Starfist: Blood Contact (33 page)

Schultz had noticed the same thing Bass saw about the skinks—they held their fire until they were close, about thirty meters from their targets. Did everyone else notice that? He hoped so, but it didn't matter now because most of the skinks were within range of their weapons and beginning to fire at the flashes of the Marines' weapons.

Bass saw the corpsman sharply shake his head, then grab his medkit and scramble away from Dobervich.

Baccacio stopped before he reached the east outpost; the skinks were almost on top of it. He deliberately put his blaster to his shoulder, just like on the range, and flamed a skink. He wasn't distracted by the alien flaring up, he'd seen that a year earlier when he first fought them. He picked off another skink, then tried to see where the Marines he was reinforcing were. He couldn't see them because he wasn't using infras, but he could see the flashes from the muzzles of their weapons. The flashes came from too many places for only three Marines. He smiled tightly. Yes, that Corporal Kerr was a fine Marine, he had his men moving between shots to keep the skinks from zeroing in on them. He picked another target and flamed it.

Hyakowa spun toward the medical team's Dragon when he heard a scream from inside it. He saw two skinks charging toward the amphibious vehicle. Neither was firing its weapon, but both were aiming odd nozzles at the open back of the Dragon. The platoon sergeant threw his blaster into his shoulder and flamed one. He shifted his aim toward the second but didn't get his shot off—he didn't need to. A bolt of plasma shot out of the inside of the Dragon and the second skink flared. Hyakowa raced to the Dragon, shouting to identify himself to the people inside.

Dr. Bynum stepped outside just as Hyakowa reached the rear of the Dragon. She held a hand-blaster at the ready.

"As a doctor, I'm supposed to save lives," she said. "This is the first time I ever saved lives by taking one." She began trembling and looked like she was about to fall. Hyakowa caught her and held her to his chest.

"Yeah, the first time's really hard," he said soothingly. But when he thought about it, he couldn't remember the first time he'd flamed a man. He guessed that was the kind of memory he didn't want to keep. "Everybody okay in there?"

Dr. Bynum pushed away from him. "It's not hard, Staff Sergeant," she said. "This wasn't. I killed that one and I'm glad. I'll kill any more that come toward me or my people. Now, you Marines take care of us, and the medical corps will back you up." She hefted her hand-blaster. "With bandages or blasters, we'll back you up."

"You got it, Doctor." He looked around for more skinks that might have broken through the defenses.

Corporal Linsman looked for more targets. There weren't any on his part of the ridge, though the sky was still filled with the lights of skinks flaring up elsewhere around the perimeter.

"Report," he automatically ordered.

"Present and accounted for," Watson immediately replied. "Ammo's fine."

"Hruska?" Linsman said when his new man didn't speak up.

"Where'd they go?" Hruska asked. "I don't see any."

"Are you all right?" Linsman asked harshly.

"What? Yeah, I'm okay. Where'd they go?"

"We killed them, that's where they went. When I say 'report,' you're supposed to tell me if you're all right or if you're hit, and how your batteries are holding out."

"But the skinks, they were just right here."

"They aren't here now. This is when you tell me if you're okay and if your blaster has enough power."

"Huh? Oh, right. I forgot," Hruska said in a rushed voice. There was a moment's pause, then he added, "I'm not hurt and I have two spare batteries for my blaster."

Linsman shook his head, then made his own report to Sergeant Bladon.

Bladon told him about Nolet getting hit. "The corpsman says he might lose that arm," he finished.

Linsman swore. He looked around. Fewer flashes of light were brightening the evening sky.

Goudanis and Van Impe fired repeatedly into the flank of the skinks attacking the rest of their squad.

Strangely, the skinks didn't seem to notice the fire coming from their side. It was as though they had been told to attack straight ahead and keep going forward no matter what. Goudanis kept glancing to his right, down the side of the knob, looking for skinks coming at him and Van Impe. None came that way. He checked with Quick a couple of times, but Quick reported no activity from the swamp at the end of the island until the very end.

"I see some going back into the swamp," Quick reported. "They're headed northeast." He suddenly realized he hadn't seen the skinks come from anywhere else. They must have been in hiding along the edge of the swamp below him, waiting to exploit any opening along this portion of the island when other skinks broke through the Marines' lines. If they had, he might have been the only one in their way. He listened and heard their voices and splashing move away.

"They're headed north," he reported.

The fight was over.

"Squad leaders report," Bass ordered as soon as the firing stopped. There was a pause while the squad leaders checked with their fire team leaders and the fire team leaders checked their men. The reports came in. He already knew about Clarke and Dobervich. Dornhofer, Nolet, and Claypoole were also wounded. Staff Sergeant Hyakowa reported no casualties among the medical team or the pirates.

"Snotty's doing his best to make a major nuisance of himself, though," Hyakowa said. "You listen to him, you'd think we just precipitated a major intergalactic incident, or destroyed the greatest scientific discovery of all time."

"Asshole," Bass muttered. "I should have sent him back to the
Fairfax
." There was another question he needed an answer to: "How many of them got away?"

It took a moment for the answers to get back to him—an unknown number of skinks was heading to the north. Either they were regrouping prior to making another attack or they were fleeing.

"Everybody, to the perimeter," Bass ordered over the allhands channel. "Including the OPs. I don't want anybody in an exposed position."

CHAPTER 24

"Sir, it's your call," Bass said to Captain Tuit, who was sitting on the bridge of the
Fairfax County
in orbit far above Society 437, "but they're on the run and we can't waste any time following up, before they regroup or reinforce. The tactical momentum is with us now, sir, and I don't want to waste the advantage. We can run them down and kill them."

"Don't you want to talk to them, Gunny, find out who they are and what they're doing on this planet?

This is a tremendous discovery, an alien intelligence, and all you want to do is stomp these things out like bugs?"

"Sir, I'll talk to anything that doesn't have a weapon in its tentacles. But if they're armed and want to fight, I'll shoot first. Besides, for all we know, they might still be holding some of our people prisoner. At least I've got to find out where their base is and search it. If they resist, I'll kill them; if not, I'll sit down and have a beer with them. But it's your call, Captain."

Captain Tuit considered. There was one possibility that really frightened him about the situation down on Society 437, but he hesitated to mention it. It was his call, all right—let Bass continue to pursue the aliens or withdraw the landing party and the surviving pirates and head home. Well, the skinks had killed more than a thousand people on 437, and whatever their purpose in committing that slaughter, Hank Tuit was not going to sit down and talk it over with them.

"Go get 'em, Charlie," he said.

"Thank you, sir. Here's my plan: Dr. Bynum says the casualties are too badly wounded to move overland with us. They've got to get back to the sickbay, where more definitive medical care is available, so I want an Essay to evacuate them."

"Combat landing?" the captain asked. A normal landing would require three degrading orbits and take five hours or more.

"No, sir. They need to be stabilized first, and Dr. Bynum will need time to be sure they can stand the liftoff. I'll leave them with a couple corpsmen with two Dragons and move out at first light tomorrow.

We'll go on foot with the other two Dragons as support. We'll follow the skinks by the trail they left.

When the casualties are evacuated, the third Dragon will join us. It's going to be slow work, Captain, because the string-of-pearls is having difficulty tracking the things. We'll have to proceed cautiously."

"Gunny, I have just the man for running an electronic surveillance. Hummfree. You may remember him.

He's a surveillance specialist of the first order. And he's the one who pinpointed the pirates' location for you."

"Yes, sir, I do remember that lad. Many thanks."

"Good plan then, Gunny. I'll launch the Essay on your call. Skyhawk out."

Bass switched to the platoon net and called the NCOs and Dr. Bynum to his position. Let the scientists and philosophers contemplate the skinks and try to figure out the whys and wherefores of their origin and purpose, Bass told himself. "But for me," Gunnery Sergeant Bass whispered, "it's time to rock and roll." Grinning fiercely, he bit off the end of a Clinton and stuck it between his teeth.

"Ma'am, I ain't going, and that's it! Court-martial me if you want to, but I am a walking wounded and I'm gonna walk out of here and do some wounding of my own," Claypoole told Dr. Bynum. He shook his head stubbornly.

"Lance Corporal, that wound could get infected and then you could be in very serious trouble. You need time in the sickbay for it to heal properly."

"No, ma'am," the Marine answered. He shook his head again.

Dr. Bynum sighed. "Lance Corporal, try to keep the dressing in place, and keep it dry if you can. As soon as this is over and you're aboard the
Fairfax
, report directly to sickbay. Now go back to your squad." As a doctor, she thought Claypoole was being incredibly stupid. At the same time, she couldn't help but admire his determination and courage.

"Aye aye, ma'am!" Claypoole said. He picked up his weapon and charged down the ramp.

Bynum went to examine the stasis pods where Clarke and Dornhofer were sedated.

"All signs stable," HM1 Horner, who was monitoring the casualties, whispered.

"Larry, the Essay'll be here soon. Nothing's going to happen until then."

"Don't worry. If it does; we'll be ready." He nodded toward the crew compartment and patted the side arm he carried. "But Commander, begging your pardon, why don't we switch places? A ship's doctor is a hell of a lot more important than old Tom and me." He nodded to Hospitalman Second Class Hardesty, who was adjusting settings on Clarke's pod. Hardesty grinned at them, revealing gaps where he'd lost front teeth in a brawl years before that he'd refused to have replaced. He'd thought the missing teeth gave him a rakish air, made him look like a pirate. But after seeing real pirates up close, he was seriously considering dental implants.

"What? And miss the excitement?" Dr. Bynum replied. "No, no, Larry, ‘rank hath its privileges,’ and I'm pulling it on you two this time. Besides, you've got Owen to keep you company." The woo sat contentedly on a ration box, twiddling his appendages as he consumed a box of dirt. The soil on Society 437 seemed to contain good nourishment for the woo, which had gained weight since their landing. Dean had given him over to the corpsmen for safekeeping. "Okay, boys, be good." She clapped Horner on the shoulder, gave Hardesty a thumbs up, and walked down the ramp.

"Lieutenant," Lowboy said softly, sidling up to where Lieutenant Snodgrass was standing, watching the Marines prepare to move out. "Can I say something?"

Snodgrass looked down his nose at the disagreeable little man. Lowboy grinned back at him, his deferential smile revealing the rotten yellow teeth behind his cracked lips. But Snodgrass liked the man's deference. He'd gotten very little proper respect in the recent past. In fact, he had even begun questioning his own judgment, a rare event for Argal Snodgrass. Years before, one of his uncles had told him, "Argal, if one person says you've got a tail behind you, well, you'd just ignore him, wouldn't you? If two people say you've grown a tail, you might begin to wonder a bit. But if a third person says you've got one, you'd better turn around and take a look." He'd never followed that advice—until now.

"Well, sir, I was jist thinking, why ain't you in charge of this operation here? You're an officer, ain't cha?" Lowboy smiled even more broadly.

"I'm a navy officer," Snodgrass replied haughtily. "This is a ground operation and the Marine's in charge, even if he is only an enlisted man."

"Well, I was jist wondering, is all. I mean, you got education, right, Lieutenant? You know starship navigation and all that stuff, don't cha?"

"Yes, Mister, uh..."

"It's Lowboy, sir, at your service." Lowboy made a slight bow.

"...Mr. Lowboy. Starship navigation is a big part of an officer's education at the Naval Academy. I was number two in that subject in my graduating class. Engineering was my best subject, though. One day I'll command a starship, Mr. Lowboy. I am a navy line officer, you know."

"So I figured, Lieutenant, so I figured," Lowboy said, reflectively working a forefinger in his ear as he spoke. "Say, Lieutenant, why don't cha do us all a favor and speak to the sergeant. Hell, we're no good to anybody down here. Let us go back to the
Fairfax
with the wounded. We just want outta here, Lieutenant, that's all. We've been refugees on this stinkin' planet nearabouts a fucking year now, sir, and we want off this place." Lowboy's voice had taken on a whining tone and he'd screwed up his face to make it look as if he were about to cry. "It ain't fair that goddamn sergeant of yours wants to keep us down here, nossir. We ain't no damn good to him or anybody else, and that's the Buddha's truth, Lieutenant."

"Well..."

"You can volunteer to stay behind, kind of supervise us, Lieutenant?" Lowboy added hopefully. "You can get along with people, Lieutenant; that damned sergeant can't get along with nobody. But if that Sergeant Bass knew you was looking after us, I bet he'd agree. Please, Lieutenant. Please?"