Recoil

by David Sherman

  The enemy didn’t slow down over the next kilometer, or meet anybody else. The Marines pressed, stepping up from a fast trot to a slow run.

  Finally, three kilometers beyond where they’d begun following, the Marines drew in sight of the two nearly naked, small men carrying Belinski.

  “Tackle,” Williams ordered, and broke into a sprint.

  Rudd and Skripska went with him. Rudd was faster and got ahead of the others. Skripska managed to catch up to Williams and keep with him. When Rudd was twenty-five meters from the men carrying Belinski, the two suddenly realized someone was after them. They hesitated momentarily, looked uncertain about what to do as the Marines closed on them. Then they barked at each other, dropped their burden, and spun about, grabbing and raising the nozzles of their weapons. They both fired, narrowly missing Rudd, who snapped a shot back at them. One of the two flared up, and Rudd zigged just as the other sent another stream of greenish fluid at him. He screamed when a droplet hit his arm, but still dove into the remaining enemy.

  In seconds, Williams and Skripska were with Rudd, helping him to wrestle the small man down and tie his hands and ankles.

  “Son of a bitch,” Skripska swore when they were finished, “but he’s a tough little bastard.” It really had taken all three of them to bring the little man under control.

  “Check Rudd,” Williams snapped at Skripska, then turned to Belinski. The corporal was conscious and breathing; the only thing wrong with him other than the bite on his arm was that his hands were turning blue from his wrists being tied too tightly. Williams quickly released him. He made sure the corporal’s uniform had provided him with a broad-spectrum antibiotic, then wrapped his arm with synthskin. Belinski started rubbing his wrists to get circulation going again.

  Williams went to where Skripska had cut open Rudd’s sleeve. Rudd had his helmet open; sweat was pouring down his face and he was biting his lower lip.

  “What in the name of the seventy-three virgins?” Williams exclaimed. A ball of thick greenish fluid, the size of the end of a man’s thumb, was bubbling in a hole in Rudd’s left biceps.

  “I tried to smother it,” Skripska said, shaking his head. “Didn’t work.”

  “Damn, only one thing to do.” Williams drew his knife then turned to Skripska. “Get a grip on his arm, hold it still for me.” Then he said to Rudd, “Sorry, Marine, but I have to cut that out.”

  “Do it,” Rudd said tight-jawed.

  Williams started cutting the flesh around the bubbling mass. Red blood flowed into the hollow, then mixed with green when Williams flicked out some of the cut flesh and . . . and . . . green stuff, was all Williams could think to call it. He cut some more and flicked again. Flesh, blood, and the green fluid spattered onto the ground.

  “Suction,” the squad leader ordered. Rudd used his right hand to thumb his medkit open and pull out the small suction pump. Williams grabbed it from him and began sucking blood out of the cavity in Rudd’s arm. A lone bit of greenish fluid remained at the bottom. He gouged it out and peered at it on the tip of his blade, then used the pump to suction it up.

  “Secure this for analysis,” he said, shoving the pump at Skripska. Then he dug into Rudd’s medkit for bandaging materials. He packed the wound and wrapped it with synthskin. “Painkiller, meds?” he asked Rudd.

  Rudd nodded; he wasn’t sweating as heavily now. “I had my system inject painkillers, a pain blocker, and antibiotics. I’ll be ready to move in a minute or two.”

  “Good.” Williams turned to Belinski. “What happened?” he asked. Belinski gave him the short version of his capture while the squad leader bandaged his arm. “All right, let’s head back with our prisoner,” the squad leader ordered.

  They took turns carrying the little man over their shoulders. They quickly learned that they had to gag him, as he kept trying to bite—and his teeth were very sharp.

  Headquarters, Emperor’s Third Composite Corps

  The second Leader, the one who had swum upstream ahead of the Master in command of the failed ambush, was the only one who made it to the pickup point. The Pilot Master flying the transport that came to pick up the raiders and their captive refused to wait for possible survivors once the Leader told him about the Earthman Marines winning the fight in the stream.

  Back at the headquarters of the Emperor’s Third Composite Corps, the Leader was hauled before the Grand Master to explain what had gone wrong with the mission to capture an Earthman Marine. Once he’d told everything he knew, he was beheaded, because the Master who had failed in his mission wasn’t present to be punished for his failure. Then a Senior Master was sent with forty Fighters to find out what had happened to the Leader and two Fighters who had attempted to capture an Earthman Marine. They found where the Leader and one of the Fighters had died. They also found where the other Fighter had been captured.

  The Grand Master went into a fury when he found out a Fighter had allowed himself to be captured instead of dying in a cleansing fire. He issued orders to find and immolate that Fighter, no matter where the Earthmen held him.

  CHAPTER

  * * *

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  En Route to Sky City, Haulover

  Lance Corporal Skripska drove the landcar as fast as he could, but it took more than two hours for fourth squad to get back to Sky City. There wasn’t a straight road between the Rebetadika homestead and the capital, and most of what there was wasn’t paved. The pain in Lance Corporal Rudd’s left biceps was so severe that it got past the analgesics and threatened the pain blocker, so Sergeant Williams hit him with a knockout. Full circulation came back to Corporal Belinski’s hands early on, though there was enough residual tingling to give Williams concern that he might have suffered nerve damage. Williams and Belinski kept close watch on the prisoner. Early on, Williams questioned the small man, but he tried to bite whenever the gag was removed, so after a while Williams stopped trying. At least the prisoner stopped struggling and trying to break his bonds once they put him in the landcar.

  When they were still a hundred kilometers from Sky City, Williams was finally able to establish secure comm with Ensign Daly the old fashioned way, by bouncing radio waves off the ionosphere. Daly and third squad were already nearing the city.

  “We ran into them,” Williams reported. “I’ve got two wounded and one prisoner.”

  “Who’s hurt and how badly?” Daly’s first concern was for his people.

  “Belinski and Rudd. The raiders were using some weapons I’ve never even heard of—they shoot some sort of acid. A splash of it got on Rudd’s arm. I had to dig it out. He’s got a hole in his left biceps that goes all the way to the bone. I’ve got a sample of the acid—and one of the weapons. The prisoner’s a tough little bastard, with pointed teeth. One of them bit Belinski’s right forearm, tore it up quite a bit.”

  “I’ll have a doctor on hand to tend to them when you arrive. What about the prisoner?”

  “I tried to question him, but every time I took the gag off he tried to bite me. The way he looks at us when we talk, it looks like he doesn’t understand Standard English.”

  Daly grunted. “I’ve been to worlds where almost nobody spoke English as their primary language, but I’ve never met anybody who didn’t speak it at all. Any idea where he’s from?”

  “Not a one. I’ve never seen anybody like him. He’s really strange-looking. Has to be some serious inbreeding going on in his near ancestry. And he’s strong; it took three of us to subdue and bind him.”

  “Show him to me.”

  “Coming up.” Williams used his comm to take 2-D pictures of the prisoner and send them to his commander. He did as close as he could to a full-body shot, a close-up of his profile to show the sharp convexity of his face, one of his exceptionally broad feet with the webbing between the toes, and a close-up of his side to show the faint marks on it.

  “Does he have any injuries?” Daly asked while waiting for the pictures to be taken and transmitted.

  “O
nly minor scrapes and bruises from the scuffle when we captured him.”

  When he saw the images, Daly asked, “Who outside of your squad knows about the prisoner?”

  “You’re the only one I’ve talked to.”

  “Good. Don’t tell anybody. I’m not handing this prisoner over to the locals. I’ll prepare a room in Marine House to keep him in. When the navy finally gets here, I’m turning him over to them. What happened to his clothes?”

  “That loincloth is all he was wearing. Same for the others we saw.”

  “All right, we’re at Marine House. I’ll start getting the doctor and preparing a strong room. What’s your ETA?”

  Williams checked the remaining distance. “Twenty minutes, standard.”

  “See you then. Daly out.”

  Rudd came to by the time they reached Sky City. He was surprised to see it was dusk.

  Marine House, Sky City

  A doctor wasn’t the only person waiting for them when fourth squad pulled up in front of Marine House. Planetary Administrator Mullilee was there, and Chairman of the Board Miner was on his way. Ensign Daly, Sergeant Kindy, and Corporal Nomonon were outside to meet them. Mullilee joined the Marines in front of the house. Skripska pulled in at an angle that didn’t allow Mullilee to see inside the landcar.

  “Reporting back, sir,” Sergeant Williams said, saluting Daly. “Where’s the doctor?” He gestured at Belinski and Rudd. The two injured Marines, like their squad leader, had their helmets and gloves off so they could be seen. The synthskin and bloody skin around it on their arms showed clearly through cut-open sleeves.

  “He’s getting set up in the kitchen,” Daly said. “Let’s get you two to him.” He waved the Marines ahead and took Mullilee by the arm to take him back inside so he wouldn’t notice Kindy and Nomonon getting into the back of the landcar.

  As soon as the front door closed behind Daly and Mullilee, Skripska started the landcar and drove around to the rear of the house.

  “Careful around him,” Skripska said. “He likes to fight, and he’s stronger than he looks.”

  He pulled in close to the back door of the house and got out to help the others pull the prisoner out of the backseat. At first, the small man went passively, but he began struggling as soon as he saw he was being taken inside.

  “Grab his feet!” Kindy shouted; he was holding the prisoner’s right arm. He looped his right arm through the prisoner’s, then grabbed his left arm. “Help Skripska with his feet,” he ordered Nomonon, who’d had the prisoner’s left arm.

  Even with Kindy holding the prisoner’s arms firmly, and another Marine on each of his legs, carrying the man was difficult, and they almost dropped him twice before they got him into the small room that had been prepared for him. The room held a chair, a small table, and a narrow bed—all of which were bolted to the floor. The windows were securely covered so nobody could look from the outside and see who was in it. They forced the prisoner onto the chair.

  “Sorry about this, sport,” Kindy said as he wrapped packaging tape around the prisoner and the back of the chair, “but we’ve got to keep you still and quiet for a while.” He knelt to secure one of the prisoner’s legs to a chair leg, and fell back with a thump when the small man kicked him.

  “What was that?” a suspicious voice called from the front of the house.

  “Nothing,” Kindy called back. “I tripped on something, that’s all.”

  Quickly, and more carefully because of the kick, the Marines got the prisoner’s legs secured. When they went to the front of the house, Kindy left a minnie on a windowsill to keep an eye on the prisoner.

  Inside, Daly got Williams, Mullilee, and the two wounded Marines into the kitchen before Mullilee had a chance to notice that three of the Marines weren’t present. He had Belinski and Rudd strip off their shirts as they went. Williams rolled up his sleeves for greater visibility.

  “Dr. Tabib,” Daly said to the white-haired, white-coated man who stood next to a table with medical accoutrements laid out on it. The doctor was washing his hands with something from a spray can. “Here are your patients. Corporal Belinski suffered a human bite on his lower arm. Lance Corporal Rudd was hit by some kind of acid that ate a hole in his upper arm.”

  If the doctor was at all discomforted by seeing half-men approaching him with no visible means of support, he gave no sign of it. “Human bite? That can be very—” Tabib began, then the rest of what Daly said registered. “Acid? Come here, young man.” He waved at Belinski, blinked when Rudd stepped forward. “Ah, you have the acid burn? Let me see.” Rudd held his arm out to the doctor, who prodded the synthskin covering his wound. “Very interesting dressing.” He looked up at Daly with a question in his eyes.

  “It’s called synthskin, sir,” Daly explained. “Standard field dressing in the Confederation military. If it’s left on long enough, it bonds with the surrounding skin.”

  “Ah, I see. Then we should not leave it on long enough, neh?”

  “No, sir, we should not.” Daly reached in to show Tabib how to remove the synthskin dressing.

  “Ingenious.” Tabib examined the dressing, then glanced up at Mullilee. “We should get this synthskin. It could save lives when people in the homesteads are injured and have to wait for good medical assistance.” He returned his attention to Rudd’s arm without waiting to see how Mullilee responded. “Very professional packing. Who did it?”

  “I did, sir,” Sergeant Williams said.

  “You are a surgical assistant?”

  Williams let out a surprised laugh. “Not hardly, sir. That’s just the field expedient first aid that Force Recon Marines are taught.”

  “Impressive.” Tabib continued removing the packing and began examining the deep hole in Rudd’s arm. He used an absorbent ball to blot the blood that was seeping into the hollow. “All the way to the humerus. And how did this happen?” He looked into Rudd’s eyes.

  “We were ambushed by raiders, sir,” Williams said. “They had guns that shoot streams of acid.”

  “Acid guns?” Tabib looked back and forth between Daly and Mullilee. “I’ve never heard of such things.”

  Mullilee looked shocked. Daly didn’t, but said, “I’ve never heard of them either, sir.”

  Tabib looked back at Williams. “How did you clear the wound? Its walls are abraded.”

  Williams drew his knife. “With this, sir. Then I suctioned it out—along with a drop of the acid that was still in the bottom of the wound.”

  “Yes, I see the scoring on the humerus from your knife,” Tabib said. “Where is the sample?”

  “Lance Corporal Skripska has it, sir. I believe he’s still parking the landcar.”

  They heard the front door open and the sound of voices.

  “See who’s there,” Daly told Williams.

  The squad leader moved to where he could see into the main room. “It’s Chairman Miner. He’s talking at Jaschke and Ellis.” Daly gave him a look. “At them, sir. It’s not a conversation.”

  The doctor manipulated Rudd’s arm during the byplay involving the front door. “I believe the tissue can be regenerated, even with the primitive equipment we Hauloverans have. If not, your arm may be crippled for life.”

  They heard a thud from the back of the house, and Miner called out, “What was that?”

  Daly and Williams didn’t know exactly what the thud was, but they knew it must have to do with the prisoner. They both headed for the front room to forestall Miner from going to investigate. Before they got there they heard Kindy call out, “Nothing. I tripped on something, that’s all.”

  “We’ll see what’s ‘nothing,’ ” Miner snarled, and started through the room to the hallway leading to the back of the house.

  “Chairman Miner,” Daly said loudly, interrupting the chairman of the board. “How good of you to come, sir.”

  “What’s this about you killing the raiders?” Miner demanded.

  “One of my squads found some of them, sir. Sergeant Wil
liams was just about to tell us what happened.” Daly stepped aside and gestured for Miner to precede him into the kitchen.

  With a brief glance toward the rear of the house, Miner went where Daly directed. Dr. Tabib had just finished redressing Rudd’s wound and was starting to examine Belinski’s bite wound.

  “Your work again, Sergeant?” Tabib asked. When Williams said Skripska had dressed Belinski’s wound, the doctor shook his head. “If either of you decide to leave the Marines, I won’t hesitate to hire you as my assistant.” He half listened as Williams described the action outside the Rebetadika homestead to the others.

  Williams gave a fairly accurate description of the firefight; the only significant details he left out were the raiders vaporizing in flame when they were shot, the fact that they seemed to breathe underwater, the capture of Corporal Belinski—and the prisoner. He also exaggerated the number of raiders and said the Marines had been driven off by superior firepower.

  “But you said their guns had a range of only about fifty meters,” Miner objected. “Your blasters fire farther. Couldn’t you have pulled back and shot them all?”

  “Possibly,” Williams said levelly. “But if we stood off, we wouldn’t have been able to see all of them; for that matter, maybe we didn’t see all of them anyway. So while we were standing off, picking off the ones we could see, some of them could have been maneuvering around behind us.” He shrugged. “Withdrawal in this case was the better part of valor.”

  Miner grunted. He wasn’t satisfied with the answer—and his suspicion that the Marines didn’t deserve their reputation was strengthened.

  When Williams was through with his report, Dr. Tabib broke in. “Take it easy with that arm,” he told Belinski, “and come to my office tomorrow so I can check it again. In the meantime, take these—the dosage is marked on the label.” He reached into his medkit and handed Belinski a small bottle from it. “You,” he said turning to Rudd, “I want you to come with me to the hospital so we can begin the tissue-regeneration process.”