by James Cox
Micah waved at Rigby. He drew his rations and sat at her table.
“I tell you we got whacked,” said Norris Alberts, ComSpec, support squad, “Intelligence and luck my rosy pink duff. You'd think these high shiny boys could at least guard their own ships!”
“Stow it, Alberts,” said Scully with the annoyance of many repetitions, “No plan survives first contact. We got firsted. We both know it happens.”
Micah concentrated on his rations. They tasted even better than the ones he'd eaten dirtside! He couldn't even taste the soya!
“So what d'you think, Stone,” asked Alberts.
“Not my job. My orders were to take a fire base. Obviously we didn't.” Micah tried to stay diplomatic but he knew some of his disgust leaked through.
“Obviosity,” replied Alberts, “We were just outed. Out-numbered, out-gunned, out-flanked, out-foxed...”
“Fuse the teeth, Norris,” said Rigby with considerable irritation, “In case you missed the fact, Micah was the one who brought us the data about the armor flanking us. After he lost all of his unit and almost his CO.” She turned her smile on Micah. “I think he did a hades of a job. And he saved his L-T.”
Micah half-smiled and looked down. After his lieutenant failed to contact or support, he thought traitorously.
Alberts thought of something, thought better of it and fell silent. Dessert suddenly absorbed his attention. After a moment several others tried to start the conversation again.
“So, Stone,” said Scully, “Tell us something about Caustik. Nobody's been there.”
“Not much to tell,” shrugged Micah, “It's, well... It's like... Hm. It's not too cold but it's not too hot. Except on the equator. That's where the 113th trains. The atmosphere is mostly clean but there's still some work to be done.”
Micah covered a few general points about Caustik. He felt uncomfortable talking much about his military training so he kept away from that.
“So tell us about this TAS,” prompted Rigby when Micah stopped speaking.
“113th Tactical Assault Squadron,” corrected Micah, “We do the things the other crunchies can't. That's pretty much it.”
“That's not saying much,” smiled Rigby, “Surely there's more than that.”
Micah tried to think around his forming headache. Dessert too rich, he decided.
“Leave over, Tats. He's not interested in you anyway.”
Micah looked sharply at the speaker. His tag read 'Oslov' and he'd scowled at Micah since he first joined them.
“Besides,” continued Oslov, “I can tell you all about Caustik Ass-Troopers. First of all it really means Terror and Atrocity Squads. That's what they do. They get all the dirty little jobbies nobody else wants.”
Micah scowled back but kept his silence. No need to rise to such bait.
“Just ask him. You need some civilians killed, call the 113th. Need a government tipped, call the 113th. Want some really nasty murders, call them. What's wrong, Stone? Nothing to say?” His voice grew heated. “You don't really have to call them, either. Just disagree with 'em. Even a little! Just speak out against Caustik and they'll be sneaking in, sticking you in the back and hitting you from behind. That's 'cause they don't have the pizzle for an honest fight.”
Micah kept silent and tried to hold his temper in check.
“Then,” said Oslov, “after they're finished they go for the girls. They don't like women. They like school girls, farm girls, or baby girls. Doesn't matter. After they kill the parents they do the children...”
Oslov might have continued but Micah found himself suddenly on his feet. Oslov stood too with fear oozing out his pores. Time started to slow. Something cracked sharply and Oslov paled. Micah had no weapons but by stars he'd not need one! One solid punch and...
“AS YOU WERE, SOLDIER!!”
Scully's voice snapped through Micah's rage. Micah ached to rip Oslov apart. His head pounded now and he wanted nothing more than to take it out on...
“I said as you were, Stone!” repeated Scully.
Oslov's face was a hard mask over an ocean of fear. Micah could almost smell it.
“Easy, Stone,” said Alberts, “We're cryo, Sarge. Rough trip. Bad nerves.”
Alberts grabbed Oslov's sleeve and pulled him away. Though Oslov continued his cold stare Micah saw his relief at leaving.
“He's wrong,” said Micah, finally, “He's totally wrong!”
“Of course he is, Stone,” said Scully, “Now get to sick bay.”
“What?”
“Micah, your hand,” said Rigby urgently.
When Micah looked he saw he'd shattered his cup. Several fragments lodged deep in his palm and blood dripped on the table.
“Feces,” said Micah, “Sorry! I'll clean this immed...”
“I said get to sick bay, soldier,” said Scully, “I meant it! Rigby, take him. Now!”
Despite Micah's protest Scully stood firm. Micah wrapped a napkin around his hand to at least control the drips.
“Leave that, Micah!”
“I'm dripping, Rigby!”
Micah pulled the fragments out of his hand. He had to pull one through the back; it twisted as it lodged. With the hard plastic shards gone Micah could compress the wounds.
The medic wasted no time sterilizing Micah's hand.
“Best I can do,” said the medic, “You have possible nerve damage so I can't use a heavy deadener. You want something to bite?”
“What?”
“I'll have to make sure no nerves were severed before I seal those,” explained the medic, “If any were I'll need to splice them. You want something to bite on?”
“No,” said Micah, wondering why he would.
The medic shrugged and started to work. Rigby sat close by and tried not to watch the medic working.
“Good as new,” said the medic, rummaging through his kit, “Now I can give you a...”
Both Rigby and the medic stared in horror as Micah flexed his hand. The fingers worked and the plastic skin flexed a lot more than the Caustik variety.
“... deadener,” finished the medic feebly, “Light duty, then, and don't strain it.”
“Yes sir,” said Micah, smiling at the man, “You did an excellent job!”
“Thanks,” said the medic, “Tell me. I had to splice two of your major nerves and I noticed some damage. Have you been spliced there before?”
“Once,” said Micah, “It was during a raid. I disarmed a demo charge and the detonator popped. I gave away my position and the fact I'd canceled their sabotage. I'm not particularly proud of that. Ten or twelve got away.”
“I see,” said the medic, though he obviously didn't, “Well, as I said, don't put a strain on it.”
Rigby kept uncharacteristically silent as she and Micah walked.
“Something wrong, Rigby?”
“You tell me, Stone. You sounded ashamed at getting spliced. I mean the first time.”
Micah scowled. He should have asked the medic for a headache tablet. He sighed.
“Not that, Rigby. I blew my assignment. We were supposed to capture or crunch the command structure. That's what the raid was all about. I rutted the puppy galaxy-wide.”
Micah couldn't fathom the look she gave him.
“After you had a detonator blow up in your hand. You're torqued because you couldn't capture a dozen people? After that?”
Micah shrugged. “That was my mission.”
After a few more steps a thought occurred to Micah.
“Rigby. Um, Tashi. What he said, that isn't true. Oslov, I mean.”
She stopped and looked hard at him.
“I believe you, Micah.” She took his uninjured hand and smiled. “I believe you.”
A little further down the corridor Rigby spoke.
“Oslov is from Taralon. Was, I should say. He and his family had to leave suddenly. Some of them didn't make it.” She looked at Micah. “So he has issues about Caustik.”
Micah felt a coldness but smi
led in spite of it. They reached his barracks.
“See you, Stone,” she smiled.
“Right. Bye.”
***
Micah tossed in his bunk. He slept uneasily, head still splitting. Again and again he heard Oslov. Micah's head throbbed in time with his words. Jenn watched the medic fix Micah's hand but the deadener kept him from explaining. When she recoiled in horror and ran, Hile stopped Micah from following her. Sanders gazed in mute disapproval as Micah tried to explain.
Micah bolted out of bed, scrambling for a blaster he didn't have. The Naval rating before him gasped for breath as his hand tightened on her throat.
“I'm sorry,” said Micah, releasing her quickly, “I'm sorry, ma'am.”
The lady shook her head. “I... I brought you...”
She handed him a League uniform.
“Thank you,” said Micah.
He tried to smile but she backed away and ran out of the room.
Micah took his time in the fresher. None of his friends were in the mess hall for breakfast so Micah ate alone. Several folks at another table looked at him, then looked away quickly and began whispering among themselves. Micah concentrated on his rations.
The League tech didn't like Micah invading his domain, but when pressed the man admitted he didn't know Caustic equipment. He finally agreed to allow Micah to clean and service his armor and weapons. He didn't speak apart from that, which suited Micah.
When Micah returned to his barracks he found a request for debriefing. He reported to a hard-eyed Naval officer. The lady let Micah recount his story and then questioned him minutely about the details. All of the details. She pulled out details Micah didn't even realize he knew. Then she dismissed him with a nod and an almost-smile.
***
Micah's life aboard the transport settled into a routine. In the mornings he worked out in the ship's gymnasium or target range. Both were small but optimized for military practice. Micah tried sparring with some Marines but they complained when he broke bones. Then the medics complained equally when they broke Micah's so now he worked out alone. Evenings he spent playing cards with Scully, Rigby and a few others. They were friendly enough but distant now. Of Oslov Micah never saw a hair. He also found himself missing Caustik; he'd not realized he would until he was forced away from it.
Zelve Station disappointed Micah. The 113th spent a lot of time training on a station designed for it but this one fell far short of that. Micah missed the friendly Naval rating, hanging around to heap scorn upon the dirtsoles invading his domain. And receive an appropriate drubbing for it. And he still had a week before a transport to Caustik arrived.
Micah did manage to enjoy his library terminal. He discovered it from sheer boredom after cracking his ankle during a workout. The medic confined him to quarters and left him a monitor bracelet to enforce it. Micah powered up the terminal with grim thoughts of the pathetic collection the transport had boasted. Then he saw the selection the station could access: full library plus what it could pull from the planet. Suddenly his confinement didn't seem so bad!
Micah concentrated on League military history and tactics. They confounded and puzzled him until he touched lightly on League politics. After a day in that quagmire without illumination Micah decided to pursue other pathways!
The League's information on Caustik disappointed Micah. The library noted most of the important events in Caustik history but a ten-year-old would know that and more. It also rankled Micah to see it classified as a border-backwater. He surely couldn't change that so he dismissed it and resolved not to think on it. He mostly succeeded.
***
Micah and three other passengers watched Caustik grow on the monitor. He wanted to be back. He could taste it! He tried not to think about the transports he'd caught. Only taking a stack of datachips from Zelve kept him from dying of sheer boredom. No one wanted to talk to him, no one wanted to play cards and the only thing he could exercise was discretion! Finally, though, he saw the blessed end to his journey. Micah even found himself missing the people he didn't particularly like. At least they knew the proper way to hold an argument! High time for him to come home!
At Micah's request the captain commed ahead. Micah hid his amusement that the commander of so small a craft should hold that title but the lady did place the call. Micah heard music in the sound of the atmosphere stroking the small ship. Almost there!
As the flight stabilized Micah wondered where he'd go. Of his entire squad only Micah and Sanders survived. Micah would certainly add a bangle for BJ but he doubted he'd so honor any of the others. Quite a few of them were merged from other squads. Perhaps one for BJ and one for all the rest. They deserved at least that.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are down,” announced the captain, “Please collect your luggage and do not feed the crew on the way out.”
Micah examined the League consulate with interest. It sat inside the starport with several concourses of its own, surrounded by a truculent barrier. Obviously to keep the lowcarders at bay. Micah examined the grounds. He'd seen them from outside, of course, but never inside! It took him a moment to appreciate just how much of the starport the League occupied.
A clerk escorted Micah to a waiting room. Micah gave the man his datachip, sat and waited. One wall held a full dozen comms. Micah tried calling his parents. Then Jenn. Nothing: links down. Someone should be here soon. Micah would ask to visit his family!
“Mister Stone?” It was the same clerk who had taken Micah's chip.
“Sir?”
“You have visitors, sir. A Lieutenant Sanders and Sergeant Hile. If you'll follow me?”
The man escorted Micah to another room. There stood Sanders and Hile. Sanders wore a medical brace around his new leg but stood straight in spite of it.
Micah couldn't help grinning as he presented himself! It felt good to see Sanders. And Hile! It warmed Micah that they'd both come for him!
“Sir,” snapped Micah, grin gone now, “Stone, Micah J. reporting for duty, sir!”
Stars exploded in Micah's vision and the side of his face numbed from the force of Sander's slap!
Micah stumbled, then straightened himself, stunned. Sanders' eyes held nothing but contempt and that word fell far, far short of the look in Hile's.
“Sir?” Micah asked Sanders but Hile answered.
“How DARE you, slug? How DARE you address an officer of the 113th TAS in such a fashion!” Disgust oozed out of Hile's eyes and his face held nothing near to a smile. “How DARE you cast your unworthy gaze on an officer of the 113th! Turn DOWN your eyes, SLUG!”
“Sergeant. What? Why?”
Hile forced himself to stand before Micah.
“You, slug, are a DISGRACE to the 113th! You are a DISGRACE to the fine Commonwealth of Caustik, may liberty reign! You are MEAT! You are a WORM! You are not WORTHY to address the fine soldiery of the Commonwealth, slug!”
Words failed Micah as Hile reached up and ripped off his spearhead. He forgot himself and looked up at Hile.
“You, slug, are a COWARD! I do not know what audacity brought you back. How did you possibly think Our Most Excellent Lieutenant Sanders would NOT report your disgraceful behavior?”
“Sir?”
“DO NOT SIR ME SLUG! YOU ARE NOT WORTHY! YOU ARE NOT A SOLDIER IN MY UNIT, SLUG!”
Hile visibly controlled himself.
“Lieutenant Sanders told us of how he took a shot for you. How he lost his leg saving your worthless hide. How you left your friends to die without honor! I do not know how you can stand before him without begging his forgiveness. You will NOT be a part of my unit!”
Hile took a ritual step back. Then Sanders. Micah knew what came next and he felt a hollowness in his gut. He felt hot tears forming but he bit them back. The last thing he needed was... Well, he'd do himself no good whatsoever by breaking down now. Sanders and Hile averted their eyes and began a slow, deliberate walk away. Sanders left the room but Hile paused.
“Since you are, no doub
t, fond of the equator, slug, we have made arrangements.”
As soon as Hile stepped through the door three men entered the room. Three men wearing very depressing uniforms. Three men wearing Commonwealth Constabulary uniforms.
“Well, Stone,” said the leader, “Apparently military service did not agree with you after all.” He produced a pair of shackles. “You'll be happy to know you have your full sentence before you. The ombudsman considered giving you time for time but justice prevailed.”
Micah's heart sank to his shoes. He hung his head, too tired to hold it up. He clasped his hands behind his back.
“Not so fast, sirra.”
Micah didn't recognize the man entering the room.
“I am Blake Glade from the League Consulate and you gentlemen happen to be in League territory.”
The guard considered this and dismissed it.
“This is a local matter and of no interest to the League. This man is a wanted criminal. His crimes, though vile, do not extend into League jurisdiction.”
The constable had the shackles around Micah's wrists when the doors opened again. Six League Marines entered, fully armed and armored.
“I decide what is of interest to the League, sirra,” said Glade, “and I have decided this matter warrants my attention. Release Mr. Stone immediately.”
The constables didn't move.
“Release Mr. Stone now or I'll have you taken into custody!”
Micah saw the man considering his options. Apart from being outnumbered they were also woefully out gunned. He released the shackles. Reluctantly. He left Micah with a message.
“You're a criminal, Stone. Set one foot outside this place and you'll see justice done!”
“Well,” said Glade once the constables left, “This is a mess and for sure, Mr. Stone. May I call you Micah? Good. Shall we talk?”
Glade escorted Micah to his office.
“I've read your file, Micah. Apart from several incidents training with the Marines,” Glade smiled at this, “you seem to have performed your duty well. Do you know why your lieutenant wanted you away from him?”
Micah made the best report he could. He tried not to interject his feelings but he knew some seeped through. Glade listened intently and then had Micah clear up a few points. Glade sat silent when Micah finished and then entered something on his terminal.