by James Cox
Not for the League, though. Sanders' understanding as he explained it was to lightly engage the fire bases and distract the HQs whilst the League Navy microjumped in and bombed the hades out of them. Unfortunately, when the cards were cut Sanders' squad landed on the border with the League forces. Micah hoped they'd be done with lunch by the time the rest of the 113th mopped up.
***
“Heavy fire! Heavy fire!”
A dot on Micah's hud blipped with the report. Sanders barked several orders and the dots representing his squad shaped and converged. He, Micah and Tyler made their way through the carnage Micah no longer noticed. Babble erupted from several others and their dots faded soon afterward. When they reached the edge of the hot zone Micah and Tyler stopped looking at the hud and started covering backsides: theirs and Sanders'.
They crouched in the remains of a building with plasma-scorched rubble around them. Armored meat had most of the squad pinned and the rest of the Caustik forces were out of position to help. Micah and Tyler clipped plasmas to their blasters. They advanced to where Sanders could see. He snapped an order. Micah and Tyler shouldered their weapons and fired.
Launching plasmas made the rifles kick like a farm dray; Micah bit off a curse. He and Tyler launched several more plasmas and Sanders ordered a move.
Micah spared a glance at his hud. The tactical situation worsened. He saw nothing but hostiles between the squad and any other Caustik forces. The number of hostiles didn't shrink, either.
Ambush!
Micah let the Flame kick in as enemy armor erupted from the debris around them. He thumbed his rifle to AP and started sniping. Return fire forced them back and away from their line.
A squad of light crunchies worked to emplace a semi. Micah lobbed a plasma and backed away as the armor advanced again.
Sanders barked more orders. More blips faded as reports of heavier armor came through. Just Micah's luck to intercept a major thrust with nothing but League meat to back them!
They lost Tyler to a half-squad of jump armor. Enemies behind meant certain disaster; Typer armed his plasmas, primed his blaster and jumped in the middle of the armor. Some of them might have survived the plasma but the building collapsing on them rendered that survival moot.
Too many! Micah found himself grounded and covered beside a fairly heavy wall with Sanders not far away. None of his fellows registered on the hud and Micah knew the equipment worked. They'd done a credible job holding back the meat but Micah knew it couldn't last.
“Sir,” said Micah, “Heavy power's coming.”
“W-what? Yes. Heavy power.”
Micah took a second to eyeball Sanders' position. The lieutenant crouched behind cover only snapping shots occasionally and certainly not aiming them.
“Sir! That's a tank or a can. We need to do something about it!”
“Yes, soldier. Quite.”
“Sir! Inform the League. We're almost back against their position!”
“Inform...”
Micah had no time to swear. Before Sanders finished his thought a massive tracked something knocked down the wall bottlenecking most of their opposition. Not, thought Micah, that it mattered now. Even as the thought crossed his mind a turret turned toward him. Micah threw his last plasma and triggered his myos to maximum. The explosion hurled him farther than the myos could jump and he hit hard. The saviorband triggered but Micah needed an extra edge. He popped another Flame and rolled to cover. The tank nosed toward Sanders' position followed by several columns of armored meat. They investigated the pile of stones that had been Micah's. Micah checked his myos. One good jump. All he needed.
Micah had two smites left. He thumbed them to automatic anti-personnel and scatter. He also had a pair of demo charges. He took one in each hand and sighted on the tank.
With the noise of battle around him Micah felt strangely calm. The Flame gave him an ethereal and airy view as he triggered his myos. At the peak of his jump the smites launched, each tracking the largest cluster of armor its primitive warhead detected. Beams and blasts sought Micah but missed as the meat ran for cover.
Micah landed short and not on the tank where he'd aimed. The turret tried to track him. Too late! Micah slapped both charges to the hull, over the fusion if he guessed right. Micah rolled for cover.
Several crunchies fired at Micah. He slapped a fresh clip into his rifle and opened fire. Near the edge of his vision he saw a crunchy raise something to its shoulder. The pile of rubble next to Micah exploded and he'd barely hit the ground when a second and much larger explosion pounded him against the it. Micah grayed out.
When Micah came to his senses he hurt in at least ten thousand places and the terrain around him had vanished. He'd obviously not hit the tank's fusion but its ammo supply. Micah felt sure he was alive. Time to leave.
“Lieutenant Sanders.” Micah's voice sounded weak, even to him. “L-T! Respond, sir.”
Micah staggered to Sanders' cover. Several of the man-shapes on the ground moved and Micah blasted them without thinking. In the distance he saw more approaching but he'd worry about that if and when.
Micah found Sanders buried and less than half coherent. The bottom half of one leg stayed in place when Micah pulled him free. Micah ratcheted the tourniquet tight and hit Sanders' saviorband. The man gibbered and showed no sign of rationality. At least he didn't resist Micah's efforts to move him along.
Plasma and blast bolts spatted around Micah. He thumbed his hud to the alternate channel and placed the League forces in relation to himself. At least he could warn them.
Chapter 4. The Reward
Once away from the line Micah concentrated on making speed. Rumbles and explosions behind meant the Corpsie meat didn't see them leave. Micah grinned. Give him a few spiders and a smart inferno...
As well wish for an orbital strike. Of which there had been none.
Two shapes in the haze turned into League troopies with weapons aimed and ready.
“Halt and identify!” snapped one.
“Stone. Micah J. Alpha Nexus 1459. TAS 113, Commonwealth of Caustik,” replied Micah impatiently, “Where is your commander?”
“Sir?”
“There's a full flaming column of Corpse meat back there, crunchy,” growled Micah, “They're coming this way fast!”
After a moment they directed Micah to their command post. Micah found two lieutenants and a captain, all in a frantic state. One of the lieutenants wore Navy tabs.
“Sir...” began Micah.
“Medic!” called a lieutenant, on seeing Micah's burden.
Two corpsmen took charge of Sanders and another began scanning Micah.
“Sir...”
“Easy son,” said the medic, “He'll be fine and so will you. Now sit down, please.”
“SIR!!” barked Micah, totally out of patience.
The captain glared but at least Micah had his attention. With as few words as possible Micah explained his situation. He squirted his data into their battlecomp.
“Bloody rut,” swore the captain, “They have us boxed!”
Micah examined the terrain.
“Sir, what about an orbital strike?”
“Negative, soldier,” said the Navy officer.
“But...”
“At ease, Mister,” said the Captain, “We are waiting for orders.”
Micah glanced at the battlecomp.
“Sir. Here, here and here the lines seem weak. With a few soldiers and some ordnance you could easily...”
“Belay that, Mister! That's an order!” That brought the captain to his feet. “You will join the third platoon. You will comply with this medic's orders when you get there and you will place yourself under the platoon commander. These are also orders! Do you understand them?”
Micah snapped to attention and saluted. “Yes sir.”
The League gave priority to evacuating wounded and they had ample opportunities to apply it. Captain Dalion, who gave Micah his orders, he learned, ordered the wounded
aboard what cans he had and sent them back escorted by his light armor. The rest of the troopies covered the pullout and waited.
Micah saw Sanders before he left. He still gibbered, sedated, but Micah spoke a few reassuring words. He also managed to snag Sanders' spare Flame and ammo. Micah had a feeling he'd need them more than Sanders would. As Micah left the medic eyed him suspiciously.
“Let me scan you, soldier.”
“Sir?” said Micah.
“Don't play dumb with me, boy. Drop that armor and let me scan you!”
Micah looked at the line and the ones about to leave.
“Sir, they need me here. I'm up and I can fight!”
The medic visibly considered this.
“Fine, soldier. You die and I'll pizzle on your grave.”
Micah saluted that. The League really did need him on the line.
Micah found the third platoon guarding the flank from whence he'd come. Fortunately the League had enough artillery - barely in range - to keep the armor at bay. After a brief yet intense questioning Micah found himself tucked into high ground.
“Spot and snipe, Stone,” said Sergeant Scully, an NCO Micah immediately liked, “Call it in and keep 'em from killing us before it gets here.”
“Right, Sarge,” said Micah.
***
By the time dusk fell Micah knew they were in trouble. He dutifully called his fire missions and they increased in number at an impressive rate. So had missions outside his area. He knew the Corpsies weren't taking all those casualties, just pulling artie and making the League waste ammo. Their plan worked.
“Our situation is this,” said Dalion over the command freq, “Orbital bombardment has been delayed. Our orders are to fall back and await transport. Artie's getting hungry and the Corpses probably know it. We'll be falling back to Point Singer and meeting with other divisions there. Your objective is Point Singer. First, Third and Fourth platoons will punch a hole and the rest will guard it. Do not let the fight slow you!” Dalion paused a moment. “Good luck, ladies and gentlemen.”
Micah almost spat with disgust! They'd expended most of their ammo - and artillery, according to Dalion - holding useless ground and now they'd retreat! Even with the few Dalion had they could at least make a dent in one of the Corpse strongpoints. They'd take casualties, certainly, but they'd take the Corpse fire base too!
“Mount up, ladies,” said Scully, “You have a good eye, Stone. Take point. Sing out if you see something.”
“Right!”
The troopies moved aside and fixed their position on Micah's. One of them, a lady with nice eyes, gave him a wink.
“Move out,” barked Scully.
Micah crouched and advanced, grounded and scanned. His hud showed the League troopies around him. He popped a Flame and concentrated on his nightvee.
Targets! Micah called coordinates and opened fire. He dropped and rolled and his world narrowed to his targets and his hud. The comm noised up but Micah ignored it. Staying alive took priority!
After an eternity of actinic streaks slashing the darkness Micah crossed into Point Singer. Third Platoon had taken no casualties nor had any other trooper following Micah. He topped a berm and saw League troops with semis covering him. Relief washed through him as Scully and the others from the Third joined him.
“Good work, Stone,” smiled the sergeant, “Fall back to HQ. We probably have some rats there.”
Micah reported to a faceless man at a battlecomp. The rating nodded and motioned him along. Not far away another rating handed out ration packs and hot chog. Micah accepted gladly and searched for the rest of the Third.
“Hi, soldier.”
Micah looked up. The lady with the nice eyes sat down beside him. When she removed her helmet Micah discovered she had nice hair, too.
“Rigby, Tatiana. League Occupation Forces, 1454-slash-15. My friends call me Tashi.”
“Stone, Micah J. 113 TAS, Commonwealth of Caustik. Micah.”
Rigby smiled and Micah returned it. Micah found League rations and chog quite tasty. Especially so with pleasant company. After they finished eating Rigby dug out a battered pack of drugsticks, offered Micah one and lit one for herself.
“You wanted to take out those Corpses, didn't you?”
“Yeah! I don't see why we didn't. Even without the wounded we could've taken out the fire base. I know they had interlock support but that can be used against 'em! We could've done a lot before orbital got here!”
Rigby shrugged. “I got a flash for you, pal. We took a shellacking. Orbital is mostly gone. From what I heard, the Corpsies managed a solid ambush while our dainty high friends were polishing their pizzles. They're fighting like hades topside and hoping to get cans down for us before artie starves.”
Micah was incredulous!
“What about high reserve? Did you even bring one?”
Rigby smiled at this. “HighCom doesn't ask my opinion, Micah. I'd give them an earful if they did.” She winked.
“Are we up for call tonight?”
“Flames no! We're just in from a hotzone. As soon as the blackwater boys get window we're gone.”
“Polar.” Micah lay back and stretched out.
“What,” said Rigby, “I'm boring?”
“Long day.”
Rigby chuckled at this. She crushed out the 'stick and lay beside him.
“Same here.”
***
A hand shook Micah to wakefulness. Explosions boomed in the distance and Micah woke with his rifle ready.
“Easy, Stone,” said Scully, “We got window on a transport. Forty-five and you better be ready. Miss this one and we're not turning around!”
Micah shook his head. For the first time in a long time the nightmares returned. Rigby roused herself but said nothing.
“Artie's coming,” said someone to Micah's right, “I hope those cans are hot.”
Micah knew the League artillery was down to its very last round. The Corpsies probably had that figured and decided to move in. They tried it several times before but the artillerists were faking then; they peppered the Consortium forces after a few got in range. Rumor had ten minutes on the transports but Micah would believe when they grounded.
The transports landed with a roar. The League gunners dropped their last rounds for maximum chaos and the light cannon on the transports opened up. Despite everything Micah thought would go wrong the soldiers boarded with no confusion at all.
The Corpsies tried to assemble a charge but counterfire from the transports stopped it before it started. Micah heard Rigby and Scully joking about the transport lightening its load so they could board.
“No need for ammo in orbit,” chuckled Scully, “This old can'll drub 'em good!”
Strapped in and secure, Micah just managed to wriggle into a comfortable position when they launched. Once the acceleration stopped Micah leaned back and went to sleep.
Docking maneuvers woke Micah. Once the transport docked the lights brightened and the troopies started unstrapping. Micah stepped out onto a large, cavernous and crowded deck. He counted no less than six transports with hints of even more beyond his view. Micah followed the crowd through a pressure seal and to a terminal. He pressed his hand against the pad and waited. It flashed red, of course.
“This way, soldier.”
Micah followed the rating down a short corridor to an office filled with a dozen others plus a League clerk. Micah noticed several Commonwealth crunchies but none from the 113th. When they spied him they pointedly ignored him. Typical.
“Name and tag, please,” said the clerk.
Micah recited it along with the League code he'd been issued.
The clerk entered the data. His terminal beeped and spat out a datachip.
“Room and supply,” said the clerk, “Please check your weapons at the armory.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The clerk grinned. “No need to sir me, sir. I work for my pay.”
Micah returned the grin a
nd gave him a salute for it.
***
Settled in a barracks without many others there Micah read his chip along with the general information the terminal suggested. This troopship was bound for Zelve Station, a depot not close to Caustik. From there he could outsystem to Caustik but it would take a while. On the polar side, though, he'd have priority on those same departing ships.
Micah puzzled out the League query system and inquired about his unit, then Sanders, then the Caustik forces in general. He found little good news. Not many of the 113th sent would return. Sanders was bound for a med station a lot closer to Caustik.
Another datafeed covered the tactical situation. The background mostly matched what Sanders had given. From the rest of the information Micah gathered that the Consortium had indeed managed an ambush. Either they were lucky or they had good intel; they managed to peg most of the League ships assigned to orbital bombardment. Those ships hadn't taken much damage, they'd only been delayed. The Corpsies launched massive missile swarms, followed them in and did what damage they could before leaving.
Simple summary, thought Micah, the Consortium probably had the planet if they wanted it. A given. With a little time to consolidate the ground positions they'd be in excellent shape to keep the League from taking the world. As to the petition, well, Micah didn't worry about that. Not in his orders.
Micah cleared the queries and located the mess hall. He'd see how League Naval rations compared to Caustik's.
Upon entering the hall Micah almost turned and left, convinced he'd made a wrong turn. Instead of long, straight tables this room had small scattered ones. The tables had chairs instead of benches and wall holos to give it even more room. Only the fact that those present sat with military precision indicated the room's function.
“Micah. Here. Join us.”