Starfist FR - 03 - Recoil

by Dan Cragg

  “Count off. Sitrep,” he said softly into the all-hands circuit, not knowing whether anybody else had donned their helmets yet, but suspecting they had. He was right.

  “Kindy. We got two of them. Williams is down.” Sergeant Kindy sounded more shaken than Daly had ever heard him.

  “Jaschke. Ellis and I are all right. We’ve got at least two bad guys pinned in the rooms near the back door. I’m afraid they got to the prisoner.”

  “Belinski. Skripska and I are okay. We’re across the hall from Jaschke and Ellis, same sit.”

  “Nomonon, sound off,” Daly ordered when Corporal Nomonon didn’t speak. That didn’t necessarily mean anything because the fire watch probably didn’t have his helmet with him. “Has anybody seen Nomonon?” Nobody had.

  “Kindy, how bad is Williams?” Daly asked, rising to a crouch and creeping into the hallway. He checked the bathroom while listening to the situation reports.

  “He’s got a puncture wound from a projectile rifle and a shallow cut on his side. Also some burns from when one of those things flashed up too close to him. I’ve got him patched up. He’s conscious.”

  “All right. Kindy, I’ll let you know when I reach your room. Come out then. We’ll check the living room and kitchen. Use your infra; I’ve got my light gatherer. We’ll clear the living room. Everybody else, hold your positions. Sidearms are the preferred weapons for fighting in the house. Questions?” He didn’t expect any, and none came. “Him, stand by, I’m on my way.”

  Seconds later, he signaled Kindy that he’d reached the door to the sergeants’ room. Kindy slid the door open and joined him in the hall. Using hand signals because he didn’t want his own voice or Kindy’s covering any sounds made by anybody who might be in the living room or kitchen, he told Kindy what they were going to do. Kindy gave him a thumbs-up. Daly duck-walked along the right side of the hall while Kindy crawled on elbows and knees. They stopped when they reached the end of the hall. Without sticking his head out of the hall Daly scanned the room from as far as he could see to the right all the way to the left. He didn’t see anybody through his light gatherer, but he did see the window was broken out. He switched to his infra and scanned back the other way. Again, he didn’t see anybody—which didn’t mean nobody was hiding behind furniture. Kindy, meanwhile, scanned the room left to right with his infra, and back with his light gatherer. Using hand signals, Kindy indicated that he’d spotted a glow behind a chair near the front door.

  The Skinks

  Neither the Leader who had come through the window into the large open space nor the Fighter with him had fired his projectile thrower—they didn’t have targets. They heard the sounds of fighting in the hallway to the rear of the building and in the sleeping room next to them. The Leader led the way to the far side of the large room, toward where he sensed one of the three soldiers who had come into the food room. There, he made contact with the Master, who was the only survivor of the trio who had entered the house from that direction. He sensed faint radiation from a body he could barely see lying in the doorway to the food room. The faintness of the emanations implied that that Earthman Marine was dying, and he rejoiced. Elsewhere in the house, he sensed two pairs of Earthmen in rooms astraddle the hallway, and three more in the direction of the sleeping room the other Leader had entered, but he couldn’t tell if they were in the sleeping room or in the hall he’d glimpsed as he went through the large room. Aside from his Fighter and the Master the two of them had joined, he only detected two of his own, at the far end of the long hallway. He awaited orders. He did not have to wait long. He and his Fighter turned and aimed their stolen Earthman projectile throwers toward the end of the hall, where the projectiles could

  go through the opening of the hall and continue into the sleeping room. But before they could fire, an Earthman Marine burst from the mouth of the hall to the front wall of the room, and one of the enemies’ weapons fired, sending its ball of plasma into the Fighter, whose dying flame lit up his end of the room, exposing both himself and the Master to anyone looking in their direction. The Leader hesitated a beat, but then obeyed the Master’s orders and began firing his projectile thrower in the direction of the hall opening. His finger managed to pull on the trigger three times before a plasma bolt joined him to his ancestors. The Marines

  Ensign Daly saw three rapid muzzle flashes and fired two plasma bolts their way, staggering them right and left. He would have fired more but the first bolt lit up that end of the room when the enemy blazed up.

  “Kindy, report,” Daly snapped into his helmet comm.

  “Shit, I’m hit,” Kindy gasped.

  “How bad?” Daly didn’t like the sound of Kindy’s voice.

  “In my right shoulder. Hurts like hell.”

  “Can you get back to your room? Get into your chameleons?”

  “I . . . I’ll try.”

  That was bad; Force Recon Marines never said they’d try, they always said they’d do.

  “Hang in there, I’m on my way.” Daly stood high enough to look over the furniture and used both his infra and light gatherer. He didn’t see anyone, but crossed the room to Kindy’s side as quickly as he could anyway. It was a good thing he went fast; several rapid-fire bullets sped just behind him. He dove over Kindy and hit the deck. He grabbed the squad leader and dragged him to the sergeants’ bedroom. His light gatherer showed him where a medkit was, and he quickly got bandages, a painkiller, and a pain blocker out of it and applied them. He spared Williams a glance; the other squad leader was unconscious, but his regular breathing showed no signs of distress. Daly got back on the all-hands circuit.

  “Listen up. Both squad leaders are down. I’m going outside and around to the kitchen; there’s somebody in there. After I take him out, I’ll help with the bad guys you’ve got pinned in the back. Just hold them in place.

  “Hang in there, people,” Daly whispered to the squad leaders. He went out the window the intruders had come in through. A moment later, he was crouched below the shattered kitchen window. He’d used his infra screen on the way around the front of Marine House, looking for sentries or reinforcements for the invaders, but didn’t see anyone, not even signs of anybody watching from nearby houses. He switched to his light gatherer and popped up to give the kitchen a quick sweep, then ducked back down. He’d seen only one person in the kitchen, kneeling behind the wall next to the door to the living room, holding a civilian handgun. He raised back up and took careful aim before firing a plasma bolt at the figure’s back. Even though he’d seen the light cast by flashing bodies twice before in the past few minutes, he blinked at the direct sight of one flaring up before him. Using both his infra and light gatherer, he scanned the kitchen again, and as much of the living room as he could see. He didn’t see anybody else. He turned his ears up and listened for sounds from within, but all he heard was the first calls of “What’s going on?” raised from nearby houses.

  “I got the one in the kitchen; the front of the house seems to be clear. I’m coming around to the rear now. Somebody keep an eye on the front, just in case I missed anyone.”

  He dashed to the rear of the house. The back door stood open, and Daly raced past it to the window of the unused bedroom on its left. The window wasn’t broken. He looked in and saw one soldier leaning back against the far wall with his head turned toward the open door to the hallway. Without hesitation, he bashed the glass in with the butt of his hand blaster and torched the soldier. Even before

  the light of the dead man’s fire began to fade, he smashed out more of the glass, then dove through the window, cutting himself in several places on the broken glass. He hit the floor and rolled, looking into the corners he hadn’t been able to see from outside. Nobody was in them. He scrabbled to the doorway and poked his weapon through it to fire into the doorway opposite. A brilliant flash replied to his shot, and he bolted across the hall, diving into the secure room and looking for more enemy. But the room was empty. He lay panting for a moment before saying into
his all-hands circuit, “I got them. The rear of the house is clear. Are any of you in your chameleons?”

  “We all are,” Corporal Belinski answered. “How about you?”

  “Only my helmet.” Daly looked down at himself and gave a rueful laugh. “Other than that, I’m naked. So, since you guys are invisible and I’m entirely too visible, how about if you make sure the house is secure. And check Nomonon.” He looked at himself again and noticed blood flowing from multiple cuts. “Oh, yeah, and I need a medkit.”

  “On it, boss.” Jaschke rattled out orders to the other three Marines.

  Lance Corporal Ellis brought Daly a medkit before the Marines conducted their search of the entire house. Daly patched his wounds as best he could, then went to his room to get dressed when the search revealed no more enemy. Belinski, as the next most senior uninjured Marine, called for medical assistance and notified the constabulary. He decided to let Daly wake Planetary Administrator Spilk Mullilee to give him the news. All they found of the intruders were scorch marks.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-TWO

  Marine House, Sky City, Haulover Ensign Daly was just waking Planetary Administrator Mullilee when he heard the sirens of approaching emergency vehicles. That’s fast response, he thought. Belinski had just placed the call for medical assistance a moment earlier.

  “Mullilee,” the planetary administrator said groggily.

  “Sir,” Daly said to Mullilee, “Marine House was just attacked. We succeeded in defeating the attackers but I have several wounded. We’ve already called the hospital for emergency care and transport. We also notified the constabulary.”

  “Buddha’s Blue Balls,” Mullilee swore, abruptly sounding wide awake. “D-Don’t do anything until I get there. I-I’ll get there as fast as I can.”

  “Right. Daly out.” He cut off comm. Daly had no intention of not doing anything—he had injured Marines to attend to, and he was going to do everything necessary to care for them without waiting for anybody. He was already heading to the sergeants’ bedroom while he spoke to Mullilee.

  “How are they?” he asked Corporal Belinski as he entered the room. Belinski and Lance Corporal Skripska were closing a stasis bag on Sergeant Kindy.

  “Not good,” Belinski said. He glanced at Corporal Jaschke, who was kneeling over Sergeant Williams.

  “I’ve got him stabilized,” Jaschke said. “Good thing emergency medical is responding so fast.”

  “What about Nomonon.”

  “He’s in the other stasis bag. Ellis is watching him. In the kitchen.”

  Belinski and Skripska rose from installing their squad leader in the medical bag that would maintain him in an effective state of suspended animation until he could get proper medical attention.

  “Nomonon is real iffy,” Belinski said. “If the navy doesn’t get here in a hurry . . .” He shook his head. Daly nodded, and swallowed a lump that formed in his throat. Nomonon had been one of his men when he’d been a squad leader, before he went to Arsenault to attend Officer Training College. He looked at Kindy; Kindy had been one of his men as well. Williams had joined the company after Daly had left for Arsenault. Without another word, Daly turned on his heels and headed toward the kitchen. Before he got there, the sirens stopped in front of the house and Lance Corporal Ellis opened the front door. But it wasn’t the emergency medical vehicles that Daly had assumed, it was the constabulary.

  “What’s going on here?” demanded a man with sergeant’s pips on his collar. “We got reports of gunfire from this location.”

  Daly turned from the kitchen to the constable. “We were attacked,” he said. “I’ve got casualties. Where are the ambulances we called for?”

  The constable sergeant shook his head. “I don’t know anything about any ambulances. All I know is we got calls about gunfire from around here.” He turned around and spat out a series of orders to the men who accompanied him. They went off, weapons in hand, to search the grounds of Marine House and the surrounding area. Then he turned back to Daly and said, “You say you’ve got casualties?”

  “Three men, seriously wounded.”

  The constable got on his comm to call for ambulances.

  “They’re already on their way,” he said when he signed off. He cocked his head at the sound of approaching sirens. “That must be them now. I’m Sergeant Watchman, who the hell are you?”

  “Ensign Jak Daly, Fourth Force—”

  “Yeah, you’re the Marine in charge here. Heard about you. My people are checking around outside. Now how about you tell me what happened in here?”

  Before Daly could relate what had happened, two ambulances shuddered to a stop in front of the house and four medics piled out of them, carrying what Daly assumed were civilian medkits.

  “Where are they?” the first medic through the door asked.

  “One in a stasis bag in the kitchen. Two more in that room.”

  Daly pointed. “One in a stasis bag, one badly injured but not bagged.”

  “Stasis bag?” the first medic asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. He led one medic to the sergeants’ bedroom and sent the other pair to the kitchen.

  “I’ve heard of these,” one of the medics murmured as soon as he reached the kitchen. “Wish we had them. Maybe someday.” He knelt to examine the med readings on the stasis bag’s front. “Is he dead?” he asked. “I don’t see any vital signs.”

  “The stasis bags slow things down far enough that signs don’t always show,” Ellis explained, a touch of hopefulness in his voice, like he didn’t believe what he said himself. “It holds someone in a sort of suspended animation.”

  “What should we do with him?” the medic asked uncertainly.

  “Just get him to the hospital. Don’t try to give him any treatment yet.”

  “All right, if you say so,” the medic said doubtfully. “Give me some data on him.” He got out his comp and asked a series of questions—name, age, home, nature of injuries, and more—

  and entered the answers into his comp. While he did that, the other medic went back to the ambulance for a gurney. In the sergeants’ bedroom, the chief medic checked over

  Sergeant Kindy while the other medic took down the answers to the routine questions. Finally, satisfied that Kindy was properly stabilized, the chief medic said, “Whoever patched him up did good work.”

  He looked at Williams in the stasis bag and murmured something envious about offworld technology. He and his assistant went to the ambulances for gurneys. Before the constables allowed the ambulances to leave, the sergeant asked the medics a few questions. He wasn’t fully satisfied with their answers; the stasis bags prevented them from giving firsthand descriptions of the injuries of the bagged Marines. After he let the ambulances leave, Watchman turned to Daly.

  “You were going to show me what happened here.”

  “Detachment up!” Daly called, and began talking while his few remaining men assembled. “It began with Corporal Nomonon, who was on fire watch.”

  Watchman raised an eyebrow when Daly said he had a man on fire watch; he wondered why the Marines kept an overnight watch, but didn’t comment on it. Not yet, anyway. Instead, he observed and listened quietly while the Marines walked him through what had happened. He took in the secure room, the manacles, the furniture bolted to the floor, and the charred mattress and bedding, but still didn’t say anything about the state of things. He barely blinked when Daly and the other Marines told him about the attackers’ vaporizing when hit by the plasma bolts shot from blasters—that was merely another anomaly in their account that would need further checking. Just then, all he wanted to do was gather data without putting anybody’s guard up.

  They had completed the tour of Marine House and the recounting of what had happened when Planetary Administrator Spilk Mullilee showed up. But he wasn’t alone; he came in the retinue of Chairman of the Board Smelt Miner. They didn’t arrive to the tune of sirens, or even the screech of tires breaking to a stop outside. The first
the people inside knew of the arrival of Mullilee and Miner was the chairman’s raised voice.

  “Constable, disperse those people! Send them home. I don’t care who they are, get them away from here!” Then he swept through the entrance of Marine House.

  “What in the name of the Goddess of Monumental Screwups did you do here?” Miner demanded, taking in the scorch marks on the living room floor and a half-burned easy chair.

  “Were you trying to burn the house down? Did you want to get rid of any evidence of your incompetence?”

  Ensign Daly pointed to the broken windows and the blood pooled on the floor where Corporal Nomonon had been shot.

  “There was a fight,” he said tightly. “I’ve got three men seriously wounded and in your hospital. Two of them might not survive.”

  “Four casualties,” Corporal Belinski said softly. “You forgot yourself.”

  Daly ignored him. “As for the burned places, I don’t know how or why, but when we shot the people who attacked us they went up in flames.”

  The remaining Marines nodded their agreement.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Corporal Jaschke said.

  “People don’t do that when they get shot by blasters,” Lance Corporal Ellis added. “They just don’t flare up.” He looked haunted.

  Mullilee looked sick, listening to the Marines. “How badly did they—whoever they were—hurt you?” he asked.

  “Sergeant Kindy and Corporal Nomonon are injured so badly we had to put them in stasis bags to keep them alive until they could get proper medical attention. Sergeant Williams should be in one as well, but we only brought two. And if a Confederation Navy starship doesn’t arrive on station soon enough, the two bags might not keep them alive until one does. And I have no idea how long that may be.”