by James Cox
Micah switched on his helmet recorder.
“Ralin, Idriall, with me. Kerry, you're in charge.”
The door to the main building hung skewed on its frame. Carefully not dislodging it the Marines entered the building rifles first.
The fire system tried but the sooty marks on the wall, now streaked and worn, spoke of heavy plasma and blasters. Micah saw other signs of a struggle and Ralin found a twisted and scorched piece of metal.
“GIL, Sarge. Can't tell if it was fired.”
Gauss induction, large bore, thought Micah. Useful for game hunting or dealing with small pests but unlikely to penetrate even civilian grade armor. Micah felt a dark foreboding.
None of the smaller outbuildings escaped the ravage. Whether used for equipment, fodder or seed storage all had been plasma-washed. The Marines headed for the largest outbuilding.
Micah knew what he saw would haunt him. Idriall knelt on the floor retching. Ralin looked ready to join him. Micah felt his guts twist up but he ruthlessly suppressed it.
Six limp figures hung from various high anchors. The first was an older man, the second and third a younger man and his sister or wife. The last three...
Micah recorded the tableau as dispassionately as he could. The oldest of the last three might have been in his teens. The last two weren't even close.
“S-sarge...”
Ralin spoke barely loud enough for Micah to hear. He stood before something, the tarp covering it hanging from his fingers.
She might have fought but to no avail. Her clothes, shredded rags, still clung to her. Her wrists were cruelly and efficiently tied. Micah tried not to see her face, her bruises, or the seared wound that ended it. Whoever had visited the farm enjoyed themselves. Micah took the tarp from Ralin's nerveless grasp and covered her gently. He switched off his recorder.
“Move out.”
Kerry gave Micah a questioning glance when they returned.
“Civilian casualties,” said Micah. By iron control his voice didn't waver at all.
Thompson looked to question Micah but one of the Marines stopped him. Someone else could explain, thought Micah, or let him see the holos. The invaders, the Corpses, now had a lot more to answer for.
***
The Marines now moved with deadly purpose. No one believed they'd find the League in charge. The Consortium had indeed hit hard.
“Sarge, I have signal.”
Micah halted the advance and motioned Ferrel forward. He could not decipher the strange pattern on the screen but Ferrel explained eagerly.
“They're trying to hack our thors.”
“I thought they took our missiles out.”
Ferrel rolled his eyes and sighed. “No need, sir. Once they knocked out ComCon they didn't need to drop the missiles. Besides, they might want to use them against us.”
Micah pondered a moment.
“Mister Stone, I can hack them! Their encryption is primitive! I have the League keys and I can nail their nets five ways from orbit! Fifteen minutes! Or less!”
“No.”
“But...”
“Negative, Ferrel! If they overfly while you're hot they'll have us blasted out of existence within five!”
Ferrel looked ready to argue but Micah signaled the advance.
***
Micah studied the starport and city carefully. After three days it still looked the same. The Marines built their camp half a day from the port; close enough to reach it but far enough to avoid patrols. At first Micah thought the sailors would give them away but they learned to ground and freeze eagerly.
Micah saw several large burned areas and a lot more smaller ones. He knew from the traffic Ferrel decrypted that the Consortium held the city and the continent firmly. When he surveyed the port for the first time he knew how. Thompson provided the answer.
“Asteroid miners!” Thompson muttered and swore over that. “Those are just like rutting little belter ships. That's how the bottomfeeders did it!”
It made sense. No one checked the belters often, or much at all. Besides being impossible, doing so would require huge numbers of ships and resources better applied elsewhere. Given time the Consortium infiltrated transports, fighter pods, troop boxes and even large ships. With regular supplies from ersatz belter ships the large ones could anchor to asteroids, minimize their scan signatures and drop most of their power. Micah marveled at the success of the operation given its immensity and complexity. Nor could he doubt its effectiveness. The Consortium now controlled the south continent entirely and was pressuring the League everywhere else.
Six TACs launched from the port and flew toward Micah's position. He and Ralin froze, waited for them to pass and started back to the encampment.
Thompson brought Micah a ration pack when he returned.
“What's the plan, Mister Stone?”
They might reach the other continent without being noticed but Micah doubted it. Thirty bodies moving that close to sensitive locations... No. Not all of them. Nor could Micah fathom a way to steal a transport. They might make it in smaller groups, but that led to similar problems but without mutual support. One or two groups could make it, but no more.
Their supplies, while abundant now, were not bottomless. And Micah still saw the farm every time he closed his eyes.
“The Consortium is using this port as their main headquarters on planet. I intend to take it down.”
Micah expected arguments but got none. The Marines knew the odds and accepted them. Thompson, Pierce and Ferrel accepted them too, whether or not they knew them. The only question: How?
“Ferrel.”
Micah gnawed on a thought; a plan if Ferrel could deliver.
“You said you could hack them. Just how serious were you?”
Ferrel gave Micah a look of pained sufferance.
“Mister Stone, I was offered Navy enlistment after I cracked the League Financial on Lithceau. It was that or hard time and I didn't even slurp any credits! Give me ten minutes of high-res access and I'll burn every Corpse system on this planet or above it!”
“How long with what you have? That is not a high-res rig.”
Ferrel fidgeted.
“Longer. They probably would be able to trace us and hit us.”
Micah nodded.
“You say we still have thors in orbit. Locked down, I assume.”
“Yeah.”
“And they might even have some of their own. How long would it take you from the time you sat at the terminal to get a strike on the way hard enough not to be burned or side-tracked?”
“Twenty minutes,” said Ferrel after some thought, “Once I hack their sats I'll burn their system to the ground. And when I trash it it will stay trashed.”
***
Micah stood holding his helmet. The Marines filed by and each drew a small slip of paper. When they finished, five began grumbling. None of the others offered to trade.
“As you were, Marines.” Micah tried to snap but couldn't manage it.
“Ralin, take your detail and get started now. Main detail will leave at 0100.”
Ralin, Idriall, Ferrel and two others left. The rest began packing the supplies Micah wouldn't take. Thompson tried to inveigle himself into Micah's group but without success.
Micah sat and surveyed his soon-to-be-deserted camp. Thompson, Pierce and the five lucky - or unlucky, according to them - Marines would move the supplies to several cache and fallback points. Micah doubted he'd use them. Officially they'd fade into the countryside and await League reinforcements. Officially, if no Marines made it back Thompson and his group would try to reach the north continent. Seven should be able to make it.
Micah sought and found the calmness he needed. Kerry set a ration pack beside him without speaking. She and Nieman would lead elements alongside Micah. They had a fair number of smites and even a few smarts. They had plenty of grenades. They had plenty of clips.
***
When the Marines reached the town Nee and Kerry e
ach took five and split. Micah motioned and his five started forward. They saw patrols but few and lax. Martial law and curfew left the streets deserted. The Marines did encounter two patrols but the Corpses never knew they weren't alone. The Corpses had automatic sentries but the Marines knew how to handle them. Micah saw one frightened face peering out a window at him. He wished a silent blessing and moved on.
04:50. Micah crouched just outside visual range of Corpse HQ. A fence full of detection gear rose before him but he'd handle it presently.
04:57. Micah slid three smites out of his pack. He programmed them for juicy targets: those that would make nice explosions. He held his smart ready; it had a dearer target.
04:57:30. Several buildings showed activity. Micah tensed as the Corpses walked from one place to another. They didn't move urgently so Micah relaxed.
04:58. Idriall and Ferrel should have the civilian comm-casting center now; guards down and comm array reconfigured. No activity meant they'd succeeded. Or they'd been captured.
04:59. The activity settled. With another hour to shift change the guards should be plenty sleepy. Micah keyed his comm.
Three smarts and three smites left almost as one. Six more smites followed and then another six. Alarms screamed inside the compound as the explosions hit. Meat ran out of the building, frantically searching for targets. Micah clipped a grenade to his rifle and sent it into the largest cluster of bodies he saw. The plasma illuminated them well - the idiots didn't have on their armor! - and set fire to the building. Pulse rifles coughed and actinic streaks flashed through the darkness.
Several vehicles moved toward Micah. Each Marine had a spare smite for just such occasions. Micah used his gladly. More Corpse meats were out now, firing hand weapons and rifles. Micah activated his myos, launched another pair of grenades and followed them in.
Icy calmness settled over Micah. The Corpse complex offered plenty of cover and he didn't really have to worry about friendly fire. He'd ordered his element to disperse and cause as much chaos as they could. From the sound of things, they had.
Micah rounded a corner and faced a barracks. Several half-armored shapes muddled about the doorway. Micah sent them a plasma message. He sent another two into the building. Around the next corner he had an opportunity to take down a semi-portable.
Micah took cover behind a flipped hover. The sky flashed white and the ground slapped him hard. A wall of sound washed over him, breaking several windows and shaking everything. Micah laughed! He officially owed Kerry a hundred credits now: her wager that she'd blow the port hydrogen dump. Damage would be minimal, the dump was isolated for that very reason, but it did make a spectacular distraction! Micah dropped four Corpse crunchies who stood up to look.
***
Micah launched his last grenade and ducked behind a corner before it exploded. He didn't know how long he'd been fighting but the Corpse numbers were starting to show. His myos were gone now and he'd taken several hits. One of them felt bad. He'd bandaged himself and patched his armor but he didn't move as fast now. At least he still had clips. He sprayed a couple but most of the time he fired each shot individually. And hit with it.
A new set of alarms screamed and a voice broke comm silence.
“Scan delta! Scan delta!”
Relief washed through Micah. Scan delta. Ferrel had hacked the system and the thor strike was in the way. Ack pits opened fire but to little effect. Scan delta meant Ferrel had also burned their networks.
Micah saw a crowd not far away. Officers! Pulling a pair of grenades off a dead meat he primed them and threw. Motion alerted Micah to another group of crunchies. He rolled to cover and opened fire.
Micah propped himself on one knee and fired past the figure running toward him. Wallace. It had to be Wallace. No one else ran quite that way: clumsy-looking but effective and fast. Wallace hit dirt beside him and said something. Micah concentrated on the crunchies trying to storm their position.
“... I said cover, Sarge!”
“Go!”
Micah counted five and threw himself backward as Wallace opened fire. They leap-frogged quite a distance back before the meats caught them.
***
LIGHT!
PAIN!!
The thunder from a thousand bolts of lightning slammed Micah around. It threw him against everything nearby and then everything loose against him. Micah felt his pulse rifle ripped from his hands. He tried to see where it landed but his eyes didn't work properly.
Babble.
Wallace.
Micah felt something tugging his arm. He tried to help but nothing worked. His hearing folded into a crashing, booming roar. His vision narrowed to a small tunnel. Then it finally faded.
***
“... coming around now.”
Darkness.
Light. Dim silhouette against a bright blob.
Micah ached his way awake. The shapes hovering above him turned into Wallace against a light. He saw a man and woman he didn't know.
“Sarge? Micah? You there?”
Micah tried to answer but only managed a grunt. A hand lifted his head and Micah felt a cup at his lips. He drank. Icy fire seared his throat and stomach and snapped him to wakefulness.
“Gaah! What?”
“Don't talk,” said the lady, “Give it a minute.”
Micah had a hundred questions but the lady's advice seemed best. Micah found himself in a small and cramped room stacked with boxes and shelves.
“You're safe,” said the lady, “you're in my basement. The soldiers have been looking for you but we know how to hide you.”
“Wallace. Fallback.”
“Easy, Sarge,” replied Wallace, “We're too late by days. If they followed orders they're gone now.”
“How long... Was I out?”
“Four days, Sarge. Maria's a medic and Jack's a reserve.”
“For what good that did,” said the man bitterly.
“Caught us too,” mumbled Micah.
After a few more minutes Micah felt almost human. His leg hurt from a penetrating hit and he had sundry other ills but he'd felt worse before. After chancing a quick scout Wallace reported the Consortium forces swarming like zeef ants over a fresh kill. She didn't know how many Marines escaped but the guard at the prison camp tripled overnight. The citizenry of Ceto knew the enemy had suffered a blow. That news traveled swiftly, though not enough to incite arrest or reprisal. Wallace explained with some amusement that rumor had two full divisions of League forces hitting the base and melting into the city. Micah hoped it true; most of his Marines would not have taken fallback.
A day and night of rest had Micah ready to tear down the too-familiar boxes and shelves. Jack brought him a holovee but most of the channels were off and the rest were full of Consortium propaganda. They made a point of showing prisoners taken from the 'cowardly League raids.' Micah recognized Nieman and one of his element. Jacy. Both had bruises and burns.
The basement door opened and Micah slid his hand down to his pulse pistol, the only remnant of his armor. Maria descended the stairs accompanied by an older man Micah didn't know.
“Micah, this is Colonel Roberts, Ceto Close Orbit Reserve. He'd like to talk to you.”
Micah rose to shake hands. Roberts had a firm grasp and an even stare. He took Micah's measure even as Micah did likewise. Competent, decided Micah. This man could hold his planet.
“Bloody glad to meet you, son. They said they'd wiped out the League on planet. I've been trying to collect news from your division but they do seem to have faded into the cracks.”
Wallace, who entered in time to hear that, chuckled.
“No division, sir,” said Micah, “I lead seventeen Marines.”
“Heaven's flames! Less than a bloody platoon? You did finish their ruddy complex! They'll not repair that soon!”
Micah felt a swelling of pride. “Thank you, sir.”
Roberts' mien grew serious.
“Lad, I'd like to say that's my only reason f
or coming but it isn't. Maria tells me the two of you will be effective within a few days. Most of our military structure is gone but a goodly number of reserves grounded hard and avoided capture.”
Micah looked at him expectantly.
“I don't know how you've trained at guerrilla tactics but we've worked bleeding hard at it. We could certainly use your help.”
“Absolutely, sir. Will you help us contact the League? I'll guarantee they won't take this sitting.”
“Certainly, Micah. We'll toss them a ruddy party!”
***
Micah plodded down the street and carefully did not eye the Corpse guards. He and the four men with him wore general workers' coveralls and carried their kits lackadaisically. After two weeks to settle, the Consortium forces began allowing certain civilians to work. Mostly at the jobs they themselves didn't want. Micah had a pulse pistol but if all went well he'd not need it. Larson, the mission leader, offered the guards a datachip.
“Fine,” said the bored soldier, “About flaming time, too. It's been out for two days, you slaggie.”
Larson shrugged and motioned to the others. Careful of observation they made their way to the sewer access. Each had an assigned task and Larson, who actually had experience, assigned them jobs they could do without showing their lack of expertise.
“Open,” said Larson.
Micah removed a device from his kit and placed it carefully. It activated in the pipe and scuttled away. They fixed the sewage impeller quickly and left.
The building wasn't important to the Consortium. They occupied it mostly to keep subversive elements out. The sewer, however, connected directly to a comm center critical to the Corpse forces; a facility that would suffer dire inconvenience when the robot bomb scuttled up its main sewer line and exploded. Actual damage would be minimal but the repairs would be neither fast nor efficient.
Acts like this summed up Roberts' tactics. He didn't have enough troop strength to seriously threaten Consortium forces and he did have the very real concern of reprisals against the city's population. His plans hinged on making life on Ceto uncomfortable for the invaders.