Read Jethro: First to Fight for Free Online Page B

polls
and he'd gotten a bit of flack from it for weeks.
    The way things were going he was
perilously close to a recall election, or so his publicist kept telling him. He
wasn't so sure, but he knew he had to figure something out, something soon.
    “Right, I know. But He was...”
    “Are they still planning on that asinine
base in Agnosta?”
    “Yes. Don't remind me,” the governor
replied, rubbing his brow and closing his eyes. A base in Agnosta would put the
navy out of his control. Then again it wasn't like they were under his control
right now were they?
    “Are they going to jump? To move to
Agnosta? Leave us high and dry?”
    “I doubt it, some of those ships are
still in pieces. Others can't be rebuilt or finished due to lack of parts.
They're in the same boat we are.”
    “Just better off.”
    “In some ways yes. But we still hold the
moral high ground here.”
    “Do we? Sometimes I'm not so sure. We're
polling dead even now, and every time they respond to a crisis they get an
uptick. Our friends in the media are eroding it, but they still have a bit of a
better outlook each time. And our negative publicity is starting to generate a
backlash.”
    “Oh. Ouch.”
    “Yeah.”
    “We've got to do something...”
    ...*...*...*...*...
    Jethro had a bar session with Hurranna,
Asazi, Gusterson, and the Tauren Ox later that evening. The white liger Sergei
was busy training to be a mortar maggot but would be around shortly, or so he
promised. Letanga, Jethro's leopard cousin was on shift, and the Gunny was off
in another noncom meeting.
    Hurranna was her usual smart ass small
self. She was a lynx, they'd known each other in passing when they were growing
up, her, Jethro, Letanga, and Sergei. All four of them were members of the
Anvil cat clan, a local gang on the Anvil station. Now the gang had split up
and reformed, some of its members had gone to work, some had left the system on
Destiny. Many of the combat members had followed in the 4's footsteps and
gotten into the military, all with mixed results.
    Asazi was their token human, a
heavyworlder. She'd been a bodyguard and professional fighter before the
admiral had put the call out and reformed the navy and the Marines. Now she was
one of their shooters.
    Gusterson was one of two Neodogs on the
squad, but unlike the Neo-Doberman Gunny and the rest of the squad, Gusterson
was a navy medic. The greyhound was good at his job, patching the others up
when they tangled with pirates in Agnosta.
    Ox was massive. He barely fit on the bar
stool, Jethro could imagine the thing groaning under the weight. Whoever had
designed the thing should receive a medal. He didn't envy anyone who sat on it
after Ox did though. Ox weighted in at over 900 kilo's. 300 kilos More than
Sergei. And like Sergei, a lot of that weight was muscle. Ox was the last
member of his species in the system, and possibly the last in the known galaxy.
He had every right to be depressed about that, but instead he cheerfully dived
into whatever project was in front of him. Like all Taurens he was a tech
weenie at heart.
    The squad tried to get together off
shift at least once a week, or so they'd planned. Reality and wistful planning
usually didn't quite mesh up really well however. Take for instance their
erstwhile Commander, the Neogrizzly Ensign Valenko. He was still laid up in a
regen tank. He'd waited through the trip back on Destiny for one, only to find
a waiting list when they had arrived. He'd finally gotten his turn but since
his body had scared over somewhat the nanites were forced to debride his scar
tissue in order to make the repairs. From what the others heard when they
stopped by to visit, it was a painful tedious process.
    “What's Able's problem?” Jethro asked,
playing with his coaster.
    Hurranna sipped her beer and grinned,
licking foam off her whiskers. “Seems like he was the one with the problem. Guy
has a perpetual stick up his rear.”
    “He was stuck in a dead end job,” Asazi
said