by James Cox
Jeffers held out his hand but Micah embraced him.
“Dale...” Micah knew what he wanted to say but the words left him. Finally, “Rumor says that you and Paige and Bix were the only ones with stones enough to stay here with me. You have more than they know, Dale.”
Jeffers chuckled at this.
“If you're ever near Goldensheaf, Micah, look me up. I mean it! Maybe I'll have some stories for you.”
Micah smiled and held it until Jeffers left. No longer. He felt as though a part of himself had gone.
The next week found Micah back in harness and working twice as hard to make up the time he'd missed. Micah's CO informed him he could delay graduation if he so chose but Micah chose otherwise.
What free time Micah had he spent working over his memories. Tiber gave him a strict regimen of exercises, mental and meditative, along with a schedule of visits to the base counselor. She herself saw him occasionally.
After hearing Bixby's, Jeffers' and McCree's account of their brawl the others in the barracks regarded Micah as something more than human. He found himself elevated from the platoon's 'wise old man' to something near to a true Corps officer. That distancing hurt but McCree and Bixby helped him through it.
Nor did help flow in a single direction. Though the recruits had mostly finished Basic they hadn't attained the spiritual hardening they'd need to fight in the field. The drill and practice turned away from the mostly physical to those mental and spiritual aspects. Micah lost count of the nights he spent helping a raw boot through the harsh times. Or, in several cases, helping make the decision to leave. That hurt Micah more than the recruits he'd counseled and after one particularly harrowing evening none other than Sergeant Taylor congratulated Micah on his touch.
Micah fit himself into the physical rigors of training the most easily. They were slightly harder than the ones on Caustik but Micah was harder and he pushed himself harder.
With the medics' assurance that he'd purged the Flame from himself Micah attacked his physical training. He conditioned himself to the point where Flame had taken him and, with considerable effort, beyond it! Tiber's exercises helped there, which surprised her when Micah told her. Micah learned to ignore pain without Flame and he learned to focus himself past mere physical fatigue. When he finally succeeded Micah discovered a new clarity of thought and a freeing of mind. He found his reserves and measured them, apportioning them as necessary toward whatever task he faced. By the end of Basic Micah could perform as well as ever he had on Flame, consciously and with no cloudiness, hazed memories or baggage afterward.
With this clarity of mind came another thought, plain, simple and clear.
Micah knew he could not be a League Marine.
***
Micah performed drills and training flawlessly. He learned and reinforced his skills and consistently scored well on the numerous tests and exams. Tiber's de-programming finally bore fruit, though. Micah knew to the core of his being that he trained to kill. In that respect League training differed from Caustik's not at all. He was good at it. Very good at it. The more he thought about it the firmer his resolve became. Micah vowed to himself that he'd have no part of killing ever again. The eyes still haunted him but he knew they'd go away when he forbore ever killing another person.
Sergeant Rothling, one of Micah's most brutal instructors, looked at the form before him.
“This is a drop form, Maggot Stone!”
“Yes, Sergeant!”
“What the hades is it doing in my face, Maggot Stone?”
“I wish to withdraw from training, Sergeant.”
Micah stood at stiff and proper attention, eyes focused above and far beyond Rothling.
“Tomorrow is GRADUATION, Maggot Stone! No one drops the day before Graduation!”
Micah held his silence, totally at peace with himself.
“You tell me, Maggot Stone, why I shouldn't take this form and BLAST it with PLASMA!”
“It is my decision, Sergeant, and mine alone.”
“NOT GOOD ENOUGH, mister Barracks Lawyer! You TELL me and you TELL ME NOW!!”
Micah didn't smile although his face started one.
“Sergeant Rothling, I have sworn to myself that I will never kill another person. I cannot in clear conscience complete my training.”
Micah knew his CO had access to Tiber's observations and recommendations. Ergo Rothling and the other sergeants did as well. Micah also knew Rothling's bluff as such: the decision to drop was Micah's prerogative and his alone.
Rothling dropped the form into a basket.
“This office is closed for the day, Maggot Stone. I shall process this paperwork tomorrow. DISMISSED!”
Micah walked back to the barracks with an impending sense of freedom. What he'd do and where he'd go Micah knew not but he would face his future solid and unafraid. He didn't speak of his decision to his friends. They'd made it and they would make fine Marines. McCree and Bixby knew something had happened but kept their silence.
***
“GET ON YOUR FEET, MAGGOT STONE!! GET ON YOUR FEET, MISTER. MOVE! MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!”
Micah responded automatically. The room was mostly dark and totally quiet. Well, quiet minus the sergeants yelling. As he snapped to place Micah saw starlight reflected off many pairs of eyes.
“BOOTS AND HARNESS, MAGGOT STONE! WE'RE GOING FOR A LITTLE WALK!”
Micah slipped into his boots, pants and tunic barely ahead of more harsh words. He knew the others would wonder: this treatment usually fell to those poor souls who had done something so outrageous as to require humiliation. Hence it seldom fell to those about to graduate.
Micah knew the reason. Rothling wanted one final shot before letting him go. Childish, but not unexpected.
***
Micah ran. He let the wind cool him as the sergeant beside him hurled invective. Micah let the words slide off. He knew he'd be free by the next evening. He'd be out of the barracks, out of the service and out of the eyes' baleful stares. Micah smiled. He lost Rothling a long time ago; the belligerent sergeant just couldn't keep the pace.
Micah ran. Three sergeants later and with only starlight's dim glow Micah ran through thick brush and trees. Fatigue made his steps uncertain but Micah held his reserves dear. He knew they meant to break him and he'd have no part of that!
Micah ran. Taylor ran beside him, thought Micah. He could spare no effort to verify. His legs were leaden pillars of pain and he had more than several cuts and scrapes where vines had crossed his path. Thorny vines. His mind numbed with clear focus barely a memory. The night stretched forever with no hope for sunlight.
Micah ran. The man beside him had a crop, switch, or lash of some kind. Micah no longer tried to block the pain. That required far more energy than he had now. Tears streamed down his cheeks unchecked but he couldn't help that either. Each step brought agony and Micah felt by the pains in his feet that he ran uphill now. Grayness shrouded the world and exhaustion painted everything in somber shades.
“HALT!!”
Micah halted and nearly dropped to the ground. His legs, arms and body throbbed in poignant agony. He breathed in short gasps, not knowing how he held himself upright. The foggy shape in front of him resolved into Rothling.
“GENERAL DIRECTIVES, MAGGOT STONE! SOUND OFF!!”
Micah's mouth worked but no sound emerged. Micah could barely see the words, much less speak them.
“I SAID GENERAL DIRECTIVES, MAGGOT STONE! FIRST GENERAL DIRECTIVE! SOUND OFF, MAGGOT!!”
“P-peace is our mission, sergeant.” The words barely came out.
“SECOND DIRECTIVE, MAGGOT STONE!”
“Protection... is our mission, sergeant.”
“THIRD DIRECTIVE, MAGGOT!! FOURTH DIRECTIVE!!”
“Our mission... to protect life and liberty, sergeant.” Micah gasped the words, grudging the breath to say them. “Our mission is... protect and support the League... sergeant.”
“WHAT DOES THAT MEAN TO YOU, MAGGOT STONE?”
“My mission sergeant...”
“ANSWER THE QUESTION, MAGGOT! WHAT DO THOSE PRETTY WORDS MEAN, MAGGOT STONE?”
Fatigue overcame Micah. He heard his tormentors yelling and always the same question. Couldn't they see he was too tired to think? Couldn't they see?
“ABOUT HACE! TEN STEPS FO'ARD, MAGGOT STONE! OPEN YOUR EYES, MAGGOT STONE!”
***
The sun just peeking above the horizon sparkled against Remise Down's highest buildings.
“There are fifty thousand people down there, Maggot Stone, and fifty thousand times fifty thousand and more in the League, Maggot Stone. They are NOT Marines, Maggot Stone!”
Pearlescent haze refracted the sun's rays. Mist evaporated off the buildings and streets.
“What are they gonna DO, Maggot Stone, when the Corpsies come to visit?”
Sometimes smarts and smites left a fog trail. If the humidity and temperature were right they could be traced back to their launchers.
“What are all those people going to do, Maggot Stone, when the bombs start falling?”
The eyes came back. Micah saw them staring at him from the city.
“What are those people going to do, Maggot Stone, when the ships land and start spitting out troops ready to kill them?”
A StealthTAC could hit the city from orbit in not many minutes. The first warnings would come with the hypersonic thunder after the pulse cannon shattered the buildings.
“They are gonna DIE, Maggot Stone. They are gonna DIE with NO CHANCE TO LIVE, Maggot Stone! The streets are gonna splash with their BLOOD, Maggot Stone!!”
Micah saw it! He saw it, heard it, smelled it and felt it.
“They are gonna drop like biteflies in a plasma wash, Maggot Stone!”
Rothling stood scant inches from Micah's face.
“They will DIE BY THE THOUSANDS, Maggot Stone, unless someone is there to stop it! DO YOU HEAR ME?”
“Yes sergeant.”
“RIGHT HACE!!”
As Rothling spoke the rim of his hat jabbed Micah's forehead.
“NOBODY likes killing, Maggot Stone! There's not a Marine in the Corps doesn't PUKE his GUTS UP when he kills his first man, Maggot Stone! Why is that, Maggot Stone? Not a one of us enjoys taking lives, Maggot Stone! Why are we still here, Maggot Stone?!”
They would die in droves. They would fall before the heavies like versoy stalks at harvest. They'd be mown down. The lucky ones would. The others... The rest would be taken. They'd be taken and used.
“I CAN'T HEAR YOU, MAGGOT STONE!!”
They would suffer sport, horrible sport, and then they would die.
Unless someone stopped it!
“We stop them from dying, Sergeant. We stop...”
Micah tried to continue but emotion clogged his throat. He and the others recited the General Directives every morning at Assembly, but they were just words.
Until now!
Rothling pointed toward the city.
“They are why we are here, Mister Stone! They NEED people with the skills, the training and the GUTS to do what has to be done to protect them, Mister Stone! They NEED soldiers, Mister Stone, who can swallow their bile and make these planets safe!”
Finally! Finally the words sank in! Through his pain Micah felt a strange euphoria.
“DO YOU UNDERSTAND, MISTER STONE?!!”
“YES SERGEANT!!”
“Do you still want to quit, Mister Stone?”
“NO SERGEANT!!”
“BACK TO BASE, Mister Stone! DOUBLE TIME!!”
Back at the barracks the other recruits busily showered and spiffed their uniforms. Today they'd have Assembly after breakfast and from there they'd go to Graduation. The sergeants left Micah at the door. All of his friends looked at Micah, all smiling warmly. Somehow he found himself facing McCree and Bixby.
“Welcome back, Micah,” was all she said.
Chapter 7. The Eyes Now Closed
Music played, officers made speeches and the embryonic League soldiers walked across the stage to receive their due. Micah listened with half his attention. Most of his concentration he focused on what he had just now begun to learn. The realization left him giddy. He had made the right choice; now he knew that harder than he knew anything else! The eyes knew, too, and turned their gaze elsewhere.
A surprised Micah met Eva Tiber as he walked through the crowd. He had his mind set on his orders: Drop Marines, recommended!
“I had a talk with your sergeants, Micah,” said Tiber, smiling, “You finally did make the right choice. Don't forget it and don't ever doubt it!”
***
“Dear Father and Mother:
“I got a posting to Silverton Down. It's on the outer border of the Topaz system, Regis sector. Drop School was hard but I made it! Twenty-fourth out of one-fifty! I've barely been here a month but nothing exciting has happened. There are no highcarders or lowcarders here. I know that seems strange but you get used to it fast. I sure did. Before long I should have enough money to bring you all out. Once Deke graduates I can almost guarantee him a spot in college, either here or on Emerald. There's a University of Metropole branch there and they have all sorts of opportunities for soldiers and families. From what I've seen so far, he'll probably even get a scholarship or three.
“Well, I'm going to go now. We have a surprise inspection coming.
“All my love;
“Micah
***
Micah examined his cards critically, his face a blank mask. He, Ben 'Tank' Toroski, Marlin Nieman and Elise Kerry squared off in a play-for-blood game of two-across. Micah had a good hand if Tank didn't trump on Fleets.
“Colonies are trump,” announced Toroski.
On his turn Micah grinned and played half his hand.
“Heaven's flames,” swore Kerry, playing one doleful card.
They passed inspection easily. Topaz offered little in the way of action which suited Micah fine. While it did border on the sectors closest to the Consortium the Corpsies held their peace. Silverton Down, one of the largest port cities in the Topaz sector, boasted a hefty variety of things for an idle Marine with ready credits.
Now a light sergeant for his platoon, Micah had little trouble obtaining weekend furloughs for his unit. Micah took his responsibility very seriously. When they didn't place at least third in divisional drill competitions Micah persuaded Sergeant Terrence 'Arv' Arvin - pronounced ayr-VAHN - to allow a long hike followed by combat maneuvers. The platoon might grumble but Micah led them. Without exception.
“Ten-HUP!”
Arvin's voice cut through the rec room chatter and brought instant silence. As Strike Group 3340/C's chief NCO he had a straight line of information through First Lieutenant Charley Farley; at whose name no person laughed. More than once.
“At ease, Marines,” said Farley after making eye contact with every person, “Some of you have heard rumor. I'm here with facts.” He inserted a datacube into the room's display wall.
With only the sound of a soft scuff all people in the room turned to face the display. It glowed to life showing a star system.
“This is Ceto in the Parraman sector.” The view zoomed out to show Parraman in relation to Regis, its closest League sector. “Outside the League but almost a client state. Ceto itself is an average system. Wetter and cooler than here with a bit more population. Standard industry and good ag.
“As some of you may know Parraman has a strong Consortium presence. Mostly along the outer border systems. Middle of the sector's pretty sparse and the worlds there don't have a lot of business besides freeporting and privateering. The Consortium's tried several strikes but the independents beat 'em back. Sometimes with our help. When we tried, they gave us the same.” Farley shrugged. “The Consortium would like nothing more than a stronger presence there. This world isn't a priority target but it isn't defended like one either. Intel reports a Corpse buildup in Parraman outer and Ceto's a point-six-three on the list.
“The Cetans
know they're a big, juicy steak just waiting for the wolf and they've requested assistance defending their world. Finally. We leave at 0800 tomorrow. Questions?”
“Shouldn't this be a Garrison jobbie, sir?”
Idriall, thought Micah. Though 'Iddy' liked to play lazy most of the capsules that dropped hit after his.
“Absolutely,” replied Farley, “Which is why the League is sending full Garrison and Support detachments. We are the spearhead and the deterrent. Any others? Excellent!”
“Ten-HUP! Fall out!” Arvin's grin echoed Farley's.
Micah didn't take long to prepare and neither did his platoon. Marines in general and Drop Marines in particular were meant to be mobile and ready to strike at a moment's notice. Micah took that to heart. They grumbled good-naturedly but finished in time for Micah to complete his game. He and Tank won.
***
The Ceto system possessed four planets, one gas giant and two major asteroid belts spanning a total of five planets' worth of orbits. Micah grimaced at this; Ceto had more than its share of belters, asteroid miners. They along with the free-ranging megafacs - factories designed to chew up asteroids and process them for industrial metals - were damnably hard to protect. Nor did most of the belters desire it. Eking out a living looking for precious metals spread the belters and their small, defenseless ships throughout any asteroids available. Topaz had a moderate belt which Micah visited several times both for training and from curiosity.
At long last the transport entered the Ceto system. After careful plotting it microjumped to within five diameters of Ceto III. The Marines spent the time from orbit to ground strapped into the debarkation lounge watching the visual relay from the bridge. They passed a structure Micah recognized as a high-orbit ComCon. Micah checked the Navy databank. Besides the Command and Control station the Navy also had two orbital fighter bases, a missile satellite network, full planetary surveillance and monitor and a Deep Eye. Several others grumbled when Micah mentioned it. DeepPeeps were notoriously cranky and unreliable until calibrated.
“Hey Sarge,” called Idriall, “You gonna make us scrub that Peep?”
“I'm thinking about it,” replied Micah, face perfectly serious, “IF you don't place at least fifth when we hit alien dirt.”