Recoil

by David Sherman

  After reading the first set of sealed orders, Bhimbetka picked up his comm and called the bridge.

  “Ensign Tallulah, sir.”

  “Ensign, has the SOP Essay returned yet?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Contact, who’s got it, Chief Sean?”

  “Yes, sir, Bosun Sean.”

  “Tell Chief Sean to head planetside ASAP and bring the Marine Force Recon commander to orbit. Also send my compliments to the Marine CO and my wish to meet with him at

  his earliest convenience. Tell him Sean’s on his way to get him.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  Bhimbetka put his comm aside and considered the implications of the doubly sealed orders. Then he went to his Combat Information Center to see what the string-of-pearls was finding out about Haulover.

  Marine House, Sky City, Haulover

  Ensign Daly was in his room trying to decide on his next step when a long-anticipated but not-yet-expected tone sounded on his satellite comm. He moved in front of it and opened the connection. “Ensign Jak Daly,” he said to the young face that appeared before him. “How can I help you?”

  “Ensign Hedly Tallulah, CNSS Broward County. We just arrived on station in orbit around Haulover. I have a message for your commanding officer.”

  “That’s me.” Daly hoped the navy ensign, who probably had time-in-grade on him, wasn’t going to give him a hard time about being so low-ranking at his age. The navy officer didn’t.

  “Sir, Captain Bhimbetka’s compliments. He would appreciate your meeting with him aboard the Broward County at your earliest convenience. An Essay is currently en route to Beach Spaceport to bring you up.”

  “What’s its ETA?”

  Tallulah glanced to the side, checking the Essay’s progress. “About two hours, sir.”

  “Tell your driver I’ll meet him. And I’ve got four wounded, two in stasis bags, who I want to bring up.”

  Tallulah blanched at “four wounded”—evidently he knew that Force Recon operated in very small units, and realized that the detachment’s casualties were very heavy.

  Two hours? Daly thought. Plenty of time. And the Essay’s coxswain obviously never drove Essays for Marines; Essays carrying Marines to planetfall came straight down and never took as long as half an hour from orbit to surface. Two hours? The squid had to be coming down in multiple orbits instead of subjecting himself and his shuttle to the stresses of a combat assault landing.

  Beach Spaceport

  Ensign Daly stood just inside the passenger terminal, watching from the observation windows. Lance Corporal Rudd, who had driven him to the spaceport, stood near his left shoulder. Sergeants Kindy and Williams, in their stasis bags, were on gurneys attended by a pair of medics from the hospital. Corporal Belinski stood between the gurneys. Everything Daly figured he’d need for show and tell with the Broward County’s captain was on crystals in his shirt pocket.

  “There it is,” Rudd said, pointing.

  Daly looked where Rudd pointed and saw the brilliance of an Essay’s breaking jets headed toward the landing strip. He heaved a deep breath. It was a damn shame the navy couldn’t have arrived earlier; he might well have had one more live Marine, and fewer wounded. He looked around for spaceport personnel, someone to direct him and his people to the correct gate to meet the Essay, and saw a woman in what looked like a pilot’s uniform coming toward him.

  “Ensign Daly?” the uniformed woman said when she got close.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Daly said, stepping forward.

  “Your shuttle is about to land. If you and your men will come with me, I’ll take you to the gate.” She looked at Daly and Rudd, but avoided glancing at the gurneys and the stasis-bagged Marines on them. Daly also noticed that she didn’t give her own name.

  “Thank you,” Daly said, and gestured for her to lead the way. He looked back to make sure the medics attending the gurneys were following before stepping out himself.

  Haulover was a new world; most of the spacecraft that visited it were cargo ships bringing supplies needed to establish and maintain the colony, and their orbit-to-surface landers came into the cargo terminal, not the passenger terminal where the Marines were to meet the Essay. So the walk to the gate was short, not much more than fifty meters. The nameless woman could have simply told Daly where to go. But she guided them, then quickly departed after turning them over to the gate attendant. This uniformed functionary not only looked at the standing Marines, he looked sadly at the stasis bags. He didn’t introduce himself either, but merely asked Daly and the others to seat themselves until the Essay arrived at the gate. The medics rolled the gurneys to the nearest chairs and sat, but Daly, Belinski, and Rudd remained standing.

  They didn’t have to wait long, they’d heard the screaming of the Essay’s touchdown while they were walking to the gate. Shortly, they heard the Essay’s engines wind down outside, and were ready to go out as soon as the attendant opened the gate.

  A bosuns first and a seaman who stood at the foot of the Essay’s ramp saluted when Daly approached. The Marine was reassured when he saw they were both dressed in blue work uniforms; they were working squids, not ceremonial sailors.

  “I’m Ensign Daly. You’re my taxi?”

  The bosun grinned. “Yes, sir. Sean’s taxi service, at your service.” Then he saw the gurneys and his expression turned solemn. “Sean’s ambulance, maybe. Don’t worry, sir, I’ll drive like I’ve got an admiral with hemorrhoids on board; I’ll get your people into orbit without aggravating their injuries.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  With a few businesslike words, Sean and the seaman took the gurneys from the civilian medics and wheeled them aboard the Essay, where they secured them. Daly and his other two men followed and strapped themselves into the webbed seating Sean directed them to.

  Marine Essays launched almost vertically after a short forward roll. Sean took off more sedately, and the trip to rendezvous with the Broward County in orbit took three hours. Daly relaxed in his seat and tried to sleep, but was unable to. Neither Belinski nor Rudd seemed to sleep either, though both of them kept their eyes closed for most of the ride and neither attempted conversation.

  Once aboard the Broward County, they were met by an ensign and two corpsmen. The ensign led Daly to the captain’s cabin while the corpsmen took the others to the starship’s sick bay.

  Captain’s Quarters, CNSS Broward County, in Orbit Around Haulover

  “Welcome aboard, Ensign,” Lieutenant Commander Bhimbetka said, rising from his desk to shake Daly’s hand. “I’m always happy to have a Marine come to visit.” He waved Daly to a small chair positioned between the side of his desk and his narrow bed. “I trust my medical department has taken your casualties in hand?”

  “Yes, sir, they met us as soon as we came aboard.”

  “Fine. Now, what can you tell me about what’s happened planetside?” Bhimbetka turned his comp monitor so Daly couldn’t see it. “Start at the beginning.”

  Daly briefly recounted the state of the homesteads he and his Marines had investigated, then spoke at greater length about the encounter between Sergeant Williams’s squad and the Skinks at the Rebetadika homestead, and the prisoner and weapon they brought back. Bhimbetka occasionally nodded and made a note. He looked reflective while Daly told about the predawn attack on Marine House, and took more notes.

  When Daly finished his account, the Broward County’s skipper turned his monitor to show it to Daly. “This is a checklist. If you reported any one of the items on it, I have been instructed to open a second set of sealed orders.” He got out the second set of orders, broke its seal, and read. His face registered surprise as he did. He shook his head. “You don’t know about the Skinks, do you?” he asked when he was through reading.

  When Daly admitted he didn’t, Bhimbetka gave him a quick briefing on the Skinks. “As you can see,” Bhimbetka said, gesturing at the checklist, “your report meets nearly every item. You seem to be lacking only
uniforms, swords, and giants.”

  This was the first Daly, or anybody else on Haulover, had heard of the hostile aliens, and he was startled by the news. But he understood the urgency of the situation. He forced himself to recover quickly, told himself that he and his Marines had twice met the Skinks in combat, and twice defeated them, and that they weren’t to be feared as supernatural beings out of a childhood nightmare. Later, he could scream at the unknown.

  Bhimbetka asked, “Do you have a copy of your latest message to Fourth Fleet Marines with you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “These orders,” he said, indicating the second set, “instruct me to forward your mission reports to Task Force Aguinaldo on Arsenault.” He saw the question on Daly’s face and said, “It appears that your Commandant has been tasked with assembling and commanding a special task force to deal with the alien threat.” He held up a hand to forestall questions. “That’s all I know about TF Aguinaldo. So give me a copy of your message.” Bhimbetka quickly put together the message he was required to send, telling the appropriate people that the Skinks were present on Haulover.

  When that was done, Bhimbetka stood. “Come with me; we need to find out how many of these Skinks are on Haulover.” Daly got to his feet and followed as Bhimbetka briskly led the way through the ship’s narrow passageways.

  Along the way Daly asked, “Sir, you saw no sign of a possible starship in the vicinity?”

  “That was the first thing we looked for when we returned to Space 3.” Bhimbetka didn’t seem offended by the question. He cocked his head momentarily, then added, “Maybe I should check for traces of starship passage that don’t match the commercial vessels that have come here.”

  Then they reached the radar shack.

  Radar Shack, CNSS Broward County

  “Do you have anything yet?” Lieutenant Commander Bhimbetka asked an ensign as soon as he entered radar.

  “No, sir, we’re still doing our preliminary mapping,” the ensign replied.

  “Ensign Herovasti, this is Ensign Daly,” Bhimbetka introduced them. “Herovasti is my radar officer.” He looked Daly in the eye. “The Broward County is a small starship; we don’t have a ground-surveillance section.”

  “Yes, sir, I understand,” Daly said. “I’ve been on destroyer escorts before. I’ve always been impressed with just how much can be done with such a small crew.”

  A smile briefly quirked Bhimbetka’s mouth. “And you know how to shovel it at a dumb squid too.”

  “No, sir, I mean that sincerely,” Daly said with a straight face. “DEs have been my transportation on several deployments.”

  Bhimbetka looked him in the eye, then nodded. “All right, tell Mr. Herovasti where you believe the section should start searching.” He added to the radar officer, “Get Tutka in on this.”

  “Aye aye, sir.” Before Herovasti could turn to call him, a second class petty officer stepped to his side.

  “A large starship will have a chief running its radar and surveillance section,” Bhimbetka explained to Daly. “Here, we’ve got a second class doing the job.” He glanced at Tutka. “And a fine job he does.

  “Now, I’ll leave the three of you to it. I’ll be on the bridge.” The captain was gone before anybody could call for attention.

  “How do you want to work this?” Herovasti asked Daly.

  “I was about to ask you the same.” Daly looked around the radar shack. It was a small, cramped space with barely enough room for the officer, three crewmen, and their equipment. “How complete a map do you have so far of the main continent?”

  Herovasti looked at Tutka.

  “Just about complete,” the second class answered.

  “Then we’ll look over your shoulder,” Herovasti said. Tutka took his station and the two officers crowded in behind him, necessarily pressed side to side in the small space.

  Daly leaned forward to examine the map that came up on Tutka’s display. “Let me point out the locations of the raids,” he said, and took the stylus that Tutka offered him. He got out his personal comp and, working from its data, plotted the destroyed homesteads on the map. “This one is where one of my squads encountered the Skinks,” he said as he marked the last one.

  “We know from evidence we found at the homesteads we investigated that the Skinks travel by aircraft, but we don’t know what kind, or the direction they come from. The aircraft have skids rather than wheels or air cushions. But that doesn’t necessarily mean anything; we don’t have a lot of knowledge of their technology. Judging from the length of the skids and their spread, I estimate the aircraft are capable of carrying up to two squads—that’s twenty men,” he added in case the sailors didn’t know how many men were in a squad.

  “So their base could be anywhere within hundreds of kilometers of that area,” Tutka said.

  “That’s right.”

  The radar chief grunted. “Can I get everybody on it?” he asked.

  “I think you better,” Herovasti said. He stepped back and touched Daly on the arm, signaling him to step back as well, as Tutka snapped orders to the other two radarmen.

  In the passageway outside, Herovasti said softly, “Tutka’s good. He’ll find whatever’s there. And when this cruise is over, I’m sure he’ll get transferred to a larger starship and be promoted.” He shook his head. “Damn shame DEs aren’t authorized first class radar petty officers. I’m going to hate losing him.”

  Sick Bay

  “These two will be ready to return to duty in a week or so,” Lieutenant Lekeis, the ship’s surgeon, said about Corporal Belinski and Lance Corporal Rudd. “The other two,” he said, shaking his head, “I’m afraid their injuries are beyond the capabilities of my sick bay to deal with. They’ll have to stay in stasis until we reach a port with a navy hospital.”

  Ensign Daly briefly closed his eyes. “But they’ll be all right until then?”

  “Oh, absolutely. I was able to open their bags and make temporary repairs on their grossest traumas. They’re quite stable now.”

  “Thank you, Doctor. Can I see my other men now?”

  “Sure. I can even release them to you if you want. They don’t need to stay in sick bay.”

  “You heard the doctor,” Daly said to Belinski and Rudd. “Come along and let’s find quarters for you.”

  “Aye aye, sir,” Belinski said. “I don’t like hospitals.” Then he said to the ship’s surgeon, “Not that there’s anything wrong with your sick bay, sir. It’s just that hospitals are usually full of sick people.”

  Lekeis laughed. “Sometimes I feel the same way, Corporal.”

  There was nothing more to do aboard until the radar section came up with something, so Daly, Belinski, and Rudd returned planetside. Daly had the Essay take Corporal Nomonon’s body to the Broward County on its return trip.

  CHAPTER

  * * *

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Marine House, Sky City, Haulover

  Planetside, the Marines spent a great deal of time discussing the Skinks and coming to grips with the idea that the raiders were aliens seemingly bent on the destruction of humanity. To Corporals Belinski, Jaschke, and Lance Corporals Rudd, Skripska, and Ellis, the alien nature of the enemy presented an intellectual challenge rather than a cause for fear.

  “After all,” Belinski explained, “they caught us by surprise twice, and we beat them twice.”

  On the third day, Daly got a call from the Broward County. The radar section spotted an aircraft landing at a homestead. Beach Spaceport reported that there was no scheduled or otherwise authorized flight destined for that homestead.

  Wonder of wonders, Chairman of the Board Smelt Miner had come through with the small aircraft Daly had requested. Daly notified Planetary Administrator Spilk Mullilee and the minister of war, General Pokoj Vojak, while he and his remaining Marines headed for the spaceport. They all carried blasters.

  The Marines arrived before the local authorities at the Ikar homestead. They were too late; the Ski
nks had already done their worst and left. But the Broward County had tracked the Skink aircraft on its return flight, and had a fix on where it had landed. Daly headed back to orbit.

  Ward Room, CNSS Broward County, in Orbit Around Haulover

  The Broward County’s ward room was an even smaller space than the radar shack, but it wasn’t crowded with equipment so Lieutenant Commander Bhimbetka had a temporary station set up there. He, Ensign Herovasti, and Ensign Daly were able to look over Radarman Second Class Tutka’s shoulders as he manipulated the data on his display.

  “Show us,” Bhimbetka said as soon as the petty officer took position and lit his station. “Start with an overview of the raid locations.”

  Tutka’s fingers danced over the controls and an image of a large swath of ground speckled with several dozen dots. The dots formed a rough oval, some four hundred kilometers on its long axis, with Sky City near one focus.

  “That’s all the homesteads I know of that have been hit,” Tutka explained. “The blinking one is the place that was just hit.” His fingers danced again, briefly, and a dotted line appeared on the screen, curving into and then away from the blinking light. “That’s the track of the aircraft the raiders flew in on.”