Starfist FR - 03 - Recoil (32 page)

Realizing that he was alone except for the remaining Leader, and confident that the other Leader and the two Fighters with him had captured the Earthman Marine on the left bank, the Master dove back underwater and began swiming upstream as rapidly as he could, trailing the remaining Leader. But the water was shallow, and an Earthman Marine saw him and sent him to join his dead Fighters. The Marines

Sergeant Williams saw the flash on the opposite bank, but before he could turn around to see what was happening with Corporal Belinski, he heard the whoosh-sizzle of Lance Corporal Rudd’s blaster, and another whoosh from the stream ahead of him. He looked in time to see a dying flare above the water and six smallish, nearly naked men standing chest deep in the water, pointing nozzles in the direction of the Marines. Williams snapped off a bolt from his hand blaster, and his eyes popped when his target flared up. When the flare died down, he saw no one there, nor in the water below, where the flames had licked. He rolled to dodge a streamer of greenish fluid coming from one of the nozzles, needlessly, as it turned out, since the streamer sailed above him to splatter on the ground about twenty meters to his rear. He didn’t know what the fluid was, except that it had to be a weapon. He fired again just after Rudd took a second shot and saw two more brief pillars of fire leap from the surface of the water. Lance Corporal Skripska moved when the firing started, and now flared another of the enemy. A harshly shouted order came from out of sight under the bank an instant before Rudd took out the final standing man. Williams heard a splash from where the shout had come, then waited a few seconds to see if anybody else jumped out of the water before leaping to his feet and running to where he’d heard the splash. From his feet, he saw into the water better than he had lying down, and spotted another one of the small men swiming rapidly away. He fired at it, but the refraction caused him to miss. Rudd and Skripska also saw the fleeing swimmer, and both fired repeatedly, until one of their bolts connected and fire briefly boiled underwater. Williams was stunned by the brief firefight, but now wasn’t the time to analyze it. “Skripska,” he ordered, “secure the left flank and rear. Rudd, watch the front. Keep sharp watch for more of them. Belinski, sound off. . . . Harv, sound off!”

But Corporal Belinski didn’t reply.

“Listen up,” Williams said to his two remaining Marines,

“something happened to Harv. Both of you get to the bank. On my order, we get across as fast as we can. If nobody shoots at us we’ll go to Harv. Sound off when you’re in position.”

In less than half a minute the three Marines were ready to cross the stream. In not much longer they were on its other side, heading toward where Belinski had been. They saw signs of the struggle, including a spray of blood, and a scorch mark on the ground a few meters away. They found Belinski’s helmet and hand blaster. But Belinski himself wasn’t there. And he was too far away for Williams’s site map to pick him up. Williams swore. That was another reason they needed the string-of-pearls; the string-of-pearls could pick up Belinski’s ID

bracelet and tell them exactly where the missing Marine was. But a trail of blood drops pointed the way from the stream. They could follow it and they did, at a fast trot. The footprints told the Marines they were chasing two small men. And unless those men were very dense, they were carrying a heavy burden. Burdened or not, the footprints of the two small men were set far enough apart to show that they were running.

Fifty meters from the water, the trail turned upstream.

“Step it out,” Williams ordered, and picked up the pace. He didn’t think the small men could maintain their current speed for long, not carrying ninety-five kilos or more of Marine and gear. But if they were going that fast they must be meeting someone—maybe a whole bunch of someones. Williams wanted to catch them before they did.

The enemy didn’t slow down over the next kilometer, or meet anybody else. The Marines pressed, stepping up from a fast trot to a slow run. Finally, three kilometers beyond where they’d begun following, the Marines drew in sight of the two nearly naked, small men carrying Belinski.

“Tackle,” Williams ordered, and broke into a sprint. Rudd and Skripska went with him. Rudd was faster and got ahead of the others. Skripska managed to catch up to Williams and keep with him. When Rudd was twenty-five meters from the men carrying Belinski, the two suddenly realized someone was after them. They hesitated momentarily, looked uncertain about what to do as the Marines closed on them. Then they barked at each other, dropped their burden, and spun about, grabbing and raising the nozzles of their weapons. They both fired, narrowly missing Rudd, who snapped a shot back at them. One of the two flared up, and Rudd zigged just as the other sent another stream of greenish fluid at him. He screamed when a droplet hit his arm, but still dove into the remaining enemy. In seconds, Williams and Skripska were with Rudd, helping him to wrestle the small man down and tie his hands and ankles.

“Son of a bitch,” Skripska swore when they were finished,

“but he’s a tough little bastard.” It really had taken all three of them to bring the little man under control.

“Check Rudd,” Williams snapped at Skripska, then turned to Belinski. The corporal was conscious and breathing; the only thing wrong with him other than the bite on his arm was that his hands were turning blue from his wrists being tied too tightly. Williams quickly released him. He made sure the corporal’s uniform had provided him with a broad-spectrum antibiotic, then wrapped his arm with synthskin. Belinski started rubbing his wrists to get circulation going again. Williams went to where Skripska had cut open Rudd’s sleeve. Rudd had his helmet open; sweat was pouring down his face and he was biting his lower lip.

“What in the name of the seventy-three virgins?” Williams exclaimed. A ball of thick greenish fluid, the size of the end of a man’s thumb, was bubbling in a hole in Rudd’s left biceps.

“I tried to smother it,” Skripska said, shaking his head.

“Didn’t work.”

“Damn, only one thing to do.” Williams drew his knife then turned to Skripska. “Get a grip on his arm, hold it still for me.”

Then he said to Rudd, “Sorry, Marine, but I have to cut that out.”

“Do it,” Rudd said tight-jawed. Williams started cutting the flesh around the bubbling mass. Red blood flowed into the hollow, then mixed with green when Williams flicked out some of the cut flesh and . . . and . . . green stuff, was all Williams could think to call it. He cut some more and flicked again. Flesh, blood, and the green fluid spattered onto the ground.

“Suction,” the squad leader ordered. Rudd used his right hand to thumb his medkit open and pull out the small suction pump. Williams grabbed it from him and began sucking blood out of the cavity in Rudd’s arm. A lone bit of greenish fluid remained at the bottom. He gouged it out and peered at it on the tip of his blade, then used the pump to suction it up.

“Secure this for analysis,” he said, shoving the pump at Skripska. Then he dug into Rudd’s medkit for bandaging materials. He packed the wound and wrapped it with synthskin.

“Painkiller, meds?” he asked Rudd. Rudd nodded; he wasn’t sweating as heavily now. “I had my system inject painkillers, a pain blocker, and antibiotics. I’ll be ready to move in a minute or two.”

“Good.” Williams turned to Belinski. “What happened?” he asked. Belinski gave him the short version of his capture while the squad leader bandaged his arm. “All right, let’s head back with our prisoner,” the squad leader ordered. They took turns carrying the little man over their shoulders. They quickly learned that they had to gag him, as he kept trying to bite—and his teeth were very sharp.

Headquarters, Emperor’s Third Composite Corps The second Leader, the one who had swum upstream ahead of the Master in command of the failed ambush, was the only one who made it to the pickup point. The Pilot Master flying the transport that came to pick up the raiders and their captive refused to wait for possible survivors once the Leader told him about the Earthman Marines winning the fight in the stream. Back at the headquarters of the Emperor’s Third Composite Corps, the Leader was hauled before the Grand Master to explain what had gone wrong with the mission to capture an Earthman Marine. Once he’d told everything he knew, he was beheaded, because the Master who had failed in his mission wasn’t present to be punished for his failure. Then a Senior Master was sent with forty Fighters to find out what had happened to the Leader and two Fighters who had attempted to capture an Earthman Marine. They found where the Leader and one of the Fighters had died. They also found where the other Fighter had been captured. The Grand Master went into a fury when he found out a Fighter had allowed himself to be captured instead of dying in a cleansing fire. He issued orders to find and immolate that Fighter, no matter where the Earthmen held him.

TWENTY-EIGHT

En Route to Sky City, Haulover Lance Corporal Skripska drove the landcar as fast as he could, but it took more than two hours for fourth squad to get back to Sky City. There wasn’t a straight road between the Rebetadika homestead and the capital, and most of what there was wasn’t paved. The pain in Lance Corporal Rudd’s left biceps was so severe that it got past the analgesics and threatened the pain blocker, so Sergeant Williams hit him with a knockout. Full circulation came back to Corporal Belinski’s hands early on, though there was enough residual tingling to give Williams concern that he might have suffered nerve damage. Williams and Belinski kept close watch on the prisoner. Early on, Williams questioned the small man, but he tried to bite whenever the gag was removed, so after a while Williams stopped trying. At least the prisoner stopped struggling and trying to break his bonds once they put him in the landcar. When they were still a hundred kilometers from Sky City, Williams was finally able to establish secure comm with Ensign Daly the old fashioned way, by bouncing radio waves off the ionosphere. Daly and third squad were already nearing the city.

“We ran into them,” Williams reported. “I’ve got two wounded and one prisoner.”

“Who’s hurt and how badly?” Daly’s first concern was for his people.

“Belinski and Rudd. The raiders were using some weapons

I’ve never even heard of—they shoot some sort of acid. A splash of it got on Rudd’s arm. I had to dig it out. He’s got a hole in his left biceps that goes all the way to the bone. I’ve got a sample of the acid—and one of the weapons. The prisoner’s a tough little bastard, with pointed teeth. One of them bit Belinski’s right forearm, tore it up quite a bit.”

“I’ll have a doctor on hand to tend to them when you arrive. What about the prisoner?”

“I tried to question him, but every time I took the gag off he tried to bite me. The way he looks at us when we talk, it looks like he doesn’t understand Standard English.”

Daly grunted. “I’ve been to worlds where almost nobody spoke English as their primary language, but I’ve never met anybody who didn’t speak it at all. Any idea where he’s from?”

“Not a one. I’ve never seen anybody like him. He’s really strange-looking. Has to be some serious inbreeding going on in his near ancestry. And he’s strong; it took three of us to subdue and bind him.”

“Show him to me.”

“Coming up.” Williams used his comm to take 2-D pictures of the prisoner and send them to his commander. He did as close as he could to a full-body shot, a close-up of his profile to show the sharp convexity of his face, one of his exceptionally broad feet with the webbing between the toes, and a closeup of his side to show the faint marks on it.

“Does he have any injuries?” Daly asked while waiting for the pictures to be taken and transmitted.

“Only minor scrapes and bruises from the scuffle when we captured him.”

When he saw the images, Daly asked, “Who outside of your squad knows about the prisoner?”

“You’re the only one I’ve talked to.”

“Good. Don’t tell anybody. I’m not handing this prisoner over to the locals. I’ll prepare a room in Marine House to keep him in. When the navy finally gets here, I’m turning him over to them. What happened to his clothes?”

“That loincloth is all he was wearing. Same for the others we saw.”

“All right, we’re at Marine House. I’ll start getting the doctor and preparing a strong room. What’s your ETA?”

Williams checked the remaining distance. “Twenty minutes, standard.”

“See you then. Daly out.”

Rudd came to by the time they reached Sky City. He was surprised to see it was dusk. Marine House, Sky City A doctor wasn’t the only person waiting for them when fourth squad pulled up in front of Marine House. Planetary Administrator Mullilee was there, and Chairman of the Board Miner was on his way. Ensign Daly, Sergeant Kindy, and Corporal Nomonon were outside to meet them. Mullilee joined the Marines in front of the house. Skripska pulled in at an angle that didn’t allow Mullilee to see inside the landcar.

“Reporting back, sir,” Sergeant Williams said, saluting Daly.

“Where’s the doctor?” He gestured at Belinski and Rudd. The two injured Marines, like their squad leader, had their helmets and gloves off so they could be seen. The synthskin and bloody skin around it on their arms showed clearly through cut-open sleeves.

“He’s getting set up in the kitchen,” Daly said. “Let’s get you two to him.” He waved the Marines ahead and took Mullilee by the arm to take him back inside so he wouldn’t notice Kindy and Nomonon getting into the back of the landcar. As soon as the front door closed behind Daly and Mullilee, Skripska started the landcar and drove around to the rear of the house.

“Careful around him,” Skripska said. “He likes to fight, and he’s stronger than he looks.”

He pulled in close to the back door of the house and got out

to help the others pull the prisoner out of the backseat. At first, the small man went passively, but he began struggling as soon as he saw he was being taken inside.

“Grab his feet!” Kindy shouted; he was holding the prisoner’s right arm. He looped his right arm through the prisoner’s, then grabbed his left arm. “Help Skripska with his feet,” he ordered Nomonon, who’d had the prisoner’s left arm. Even with Kindy holding the prisoner’s arms firmly, and another Marine on each of his legs, carrying the man was difficult, and they almost dropped him twice before they got him into the small room that had been prepared for him. The room held a chair, a small table, and a narrow bed—all of which were bolted to the floor. The windows were securely covered so nobody could look from the outside and see who was in it. They forced the prisoner onto the chair.