Stone Blade (11 page)

“I guess it's what I do best, sir. Where do I enlist?”

Glade forbore comment on Micah's dull tone. Even though Caustik didn't acknowledge it he had been a a good and proud member of the 113th.

“I'll call the recruiter now,” said Glade, “Depending on what you pick you'll start three to five hops from here.”

“Thank you, sir.” Micah spoke strongly now. “I appreciate what you've done for me. If there's anything I can do, let me know!”

Glade smiled genuinely.

“It's my job, Micah. What's more, if you'd like to write your parents you can send me the letters. I'll see they get them.”

“Thank you again, sir.”

The League Armed Forces recruiter held sway in an office near Glade's. The man himself stood straight and proud and shook Micah's hand firmly.

“Blake forwarded me your scores, Stone. Not bad for a soggy. I have a standard GenApp to give you but I'm sure we can find you a place!”

On these tests Micah did much better! The questions weren't fast, Micah knew the answers and the last part took place at a target range! A medic gave Micah a basic physical which he passed easily and when they finished, the recruiter's smile nearly ticked his ears!

“Flaming good scores, Stone! I'll need to do the correlates but I can tell you've got what it takes! Have a seat. This won't take long.”

Micah examined brochures while he waited. Each glamorized its service but, through his experience, Micah managed to extract the facts.

He dismissed the Patrol immediately. They dealt with civilian affairs; League constables both onplanet and between them. No. Likewise he crossed off the Navy. Most of their positions entailed technical training beyond what Micah really wanted to do. Plus he'd be learning an entirely new service.

Micah gave a lot of thought to the Occupation Forces. From what he deduced they lived where the action was hot. He decided against that: Occupation Forces worked regularly with local planetary military forces. Not good. Micah had more than his fill of Sanderses and Hiles. 

Flipping through the Marines brochures brought a smile to Micah's lips. The League Marine Corps had five major divisions: Fleet, Garrison, Technical, Drop and Support. No decision! Micah would be a Drop Marine!

“Excellent choice, Stone! Good soldiers, one and all!” The man handed Micah a datacube. “Next ship leaves tomorrow. You might want to know this.”

***

Now that he had a purpose and direction, Micah's focus sharpened. He was excited and ready to go!

The comms still refused to work but Micah now knew that was on the Caustik end.

“Sorry, Micah,” said Glade, “I'm afraid Caustik's locked down but tight. I'd love to get your folks here or you there but I don't see how I can.”

Micah nodded. Not unexpected. He handed Glade the letter he'd written. Just in case. With Glade's assurance of delivery, Micah shook hands and headed to his room to prepare.

“Halt, soldier!”

Micah snapped to attention automatically. Then out of it. This time Collins and Reyhie had half a dozen friends. Reyhie grinned evilly and put an arm around Micah's shoulders.

“Rumor says, Micah Stone, that you're headed for the Corps.”

“Rumor is right,” replied Micah cautiously.

All the Marines started grinning evil grins.

“I hope you realize,” said Reyhie, “if we let you board that transport without a decent hangover we'll burn in hades with drill instructors for eternity.”

“Blather?”

“Truth, Stone! Let's get you some GOOD slosh!”

Micah might have considered arguing, but not for long.

***

Micah spent the first day of his journey recovering from his send-off. He'd never had much to do with drinking before, now he swore he never would again. Once he convinced his eyes to focus straight he turned his concentration to studies.

Micah had several datacubes on the Corps in general and the Drop Marines in particular, the latter courtesy of Reyhie. Enlistment started with twenty weeks of unspecialized training followed by another sixteen in Drop School. His service on Caustik, he discovered, meant nothing. The Corps counted from the time a recruit walked onto the base. Micah smiled at this.

In addition to the recruitment and information cubes Micah studied every scrap he could find concerning League military tactics. He made good sense of some, less so others.

The second hop brought more recruits on board. At first aloof, they soon warmed to Micah. Three in particular attached themselves to him. They all came from an agrarian world and they planned to use enlistment as a ticket to the stars.

“I tell you it's totally polar!” Paige McCree tossed her hair and dared the others at the table to disagree. “Support is what keeps the other branches going! You try getting a Navy scrubbie to drop you in a hot zone or zip in for a pickup under fire! That's what I'll be doing.”

McCree had spoken several times of escaping a marriage arranged by her parents. Though Micah cringed at that particular thought he flinched only slightly less at her words. Micah tried not to think of what awaited her. If even she made the cut.

“Blather, Paige. Technical is where it's polar! Travel the stars, visit new worlds, meet interesting people...” Terrence 'Bix' Bixby reminded Micah of BJ Tyler in more ways than one. Excitable when relaxed but able to focus when necessary, Bixby professed an interest in all things mechanical and electronic.

“... and kill them,” interjected Dale Jeffers. Jeffers let nothing ruffle him. Whether arguing - pardon, debating! - or playing one-across for blood, Jeffers remained calm and even.

“Y'know, Bix,” continued Jeffers, “Chances are you'll spend your terms stuck on a backwater asteroid where air is rare and women are rarer.”

McCree took exception to this and tossed a crumpled napkin at Jeffers.

Micah forbore comment. Though he wasn't too much older than the other three they were much, much younger. Micah wondered if he'd ever been so idealistic or innocent.

Eventually the conversation turned to music and movies. Micah discovered that Lethal Max 6 was just released and the series showed no signs of slowing. After a few minutes Micah rose.

“Where are you going, Micah,” demanded McCree, “We're going to play Feodality. You need to learn it.”

“Later,” said Micah, “I need some exercise.”

Micah warmed to his workout easily. McCree, Jeffers and Bixby looked up to him. He knew that. They knew it. He told them a little about the service but he kept the stories tame. Even then they comprehended little. He didn't want to scare them out of their dreams but he knew the reality that would soon slap them hard.

When Micah finished he saw the three of them waiting for him.

“Better,” asked McCree.

“Better,” said Micah.

McCree sat on Micah's shirt. When he gave it a tug she shifted but her eyes focused on his chest. They'd all seen his scars and he'd explained most of them. Now McCree pointed to his two smallest.

“Spearhead,” said Micah. Then he explained it.

“All the way back?” Bixby struggled to wrap himself around Micah's story.

“All the way back,” confirmed Micah, “Pain doesn't hurt once you learn to embrace it.”

McCree shuddered and took on a haunted expression.

“So d'you think we'll have to do that,” asked Bixby.

“Different units, different traditions,” said Micah, “And what if they do? Taking a blaster bolt hurts a lot worse than that. So does decompression.”

“You say that like it's nothing,” said McCree, more subdued now.

Micah shrugged. “I lived. That's more than I can say about a lot of others. Which would you take, pain or death?”

When they finally did play Feodality Micah won. Mostly because the other three were still digesting his words; Micah had little skill at the game.

***

The third and final hop filled the small transport to capacity. The captain packed the recruits four to a cabin and somehow McCree managed to get them all in the same room.

“I hear they line people up any old way when it's time for barracks assignments,” she said, “Let's all get in the same one!”

Jeffers and Bixby assented cheerfully. For himself Micah had less enthusiasm. After some internal convincing, though, he managed it.

***

“Atten-HUP! THAT MEANS STAND UP!!”

Micah snapped to attention followed in sloppy order by the rest of the recruits. Jeffers, Bixby and McCree tried to snap like Micah but failed miserably.

“OUT-side, you sorry slabs of meat. SINGLE FILE!”

A hot blast of air hit Micah when the lock cycled. It tasted different than Caustik's but felt the same; minus the corrosives.

Micah had studied the Corps training facility on Remise. The Slyco system had two planets inside its habitable zone - uncommon - and the League Navy and Marine Corps used them both for training. Named Remise and Reprise the worlds were, respectively, hot and dry and mostly frozen. The system's proximity to the border made it an ideal military facility.

“TEN-HUP! RIGHT HACE!!”

Micah snapped and turned automatically. He didn't block the fist crashing into his chest but he did step back and lighten the impact. The sergeant spared him a foul look. McCree stepped out of the ship.

“TEN-HUP! RIGHT HACE!!”

Micah caught her shoulders as she fell gasping for air. Her face clenched in an agonized mask and tears dripped at the corners of her eyes. By the time Micah got her unbent Jeffers had stepped out and received his. Between Micah and McCree they got him unbent and ready when Bixby stepped out.

“ARRIGHT, LADIES! QUIT YER LAZY LAGGING AND GET YOUR MAGGOT ASSES ON THAT LINE! NOW!! MOVE, MOVE, MOVE, MOVE...”

Micah almost laughed. It felt like coming home!

***

Micah cleared his mind and focused on his opponent. He and Darehorn, the other recruit, both wore dampers but a solid punch or kick would still hurt.

After his first unarmed combat lesson with Sergeant Taylor Micah found himself appointed assistant instructor. Taylor forgave Micah the broken rib but still assigned him two weeks of scrub.

Darehorn's attention wandered for the instant Micah needed. He lunged and kicked and Darehorn's damper flashed red.

“Hit and kill,” said Taylor, “Dumb-born, your MOMMA could've done better than that!”

Darehorn jumped to his feet, bowed to Taylor, bowed to Micah, then dropped and started doing pushups. Micah started to join him but Taylor's glare kept him in place.

The first six weeks had taken a hellish toll on the recruits. Though officially none had histories before joining the Corps, all of the recruits in Micah's barracks soon learned his. Micah found himself in the unaccustomed position of leader, counselor, confidant and cheerleader. Micah floundered but did his best. Attrition among the recruits was appalling, but less so in Micah's platoon. Their instructors knew the reason and not long afterward Micah had the recruit rank of sergeant. Micah took the responsibility very seriously.

“Places,” barked Taylor.

Micah and the others found their spots and snapped to attention.

“You sorry maggots just might make your mommies proud. Some day far, far, FAR in the future. DO YOU HEAR ME?!”

“YES SERGEANT!!”

“DIS-missed!”

Micah felt the undercurrent of excitement all the way back to the barracks. With dismissal from their last class the recruits officially had a pass for a long weekend away from the base. Micah hadn't planned to go - he could always use more study time - but Jeffers and Bixby vetoed that idea in no uncertain terms. They even contributed from their store of civilian clothes, quashing Micah's main reason not to go.

“This is going to be such a posh!” Paige McCree positively bubbled at the chance to go somewhere non-military.

“I suppose you have us rooms, m'dear,” said Bixby.

“But of course,” she replied, “Even one for Micah. I have plans that involve intoxicating drink and private company! Oh, Micah, don't forget your paychit.”

“I didn't,” lied Micah.

The city of Remise Down existed for two reasons. It served as the primary spaceport for civilian and semi-military traffic. Its secondary purpose: rest and relaxation for personnel stationed on or near Remise or just passing through. The city itself sprawled over a large area with the spaceport serving as its center and hub.

Micah concentrated on moving himself in time with the overly loud music. At the moment he was dancing with McCree. Jeffers and Bixby and their partners danced nearby. After he ignored two 'dance-able' songs McCree took matters into her own hands. Micah would not, she said, spend the evening holding a table for them. Especially with young and eager ladies just waiting to dance!

Micah's three friends knew about Jenn. He still didn't know how McCree got that out of him but she did. The next weekend she helped him write Jenn a letter.

The music slowed and McCree snuggled in.

“I know I'm not her,” said McCree, “But you wish her a good time while we're dancing!”

Micah chuckled at this. After a time he relaxed and began enjoying the dance.

Closing time found the four of them out in the street along with a huge crowd.

“I say we find some food!” Bixby's stomach growled and Micah thought again of Tyler.

“I concur,” said McCree, “Food should be this way!”

They walked, chatting idly, then not so idly. Within three blocks the neighborhood turned bad.

“Bad,” said McCree, “I think my directions were faulty. I say turn around and try again.”

Micah nodded but the three of them lost the decision.

“Leaving already, nubbs? Don't like our hospitality?”

Half a dozen seedy folk gathered around Micah and the others. Before long more joined them. Bangers, gang members, thought Micah.

“We'll leave,” said Bixby carefully, “If you don't mind. No restaurant here.”

“Maybe we do mind,” said the obvious leader, “Maybe we don't like you here. Maybe we'll just charge you a bit to leave.”

Micah and the others shifted back-to-back as knives and clubs appeared.

“We don't want any trouble,” said Micah, “If you just let us leave we will. No reason for anything else.”