,” another said. Despite his implants, Jethro had a hard time picking out who said what if he didn't recognize the voice. After a while he stopped trying to.

“Antigua? What about it?”

The Marine snorted. “Didn't you hear? We've got competition now. We were just there, that Prime station is a factory city. It's turning Antigua into an industrial power house.”

“Oh.”

“And word is the Admiral was offered a deal by them if he returned.”

The Marine's eyes widened. “Oh. Oh yeah. Now I get it!” He nodded thoughtfully. “Well, that sucks for Pyrax, but we're Navy. We go where they tell us,” he shrugged.

“True.”

“I don't give a shit if the capital is Antigua or Pyrax.”

“Is that what that was about? Trying to get the Admiral back?” Sergei demanded. “Or setting up where the capital will be?”

“Of course it was! Don't think for a minute it wasn't! You've got to admire it; he covered a lot of things. He tried to bury the hatchet with Admiral Irons and his supporters, covered his own ass, and tried to get Admiral Irons back to restart the industry and his own stalled political career. Now that some of the industrialists have had a taste they want more. More badly. I bet they offered him the governorship for life if he could get Irons back.”

“Governorship or Presidency,” Ox rumbled. “Don't forget that. Wherever the Admiral turns up, that is where the capital will be. Which means the local politicians have the inside track when it comes to the President seat.”

“It makes me sick.”

“Ah hell, it's politics. What did you expect? It will work or it won't, not our problem until they
make
it our problem.”

“Wait, how can they give
him
the governorship? Or presidency?”

“By bankrolling him. Financing his campaign, get out the vote drives, character assassinations, and hell, real assassinations of other potential candidates. They are waking up to what's at stake,” Harley said slowly. “I'll bet people will have accidents. All sorts of shit is going to happen, nasty crap.”

“Shit.”

“Right up your alley, Harley,” someone said. “All bad jokes and crap.”

“Easy,” Sergei said, putting a hand on her shoulder as she growled. “He's yanking your chain, right?”

“Right,” the unknown Marine said hastily.

“It's all bullshit anyways. Why do we care? It's not like our vote really matters. And besides! We're not going to be here anyway!”

“Yeah, my sentiments exactly.”

“Somehow I don't think I want to be in the Admiral's shoes right about now. With everyone gunning for him,” Ox said slowly. That made the compartment very quiet for a few minutes as people thought about that carefully.

“The Admiral can take care of himself. We just need to do a better job watching his back,” Jethro said. Slowly the others nodded in agreement.

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

“So, any more progress with our combative friend?” Madra asked mildly.

Jarvis shook his head. “No sir, we're not certain of his schedule. It looks like he's going to be on the Bismark for some time.”

“I think we can induce him to come back to the Annex, paperwork and such,” a tech said. The investor looked at him. He gulped. “It's a thought sir.”

“Yes. Well, the last time you tried to deal with him on your own you failed miserably didn't you?” Madra asked mildly.

The tech flushed. “That wasn't my fault sir. He changed his schedule.”

“Which is why you don't go through the elaborate trouble of setting up something as complex as an innocent shuttle accident,” Madra said tisk tisking. “Pity he didn't cooperate,” he said. “Rather rude of him,” he said with a smile.

“Yes, sir. We'll get him the next time. But we do have another issue.”

“Oh?” The investor asked mildly, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Do tell?” he asked.

“It seems Nameli is getting restless. He's not happy about the officers that came in on Firefly. He laid low, but it was close, or so he said,” Petty officer Third class Baker said. “He did pass on a tidbit, a new contact. A tech, Miller. Seems seriously pissed at a Marine and Firefly. Ripe for the plucking.”

“Very interesting, Baker,” Jarvis said. “But Nameli...is he going to be a problem?” he asked. He turned to his boss.

Madra frowned thoughtfully. He knew the risk of using someone as exposed as Nameli. He didn't like it, but the opportunity was too good to pass up. But the window of his usefulness was closing. If the current crisis blew over, there would no doubt be a euphoria and then a general house cleaning when awkward questions started to come up.

“He is outliving his usefulness,” Jarvis reminded him. “And he can expose a lot,” he warned.

Baker winced. He didn't like where this was going, not at all. He'd been in with Walker's people from the ground, he knew the risks, but for a time the credits had been good. Now he was in too deep, he knew it. He couldn't find a way to pull himself out, and he knew if he looked like anything other than the good spy he'd be a dead man. Case in point.

“I think, yes, let's see if we can kill two birds with one stone. Getting Nameli and the dear Commander on the same shuttle should decapitate their leadership quite nicely. See to it,” he said, nodding to Jarvis and then to Baker.

Baker nodded. After all, it was the only response he could do.

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

The two additional orbital forts had an ETA of one week to reach the B101a1 jump point. Orbital weapons platforms were being moved as well. Another four fortresses were under construction in the Yard with plans to move them to the jump point when they were completed. Half the jump point defenses from the other jump points were in the process of being transferred to cover their rear. Renee felt a bit of relief over that, but also some concern and doubt that it may not be enough.

The newly restored Arboth class destroyer Damocles was on station at the jump point as the largest ship there. Lieutenant Commander Harris was her new Captain, having finally convinced Commander Logan to let him have a larger hot seat. Renee had sent him a congratulatory E-mail when they had arrived in the system.

When they arrived near the jump point Damocles hailed them. “What now?” Shelby asked. “What does he want?”

“Damocles to Firefly. Good sailing and good hunting. I wish we were going with you,” Harris said from the overhead.

“Oh.”

“Thank you Damocles, we wish you were as well. Keep the fires burning; we'll be back soon enough.”

“Do us a favor, kick some pirate ass. But leave some for the rest of us,” Harris replied.

“I make no promises,” Renee replied with a feral grin. “Firefly out.”

“Sour grapes?” Shelby asked, cocking her head as she crossed her arms and contemplated her Captain.

Renee snorted. She knew what Harris was thinking and feeling. She couldn't blame the man. “Envy and a bit of jealousy. He's missed out on a lot.”

“True,” Shelby replied. Harris was an old friend of hers. She'd attended his gaming group for years as a teen, more to keep her dad happy than an interest in the boys. Sure, she did freely admit to an interest in the simulators and war games they had played, and especially in beating the guys who didn't have a clue on how to run a ship on a semi-regular basis. But she had kept it strictly friendship only, even with Harris who'd been the top dog of the club and had come on to her regularly.

Renee snorted. “Not my fault he insisted on taking a ship without a functional hyperdrive,” Renee said, interrupting her XO's woolgathering.

“Yeah, something needs to be done there though,” Shelby replied thoughtfully. “I mean, dad can't pull a hyperdrive from thin air but...”

“I don't think cobbling one from a civilian craft like the Horathians do would be any better. Though we might try it,” Firefly said, putting his two credits worth into the conversation.

“That...I don't know about that. I for one am not thrilled about trusting civilian crap. At least not something ancient and not really built for a warship,” Shelby said.

Renee eyed her exec with an amused look and then shook her head when Shelby noticed her. “You know, some of us had to rely on that civilian crap in the past,” the Captain said with just a trace of a wicked teasing tone in her voice.

Shelby blushed slightly. “Sorry skipper.”

“Oh, don't be. I don't blame you. Now that I've seen the other side, there is no going back. I'm spoiled.”

“Not spoiled ma'am, just properly cared for. As a lady of your touring stature deserves,” Shelby said, leaning closer to Renee. Renee chuckled with her as they entered the wardroom and strategy meeting.

“So, do we have anything more? Any more intel teased out?” The Captain asked as she took her seat. Shelby snorted and sat next to her, hands in front of her on the table. The intelligence shop had downloaded a rather sparse report on the attack. It was filled with holes and redacted paragraphs, quite maddening. Really what it boiled down to was that they had secondary proof that there really was a Horathian attack imminent, but not the timing involved or any really useful information.

And of course the intel people had waxed poetic with qualifiers and hearsay on it, page after page of butt covering that was disgusting.

“Nothing new or concrete,” Purple Thorn replied. She waved a hand to her Veraxin JTO. The Veraxin passed tablets to each of the senior officers. “I'd like your agreement on a few things though. We're having some discussion and disagreement on our strategy. Since we're a few hours from jump, it behooves us to get the details right.”