Starfist: A World of Hurt (15 page)

"I am going to disabuse you of what you think you know. There
are
alien sentiences--34th FIST has been in contact with three of them--and at least one is hostile. Thirty-fourth FIST

has gone to war with that sentience--which we call 'Skinks'--and an element of the FIST has also engaged the Skinks on one other occasion." The nervous rustling stopped. It was as if the Marines seated before him had turned to stone. "Because 34th FIST, by chance, became the first Confederation military unit known to have encountered hostile aliens, we have been designated the unofficial military first-contact unit when aliens are encountered.

To the extent possible, we will be the
only
unit to make contact with aliens, hostile or otherwise." He didn't bother to mention that 26th FIST was now also a "first-contact" unit, nor did he say anything about the navy ships and crews that supported them in such operations.

"There is official denial, and there are no news reports, yet 34th FIST or its elements have been engaged with a hostile alien sentience on two occasions. That lack of information to the general public is because the existence of the aliens is a tightly held state secret. As a step in holding that secret, 34th FIST has been removed from the normal duty rotation of the Marine Corps. Assignment to 34th FIST is for the duration. There are no transfers, no retirements, no releases from active duty, no off-world leave.

"You are here until the existence of the Skinks and other sentient aliens is no longer a closely held secret, or until you die, whichever comes first."

The quality of the silence changed; the Marines were no longer as stone, now they were somehow red. Not the red of flushed faces or elevated blood pressure or even the red of anger, but the blue-tinged red of stunned speechlessness. Sturgeon waited for it to change again. When a lance corporal in the second row suddenly stood and sounded off, "Sir, permission to speak!" the floodgates broke and everyone burst out with shouted questions.

The Marines were all on their feet, but they kept their places, so Sturgeon let them shout for a few moments--better to let them blow off steam than risk them blowing up later.

Eventually he said, loudly enough to cut through their voices, "As you were, people!
Seats!

" It took a few seconds for them to quiet down, but they retook their seats immediately.

"Yes, I know," Sturgeon said drily when all but a few soft voices had stilled, "that's quite a shock." His voice turned harsh. "But at least someone stood up and told you outright what's going on. Those of us who have been here for a while had to find out the hard way--when we noticed nobody was being transferred out of 34th FIST on normal rotations.

"I know you're angry--especially those of you who did not plan to make a career of the Marine Corps. That's only natural. But you signed a contract when you enlisted. There is a clause in that contract that says you will serve at the convenience of the Confederation of Human Worlds. The Confederation finds it convenient that the term of enlistment for anyone assigned to 34th FIST be extended for the duration.

"This is tough, but it isn't as bad as it could be. You were selected for assignment to 34th FIST because none of you have families or close childhood friends waiting on your home world for your return."

"Sir, permission to speak, sir!" It was the same lance corporal in the second row who had requested permission before everyone began shouting.

"Yes, Lance Corporal, you had a question before we were interrupted. What was it?"

"Sir, you answered that question, but now I have another one."

Sturgeon nodded for him to go ahead.

He looked grim. "Sir, this means we're expendable, doesn't it?"

"No Marine is expendable, Lance Corporal. We're all valuable. But within the context of being valuable, yes, you could say we are expendable; no individual Marine is irreplaceable when we go in harm's way. Does that answer your question?"

"Yessir, thank you, sir." The lance corporal didn't sound fully satisfied with the answer, but he sat back down and remained quiet.

Another Marine called out, "Sir, there are more than enough of us here, all replacements, to form a full line company. Does this mean 34th FIST has an exceptionally high casualty rate?"

Sturgeon thought for a moment about how to answer. Finally he said, "Yes and no. The first time we met the Skinks, it was a single platoon from Company L of the infantry battalion on detached duty. Casualties were modest--especially when you take into account that the contact was totally unexpected and the aliens were armed with weapons of a kind unknown to humanity. Thirty-fourth FIST recently returned from fighting a major campaign against this foe. Again, they had new weapons we had never encountered before. Before we learned how to counter the effects of those weapons, yes, we suffered serious casualties. But once we learned, our casualty rate dropped to almost zero.

"We suffered heavy casualties in the early months of that campaign, but most of them were replaced during the course of the campaign, and the rest shortly after we returned to Thorsfinni's World. None of you are here to fill vacant billets. You are here as a reserve force to fill billets caused by illness or injury in the future, so the FIST doesn't have to wait months for HQMC to send us replacements."

"Sir, what are these unknown weapons?" a PFC shouted without asking to be recognized.

"Please hold all questions about the Skinks, their weapons, and tactics for now. When I'm through, FIST Sergeant Major Shiro will brief you on those topics.

"I doubt you've ever heard of the world where we just fought the Skinks, the Kingdom of Yahweh and His Saints and Their Apostles. 'Kingdom,' as it's more commonly called, has been quarantined in order to prevent word of the aliens from spreading throughout Human Space. Thorsfinni's World, however, has not. Which brings me to a dire warning I must issue to you.

"Under no circumstances are you to say anything to anybody outside your own company, battery, or squadron about the Skinks or other alien sentiences. I'm sure you've all heard of Darkside. Darkside sounds bad enough to be a myth, but it's not; it's real. The penalty for informing anybody about the existence of alien sentiences is summary sentencing to Darkside. Whoever you tell will also be summarily sentenced to Darkside." He paused to let that sink in. "If you heard that consignment to Darkside is a life sentence without parole, you heard right. There are people there--not Marines--who are there because they have unauthorized knowledge about the existence of the alien sentiences. I don't want any of my Marines to join them.

"Tomorrow the CNSS
Grandar Bay,
a Mandalay-class Amphibious Landing Ship, Force, will arrive in orbit. Within a week 34th FIST will embark on her and head out for a colony world called Maugham's Station. We don't know what we're going to find there. It might be Skinks. It might be nothing.

"Now if there are no other questions, I will hand you over to the ministrations of Sergeant Major Shiro." He ignored the hands that shot up and turned from the podium.

"A-ten-SHUN!" Shiro bellowed.

The Marines snapped to.

"Sit down and listen up good," Shiro roared as Sturgeon strode through the theater wing to the exit--the sergeant major wasn't about to let the new men dwell on what they'd just been told. "What I'm about to tell you
will
save your lives one fine day. Look at the display. That ugly character is what we call a 'Skink'..."

CHAPTER TEN

True to his word, Commandant Aguinaldo dispatched a drone to the CNO before he left Thorsfinni's World. Admiral Joseph K.C.B. Porter, Chief of Naval Operations, was not pleased when he received the message the drone brought him.

The Skinks and the need for secrecy were increasingly complicating his job. The
Fairfax?

How had the
Fairfax
slipped through the cracks, why wasn't she quarantined, or "lost" like the
Grandar Bay?
Her officers and crew knew more about the Skinks than anyone in 34th FIST other than the one platoon did, yet all of 34th FIST was quarantined, and the
Fairfax's
officers and crew were allowed to go on with their lives. By now most of the people onboard her were scattered throughout the fleet; some may even have retired to civilian life.

Obviously, when the decision for quarantine was made, someone overlooked the
Fairfax.

He breathed deeply. Obviously, the someone who overlooked the
Fairfax
was him. As CNO, it was his responsibility, and he had totally muffed it.

What to do about that was a problem for another time. The immediate problem was Commandant Aguinaldo's request for this--what was his name?--SRA3 Hummfree. Where was he now? Was he even still in the navy? As a sailor, Porter knew he should bristle at a Marine telling him how to assign sailors. But the Skinks were a problem that transcended interservice rivalries.

Admiral Porter pressed a button on his desk. While he waited for the person he summoned, he jotted what little information he had on Hummfree on a slip of paper. Master Chief Petty Officer of the Navy Hiram Jiminez rapped on the frame of Porter's office door just as the admiral finished. He waved him in.

"You called, sir?" Jiminez said as he took a seat by the side of Porter's desk.

"I need a sailor found." He slid the slip of paper to his top enlisted man.

Jiminez looked at it. "Can do. What do you want him for?"

"I want him assigned immediately to 34th FIST on Thorsfinni's World, transportation there by the most expeditious means possible."

Jiminez looked at his boss with mild surprise. "Will do. Two questions. One, why do the Marines need a surveillance and radar tech? Two, what if he's been released from active duty?"

Porter's lips tightened. "Second question first. He is to be found and recalled to active duty and given no more than three days to put his affairs in order. As for your first question, I'm sorry, Chief, but that's so secret even
I'm
barely cleared for it."

The Confederation Navy's top enlisted man gave his boss a steady look. That level of secrecy could only mean one thing: Skinks. He didn't say that, though, since he wasn't supposed to know the damn things existed. Instead he merely said, "This Hummfree is as good as on his way."

"Thank you, Chief, I know I can depend on you."

Jiminez stood and left Admiral Porter's office to begin tracking down this Hummfree. And while he was at it, he'd use his own sources to find out what was so special about this particular SRA that he had to be assigned to the
Grandar Bay.
That was something else he wasn't supposed to know about. But it's impossible for any service to keep secrets from its top enlisted man.

Hummfree was indeed still in the navy, and had been promoted to SRA2. What's more, he was on the CNSS
Philadelphia,
a Nelson-class cruiser en route to the Mars Port navy yard for an overdue upgrade of its weapons systems. Master Chief Petty Officer of the Navy Hiram Jiminez skimmed the cruise orders of the ships in-system and those along the probable route of the
Philadelphia.
One, the
HM3 Gordon,
a newly reoutfitted fast frigate, was about to depart Mars Port on a cruise to that part of the outer reaches of Human Space that just happened to include Thorsfinni's World. Better yet, the
Gordon's
chief of ship was Master Chief Petty Officer Wondun I'wazari, who Jiminez had known since they were third class petty officers together.

He wasted no time putting a radio call through to I'wazari. The time lag between Earth and Mars orbit made for a hesitating conversation, but both men were used to the inconvenience, and kept a record of what each other said while waiting for replies. And they both had other things to keep themselves occupied during the waiting times.

"Wazi, are you ready for Earthside duty yet?" Jiminez sent, once the connection was made. "You know I can get it for you, almost anytime you want. But I hope you don't say you want it right now, because there's something I need for you to do first. How's this Skipper of yours? I don't know him."

The reply, in I'wazari's oddly cultured voice, came about an hour later. "I'm fine, thanks for asking. How's your salty ass? It's a good thing you've got something you need me to do out here in deepest darkest space, because hell no, I don't want any damn Earthside duty.

That'd turn me into a deskbound old geezer, just like you. May as well retire to the old sailors home as do that. The new Skipper's okay. He's new on the
Gordon,
but this is his third cruise as boss, and he knows to listen to his chief of ship. What do you need? How are the wife and kiddies?"

Jiminez smiled when he heard the reply. It was the reaction he'd expected to the offer of Earthside duty. Sometimes he was sorry he'd taken it himself; he missed being a chief of ship. "You would want to go to the old sailors home," he said. "The food there tastes just as bad as the swill you fix for yourself in your cabin aboard ship. I can't believe anybody can eat that shit and not die from it. Alice is fine. She goes shopping all the time and spends so much money I can't afford to retire. The kids are grown and on their own, which is a damn good thing--if I had to support them too, I'd need to get into honest work in order to pay all the bills. How are your children?" He didn't ask about a wife; I'wazari was married to the navy, and his "children" were the sailors on board his ship. "I'm getting orders cut for a diversion in your cruise. The first thing I need from you is to make sure you don't break orbit before the orders arrive. The orders are coming from BUPERS"--Bureau of Personnel--"but they're really from Uncle Joey"--the nickname given Admiral Porter by most enlisted sailors.

"You need to intercept a starship, the cruiser
Philadelphia,
and transport a petty officer from it to Thorsfinni's World. I need you to make sure you get that done without any delay whatsoever."

The reply this time took a bit longer than an hour. Jiminez wasn't surprised. He'd dumped something fairly heavy on his former shipmate, and I'wazari probably had to think about its implications.