Metal Boxes - Trapped Outside (24 page)

THIRTY-TWO

Stone was amazed he actually fell asleep during the second day as Li carried him from jump to jump, waking up to a rumbling in his stomach. He needed to eat something soon or his stomach was going to mutiny. He hadn’t been eating as much as he should and his body was crying for more. The few pieces of survival nutrition bars they brought with them was supper last night. The night was fitful with the suited marines facing outward in a small circle while their unsuited riders huddled in the middle.

As much as Stone trusted marines in combat suits, he didn’t sleep much. His heightened senses picked up small noises and odors wafting his way. He was sure the marines, with their multi-spectral HUDs, would pick up anything long before he could see it, still, being able to see so clearly on what should be a dark night was odd.

Li slid to a stop in a small forest clearing. Private al-Julier was there waiting for them. The marine, unencumbered by Eaton, had bounced ahead. He set up a small camouflaged tarp, hunted for supper, and built a small fire. They were about a hundred and seventy-five miles away from the canyon, so Numos considered the fire a risk worth taking, as long as they kept it under the tarp. Private al-Julier managed to chase down a deer-like creature and snap its neck without resorting to gunfire that might give them away.

Stone’s stomach had long since quit rebelling, it ached to be fed. The meat sizzling over the open flame had him salivating. He wanted to forego security first and eat, but knew they wouldn’t, losing Eaton was a hard lesson learned. He may be the governor, but Major Numos was really in charge.

Numos’s ride skidded to a stop, dropping the major to the ground. Both men took defensive positions next to Li, standing back-to-back, while Li faced the small stream they were following. The major took a quick look around the perimeter and nodded at al-Julier. The small glade was as defensible as any place they had landed since the tiny bald knob where they lost Eaton. He gestured at the stream with a nod of his head.

Private al-Julier said, “I’ve been staying back, but I haven’t seen any movement.”

Stone sniffed, but didn’t catch any cinnamon odor. The stream appeared clear of danger, yet he didn’t want to get any closer than the marine had. He grabbed a small rock and tossed it at the stream. He missed. Someday he was going to have go learn to throw a ball in gravity. He was learning to stay outside without panicking, though he checked the sky with embarrassing frequency. But somehow, tossing a small object a few yards still baffled him. He was thankful Numos let him carry his rifle instead of a bag full of hand grenades.

Private al-Julier grabbed a bundle of deerskin. He’d wrapped the offal inside. “I was waiting until I had back up to try this.” He tossed the bag underhanded into the middle of the stream. It bobbed for a few moments before floating downstream.

Numos nodded, “Looks clear, but let’s keep our eyes on that for a while longer.”

Triplett whined, “I need to defecate. Someone will have to stand guard.”

Numos waved an arm. “Pick a bush. Corporal January, you’ve been babysitting Doctor Triplett all day long, but try not to let her get eaten.”

She replied, “Aye, aye, sir.”

Triplett said, “I need some wipes.”

January shrugged, “Like the major said, pick a bush. I ain’t your maid, bitch, and I sure ain’t wiping your butt.”

Numos said, “That’s enough, January. Just keep her from ending up as something’s dinner. The conversation and the name calling isn’t necessary.”

January nodded, “Aye, aye, sir. She is a bitch, though. Killed Private Melanie Tighe, even if those civilians didn’t convict her.”

Li snorted, “What do you care? You didn’t like Tighe anyway.”

January said, “Hell no, Sarge. Nobody liked that crazy freak, but she was one of us.”

Stone continued watching the stream, casually listening to the marines gripe and complain. Complaining was the right of all enlisted personnel. Officers, even lowly ensigns, might have to curb their tongue, but the lower ranks could grumble and protest all they wanted. Sometimes officers would even listen. This time he was more concerned about their safety than what anyone thought about Tighe or her killer, Triplett. Nothing seemed to disturb the water other than a few natural rocks.

He looked at Whizzer and Ryte as they studied a map. “How close are we to the crab swarm we were seeking?”

Ryte said, “The drone scans show they are continuing to move downstream at a steady pace about two miles farther on. This swarm is about two-hundred-yards wide, covering a good bit of land on both sides of this stream. We should be relatively safe here as they have stripped out just about every living thing.”

Private al-Julier confirmed Ryte’s data. “I had to jump half a mile away from their path to even run down this deer-like thing. Everything with legs, wings, or stubs was creeping, crawling, or flying to escape the crabs. I expect we’re as safe here as we’re going to be anywhere.”

Numos nodded, “Minimal security only. We need to be rested for tomorrow if Whizzer’s plan is going to work.”

Stone asked, “When will the deer be ready to eat?”

Private al-Julier shrugged, “Well, Governor, my scanner said it ain’t poisonous to humans, but it doesn’t really give me any recipes. Depending on how rare you like your steaks, I guess it’s done. Cut a hunk off and see if you can choke it down.”

Stone was about to pull his knife to cut off a hunk of raw deer meat when a rock sailed over the surrounding trees and landed in the middle of the clearing with a solid thump. The whine and clack of weapons charging and safeties clicking off was the only noise in the clearing. The suited marines backed into a tight circle. Stone, Numos, Whizzer, and Ryte crouched down in the middle of the barricade made by the marine combat suits.

Triplett rushed at the group, pulling her pants up as she ran. January grabbed her and unceremoniously shoved the scientist behind her. Triplett was the only one of the group unarmed and no one was interested in handing her a weapon, no matter what the situation.

An amplified voice called out. “Hello, the campfire.”

Numos glanced at Stone and nodded at Li. “Please respond in kind. No radio transmission, Sergeant, just amplification.”

“United Empire Marine Staff Sergeant Li here. Identify yourself.”

The voice came back, “Li, you lazy a-hole. You still owe me a hundred credits from that poker game back on Idlewilde.”

“Scooter Janson?” Li laughed. “Is that you?”

Janson stepped into the clearing. His marine armor was scratched, covered in grime, scorched and even dented in spots, but there was little doubt it functioned as intended. He held his hands wide and clear, showing no threat, even to old friends. His body language said he was cautious. His voice was anything but, “What the frak do you mean, is it me? How many people do you owe money to, you cheap bastard?” He bellowed, his voice echoing through the jungle. “All clear. Weapons on safe, you pug uglies.”

Lieutenant Hammermill strode into the small meadow. His suit was in no better shape than Sergeant Janson’s. He flipped his helmet back off his head by the hinge. He slapped Janson hard enough on the shoulder to shove the man to the side, “I resent that remark, Sergeant.”

Janson laughed, “Not you, sir. I meant the rest of them grunts behind you.”

Once Hammermill’s helmet was open, Stone caught a strong odor of peppermint and milk chocolate. He couldn’t smell the marine’s emotions while inside the suit, but once he opened his gear, he oozed feelings of family, lost and found again, plus a fierce sense of loyalty. Stone had been friends with Hammermill for a while, but he doubted he was the cause of such strong emotions.

Hammermill didn’t break stride as he walked up to the small circle of marines standing around Stone’s group of unsuited humans. He put a huge paw on al-Julier and Li’s shoulders and shoved the two men aside as if their combat suits were little more than toys. Grabbing Numos under the arms, he lifted the major high in the air and hugged him like a delicate china doll.

Numos laughed, “Put me down, Hammer.”

Hammermill shook his head. “Hell no, sir. I thought I lost you once. I’m not letting go again, ever, really!” Still, he sat Numos back on his feet, grinned at everyone, and delicately poked Stone in the chest with a gloved finger. The rest of his team slid noiselessly into the meadow, automatically taking up defensive positions, although there was quite a bit of backslapping and laughter.

Numos said, his voice only slightly officious, “Report, Hammer.”

Hammermill said, “Sir, we took our ambush positions—”

Numos interrupted, “We got a good passive signature of your ambush. What happened after you went on radio silence?”

“It got dodgy for a while, Major. However, we’re better at hiding than the four-arms are at finding. Of course, this planet is a right real hell-hole, sir. No offense, Ensign Stone, I know you are the governor and own this place, but I’m of a mind to back off and nuke it back to dust, rocks, and glass.”

Numos did a quick count. Hammermill’s team comprised only fifteen marines, less than half without obvious injuries. The Lieutenant nodded. “The four-arms whittled us down some and the planet chewed up the rest of us, but we’re still ready to kick some ass, sir.”

Stone asked, “With what, Hammer? I’m not a combat marine, but even I can tell that most of your weapons are bone dry.”

Hammermill grinned. “Unless I miss my guess, Governor, this planet must agree with you. You’ve done something to finally grow up big enough to be a marine.”

Stone said, “That’s a long story—”

“Long enough for later.” Numos interrupted. “How are your expendables, Hammer?”

“Like Stone says, most of these things make fine clubs, sir. We’ve got a few rounds for some of the smaller handguns and a passel of set and forget explosives, but not so much in the way of real ordinance. However, we’ve got rocks and sticks galore and there ain’t a marine among us who ain’t ready for a good scrap.” A chorus of “ooo-rah” punctuated his statement. “How about you, Major? It doesn’t look like you’ve faired even as well as we have.”

Numos smiled. “This is just a small fireteam. About a third of us survived the bombing. We went sneaky-pete through the jungle, covering our tracks, and took refuge in a canyon a couple of day’s march from the compound. We managed to get it camouflaged and stay hidden.”

“That is probably why we couldn’t find you, sir. Lieutenant Vedrian?”

Stone replied, “Allie is injured. She tangled with a male drasco, but she will be fine. She’s back at the canyon with the rest of them.”

Hammermill nodded, “Taking on a male drasco sounds like her. I’m surprised she’s still alive. We lost half a dozen of us when we ran into one of those. It ripped through our suits like a chocolate cake at a fat man’s convention.”

Numos said, “Same with us until Ensign Stone stepped in and killed it single-handedly.”

Hammermill laughed, “And that sounds like something stupid, just what Ensign Stone would try.”

Stone replied, “Come on, it wasn’t like that—”

Numos said, “It never is. Time enough for stories later. How did you get here, Hammer?”

“Well, Sergeant Janson figured the safest place on this planet to be was right behind these marching crabs, since this bunch was heading in the direction we wanted to go, we decided to follow it for a while. Janson figures this bunch will turn sometime tomorrow.”

Numos asked, “What direction did you want to go, Lieutenant?”

Hammermill laughed, “We looked for survivors from the compound bombing for a while. We knew some of you had survived when we stumbled onto the meadow you chewed up about a mile south, but we lost your trail. So we kind of decided to hunt down those Hyrocanian bastards and see if we could get a little payback.”

Stone asked, “You were planning to attack the Hyrocanian settlement with a squad of unarmed marines?”

Hammermill laughed, “Oh, hell no. That would be suicide. We figured to attack with a squad of
mostly
unarmed
pissed off
marines. So where are you going, sir?”

Numos nodded, “We’re going to the same place you are, with the same intention. However, our resident scientist Doctor Wyznewski has a little surprise cooked up for them that might give us an edge for a little hit and run action.”

THIRTY-THREE

Stone stood on a small ridge watching the suited marines work. He felt useless and for the hundredth time today wondered why he’d insisted on coming along. He even required a babysitter, pulling Sergeant Li away from a work detail, not that Li complained about protecting him rather than working on the dam. Private January didn’t complain about having to watch Triplett either, but then Triplett complained enough for everybody. Stone was just about done with her and sincerely hoped she had an accident, no matter how much Agent Ryte wanted to question her or how much the Emperor would want to personally punish her. The woman was off in the bushes again for the hundredth time. Stone would have ordered her medicated against diarrhea if they’d had any medication to offer.

Whizzer ran up and down the ever-thickening earthen dam the marines were throwing up across the tight little valley. The scientist dodged thrown rocks and small puffs of explosions as the marines collapsed the valley walls to block the small stream. The man was laughing, pointing, and seemed to be enjoying his encounter with a long legged snake-like thing the marines flushed from a small crevice in a pile of rocks.

They were making enough noise that Stone figured the Hyrocanians could hear them, even a hundred miles away. The marines were using an odd assortment of plastic explosives, hand grenades, anti-personnel mines, and sheer muscle to block and divert the stream. If Whizzer’s geological maps and calculations were right, diverting this stream would cause it to flow along a completely different path. A path that would lead them in the direction they wanted to travel—toward the Hyrocanian settlement. Whizzer assumed diverting the stream would turn the crab swarm. Apparently, the marching swarm followed streams, creeks, and rivers.

The marines had bounced ahead of the swarm to build this particular dam. The swarm finally caught up to them. Creatures of all sorts, alerted by some natural defense, rushed away from the crabs advancing gust front. Marines grabbed Whizzer and bounced to Stone’s position on the ridge. A fireteam stayed on the dam with Ryte and Numos. The plan assumed the swarm would follow the stream, but if they were following some other navigational aid and the stream was just a coincidence, Numos, Ryte and their marines would try to turn them using small explosions and throwing rocks in front of them. Hammermill warned them against actually hitting the advancing crab columns. He said they tried that during their first encounter and all it did was make the crabs angry. If the marines hadn’t been suited and able to outrun the swarm, they would have lost a lot more people than they had.

A few creatures stopped running, hesitating at the water’s edge as the stream pooled into a small pond before turning. Distracted by the lush grass and abundant water, they milled about. A pair of midsize wild-boar-like carnivores raced into their midst, tearing apart, and killing the smaller creatures. The carnivores in turn were too distracted by their fresh kills to see the crabs march over them. The carnivores, smaller herbivores, and even water creatures from the stream disappeared beneath the marching crabs, who in turn, followed the diverted stream as if it was always their intention to go that way.

Whizzer giggled and danced on the edge of the ridge. “I knew it would work. We can follow them in relative safety once they’re past us. They’ll sweep the jungle clear. One more diversion and they’ll be moving along the correct stream.”