Starfist: Kingdom's Fury (25 page)

"Everybody, look alive," Lieutenant Rokmonov said on the all-hands circuit.

"Company's coming, they can be anywhere. Hold your fire, the first ones are probably scouts. We don't want to alert whoever's following them."

Ten meters up in his tree, Dean was surprised at how clearly he could see into the water. At the east end of the islet he saw what Godenov had spotted—two indistinct shapes under the surface of the marsh water. They could have been a couple of large pieces of flotsam, or tightly packed shoals of tiny fish. After several seconds of observation, he made out their kicking legs. Godenov must have seen that motion right away.

As he watched, the two Skinks reached the water on the far side of the islet, where the Skinks they ambushed had been. The scouts flitted about as though examining signs of the one-sided fight. He wondered if there was some taste of plasma or essence-of-Skink left behind in the water. More likely, he thought, they saw fragments of metal from the exploding tanks. Either that or second squad had disturbed the bottom when they retrieved the weapons. After a moment the Skinks swam to the islet and cautiously raised their heads. The tanks of acid guns were visible on their backs, the nozzles in their hands. They quickly scanned the burned surface of the islet and its shattered vegetation, then slid back into the water and swam back the way they'd come.

"More coming from the west," Corporal Dornhofer reported. I see three, underwater."

"Hold your fire," Rokmonov reminded the Marines.

Dornhofer was watching the new trio of Skinks repeat the activity pattern of the previous duo when Corporal Claypoole said, "They're behind us too. I've got two going around my island. I can see back about sixty meters and the water looks darker, like maybe Skinks are in it."

"Keep an eye on the dark area," Sergeant Linsman said. Seconds later he added,

"I've got them. He had both his squad circuit and the command circuit open.

"Buddha's balls, they're only a couple meters from the base of my tree!" The Marines waited tensely. The Skinks were well within the range of whatever sense they had that allowed them to detect chameleoned Marines, but the aliens passed by without noticing the Marines in the trees above them.

"Their detection sense, whatever it is," Linsman said, "doesn't seem to work between water and air!"

A minute later the three Skinks who came from the west were leaving. They reached the western end of the islet at the same time the two from the south rounded it. For a second it looked as though they were going to fight, but they recognized each other and stopped. One from each team stood and flushed water from his breathing organs. They spoke briefly, then the two scouting teams headed back where they came from.

Claypoole watched the two swim to the darker area of water, where one of them stood. A piece broke off the dark water and rose, becoming a Skink who faced the first one. Water cascaded down their sides. Claypoole couldn't hear any voices, but the two seemed to be talking. They looked exactly like an officer debriefing a scout.

After a moment they submerged and blended into the dark patch of water. Claypoole reported what he saw.

"Movement to the east," Dean reported a few minutes later. "They're underwater, a lot of them. I'm counting."

"Hold your fire," Rokmonov murmured. "Remember, there are probably two more groups coming."

Dean watched as a moving darkness under the surface slowly resolved into saffron-colored individual Skinks. They split into two groups. The smaller group, about a dozen individuals, went behind the islet to the area where the Marines had killed the Skinks. The other group, about twice as large, swam to the near side. Dean reported the numbers and disposition.

The Skinks arrayed in what appeared to be defensive positions, except for two, who swam around in the killing zone, examining the bottom. First one of them, then two others, rose from the water. They stood for a moment with their chests heaving.

Water cascaded down their sides from their gill slits. They climbed onto the islet.

Two of them carried acid gun tanks on their backs, nozzles in their hands. The one who had examined the bottom wasn't armed, unless the pouch on his belt that resembled a holster carried a sidearm of some sort.

"I see them," Rokmonov said. Dean stopped reporting.

The unarmed Skink walked the width of the islet, eyes scanning the ground, while the other two guarded him. He kicked through the charred area where the pile of acid guns had been destroyed, bent down to pick up something, looked at it, flipped it away. He squatted on the near bank and brushed his fingers over a scrape mark left by a crawling Marine. He stood and paced the length of the islet, examining the ground. The marks were there, bent and crushed grass, flattened patches of mud, footprints. It looked to Dean as though the Skink saw every mark the Marines had left behind and understood their meaning. He returned to the center of the islet, where the guns had been destroyed, and peered at the burned ground for a moment.

Then he barked something. The two guards rushed into the water, one on each side of the islet. Seconds later all of the Skinks broke surface far enough to expose their ears. The officer—or so he appeared to be—growled and barked at them. He swept his arm in an arc to the south, through the Marine position. The Skinks in the water bobbed their heads in a very human way. I understand, they seemed to signal. The officer thrust his hand to the south and gave a final bark. The Skinks submerged and fanned out in an east-west line. The officer re-entered the water.

There was sudden turbulence on the west end of the Skink line.

"I think Skinks are arriving from the west," Dornhofer reported.

"They're moving up," Claypoole reported; the dark water to the south was advancing and resolving into individuals.

"I see someone standing," Dornhofer said.

The officer who had examined the islet stood and waded toward the group that had just arrived from the west. He met an officer from that group.

"How many are there?" Rokmonov asked.

"I can't tell," Dornhofer said. "They're too far away. And some are in shadows.

It's hard to make out anything."

"I'm counting," Claypoole said. "More than thirty. Damn, there must be at least forty."

One of the officers briefly ducked underwater. One of the Skinks detached and swam rapidly to the south. Claypoole watched as the messenger intercepted the southern group and gave hand signals to a Skink who wasn't carrying the tanks of an acid gun. That Skink gave a signal that had to mean Wait in place, then swam rapidly toward where the other officers were standing, deep in low conversation.

There were more than thirty Skinks in the water thirty-five meters north of the Marines in the trees. Forty or more were even closer to the south. An unknown number, but probably thirty or forty, were not far away to the west. Counting himself, Lieutenant Rokmonov had thirty-five Marines. So far the Skinks hadn't shown much individual initiative in firefights—their troops seemingly needed to be told what to do. And all the officers were together in one place. The Marines could take out the Skink officers and even the odds in a hurry. The big question was: How fast would the Skinks realize the Marines were in the trees and start shooting upward? Most of them were already in range of their acid guns.

The Skink command meeting was breaking up just as Rokmonov shouted,

"FIRE!" into the all-hands circuit, and star-stuff lanced into the unsuspecting Skinks.

Third platoon's first gun team fired at the three officers. Two of them flared immediately and the third dove for safety. The assault gun continued firing short bursts into the area the Skinks were in. At the same time, one assault gun squad opened up on the Skinks to the north, its stream of plasma bolts sweeping from right to left along the line of Skinks. The water boiled and steam rose in the gun's wake.

First squad also fired, each Marine picking targets ahead of the moving stream from the assault gun, trying to spot and flash Skinks who attempted to flee the gun's plasma.

On the south side of the Marine perimeter, third platoon's other gun and the other assault squad opened up on those Skinks, firing from each end to the middle. The water boiled more ferociously than it did to the north, steam rising thick as blinding fog. Unable to see, second squad held its fire.

"Cease fire! Cease fire!" Rokmonov shouted after less than half a minute. The squad leaders and fire and gun team leaders echoed the command.

The firing stopped. Overheated water still roiled to the north, west, and south of the Marines. Steam still rose. The ambient temperature felt like it had risen twenty degrees.

"Does anybody see anything?"

Mostly, the Marines saw trees emerging from the slowly dissipating steam. Not much of the water surface was visible.

"Squad leaders, report."

There were no Marine casualties. As far as they could tell, none of the Skinks had returned fire.

They listened. The water made noise as it bubbled and gave off more steam, but all else was silent. Long minutes passed before they could see the surface of the water again. The Marines' fire had been accurate. Few plasma bolts had struck on the tussocks and hummocks that studded the marsh waters, and only a few faint lines of smoke dribbled upward from charred foliage. There was no sign of the Skinks.

Lieutenant Rokmonov reported quietly to Captain Conorado, who gave him revised orders. They agreed that the platoon had enjoyed incredible luck in launching two consecutive ambushes with such success. They couldn't count on it happening a third time. To the countrary, their next contact would likely cause casualties, maybe heavy casualties.

"Saddle up," Rokmonov said when he was through on the radio. "It's a pretty good guess they know we're here now." He suppressed a chuckle. "There's no chance we can reach any of those cave mouths. Here's our new route." He transmitted a fresh overlay to the squad leaders, who gave it to their Marines. The route led back to the Haven defenses but didn't simply backtrack ground they'd already covered. They formed up as before, but in reverse order. Lance Corporal Schultz always wanted the most dangerous position; this time he judged that to be the left rear of the platoon box.

Nobody was willing to argue with Schultz when he said where he wanted to be in a formation when the platoon was in the field against a live enemy.

The Master who dove to avoid the opening burst huddled in the undercut bank of a hummock, only his crown and eyes showing above the water, were hidden in the shadows behind a screen of drooping roots. Where had that helacious fire come from? If Earthmen Marines were on any of the islets he could see, he should be able to discern at least a few of the telltale hollows their invisible bodies made in the grass. They weren't in the water, he was sure of that—the sensors in his sides would have picked up some emanation from their bodies if they were anywhere in the restricted lines of sight along which they would have fired, were they in the water.

Nor had he felt their presence when he was standing, conferring with the other Masters immediately before the Earthmen Marines opened fire.

The Master's astonishment was great when he saw the lower branches of trees on a few of the hummocks rustle and he heard the sounds of bodies thudding to the ground. Of course—they had been in the trees! No wonder he couldn't tell where they were! There was a time, centuries in the past, when the True People had put snipers in trees. In those days, well-placed snipers in trees could do great damage to superior forces and tie them down for considerable time, even long enough to mount a counterattack. The Master was surprised that the Earthmen Marines still used such a primitive tactic.

Primitive or not, the tactic had certainly been effective: Two Masters, nearly a dozen Leaders, and more than a hundred Fighters had died. He and five Fighters who huddled in the undercut with him were all that remained. Unless some Fighters from the other groups had managed to get out of the killing zone and fled. But the Fighters were bred to obey orders, to stand and fight, to never retreat. It was unlikely that any fled back to the caves.

What should he do now? If he went back, it could only be in disgrace. He had to go forward. But what could he and five Fighters do against a whole company of Earthmen Marines? It had to be a whole company. The fire that rained down had been too fierce, too intense, to have come from less than a company. He and five Fighters could die, and hope to take an equal number with them. But the Great Master must know that the Earthmen Marines were using primitive tactics. If he did not make that report, more of the Emperor's Fighters and Leaders and Masters of all ranks would needlessly die, and the entire mission to this world might be in jeopardy.

The Master dithered for a few moments, caught between imperatives. Then he decided, and gave a signal. The five Fighters quelled their fear and swam after him.

A strong reaction force must be on its way. He would follow the Earthmen Marines and send the Fighters back, one at a time, to guide the reaction force to where the Earthmen Marines were.

After trailing the Earthmen Marines for a few hundred meters, he was only able to locate one platoon from the company that made the attack. But he knew the rest of the company couldn't be far. He sent the first Fighter back to intercept the reaction force and lead them to this place, where they would be met by the next Fighter he sent back.

Reports from the eighteen platoons in the field flowed into the intelligence section of Marine Expeditionary Force, Kingdom. Brigadier Sturgeon waited for his staff to analyze and make sense of the reports. He couldn't mount a major offensive until he had hard data about the disposition of the Skink forces. He waited patiently.

Archbishop General Lambsblood, Supreme Commander of the Army of the Lord, also waited in the MEF headquarters. But he fumed at the inactivity and what he suspected was the sinfulness of the situation. First this . . . mere brigadier had come and wrested away command of the Army of the Lord—his army! Then this off-world infidel had placed his own officers in command of the units of his army—over officers far superior in rank. If that wasn't enough, this brigadier had then placed lowly enlisted men in command of the army's companies and platoons—even to the extent of sub-swords in command over acolytes! Now the Army of the Lord was relegated to a purely defensive posture while the infidel Confederation Marines conducted offensive operations against the off-world demon invaders. He wasn't even privy to what was happening in those offensive operations.