David Sherman & Dan Cragg - [Starfist 14]

by Double Jeopardy (lit)

  “Now we’ll see what happens next,” Prang said. He handed the knife to the Fuzzy.

  The Fuzzy, no longer a prisoner, held the knife up. He pointed at Prang, pointed at Doc Hough, pointed at the wounded Fuzzy whom the corpsman had patched up before the arrival of the Sharp Edge company, chittering all the while. The other Fuzzies listened intently, then their leader chittered something. The Fuzzy cocked his head for a moment, looking like a man lost in thought, then looked at the leader, at Prang, tossed the knife out of the bunker, and stood with his hands spread wide, facing the human. Prang considered for a few seconds, then mirrored the posture.

  The Fuzzies outside the bunker chittered among themselves, but it was more muted than before and didn’t sound hostile. The leader cut off the others, put his rifle down, and got up on all fours to hop the few remaining meters to the bunker. He dropped into it and stood in front of Prang, hands open and arms spread. Prang faced him and did the same. Hough also stood erect and mimicked the posture.

  “Shake my hand,” Prang suddenly said.

  Hough stepped to him and held out his hand. The two men shook. Prang faced the Fuzzies and held out his hand. They had watched the humans with interest and now looked curiously at Prang’s hand. Then the leader reached out and, careful not to poke his claws into the officer’s glove, shook hands with him. He pulled Prang to the side of the bunker facing the ongoing fighting at the perimeter and gestured toward it, chittering excitedly. He gestured at the former prisoner, at Hough, and at the Fuzzies who had come with him.

  “Sir, I think he wants us all to go out there together and stop the fighting.”

  “I think you’re right, Doc. Let’s give it a try. If we’re wrong, hey, they can kill us right now if they want to.”

  Together, the four climbed out of the bunker and started walking toward the fighting. The leader chittered something at his squad, and they stayed in place.

  Prang and Hough turned up the volume on their helmet speakers and shouted, “Cease fire, cease fire! Everybody, stop fighting!” They waved their arms above their heads.

  The two Fuzzies chittered loudly, waving their arms side to side.

  Slowly, the men and Fuzzies at the trench stopped fighting and looked at the four walking toward them.

  “We’ve started communicating!” Prang called out. “We’ve agreed to stop hostilities!”

  The chittering from the two Fuzzies probably meant the same.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The toll had been horrendous. Seventy-six of the Sharp Edge troops were dead or wounded. All but one of the nine Marines who hit the Fuzzies from the flank were wounded, as well as three more from second and gun squads who had fought on the Marine flank.

  Mercury had his fighters gather their dead and wounded and get them out of the compound as quickly as possible so the Naked Ones wouldn’t know how many of them had been killed in the battle. But the number was very high; everybody knew that. On Henny’s urging, he allowed the more seriously wounded to stay long enough for Doc Hough and the Sharp Edge medic to bandage them before he had them carried away. Mercury hadn’t heard from Junior, and the scouts he sent to find him in the slowly clearing smoke from the fight in the diversionary attack reported that Junior was nowhere to be found; he wasn’t one of the dead or wounded still lying between the smoldering bushes.

  Brigadier Sturgeon arrived in a hopper an hour after the battle ended. He brought Lieutenant Yethador, the Grandar Bay’s linguist, with him, along with the FIST’s assistant surgeon, Lieutenant Haku, and two of the corpsmen from the FIST medical platoon. Haku and his corpsmen put together a field expedient surgery and treated the wounded humans, preparing them for transport to Camp Usner for further treatment—or direct transit to the Grandar Bay for the more seriously injured. The surgeon and his corpsmen made no distinction between the Marines and the mercenaries in deciding the order in which to care for their patients.

  “Sir,” Lieutenant Bass asked Brigadier Sturgeon after he and Lieutenant Prang had been debriefed on the action and the beginning of communications with the Fuzzies, “do you have any word on my other casualties?”

  Sturgeon nodded. “In brief only, Charlie. You’ll have to wait until later to get more complete reports. Corporal Pasquin will survive, but he’ll never rejoin the platoon; the brain damage was too severe. Young McGinty is not only going to survive, he should be back with you by the time we get back to Camp Ellis. The Grandar Bay’s scientists are fascinated by the venom that afflicted him, and the herbal medicine the Fuzzy used to treat him.” He looked into nowhere for a moment before turning back to Bass and continuing.

  “As for the Hammer, the Grandar Bay’s psychiatrist is treating him. It looks like a case of battle fatigue—at the same time it doesn’t look anything at all like battle fatigue. Basically, he seems to have suddenly lost his self-confidence. I’m sure he’ll get it back, though.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Bass looked around at the damage wreaked on Camp Godenov, and the blood making darker stains on the red dirt. “What’s next?”

  A corner of Sturgeon’s mouth quirked in a repressed smile. “Commodore Borland is at Base Camp right now, arresting Louis Cukayla and his top people.”

  A suborbital off the Grandar Bay led two Essays to a landing at Base Camp. They didn’t land on the airstrip; the suborbital and one Essay landed on the quad outside the administration building. The second Essay splashed down on the lake, then sped ashore to join the other two vessels. The water-lander dropped its ramp, and three Dragons roared out. They dropped their ramps and sixty armored and heavily armed Marines from the FIST headquarters company boiled out to take positions surrounding the quad and administration building. Half of the Marines around the administration building faced it; the rest faced outward.

  The suborbital opened and Commodore Borland stepped out. He was accompanied by an officer and a chief petty officer. All three had sidearms belted around their waists. The three marched onto the portico, where Louis Cukayla and Johnny Paska stood. They were not in climate-control uniforms. They hadn’t been given warning of the Commodore’s visit and didn’t have time to change into them before Borland and his companions exited the suborbital. They were already sweating in the heat. In the background, the other Essay opened up and disgorged three more Dragons. Thirty armed sailors in working coveralls exited the Dragons and stood in formation, facing the administration building. The six Dragons moved to form a ring around the quad.

  “Well, Commodore,” Cukayla said, cocking an eyebrow when he saw that Borland was armed, “to what do I owe the honor of a visit from the Confederation’s senior officer in this system?”

  “Mr. Cukayla,” Borland said brusquely, “let us dispense with the pleasantries. The officer standing to my left is Lieutenant (jg) Flynn, the Grandar Bay’s legal officer. On my right is Chief Petty Officer Ault, the Grandar Bay’s Master at Arms. They are here to place you, John Paska, and your other top people under arrest.”

  As Borland made his announcement, Flynn and Ault stepped forward and manacled the two men’s hands behind their backs. They didn’t use lightweight ties such as the Marines used when they took prisoners, but old-fashioned iron manacles that needed a key to unlock.

  That done, Ault signaled to the sailors in the quad. Six of them broke formation and trotted onto the portico, where they followed Ault into the building.

  “What is the meaning of this outrage!” Cukayla shouted. The sudden redness in his face was due to more than just the heat.

  “The meaning is,” Borland said, “Sharp Edge and its officers stand in violation of several Confederation laws regarding sentient species and slavery. Sharp Edge and its officers are also suspected of violating a number of Confederation laws and regulations regarding smuggling, contraband, and interplanetary trade. You will be informed of the specifics on board the Grandar Bay.”

  Flynn signaled the sailors and four burly petty officers broke ranks to mount the portico. They took Cukayla and Paska firmly
by the arms and marched them to one of the Dragons the sailors had ridden from orbit. When they were safely aboard and the Dragon’s ramp closed, Borland turned his head to Flynn.

  “Well, Mr. Flynn, I must say that went easier than I feared.”

  “It must have been the element of surprise, sir.”

  “Indeed. Let’s go inside and see how well in hand Chief Ault has matters.”

  “Knowing the Chief, sir, I’d say very well.”

  And Chief Ault did have matters very well in hand. The clerks and other office workers stood lined up against one wall, holding their hands on top of their heads. A few sidearms and knives were laid out on a desk well out of reach of the workers. The sailors Ault had led in were busily collecting every bit of data, digital and hard copy, in the offices and packing them for transport to the Grandar Bay.

  “Sir, I think we’ll be finished here in a few minutes,” Ault said. He didn’t bother to come to attention when the Commodore entered the office.

  “That’s fine, Chief,” Borland said. “Which one of them is the comm chief?” He indicated the office staff.

  “This one, sir.” Ault stepped over to the clerks and pulled one out of the line.

  “Fine, fine,” Borland said with a nod. “What’s your name?”

  “S-Stubbins, sir,” the man stammered. “M-Mark Stubbins.”

  “Well, Mark Stubbins, are you aware of what just happened outside?”

  “Y-yes, sir.”

  “You don’t want to be arrested, do you?”

  “N-no, sir!” Stubbins blanched.

  “Very good. Then you will assist me in contacting all Sharp Edge installations on Ishtar, won’t you?”

  “Absolutely, sir! Whatever the admiral wants, sir!”

  “It’s commodore, not admiral, but that’s all right. Now, is there a way you can let me communicate with all the Sharp Edge personnel here at Base Camp? I mean, at the same time?”

  “Yes, sir. There’s a PA system.”

  “Excellent! Lead me to it, if you please.”

  “Right this way, sir.” Stubbins scurried to Cukayla’s inner office. Borland followed on his heels but seemed to move at a much more leisurely pace. Inside, Stubbins handed Borland a microphone and asked, “Do you want me to turn it on now, sir?”

  “If you please, Mr. Stubbins.”

  Stubbins put a finger to a touch point on a console, and an indicator light turned from red to yellow to green. “There’s a—”

  “I know how to use a microphone, Mr. Stubbins. Thank you anyway.” Borland flicked the toggle that turned the microphone on and began speaking.

  “Attention everybody at Base Camp. This is Commodore Roger Borland, Confederation Navy. I am the senior military officer currently present in the Opal-Ishtar system and, by default, the senior representative of the Confederation of Human Worlds in the Opal-Ishtar system. By my orders, all Sharp Edge operations on Ishtar are to cease as of this moment. All human beings on Ishtar are, as of this moment, under the authority and control of the Confederation military. All personnel present at Base Camp are to assemble in front of the administration building, now! In fifteen minutes, Confederation military personnel will commence a search of Base Camp. Anyone found in any of the buildings, or anywhere else other than assembled in front of the administration building, will be placed under arrest.

  “That is all.”

  Borland handed the microphone back to Stubbins, who put it on its cradle next to the console.

  “Thank you, Mr. Stubbins. You’ve been very helpful. Now to contact the mines and any other Sharp Edge facilities on Ishtar …”

  “The comm room’s over here, sir.” Stubbins led Borland out of the inner office to another side room.

  “Will the setup allow me to talk to all of them at the same time?”

  “Yes, sir. Just give me a couple of minutes to set it up, sir.” Borland nodded, and three minutes later watched as Stubbins brought all the mines online.

  As soon as they were all on, with either the commander or second in command at each facility listening, Borland announced to them that Cukayla and Paska were under arrest, their operations were over, that they were to stand down, release all the Fuzzies, and prepare to receive transportation to Base Camp. He finished with a warning that any facility that failed to do as instructed would be forcibly shut down by all the resources available to a Confederation Marine Corps Fleet Initial Strike Team.

  Stubbins swallowed when he heard that.

  “Yes, Mr. Stubbins?” Borland said.

  “Sir, I was on Ravenette. With the Ruspina forces. I know what the resources available to a FIST are—from the receiving end. I hope everybody does exactly what you said.”

  “You’re a good man, Mr. Stubbins.”

  Evidently everybody else in Base Camp also knew what a FIST could do. The Marines and sailors who searched the camp didn’t find anyone trying to hide.

  The Marines went in company strength from mining camp to mining camp to make sure the operations were shut down and the Fuzzies freed. The navy transported the Sharp Edge personnel back to Base Camp. There was only one holdout: a camp commander who saw continued mining after Sharp Edge was shut down as his avenue to personal wealth. His troops mutinied when they were confronted by the company of Marines—and a division of four Raptors that flew low overhead. The mutineers promptly surrendered to the Marines. The whole operation took a month. On receipt at Base Camp, the navy transported the Sharp Edge personnel to the four starships owned or leased by Sharp Edge, which were still in orbit. There they were held under guard by sailors off the Grandar Bay and the Marines of the FIST’s artillery battery, which hadn’t had anything else to do on the deployment.

  Finally, Thirty-fourth FIST boarded Dragons that drove onto Essays and lifted to orbit, where they reboarded the Grandar Bay to return to Thorsfinni’s World.

  The day after the Grandar Bay broke orbit, Lieutenant Bass visited first squad in their compartment. Along the way, he stopped at the squad leaders’ compartment to get Sergeant Ratliff.

  “I’ve got news on Corporal Pasquin,” Bass said when he had everybody’s attention. “As you know, he suffered a very bad head wound.”

  “Is he going to make it?” Lance Corporal Quick asked.

  Bass paused before answering. When he spoke again, his voice was heavy. “I’m about to tell you. Please, no more interruptions until I finish.” He looked at the men of first squad and waited until each of them nodded agreement. “All right, then. As I was saying, Corporal Pasquin suffered a very serious head wound. He’s going to live, but …” His voice trailed off for a moment, then he began more briskly. “The bullet and helmet fragments blew away some of his brain matter. Unlike bone and muscle, brain matter can’t be regenerated. Raoul is going to be in rehab for a long time, and the rehab won’t begin for some time yet, not until his bones reknit and missing pieces of bone regenerate. It’s going to be some time before he’s able to talk again, and walk unaided. It’s probable that he’ll never be able to return to duty, so he’s going to be medically discharged.” He waved off any questions that statement might have raised. “He’ll be given the best care and treatment the Confederation Veterans Authority can give him. But he’s no longer with third platoon, and he won’t be returning.

  “Now, does anybody have any questions?”

  “Can we see him?” Ratliff asked.

  Bass shook his head. “The surgeons here did everything they could for him. He’s in stasis until he reaches a hospital where any remaining work can be done and he can start rehab. Next question.”

  There was a moment of silence before Ratliff asked, “What happened to his helmet? They’re supposed to be able to stop bullets. Other Marines got shot in the head and nothing happened. His helmet got hit and broke.”

  Bass spread his hands helplessly. “His helmet has been thoroughly examined. Evidently a manufacturing flaw somehow got past quality control. Now,” he said very firmly, “that doesn’t mean you can’
t trust your helmets to keep your brain boxes safe. It was a fluke, one in a million. More than one in a million.”

  Someone murmured, “Shit happens.” Several of the Marines nodded.

  “I’ve got some good news, too,” Bass said. “PFC McGinty will be rejoining the squad before jump point.”

  Nobody asked who was going to replace Pasquin as fire team leader. It was too soon for the Marines of first squad to worry about that.

  At his own request, Lance Corporal Schultz remained in sickbay rather than rejoin his squad for the duration of the return to Thorsfinni’s World.

  EPILOGUE

  Lieutenant Prang stayed on Ishtar until the last possible moment, continuing his attempts to communicate with the Fuzzies. The entire science department of the Grandar Bay tried to convince Commodore Borland to stay for several more weeks—months would be better, they said—so that they could study the Fuzzies, their language, their culture, and their herbal medicines. Borland refused, saying that other scientists were already on their way. He suspected that wasn’t true; he’d only sent a drone to Earth requesting a scientific party be assembled and dispatched little more than a week before. For all he knew, the message hadn’t even been received yet. But he was certain a team would be assembled and dispatched.

  The same sailors and Marines who’d acted as guards on the SS Pointy End, the SS Lady Monika, the SS Tidal Surge, and the SS Dayzee Mae remained on them as guards during the starships’ journey to Fourth Fleet Marines headquarters at MCB Camp Basilone on Halfway, where the Sharp Edge personnel were to be held until the Attorney General’s office decided what to do with them. The four starships would be impounded there while awaiting final disposition. The sailors and Marines would be transported back to Thorsfinni’s World via the first available military vessels.