Stone Blade (32 page)

At LeMarsh's nod one of the guards handed Micah a red badge with 'Visitor' marked clearly across the front. Micah relaxed and hid his smile as his erstwhile host escorted him into the bowels of the building.

Alongside LeMarsh Micah played every millimeter the awed tourist. He met personages, some of whom he recognized from the 'casts he'd seen and others who worked behind the scenes. He toured the studios, the pre- and post-production rooms, the stages and the lounges.

“How long are you here, Brother Mark?”

“My linear leaves at six, brother.”

LeMarsh smiled and led Micah to the building's refectory. “Then do us the honor of breaking bread with us!”

Micah did not decline.

The meal, less bland and more plentiful than ordinary fare, followed a meditation from Page Ytric, Fourteenth to the Circle, Unity.

“Few are the days,” said LeMarsh, “that we are not honored by one from the Dome to guide our way.”

LeMarsh followed the meal by showing Micah the private archives and the actual machinery used to holocast. Micah took careful note of locations and security, both living and mechanical. Its relative scarcity surprised Micah until he realized that the building would never truly close.

“We must ever be prepared, brother,” said LeMarsh after showing Micah a small gym,   'fresher and sleeping area, “News does not follow our schedule so we must follow it!”

Apart from his cover Micah enjoyed his tour. He'd not given much thought to holocasting on a planetary scale.

With the sun heading for the horizon LeMarsh escorted Micah back to the first floor. Micah held a bag stuffed full of pictures, most autographed, brochures, informational literature and sundry other odds and ends a large business might use to impress its customers.

“Thank you, Brother LeMarsh,” said Micah with as much gratitude as he could muster, “I am grateful and honored by the hospitality you have shown me!”

“It was my honor, Brother Mark! Please return if ever you are in Unity again.”

Micah knew for almost-certain he would.

“May your journey be blessed in the Light and in the Unity,” finished LeMarsh.

***

“Heaven's flames, Micah! What happened to you?” Kidwell's curiosity turned to astonishment as Micah spilled his goodies on the table. “We thought they'd captured you!”

“They did,” replied Micah acerbically, “But I finally escaped.”

Kidwell looked tired. Satisfied, but tired. A haggard and frayed Ferrel slumped in a chair with a drugstick and a mostly-empty glass of vinostim.

“I scouted the building,” said Micah, “very, very, very well.”

Micah grabbed a bottle of ale before starting his story.

“Most impressive, lover!” Kidwell grinned. “You can scratch that bastard blood, Micah. Yours is pure-brewed rube! I don't think
I
could've done any better!”

“I hope you get the chance,” said Micah, “very soon! Now tell me. What have you been doing today to get Charlie so worn out? If it was real work I want your secret!”

Ferrel raised a finger to Micah as Kidwell handed him a holospool viewer.

“Watch.”

After the first five commercials Micah expected some news. After the first ten minutes he wanted it. Badly! After another ten minutes of commercials Micah wanted to break the viewer but Kidwell kept him seated.

Micah fidgeted where he sat. He didn't really mind pauses in the holocasts he watched. Commercials gave him ample time to rustle a snack, but actually viewing endless numbers of them took a toll. He felt nervous and twitchy and before long he wanted to be anywhere but in front of the viewer.

With an effort Micah summoned the discipline to stay in place. He tried analyzing the content but had trouble staying focused. Not, he thought, that the advertisements encouraged long spans of attention. It didn't help that Kidwell chose only UNA public service announcements. Nor that Unity had or had need of so many public services!

Finally, blessedly the screen faded and stayed empty.

“Well,” said Kidwell, “what do you thin...”

***

Pain! PAIN!!

Micah tried to focus past the muzziness in his head. The wound in his side throbbed and pulsed in counterpoint to his hurried footsteps.

Micah chased the shadowy figure running ahead of him. The shadowy figure with a pulse pistol, he corrected. The man who had killed him. No doubt of that. Micah decided he'd take the sewer-sipper with him before he died.

There had been a fight. Micah knew that. He'd given a good account of himself but the odds, augmented with blasters and surprise, simply overwhelmed him.

But Micah could at least avenge his friends! Trying to picture them distracted him and spoiled his focus but the presence he almost felt warmed him.

A tinge of sadness. She'd been so lovely and he'd never told her. Just a friend, of course, but he'd miss her eyes. Her beautiful eyes.

And the others. His best friends. A part of him...

The man running from Micah outsmarted himself. He turned into an alleyway Micah knew exited two blocks down. Micah caught the man when he ran out. His rapidly-weakening body lacked the strength for many blows so Micah made them count! He finally locked his fingers around the man's throat! Micah knew he'd die soon but by the stars he still had enough for what was... necessary.

Luv ya, hon, thought Micah, Paige...

No. Vera.

Vera? Life leaked out of Micah. The end was supposed to be clear! This was not fair!

Charlie!

Charlie? No! Answers! Not questions!

Master Ko, unable to pry Micah's fingers from his throat, gazed at Micah with death and amusement glazing his eyes...

“MICAH!!!”

***

Micah's vision blurred. His heart raced and slowly, slowly his eyes cleared.

Breath hard and fast. Micah tried to calm the panic flooding through him. He felt as though Flame raced through him. Energized. Ready to fight! Ready to kill.

“M-micah...” gasped Kidwell. Softly. Not shouting.

The room around Micah blurred into the dingy living room in the house they'd rented on Unity.

Unity?

A ragged gasp at breath on his left.

As Micah mastered the fear flooding him details swam into place.

Kidwell to his left, half-levered across a table, his hand tight around her throat. Ferrel sprawled on the floor to his right.

The blaster in Micah's hand centered between Ferrel's eyes, his finger tense on the trigger.

“No,” said Micah, “Holy heavens. No!”

Kidwell, released and collapsing to the floor gasping hard for breath. Before Micah could help her she scrambled out of reach.

“Micah, my brother?”

Micah relaxed his arm and the blaster clattered to the floor. His left side and leg ached horribly.

Micah collapsed to his knees and buried his face in his arms.

“Micah,” Kidwell, speaking gently, “Micah? Are you... You?”

“I... I think so.” Micah spoke without lifting his head. “What happened?”

“We'd kinda like to know, too, my brother. You... You went a bit suborbital on us and started breaking things.”

“I was showing you my subliminals,” said Kidwell, “I was going to ask you what you thought of...” Cautious hesitation, “Orris.”

“Subliminals?”

“In the commercials.”

“Subliminals.” Micah coughed bitter bile. “Subliminals.”

Memories Micah thought handled, impotent. Wetness trickling down his cheeks. Something thudded on the floor beside him. His fist. Pain struck as he hit again. And again. And again! Nothing against the pain he'd caused! Again!

“Micah! Stop it!” Hands grabbing his arm as he raised it.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry! V... I'm sorry!” The words choked Micah.

A soft touch on his shoulder. “Micah! What is it?”

Micah took a deep breath, ignoring the sharp pain in his side.

“I've been... I've had subliminals before.”

Hands pulling him up. Kidwell dabbed and wiped at his face with a moist cloth.

“Before...” Micah forced the word. “B-before I joined the Marines.” His brain wobbled with the words but Micah pressed both harder. “I... I was in the 113th. The 113th TAS.”

Kidwell and Ferrel looked at him blankly.

“Commonwealth of Caustik. May liberty reign.” These words more bitter than anything Micah had ever tasted.

Realization in Kidwell's eyes. “Wait. They're...” She bit back the words and let them die.

“The juice troopers,” said Micah, voice starting to steady at last. “Yeah. And...  Before they booted me out... I was one of their best.”

***

Kidwell wrapped a flexsplint around Ferrel's arm. He moved gingerly but didn't seem harmed. Kidwell had a wicked bruise developing on her neck; seeing it stabbed Micah like a knife through his heart.

“I never knew,” she said.

“We never knew,” added Ferrel, “You never mentioned it. When Tarwell kept calling on you about Caustik I thought you'd just studied the place.”

“I wish I had, just,” said Micah, “They booted me because my CO was a coward. I'm glad they did! Rutting bastards!”

“Easy, Micah.”

When Micah looked up he saw Kidwell had a loose scarf around her neck. When she saw his gaze she touched it.

“Don't think about it, Micah. This only makes me want to hurt them for doing that to you!”

Finished with Ferrel, Kidwell moved toward Micah. He tried to inch back but she scowled him into place.

“Sit still!” she commanded, “When you came at me I kicked you pretty hard. Just the way you trained me.”

“Mmm.” Micah fingered his side and leg. “Feels like you cracked two ribs and my knee. Nothing serious.”

“Nothing serious?” Kidwell pulled out a long needle of bone glue.

“I've had worse.”

“Micah, my brother,” said Ferrel, “I think we need to talk.”

While Kidwell worked to glue Micah's bones back in place he talked. When she finished she poured him a generous shot of vinostim. Before he finished she poured one for herself and Ferrel, too.

“My plan was pretty simple,” said Kidwell, “I put subliminals in the commercials. Praising Orris, suggesting First Orris, lauds upon him, variations on that theme. Others to dump sewage on Juch, Tollison and their bunch. I thought we'd replace the real commercials with these. More effective than several months of crowd-seeding.”

“It is effective,” said Micah. Amazingly little time had passed considering the years it felt. “You want to try tonight? I think I can get us past security.”

“No!” Kidwell stared at Micah. “No. I'm about three microseconds away from blasting those spools to ashes! You can't possibly be serious!”

“I don't like it, Vera. I don't like any part of it but I've done a lot of things I don't like. But... It is effective. It works. Don't you think it'll help get Rob, Sarah, Missy and Lafe home?”

Reluctantly Kidwell nodded.

“And know for truth it would be a lot less bloody than sending in a lander full of Marines. For us and for them.”

“So who's up for a run?” asked Ferrel impudently, “Vera, I think that place we blew open for fliers was just practice for this, yes?”

***

“They have a timestamp,” said Kidwell, speaking softly as they walked, “I figured six weeks would be long enough.” She spoke hesitantly. Almost apologetically.

“Sounds polar,” said Micah, “Vera, if you hadn't caught me by surprise...”

“Double-slib,” said Ferrel, “Next time we warn you.”

At night the UNA building made an impressive sight. Though the Unity psyche tended away from flashiness the UNA building embraced it, in a conservative way. Armed with the badges Ferrel quickly forged they approached a worker's entrance, flashed the badges at the camera there and entered with all the authority in the world.

Each with a rack of dataspools, Kidwell, Ferrel and Micah joined the small horde of other errand-runners coursing through the hallways. When the traffic cleared a bit they darted for a side room.

“Bonusjack,” said Ferrel, “Composing carrels and they're all empty!”

Ferrel opened his terminal and jacked into one of the carrels. He squinted a moment, entered a key sequence and swiped their badges through his scriber.

“There it is,” said Ferrel happily, “Now we're more official than taxes.”

The door to the room opened and four harried men followed one wearing a severe expression entered. With barely a glance they strode to a pair of carrels well away from Micah and the others.

“You kids go play, now,” said Ferrel, “I'm going to rest my broken bones and do some serious burning.”

Micah frowned but said nothing. Easier to pull a swampshark's tooth than to separate Ferrel from a datajack.

Moving with official bustle Micah and Kidwell soon found their target. Not wanting to risk picking the lock Micah slid his badge through the door's slot. It beeped and opened.

“I'm going to tell him you doubted,” whispered Kidwell.

The dimly lit rows of the main archives stretched before them. Kidwell queried a nearby terminal and moved purposefully down the racks. Every so often she pulled a spool and replaced it.

“Done,” she said, “Almost. Seven are missing. Must be in the ready racks.”

Despite Micah's better judgment they headed for the broadcast studios. The ready racks clicked and clacked in the middle of a too-busy room.

“Polarize, lover,” whispered Kidwell, “Otherwise I'm going to tweak those nerves sticking out of you!”

Much to Micah's chagrin, when he and Kidwell finally finished Ferrel didn't want to leave.

“Be virtuous with patience, friends,” said Ferrel, “Who is the most suspicious of our dreary coterie?”

“Ludurz?”

“Tollison?”

“Yes to both,” replied Ferrel, “Ludurz by nature, Tollison by acts. Neither of them eager for attention from Unity's most prestigious news service, yes? Just three tiny minutes more and they'll be receiving that very thing. Subtly, of course.”

Micah sighed, gritted his teeth and waited.

***

Kidwell rose early the next morning and gathered her apparatus. She vetoed Micah's idea to accompany her, citing his and Ferrel's need to rest and avoid aggravating their injuries. That and the fact that Shari knew and trusted her.