Jethro 3: No Place Like Home (33 page)

“Oh yes. And this project...it is quite fascinating,” the AI said, sounding distracted.

“Right,” Renee drawled. She shook her head. Shelby was off in engineering, most likely covering for her Chief engineer. She looked around the bridge. Janice was due in.. she looked at the clock. In an hour. She made a note to make the rounds on the ship once Janice had the bridge watch.

Chapter 14

Once the fleet settled down, the 492 prisoners were sorted out, scanned, and brigged. Another 125 were in the infirmary of Firefly. Since there had been so many slaves who needed critical medical attention, Captain Mayweather had passed down orders that they received priority. The Horathians would be stabilized but would not be put into stasis unless they were of some intelligence value. They could live or die on their own.

Doctor Standish had briefly protested that order, but then had been swamped by additional cases as more and more shuttle loads of former slaves came on board. After a while he stopped protesting.

Once the wounded Horathians were stabilized, those who were lightly wounded were brigged. The Marines were careful to separate the wolves from the sheep. The enlisted went into the largest brigs; the officers and noncoms were segregated in other quarters under guard. Whenever there was room, a group of one to two were moved from their vessels under heavy Marine guard. The converted cruise liner Oasis of Space XCIV was set up as a prison ship. “I know you don't like it but hear me out. The ship was converted into some sort of
entertainment ship
for the Horathians, which means she had brigs. Dungeons really,” Admiral Irons said, laying out his plan in the daily conference.

“But, sir, she's got extensive facilities on board. Some of which we can use in therapy.”

“Do you honestly think it is a good idea to keep some of the people on board? Some we found in the holds, dungeons, and even chained in some of the bedrooms? I think a fresh change of scenery is in order,” Major Pendeckle said.

“That's right. The ship does have an infirmary, I will admit that, but it is a small one. They weren't really interested in keeping their prisoners happy or alive. At least not for long unless their suffering was for entertainment value,” Ian McGuyver growled. Renee liked him; he had a good head on his shoulders. She appreciated his slight accent. It was odd, almost lilting in a way.

The senior staff argued over the idea for a few minutes. The medics stood firm; they wanted the ship as a hospital ship.

“This isn't a democracy people. I have my reasons for wanting things the way I want them. Discussion is closed. The prisoners are already in transit. The dungeons on the Oasis are already rigged as prison cells that will make things much easier for our intelligence people.”

“Sir, we're not going to put the computers there too are we?”

“I don't see why not,” Sprite interjected.

“I do. If the ship was lost for some reason we'd have all our eggs in one basket. No, we'll keep a copy there, either an extract or something else. We'll distribute encrypted copies with Firefly and the other ships. I don't want anything going wrong there.”

“Aye aye, Sir,” Firefly responded, making a note. “So, you have plans for our refugee population?”

“They are civilians now, sir,” Ian reminded him. There was an uncomfortable silence over the net. All knew how thin and hard pressed the teams were on each of the ships.

“I know that,” Admiral Irons replied quietly, breaking the taboo. “Those who wish to volunteer, and I know there have been quite a few, have been put to work once they passed a physical. We'll work it out,” he said.

“Sir, about the Oasis; I strongly urge you to change your mind. She's the best for the refugees. Once we restore her, she'd go a long ways to keeping them comfortable,” Doctor Standish said stubbornly. He was tired, and he knew he was being a bit pig headed over the subject. But he couldn't let it go. He kept picturing in his mind's eye his patients resting in the whirlpools and by the pool. Or finally catching a break and actually having fun. Many had suffered enough and desperately needed some down time.

“No,” the Admiral replied patiently but firmly. “We're only restoring the basic functions on each ship. Just enough to make them hyperworthy. After that, well, focus will be on the warships first to protect the other ships. We'll go on from there later. We're not going to waste time on frills right now doctor, I'm sorry. That is the way it is.”

“I see.”

“Besides, the Horathians should appreciate the amenities there. The ones they seem to enjoy the most I think, though we won't be as barbaric as them and actually use them.” He ignored the growl of wordless protest a few of his officers voiced. Renee felt a little appalled by that. Were they savages? She knew some had suffered greatly at the hands of the pirates...but were they going to sink to their level?

“No, we're not. It will give them plenty of time to think about them and regret any participation they had there,” the Admiral said. “And dwelling on it, and wondering when we'll start using them should make them...interested in talking. A little oh, psychological prodding should help.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, it occurred to me that some of the pirates recorded their...adventures. These will of course be used in their trials,” Sprite said, smoothly taking over the conversation. “I suppose we, or I should say, the intelligence officers could, I don't know, replay select portions at appropriate times and let their imaginations help fill in the blanks? Like, oh, audio bits. Things to get them motivated in talking.”

Ian snorted. After a moment he chuckled. “I like it. It's not as good as actually putting the bastards through it, but just letting them sweat should be fun. And who knows, we may get something useful out of it.”

“And maybe one or two will drop from a heart attack,” Chief Chowler growled.

“Maybe,” the doctor said, now sounding concerned.

“We'll have to see. I think, after what they did, a little soul searching would be good for them. Don't you?” The Admiral asked. “And they do say, confession is good for the soul.” That earned a chuckle.

The staff meetings were held virtually, since each of the senior officers had duties on their own ships and couldn't burn the time in transit daily. The ships staffs were shorthanded across the board, and there was a great deal of concern over that.

Six hours after the battle, the Admiral had gone over the various ships and had designated those for salvage. The easiest were the ships that were little more than wreckage after the battle. Those ships were gone over by a special engineering detail, a team of personnel from both engineering and the intelligence services. Ensign Esh'z worked with his opposite number in naval intelligence to secure the computers and anything of potential intelligence value. Once they were finished engineers went through the ship, ripping out anything of value for the repair of the other ships, and then the ship was sent on the Carnegie.

The factory ship Carnegie was a beehive of activity. Not only were wrecked ships stacking up around her, but work crews of volunteers and naval personnel were in and all over the ship, making whatever repairs they could while keeping the molecular furnaces filled with material.

Working around the ship was dangerous, as it was in just about every ship in the fleet. The medics were kept busy dealing with injuries. Several people were critically injured in work accidents, and one person was killed when their suit breached. By the time help arrived and the woman had been recovered and brought in, too much time had passed and she was declared brain dead. Her body was passed on to the morgue.

Eighty hours after reaching and recovering Echo, Commander Sindri returned her to Maine. The little corvette was battered, but Sindri reported her functional. Admiral Irons authorized the change of command, as well as passing command of Bounty formally to Commander McGuyver. Echo took station near Carnegie, and her crew went to work dividing their time between their own ship's repairs and the salvage operations.

The reefer ship Gypsy Rose was used to hold those in stasis. A shuttle moved the stasis pods when it was available. A volunteer crew manned her. She was one of the few ships in the fleet that didn't need major repair or overhaul. She like Minerva Alabama had been restored in Pyrax. Minerva had been in the pirates’ hands longer, so she had a bit more to put right, but both ships were functional.

There was some debate on sending the ships off to Pyrax as each came online. Admiral Irons and Captain Mayweather nixed the idea. They wanted each crew to be given time to work up, to retrain, and most of all, to heal physically and mentally. Some of the ships would lack medical personnel when they moved out, it was best to utilize their two doctors to the fullest before they went into hyper.

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

Jethro's squad bounced around, drawing prisoner escort duty several times before they were informed they were slated for the liner with half of the Marines under Valenko's command. Some of the former slaves had to be watched carefully; two had committed suicide after being freed. One had beaten herself unconscious before a medic had arrived to sedate her. Another had clawed at a Marine, out of her mind in fear and roiling emotions, not ready to accept her new found freedom.

Oddly Jethro, the Neos and aliens were major factors in convincing some of the doubters that they really were rescued. Seeing one in armor, carrying a weapon convinced those who had problems with the scenario that it wasn't a sick trick. Jethro had found himself being hugged or petted by several people. The girls and kids he didn't mind. But a few of the guys who had sobbed and blown their noses in his fur had him wanting to snarl and climb the walls.

Half his squad were humans. Anderson, Clarke, Niven, Weber, Stasheff, Asimov, were stock humans, all had trained under Jethro during his tenure as a DI. All six humans kept their distance from the refugees at first, allowing Jethro or one of the others to make contact. Honor Weber, their navy medic seemed to be resigned to her secondary role. As Neo canines Jerry Lee and Rigs didn't mind the attention, though most didn't cuddle up to the coyote Rigs.

Lance corporal Trina got some attention, but one look at her flattened ears and bared teeth made most people back off. The neofeline didn't like being touched either.

Her counterpart Lance corporal Za'vex was new to the squad. He didn't mind the attention, but he had a quiet no nonsense approach to things.

Corporal Or'og their Gashg was another consummate professional. He was the poster child of a stern squared away Marine. His professionalism marked him as a career Marine.

“Sir, why are we here? Still on Firefly?” Valenko asked Major Pendeckle when they were held over. Most of the troop bay was filled with refugees. The former slaves were being cycled through the infirmary and mess, and then given their first chance at a decent shower and rest. Some took it well, others had problems. The Marines had given up sleeping in the bay.

“Didn't you know? Orders,” the Major replied, sounding distracted.

“Um, yes, that's what I was wondering,” Valenko asked. “Why?”

“Not my orders,” the human replied. “The Admiral's. Specifically you and your original squad. Apparently he didn't get word of the promotions and changes. I'm trying to fix that now. Until then, well, enjoy the peace and quiet while you can.”

Valenko looked at the group around him. “Peace and quiet he says?” he snorted. One little girl was in his lap, wrapped around his left arm. She was asleep with her thumb firmly planted in her mouth. He snorted softly. The cub thought he was the world's biggest teddy bear.

“Sir, any ideas?” Jethro asked after the Major had disconnected.

“It seems the Admiral wants us here for a reason,” the bear said. He scratched at an itch on his right ear. “Ours is not to reason why...but hell. Any ideas?” The bear asked, tugging on his ear.

“I think I may have something to do with it,” Jethro admitted.

“You?” the bear asked. He frowned thoughtfully. He schooled his features into calm when he noted more than one refugee flinch. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Why you?” he asked in a text after a moment.

Jethro thrashed his tail and then shrugged. “I've been told it's a classified issue, but well...I asked him for help about my situation and my armor.”

The bear slowly nodded. He knew Jethro was having some issues. He'd been glad he hadn't had to cut the cat any slack. Apparently the hard training had kept whatever was going on at bay. “Any issues I need to know about?”

Jethro's tail thrashed briefly, a sure sign of annoyance. He kept his ears from flattening though, just barely. “No, but I want answers. Commander Firefly said I had to go to the Admiral. I did. He told me he'd give me what he could.”

“So, he's nailed your foot, hell, my foot to the floor so we stay put. Great, just great,” Valenko sighed. He nodded as a group of refugees came in carrying food trays. They smiled tentatively. He saluted them in an off-handed way. That apparently did them some good. They handed out some of the energy bars.

“We're here, so I think we've got another duty in mind,” Valenko said softly. Jethro nodded, sobered. As he stood there he received a new order in an e-mail. He didn't doubt that the Lieutenant was getting the same one as well. They were tasked with one other duty on Firefly before they could return to the fleet.