Jethro 3: No Place Like Home (81 page)

“Eh? You two crazy AIs better not be conspiring behind my back!” The old woman said mock fiercely. “Or making out or anything. I don't need any more headaches thank you! A love sick AI is the last damn thing I need!” She growled.

“No ma'am, just conferring on the damage, ma'am,” Firefly said, ever respectful.

“Well, that's all well and good. Just don't go getting all mushy and romantic. We're not going to be together long, and I've got enough love sick troublemakers to deal with here! Whippersnappers the lot of them. I'll whip them into shape if they don't shape up on their own!”

“Grans,” a voice said, sounding strained and annoyed.

The older woman looked over her shoulder to someone and smiled. “Just letting everyone know there is a limit, Emily,” she said with a smile. She had her hands resting in her lap.

“Can we send you some help, ma'am? Engineers or medical personnel?” Renee asked as she looked at the file Firefly brought up on her internal HUD. From their initial damage assessment Io had taken damage, some internal, most of it light. They had gotten off lucky.

“You'll find our medics are quite good. Clarissa and Mindy have it well in hand,” the old woman said with a bit of a twinkle. “The Admiral made certain of that.”

“Good to hear,” Renee replied with a nod.

“Besides, I bet your own people have their hands busy right now,” the Captain said.

“It's light damage mostly,” Renee replied, looking over the initial reports from the chief engineer. She nodded, feeling relief. Nothing critical was damaged beyond repair or replacement.

“Captain, Clarissa reported Shandra didn't make it,” Io said softly from outside the pickup.

Suddenly the Io Captain looked her age, terribly worn, but a rock. She looked over to the sound of someone crying softly. After a long moment, she let out a deep breath.

“Damn,” was all she said. “I'm sorry Jennie, girls.”

“What happened?” Renee asked.

“EPS conduit burst near her. She had gone down to engineering to lend a hand. The medics tried to stabilize her to get her into a stasis pod, but there was severe brain trauma. It was quick,” Io reported.

“I see,” Renee said quietly. “My condolences to her family and your crew, Captain.” She knew she had several injured on her ship, but not how many. She'd have to check shortly.

“The crew is a family. Both crews. Such things we've gone through before; this is a terrible reminder of that time,” the Captain said quietly. Someone moved in front of the pickup; a pair of girls escorted another sobbing girl away. The Io Captain watched them go silently.

“There was another fatality, Captain. Ten casualties in infirmary, another four are still at their posts and deem their injuries minor. Nurse Mindy will check on them when she is free.”

“I understand. No doubt she's mourning too,” the gravel voice of the Captain said. Her eyes cut to the video pick up. “Please let Admiral Irons know about Shandra.”

“We will, ma'am. He will miss her.”

“I know he will. He's a good man,” the Captain said, nodding. “Are you going to go after the other ship, Captain?” Io's Captain asked, sitting back into her shawl so only her glittering eyes could be seen in its shadow.

Renee scowled. “There is no point. They've got too much of a lead on us, and we need fuel.”

“Damn. They must too though right?”

“Yes. Most likely yes. If we're lucky we'll catch up with them in Centennial. Or someone else will.”

“Hopefully,” the Io Captain growled, hand clenched into a fist over her heart. She pounded on her chest a few times as if in salute or promise.

---(<=>)---

A few days later the three ships watched impotently as the Horathian freighter escaped. Firefly and Io struck up a fast friendship. The three ships exchanged material and stories as they made repairs. Molly was named after a famous engineer of the crew, a young woman whose life had been tragically cut short on Centennial. Renee realized the crew were a bit defensive over it but insistent on the naming. She nodded wisely.

Molly was running on a light crew. They had planned to pick up additional crew in Antigua. Renee counseled a few of her people not to get too involved or to start anything beyond a friendship relationship with the members of the other crews.

“Remember, they will be moving on as will we shortly. Take it from me; you don't want to do this,” she said, feeling a little hypocritical pang over her own relationship with Vargess.

“So, what now?” the Captain asked when the engineers were done their initial work. “Harrying off to who knows where?”

“We left some people behind in New Andres. And they, quite frankly, need our help. Your help if you are willing to lend it,” Renee said.

She knew from the Admiral's bio of the Captain that the prickly woman had to be approached carefully. She and her partner, the purser, were quite mercenary. That was fine; they could work out some sort of deal, though with Io's replicators she was at a loss as to what off the top of her head.

“I'm not sure about going there. I sympathize and all...” the Captain said. She had officiated over the funerals the day before and had been touched by the Navy crew's splendid flourishes to it. They had honored Shandra and Fiona nicely.

She found out weaseling out of going to New Andres wasn't going to be so easy. Some of crew were from New Andres, and they each took a turn to convince the reluctant Captain to go to the planet with Firefly and render what aide to the battered planet that they could to help. “There is no profit in it,” she grumbled, waving a hand and frowning in disgust. She looked around the compartment and found many of the faces closed to such sentiment, even her adopted granddaughters.

Emily had a touch of disappointment in her eyes before she looked away. The older woman stiffened, then looked to her long-time partner as Iana inhaled, clearly furious.

“Be damned to profit! My family is down there!” The woman raged, eyes tearing up. “You'd do the same skipper!” she said pleadingly. The Captain stared at her crew and then looked around her bridge, picking up the same vibe from all her people.

“Shandra and Fiona would have wanted us to help,” a woman said softly. The Captain of Molly, Faith Meikle, was quiet.

“Sometimes as the Admiral pointed out, it doesn't hurt to help those in need.” The purser murmured. “Besides, we may profit from making the contact and good will later,” she said.

“All right, all right. We'll see what we can do,” the Captain said waving an airy hand. She could see and sense her girls let out a collective sigh of relief. “Charity cases, all of them. We're going to have people coming to us expecting a free handout soon, mark my words,” she muttered under her breath. The purser glanced at her and patted her arm but otherwise ignored the grumbling.

The ships refueled and then headed back to New Andres together. When they emerged from Hyper at the last jump point they saw the planet crest the sun's horizon. After a day they were close enough to start picking out details. They saw the battered planet and wreckage of Kiev 221.

“Com, raise them. Let our people know we're here,” the Captain ordered quietly. “Find out about our people.”

“Aye aye, ma’am,” Sharif replied, equally quiet.

Renee nodded. She looked around the old battle space but there was no sign of drifting debris. By now it had all dispersed into the void.

For once in her life she felt old. Old and worn to the nub. She dearly missed Vargess. She could use his arms enfolding her in a hug of support right now.

---(<=>)---

They arrived in orbit six days later. Now up close, their sensors dispassionately identified and recorded the extent of the damage. Even the misses had done damage, for some more than a direct hit. One of the ten-meter tungsten kinetic bombardments had hit off shore, triggering an earthquake and tsunami that had engulfed the entire Western coastline of a continent. Islands in its path had been washed clean of fishing villages. So had the Western shore. Some of the battered wooden ships had ended up as splintered broken debris a hundred kilometers inland.

Crop land had been washed out with sea water, the salt contaminating it for years to come. There was concern of famine soon. “Much like the ancient Terran Romans, sowing salt in the fields behind them out of spite,” the elf murmured.

“Yes,” Firefly agreed quietly. “I had hoped to never see such devastation again.”

“Is it as bad as you saw during the Xeno war?” Leo asked.

“No. But in some ways yes. This is our own people doing this to us. Not an alien species bent on extermination.”

“Sometimes it is hard to distinguish the two. You know that there are some speculation that the Xeno's haven't died off. That the Horathian's are their puppets.”

“A possibility, but a very unlikely one. Their Xenophobia is mutually exclusive.”

“Hide in plain sight, where people least expect you to be Firefly,” Renee reminded the AI.

“True. And I am glad I'm not in intelligence,” he replied. She raised an eyebrow in query. He smiled and spread his virtual hands. “At least I don't have to untangle that mess and chase down phantom leads.”

“True,” Renee said, looking a little lost.

“Still this sucks,” the AI said, knowing when to lance a mental wound and draw out the poison before it set into the soul.

“That it does. That it does indeed,” Renee said quietly. Her fingers slowly caressed the arms of her chair. She usually treasured them, treasured her seat, the feeling of power, responsibility, and command. But not today. Today, it all felt...cheap. Like it wasn't worth it. That she had failed.

“Pyrrhic victory,” Firefly said quietly. “I've seen my share of them in my time. I had hoped to have seen the last. I was wrong.”

“Yes, something like that,” Renee said absently. “I wish you had been wrong too. This feels...awful. Wrong.”

“We're supposed to protect them from this and we failed. I know what you are going through Captain, I've seen it too much,” Firefly said. “But think of what they would have done or had continued to have done had we not been here.”

“I'm more concerned about what to do now, and how to prevent a future...this,” the Captain said, clearly furious as she waved a hand to the screen. “There was no need of this. They had nothing to do with us.”

“No, but they were helpless. A target,” the AI replied.

“Which is still screaming for help. Help we can't do much to provide,” the Captain replied, running a frustrated hand through her hair. Even with their replicators they were woefully short on being able to help the people on the planet.

“No, but Io 11 and Molly are already launching shuttles,” Firefly said, pulling up a plot and highlighting their icons for her.

“Good for them. At least they can do something.”

“We can to. It will never feel like it is enough, but we'll do the best we can. That is all anyone can ask of us, Captain.”

“I know,” Renee murmured softly.

The crews from all three ships did their best to help. Four of the eight fighters Firefly had launched had survived to land. One had crashed on landing, running out of fuel. The pilot was a bit banged up from the ground ejection, but he'd survived and had dived into the search and rescue efforts.

All four of the shuttles had made it to the planet after picking up what fuel they could from the wreckage of Kiev. They had found a measly fourteen survivors, all injured. Two had succumbed to their injuries before the ships had returned.

In the interim time it had taken to hunt down their assassins, the surviving leadership of the planet had gotten over their suspicion of the Marines and had worked with them in the desperate and sometimes heart breaking work of search and rescue. The shuttle's tiny food replicators had been overworked feeding and replicating what medical kits it could handle. The Marines had set up a fuel supply for the shuttles and had even tapped their power plants to provide power to the refugee camps that had sprung up around the shuttles.

Families took shelter in improvised tents and shelters. Some were huddled under the wings of the shuttlecraft. Those that had been irradiated by the poison in the atmosphere had died or were in the process of dying an agonizing death. Doctor Standish and the medics on Io 11 did their best to ease their suffering.

Work crews dug ditches for sanitation, organized water sterilization groups, and food gatherers. A few of the Marines hunted, others acted as guards and police to keep order in the camps. A few others donated their off time to help improve the shelters before the long cold winter came.

Renee was busy coordinating the efforts of her people with the Captain of Io 11, Captain Meikle, the two AI, and the planetary authorities. It was good for all involved she realized after the first week. It got their mind off dwelling about the helplessness of the situation and got them doing something about it.

Io's big replicators did a great deal to help. She couldn't make additional replicators, nor could Firefly, but they could make massive amounts of survival gear, medical supplies, and other material if they were provided with the raw material. Pilots from both ships were kept busy running loads to and from the ships. Unfortunately Molly lacked industrial replicators, being just a cargo ship. Her utility in the situation was limited. She moved out to the Kiev 221 carcass with a work crew and picked the ship apart. At first Renee didn't really see the point, but apparently the ship brought back a lot of metal and materials for molecular furnaces to recycle.