Stone Blade (17 page)

Micah rounded a corner and faced a barracks. Several half-armored shapes muddled about the doorway. Micah sent them a plasma message. He sent another two into the building. Around the next corner he had an opportunity to take down a semi-portable.

Micah took cover behind a flipped hover. The sky flashed white and the ground slapped him hard. A wall of sound washed over him, breaking several windows and shaking everything. Micah laughed! He officially owed Kerry a hundred credits now: her wager that she'd blow the port hydrogen dump. Damage would be minimal, the dump was isolated for that very reason, but it did make a spectacular distraction! Micah dropped four Corpse crunchies who stood up to look.

***

Micah launched his last grenade and ducked behind a corner before it exploded. He didn't know how long he'd been fighting but the Corpse numbers were starting to show. His myos were gone now and he'd taken several hits. One of them felt bad. He'd bandaged himself and patched his armor but he didn't move as fast now. At least he still had clips. He sprayed a couple but most of the time he fired each shot individually. And hit with it.

A new set of alarms screamed and a voice broke comm silence.

“Scan delta! Scan delta!”

Relief washed through Micah. Scan delta. Ferrel had hacked the system and the thor strike was in the way. Ack pits opened fire but to little effect. Scan delta meant Ferrel had also burned their networks.

Micah saw a crowd not far away. Officers! Pulling a pair of grenades off a dead meat he primed them and threw. Motion alerted Micah to another group of crunchies. He rolled to cover and opened fire.

Micah propped himself on one knee and fired past the figure running toward him. Wallace. It had to be Wallace. No one else ran quite that way: clumsy-looking but effective and fast. Wallace hit dirt beside him and said something. Micah concentrated on the crunchies trying to storm their position.

“... I said cover, Sarge!”

“Go!”

Micah counted five and threw himself backward as Wallace opened fire. They leap-frogged quite a distance back before the meats caught them.

***

LIGHT!

PAIN!!

The thunder from a thousand bolts of lightning slammed Micah around. It threw him against everything nearby and then everything loose against him. Micah felt his pulse rifle ripped from his hands. He tried to see where it landed but his eyes didn't work properly.

Babble.

Wallace.

Micah felt something tugging his arm. He tried to help but nothing worked. His hearing folded into a crashing, booming roar. His vision narrowed to a small tunnel. Then it finally faded.

***

“... coming around now.”

Darkness.

Light. Dim silhouette against a bright blob.

Micah ached his way awake. The shapes hovering above him turned into Wallace against a light. He saw a man and woman he didn't know.

“Sarge? Micah? You there?”

Micah tried to answer but only managed a grunt. A hand lifted his head and Micah felt a cup at his lips. He drank. Icy fire seared his throat and stomach and snapped him to wakefulness.

“Gaah! What?”

“Don't talk,” said the lady, “Give it a minute.”

Micah had a hundred questions but the lady's advice seemed best. Micah found himself in a small and cramped room stacked with boxes and shelves.

“You're safe,” said the lady, “you're in my basement. The soldiers have been looking for you but we know how to hide you.”

“Wallace. Fallback.”

“Easy, Sarge,” replied Wallace, “We're too late by days. If they followed orders they're gone now.”

“How long... Was I out?”

“Four days, Sarge. Maria's a medic and Jack's a reserve.”

“For what good that did,” said the man bitterly.

“Caught us too,” mumbled Micah.

After a few more minutes Micah felt almost human. His leg hurt from a penetrating hit and he had sundry other ills but he'd felt worse before. After chancing a quick scout Wallace reported the Consortium forces swarming like zeef ants over a fresh kill. She didn't know how many Marines escaped but the guard at the prison camp tripled overnight. The citizenry of Ceto knew the enemy had suffered a blow. That news traveled swiftly, though not enough to incite arrest or reprisal. Wallace explained with some amusement that rumor had two full divisions of League forces hitting the base and melting into the city. Micah hoped it true; most of his Marines would not have taken fallback.

A day and night of rest had Micah ready to tear down the too-familiar boxes and shelves. Jack brought him a holovee but most of the channels were off and the rest were full of Consortium propaganda. They made a point of showing prisoners taken from the 'cowardly League raids.' Micah recognized Nieman and one of his element. Jacy. Both had bruises and burns.

The basement door opened and Micah slid his hand down to his pulse pistol, the only remnant of his armor. Maria descended the stairs accompanied by an older man Micah didn't know.

“Micah, this is Colonel Roberts, Ceto Close Orbit Reserve. He'd like to talk to you.”

Micah rose to shake hands. Roberts had a firm grasp and an even stare. He took Micah's measure even as Micah did likewise. Competent, decided Micah. This man could hold his planet.

“Bloody glad to meet you, son. They said they'd wiped out the League on planet. I've been trying to collect news from your division but they do seem to have faded into the cracks.”

Wallace, who entered in time to hear that, chuckled.

“No division, sir,” said Micah, “I lead seventeen Marines.”

“Heaven's flames! Less than a bloody platoon? You did finish their ruddy complex! They'll not repair that soon!”

Micah felt a swelling of pride. “Thank you, sir.”

Roberts' mien grew serious.

“Lad, I'd like to say that's my only reason for coming but it isn't. Maria tells me the two of you will be effective within a few days. Most of our military structure is gone but a goodly number of reserves grounded hard and avoided capture.”

Micah looked at him expectantly.

“I don't know how you've trained at guerrilla tactics but we've worked bleeding hard at it. We could certainly use your help.”

“Absolutely, sir. Will you help us contact the League? I'll guarantee they won't take this sitting.”

“Certainly, Micah. We'll toss them a ruddy party!”

***

Micah plodded down the street and carefully did not eye the Corpse guards. He and the four men with him wore general workers' coveralls and carried their kits lackadaisically. After two weeks to settle, the Consortium forces began allowing certain civilians to work. Mostly at the jobs they themselves didn't want. Micah had a pulse pistol but if all went well he'd not need it. Larson, the mission leader, offered the guards a datachip.

“Fine,” said the bored soldier, “About flaming time, too. It's been out for two days, you slaggie.”

Larson shrugged and motioned to the others. Careful of observation they made their way to the sewer access. Each had an assigned task and Larson, who actually had experience, assigned them jobs they could do without showing their lack of expertise.

“Open,” said Larson.

Micah removed a device from his kit and placed it carefully. It activated in the pipe and scuttled away. They fixed the sewage impeller quickly and left.

The building wasn't important to the Consortium. They occupied it mostly to keep subversive elements out. The sewer, however, connected directly to a comm center critical to the Corpse forces; a facility that would suffer dire inconvenience when the robot bomb scuttled up its main sewer line and exploded. Actual damage would be minimal but the repairs would be neither fast nor efficient.

Acts like this summed up Roberts' tactics. He didn't have enough troop strength to seriously threaten Consortium forces and he did have the very real concern of reprisals against the city's population. His plans hinged on making life on Ceto uncomfortable for the invaders.

Micah admired Roberts without reservation. The man knew his tactics and his forces and how to combine and concentrate for maximum effect. In the few weeks Micah had been active he saw a marked drop in the Consortium troops' morale. Drop School didn't teach guerrilla tactics, that was Special Operations, but he did see Corpse troopers looking around with hunched shoulders and uneasy expressions. They acted as though enemies waited behind each window; yet for all that they had no foe to strike.

At first the invaders patrolled in twos and threes. Now a patrol seldom numbered less than eight. After several nasty incidents involving harassment of civilians the Corpse equivalent of the Shore Patrol began restricting off-duty soldiers.

When Micah returned to the safe house he found Roberts there with a special surprise.

“Ferrel!” Micah pumped the man's hand furiously. “How the hades did you get here?”

“We didn't get far when the station went. The Corpsies traced us before you torqued their comm. We went to ground and stayed until they quit looking for us so flaming hard. We missed fallback so we did some recon. Idriall smelled something significant when the soy plant glitched down and stayed. He did some digging.”

“Is he with you?”

“Yes sir. He, Ralin and Morsey. We lost Gridwell.”

Micah nodded.

“Micah, old boot,” said Roberts, “your Ferrel is a genius. That League party's going to be  a wild one!”

***

Micah sighted carefully down his needler. This was Roberts' chanciest operation yet and he assigned Micah and the rest of the Marines to it. For some reason the vehicles programmed to spray the city for insects malfunctioned. Ferrel swore he'd not left a trace and soon flying vermin plagued the city.

Roberts gave Micah an ancient compression needler. The weapon had no punch past fifty meters but would suit Micah's mission perfectly. Maria supplied Micah a clip of blood-soluble darts, each with a concentration of disease guaranteed to overcome Corpsie inoculations. The darts had a strong anesthetic coat and a hit would feel just like an insect bite.

Micah chose his target and squeezed the trigger. The Corpse soldier slapped the side of his neck, muttered to his comrades and kept walking.

A dozen groups later Micah broke down the needler, signaled the other Marines and began the trip back to the safe house.

Supersonic thunder threw Micah against the wall. He hit the ground and rolled for cover, well familiar with that sound. Overhead flew a tight formation of League TACs with Marines inside them hitting silk as fast as they could crowd in the locks. Another TAC squadron swarmed the spaceport and Micah also saw the contrails of high-stratosphere ships.

The League gunners took care in choosing targets. The Consortium forces didn't. Micah and the others ran now, careless of anyone seeing them. Too many others acted similarly, milling about the streets in search of shelter.

Six hours ended it. The League hit and hit hard. They routed the main Consortium forces on planet, captured quite a few and drove a hard wedge of capital ships through the thin Corpse forces. Faced with superior forces the Corpse ships withdrew and left their landed forces to fend for themselves. Some surrendered, others fought to the death.

After allowing some mop-up time Micah and his Marines headed for the League HQ. Roberts joined them.

Micah paced his small room. After confirming his identity he'd had a good meal and a hot shower. Then the interrogation started. He reported first to a Marine colonel. Then a light admiral. Then, with frequent requests for detail, to an unremarkable man with no uniform and an impressive identification. Then to the colonel and admiral together.

Over the course of the questioning Micah learned that apart from the Marines with him only three others from his assault force survived. Kerry and her element went down with the hydrogen dump; they stayed to make sure the Corpse troops pinning them died too. Nieman dealt with four guards at the prison camp when they tried to rob the League of its victory there. Jacy took a Corpse hit meant for a group of children. Micah counted the names and burned them into his memory. They all died well, taking the enemy with them. Protecting Ceto and her people!

***

Micah faced the review board without flinching. The summons came as no small surprise but Micah resolved himself to face it as a Marine should: eyes open and weapons forward.

The board officially detailed Micah's actions. By his reckoning he'd done the League proud. The board had different thoughts. After some deliberation the colonel spoke.

“Sergeant Stone your actions can, if viewed in one light, merit a Court Martial. While your actions were commendable you should have gone to ground and awaited orders. Was there at any time any doubt in your mind that the League would be back?”

“No sir.”

“Was there at any time, other than your assault, clear and imminent danger to you or the personnel under your command?”

“No sir.” Micah felt his heart sink.

“Why, then, did you choose to expose yourself and your men to needless risk? Eighteen Marines against an entire headquarters, Sergeant Stone?”

The silence gnawed into Micah.

“I have no good reason, sir.” Those few words cost Micah dearly.

“This board realizes, Sergeant Stone, that the brutality and atrocity you faced would make any sane man weep with fury. Even considering that can you give sufficient reason to lose as many League soldiers as you did?”

“No sir.”

“Very well, then. Will you face a Court Martial?”

Micah thought hard on this.

“I place myself at the Board's mercy, sir. At the time I believed my actions justified. I will, however, abide fully by your ruling.”

The colonel smiled and the others didn't.

“Sergeant Stone,” said the colonel, “Off the record, you did a fine job fighting the League's enemies. It is not, however, the kind of victory we like to have. While your actions were instrumental in securing League victory it is the opinion of this board that you were careless with League lives.” The man held up his hand. “I know, Sergeant Stone, that every Marine under you wanted to go. I also know the two sailors did as well. It is as much the commander's job, Sergeant Stone, to keep soldiers safe as it is to sacrifice them for an objective.”