Stone Blade (16 page)

***

Micah surveyed the clearing thoroughly and surveyed it again. An occasional meteor streaked across the sky. Micah hoped it was a cracker barrel - an HRAT loaded with supplies - or a part of the former station. As the last out of the TAC he should have grounded well after any others. He took bearings before he landed and sent a quick locator pulse. The Marines would know what it meant and the enemy would not. So went the theory. The first positive response should be somewhere near this clearing.

Movement! Micah's IR showed nothing nor did other passive or visual scans. Still, he saw positive movement. He oozed toward it.

“Meteor!”

“Meteor down!” Micah sighed silently in relief.

“That you, Sarge?”

“Affirmative, Wallace. Don't think you're off scrub, either.”

Wallace chuckled. Micah sent her his bearing marks and they started for the next Marine.

Morning found Micah and his group gathered and hidden in the middle of a nice, dense forest. They had some bruises and cuts but nothing serious. All of them grounded safely including the sailors. Idriall and Ralin, the last two found, had themselves located two of their supply capsules. They had a third spotted but it landed in the middle of a swamp. Idriall even managed to make Micah grin. He'd found three silvery meteors, the awards customarily given to Marines upon completing their first drop.

“Our situation is this.”

Twenty-nine figures huddled around Micah. They spent the daylight resting and distributing supplies.

“We are here.” Micah projected a map from his helmet. “Depending on how fast we go we're either two or three weeks away from the starport. If we travel straight we'll encounter two relatively major towns and several smaller. If we extend our arc we'll miss all metropolitan areas. Large or small.”

“Mister Stone.”

“Yes, Thompson?”

“Why don't we take the road, sir? If there are any League forces they'll find us faster.”

“Because the League might not be the ones to find us. No harm if it did, lots if it didn't. That might be the only thing keeping us out of a Corpse prison camp.

“I intend to scout the entire way,” continued Micah, “I am hoping we'll be able to join another League force. Failing in that, we'll decide what further action to take once we reach the starport. Questions?”

None.

Micah squirted them his map and route and assigned Marines to watch Thompson, Ferrel and Pierce. The sailors didn't like being issued heavy pulse rifles but Micah brooked no argument. They had qualified on pulse pistols, pulse rifles and grenades, in theory, and Micah took theory for fact. With the exception of grenades. Only Marines carried those!

The group made good time despite the three unaccustomed to it. They traveled at night and hid during the day. Micah avidly avoided contact with any civilization. He kept his comm tuned to Naval and civilian freqs.

After the first day one of the sailors, Ferrel, took over the long-range comm. Thompson spoke highly of Ferrel's competence so Micah didn't protest.

After the eighth day Ferrel brought Micah the comm. Micah heard the crackle of static and then some callsigns. 

“It started about four hours ago,” said Ferrel, “It's our support fleet. They're still stuck in the outer orbits and the Consortium is jumping in reinforcements.”

“Rut!” said Micah, “What about our reinforcements?”

Ferrel could only shrug.

Chapter 8. Civilian Casualties

They found the farm four days later. They passed populated areas carefully and now needed to do so more and more often. Aircraft and TACs occasionally flew over. Those made Micah nervous. One incident late in the day made him decide to begin the night's move early. Micah scanned the buildings carefully. Something about the place disturbed him.

Then realization struck. Animals gathered around the buildings, several dray and some cattle, but no people responded. The farmers might be inside the buildings working but Micah doubted it. Several machines stood as though just abandoned and small, green shoots sprouted from a half-plowed field.

Micah switched on his helmet recorder.

“Ralin, Idriall, with me. Kerry, you're in charge.”

The door to the main building hung skewed on its frame. Carefully not dislodging it the Marines entered the building rifles first.

The fire system tried but the sooty marks on the wall, now streaked and worn, spoke of heavy plasma and blasters. Micah saw other signs of a struggle and Ralin found a twisted and scorched piece of metal.

“GIL, Sarge. Can't tell if it was fired.”

Gauss induction, large bore, thought Micah. Useful for game hunting or dealing with small pests but unlikely to penetrate even civilian grade armor. Micah felt a dark foreboding.

None of the smaller outbuildings escaped the ravage. Whether used for equipment, fodder or seed storage all had been plasma-washed. The Marines headed for the largest outbuilding.

Micah knew what he saw would haunt him. Idriall knelt on the floor retching. Ralin looked ready to join him. Micah felt his guts twist up but he ruthlessly suppressed it.

Six limp figures hung from various high anchors. The first was an older man, the second and third a younger man and his sister or wife. The last three...

Micah recorded the tableau as dispassionately as he could. The oldest of the last three might have been in his teens. The last two weren't even close.

“S-sarge...”

Ralin spoke barely loud enough for Micah to hear. He stood before something, the tarp covering it hanging from his fingers.

She might have fought but to no avail. Her clothes, shredded rags, still clung to her. Her wrists were cruelly and efficiently tied. Micah tried not to see her face, her bruises, or the seared wound that ended it. Whoever had visited the farm enjoyed themselves. Micah took the tarp from Ralin's nerveless grasp and covered her gently. He switched off his recorder.

“Move out.”

Kerry gave Micah a questioning glance when they returned.

“Civilian casualties,” said Micah. By iron control his voice didn't waver at all.

Thompson looked to question Micah but one of the Marines stopped him. Someone else could explain, thought Micah, or let him see the holos. The invaders, the Corpses, now had a lot more to answer for.

***

The Marines now moved with deadly purpose. No one believed they'd find the League in charge. The Consortium had indeed hit hard.

“Sarge, I have signal.”

Micah halted the advance and motioned Ferrel forward. He could not decipher the strange pattern on the screen but Ferrel explained eagerly.

“They're trying to hack our thors.”

“I thought they took our missiles out.”

Ferrel rolled his eyes and sighed. “No need, sir. Once they knocked out ComCon they didn't need to drop the missiles. Besides, they might want to use them against us.”

Micah pondered a moment.

“Mister Stone, I can hack them! Their encryption is primitive! I have the League keys and I can nail their nets five ways from orbit! Fifteen minutes! Or less!”

“No.”

“But...”

“Negative, Ferrel! If they overfly while you're hot they'll have us blasted out of existence within five!”

Ferrel looked ready to argue but Micah signaled the advance.

***

Micah studied the starport and city carefully. After three days it still looked the same. The Marines built their camp half a day from the port; close enough to reach it but far enough to avoid patrols. At first Micah thought the sailors would give them away but they learned to ground and freeze eagerly.

Micah saw several large burned areas and a lot more smaller ones. He knew from the traffic Ferrel decrypted that the Consortium held the city and the continent firmly. When he surveyed the port for the first time he knew how. Thompson provided the answer.

“Asteroid miners!” Thompson muttered and swore over that. “Those are just like rutting little belter ships. That's how the bottomfeeders did it!”

It made sense. No one checked the belters often, or much at all. Besides being impossible, doing so would require huge numbers of ships and resources better applied elsewhere. Given time the Consortium infiltrated transports, fighter pods, troop boxes and even large ships. With regular supplies from ersatz belter ships the large ones could anchor to asteroids, minimize their scan signatures and drop most of their power. Micah marveled at the success of the operation given its immensity and complexity. Nor could he doubt its effectiveness. The Consortium now controlled the south continent entirely and was pressuring the League everywhere else.

Six TACs launched from the port and flew toward Micah's position. He and Ralin froze, waited for them to pass and started back to the encampment.

Thompson brought Micah a ration pack when he returned.

“What's the plan, Mister Stone?”

They might reach the other continent without being noticed but Micah doubted it. Thirty bodies moving that close to sensitive locations... No. Not all of them. Nor could Micah fathom a way to steal a transport. They might make it in smaller groups, but that led to similar problems but without mutual support. One or two groups could make it, but no more.

Their supplies, while abundant now, were not bottomless. And Micah still saw the farm every time he closed his eyes.

“The Consortium is using this port as their main headquarters on planet. I intend to take it down.”

Micah expected arguments but got none. The Marines knew the odds and accepted them. Thompson, Pierce and Ferrel accepted them too, whether or not they knew them. The only question: How?

“Ferrel.”

Micah gnawed on a thought; a plan if Ferrel could deliver.

“You said you could hack them. Just how serious were you?”

Ferrel gave Micah a look of pained sufferance.

“Mister Stone, I was offered Navy enlistment after I cracked the League Financial on Lithceau. It was that or hard time and I didn't even slurp any credits! Give me ten minutes of high-res access and I'll burn every Corpse system on this planet or above it!”

“How long with what you have? That is not a high-res rig.”

Ferrel fidgeted.

“Longer. They probably would be able to trace us and hit us.”

Micah nodded.

“You say we still have thors in orbit. Locked down, I assume.”

“Yeah.”

“And they might even have some of their own. How long would it take you from the time you sat at the terminal to get a strike on the way hard enough not to be burned or side-tracked?”

“Twenty minutes,” said Ferrel after some thought, “Once I hack their sats I'll burn their system to the ground. And when I trash it it will
stay
trashed.” 

***

Micah stood holding his helmet. The Marines filed by and each drew a small slip of paper. When they finished, five began grumbling. None of the others offered to trade.

“As you were, Marines.” Micah tried to snap but couldn't manage it.

“Ralin, take your detail and get started now. Main detail will leave at 0100.”

Ralin, Idriall, Ferrel and two others left. The rest began packing the supplies Micah wouldn't take. Thompson tried to inveigle himself into Micah's group but without success.

Micah sat and surveyed his soon-to-be-deserted camp. Thompson, Pierce and the five lucky - or unlucky, according to them - Marines would move the supplies to several cache and fallback points. Micah doubted he'd use them. Officially they'd fade into the countryside and await League reinforcements. Officially, if no Marines made it back Thompson and his group would try to reach the north continent. Seven should be able to make it.

Micah sought and found the calmness he needed. Kerry set a ration pack beside him without speaking. She and Nieman would lead elements alongside Micah. They had a fair number of smites and even a few smarts. They had plenty of grenades. They had plenty of clips.

***

When the Marines reached the town Nee and Kerry each took five and split. Micah motioned and his five started forward. They saw patrols but few and lax. Martial law and curfew left the streets deserted. The Marines did encounter two patrols but the Corpses never knew they weren't alone. The Corpses had automatic sentries but the Marines knew how to handle them. Micah saw one frightened face peering out a window at him. He wished a silent blessing and moved on.

04:50. Micah crouched just outside visual range of Corpse HQ. A fence full of detection gear rose before him but he'd handle it presently.

04:57. Micah slid three smites out of his pack. He programmed them for juicy targets: those that would make nice explosions. He held his smart ready; it had a dearer target.

04:57:30. Several buildings showed activity. Micah tensed as the Corpses walked from one place to another. They didn't move urgently so Micah relaxed.

04:58. Idriall and Ferrel should have the civilian comm-casting center now; guards down and comm array reconfigured. No activity meant they'd succeeded. Or they'd been captured.

04:59. The activity settled. With another hour to shift change the guards should be plenty sleepy. Micah keyed his comm.

Three smarts and three smites left almost as one. Six more smites followed and then another six. Alarms screamed inside the compound as the explosions hit. Meat ran out of the building, frantically searching for targets. Micah clipped a grenade to his rifle and sent it into the largest cluster of bodies he saw. The plasma illuminated them well - the idiots didn't have on their armor! - and set fire to the building. Pulse rifles coughed and actinic streaks flashed through the darkness.

Several vehicles moved toward Micah. Each Marine had a spare smite for just such occasions. Micah used his gladly. More Corpse meats were out now, firing hand weapons and rifles. Micah activated his myos, launched another pair of grenades and followed them in.

Icy calmness settled over Micah. The Corpse complex offered plenty of cover and he didn't really have to worry about friendly fire. He'd ordered his element to disperse and cause as much chaos as they could. From the sound of things, they had.