Stone Blade

by James Cox

  Micah puzzled over this.

  “You're the angel!”

  “What?” Tiber pulled up a char, turned it backward and straddled it.

  “In my dreams. The angel.”

  “Ahh. You remember our chats?”

  Micah tried to shrug. When he glanced down he saw restraints on his hands.

  “A little,” he said, “I was dreaming and there was an angel. Why am I tied down?”

  Tiber pressed something and the restraints retracted.

  “Because you were a most uncooperative patient, Mr. Stone. You tried to strangle one of the field medics at the scene. You then shook off a stunner. Next you grabbed an intern and you thrashed against almost anyone who came close to you. While you were unconscious.”

  “Oh.”

  Tiber smiled. “It's nothing to be ashamed of Micah, if I may call you that. And I'm Eva. I just hope you do as well after your training.”

  Tiber smiled while she talked and she spoke the words with a simple, sincere honesty. Then her mien turned serious.

  “Speaking of training, I'd like to hear about yours, Micah. Before you left Caustik. Tell me everything you can remember, please.”

  Tiber's last request had the sound of an order. Micah obeyed it.

  Micah started with enlistment and all he could remember of it. A vague pain, more of a memory than a reality, started at the back of his head. As he talked, it grew. He tried to shunt it aside but that was like lifting water with a fork.

  “What about the sounds,” asked Tiber.

  Micah tried to remember. The pain was severe, now, clouding him.

  “It... It...” Micah fought to speak. He put his hand to his head and tried to massage his temples. “It...”

  Sudden searing agony exploded inside Micah's skull. He fought for breath that didn't come.

  Words.

  Sounds.

  Blackness.

  ***

  “Micah!”

  Micah woke to a cold core of fear. Tiber sat beside him but not alone. A huge Marine stood at relaxed attention close to her. When Micah moved he felt the restraints again.

  “Eva. What...”

  Tiber smiled. “That, Micah, is what we're trying to find out. Do you remember our last talk?”

  Micah squeezed his eyes shut and held them. When he moved his head he felt the brush of wires and pickups.

  “I... I don't. Sounds. In the barracks?”

  A sharp pain stabbed Micah between the eyes and Tiber checked a readout.

  “Fight it, Micah. Fight it!”

  “The... The sounds. When we... When... When we...” The agony throbbed in time with his heart; it blurred his vision and fogged his mind. “The f-fear...”

  ***

  “Micah.”

  Micah opened his eyes, awakening from Hile and Sanders and a thousand variations of them tormenting him. He felt weak and drained.

  Tiber sat in her accustomed spot but now the Marine sat as well.

  “Micah, we did a comprehensive blood tox on you. I have some questions I'd like you to answer.”

  The pain tried to take Micah. They struggled, he fought, he won.

  “We found traces of some psychoactive agent,” continued Tiber, slowly but clearly, “By the residue we found you had hefty doses over a long period of time. Our biochemists can't say anything other than that it's emotionally triggered.”

  “The Fear,” whispered Micah, still struggling.

  “You don't have to be afraid, Micah...”

  “No. The Fear. They... They gave us Fear. It... It made us afraid.”

  Slowly and with often-broken sentences Micah told her. He told her of the Fear and the Flame. Talking and fighting the pain drained Micah quickly. Finally, blessedly, Tiber nodded.

  “Thank you, Micah.” She held up a hypo. “This can help you sleep untroubled.”

  “Please!” Micah felt ashamed of his weakness but he welcomed the peace that washed over him.

  ***

  The scrape of a chair woke Micah.

  “Eva.”

  “Good afternoon, Micah. I have some answers for you. If you want them.”

  That puzzled Micah.

  “Of course I want them. Why would I not?”

  “Micah, they're not pretty. I can help you but it will take a hard price. Or...”

  “Or?”

  “You'll be a fine soldier, Micah. Private Brumley,” Tiber nodded at the Marine, “assures me the Drop division will be proud to have you.”

  Micah thought long and hard. The elusive something at the edge of thought pointed firmly toward one of Tiber's options.

  “I want answers, Eva. Please.”

  Tiber nodded.

  “I'm not surprised. For what it's worth I think you made the right choice.

  “Micah, early in the history of the League, not long after the Collapse and the chaos that came with it, a lot of planets had to fend for themselves. The League was more of an ideal than a reality. It needed all of its military just to protect Metropole and Sector Prime. Planets that petitioned for membership often brought attacks opposed to the League and what it stood for.

  “Some of these planets survived and some didn't. Some of them lost their idealism. Some of them kept to the letter of the charter but violated the spirit beyond recognition. Some of the planets that fought needed a lot of soldiers fast. They didn't have the time or the resources to field well-trained and experienced men so they took other options. Short cuts.”

  Tiber spoke her next words carefully.

  “Micah, have you ever heard of juice troopers?”

  Micah thought a moment and shook his head.

  “The League doesn't condone them or use them. Until now we... It was believed that none of our member systems did either.

  “Juice troopers were given the rudiments of training: how to fire a gun or take an emplacement. Whatever they could learn in a short time. Then, when they went into battle, they used boosters. Drugs. Chemicals tailored to increase strength, awareness, speed; there were a lot of variations on the theme.”

  Tiber spoke with an obvious effort now. Micah felt a hollowness inside.

  “They were effective,” continued Tiber, “They were very effective. But the drugs... The drugs usually had side effects. They burned people out or wore them out. Sometimes very quickly. Heaven help us all, some of the soldiers considered it a fair trade. Some of the planets only took volunteers. They warned the people beforehand and they only took the ones willing. Other planets...” Tiber paused a moment and visibly marshaled herself. “Some of the others conscripted their juicers. They justified it by using prisoners or sociopaths. Then... Then it was easy to use the so-called undesirables of their society...”

  Micah held up his hand and Tiber stopped gratefully.

  “So,” said Micah after a long time to think, “I'm a juice trooper?”

  Thought it cost her Tiber nodded.

  “How will that affect me? Will I be dismissed from service?”

  Tiber looked away, wiped her eyes, then looked back. She spoke against a struggle.

  “Micah, that depends on you.” Tiber wiped her eye again. “Micah, I don't see how you can just... just accept this! It's... It's obscene! It's so... Wrong!”

  The emotion racking Tiber surprised Micah. When she controlled it he managed a bitter, sad smile.

  “It's not really a surprise, Eva. Lowcarders on Caustik aren't valued past what we can produce. Sometimes not even that much.”

  Tiber looked at him with raw disbelief. Disbelief and something else.

  “Eva, is there more?”

  “Yes. This... It's even worse, Micah.”

  Tiber waited until Micah nodded. Again she spoke against a struggle.

  “Micah think about the background. The sounds.”

  “Relaxing,” he said, “Soft sounds. Equatorial was hot and dry and silent. They played water sounds. Birds. Things you don't know you miss 'till they're gone.”

  “What else, Mi
cah. Think. Dig.”

  Micah blinked. The thing in the back of his mind started forward.

  “Sometimes it was screams,” he said, “Screams and plasmas going off. The hiss. It's not really like water, not that close.” Micah felt his fists clench hard.

  “Screaming,” said Tiber, “and death. All mixed with something relaxing. When you were asleep, Micah. Asleep and receptive. Tired. Open to suggestion. What else, Micah?”

  “The... The hissing. Artillery. Smites going off.”

  “What else? What else was there?”

  Pain overwhelmed Micah's senses. He heard the voices now, horrid voices. Terrible voices. Voices speaking horrors to him...

  “Micah! Micah, come back! You're not there, Micah! Let it go. Let it go!”

  Micah found himself weeping hard, racking sobs. Something warm and soft held him. Tiber held him until the storm passed, whispering soft comforts, urging the worst of it away from him. After an eternity Micah's control returned. Tiber released his restraints and handed him a wet cloth.

  “Good, Micah. We've taken a very important first step. Now you need to rest.”

  ***

  Micah woke the next morning well before Tiber arrived. Restive yet restricted to his bed by a scowling medic, Micah managed to cajole himself a library terminal. He knew within broad tolerances what he wanted. He found it. Strange dreams troubled him. Not nightmares but not far from them. Rather it seemed his dreams told him things he already knew and in the telling purged something vile. Micah studied with his full concentration.

  “Good morning.” Tiber took her chair, turned it backwards and settled into it. “Someone has been studying.”

  “They won't let me up.” Micah tried not to growl and Tiber smiled at his lack of success.

  “Even League medical technology needs time to work, Micah. That was no scratch.”

  Micah tried to hold a stern expression but it soon faded.

  “Subliminal conditioning,” said Micah.

  “Yes,” said Tiber, “You've studied it.”

  “The Warren Conglomerate,” he replied.

  “Five billion people packed on a planet hard-pressed to support three. Still one of the major influences on Metropole. Still programming the masses.” Tiber made a sour face. “The hades of it is without the conditioning they would probably have the highest crime and suicide rates in the League.”

  “It made their soldiers fight hard.”

  “That and the juice.” Tiber looked uncomfortable. “It literally took an act of the League Senate to force them to stop. Did you read any further?”

  “No.”

  “Don't. It's horrible and it might be detrimental.”

  “So I've been conditioned,” said Micah.

  “Micah, yes. But...”

  Micah heard the pain in her voice and understood it.

  “So can we undo it or do I need counter-conditioning?”

  Tiber gave him a look of horror, either for his matter-of-fact tone or for his second idea.

  “We'll have to find out what it is,” she finally said, “And that won't be easy. Apparently they don't want us to.”

  “Is that the price?”

  Tiber nodded.

  “I'll pay it, Eva. I have to.”

  Micah twiddled his fingers. The dex projected a hologram before him and he focused all his concentration on it. After a moment he managed to exclude anything else. Eva talked and he responded but Micah let his mouth work while he concentrated on the dex's twisty shapes. At times they distorted wrongly and he corrected them. Other times they just drifted. That was the secret. The pain stayed away if he focused it within the datafractals.

  After two days of being consciously himself Micah was allowed mild exercise. Then a bit more of it. After a week he no longer felt six months dead. His side still hurt a bit and the medics assured him he'd have yet another scar. There was, after all, only so much they could do. Micah grinned inwardly at this; his medics took personally any ailment they could not cure completely and without a trace.

  Eva brought the dex two visits before this one. She tried several things before, all of which left Micah with his head splitting and his arms and legs struggling against the restraints. Now he rarely felt the pain and when he did he had no trouble shunting it away.

  Micah found in Zeke Brumley a man he warmed to instantly. When he finally spoke, Brumley claimed to hail from “... the most average planet in the League.” He detailed that particular point with considerable eloquence and humor. He'd tried for Drop but transferred to Support after an incident with a malfunctioning HRAT. From him Micah learned the whole of what happened after the lead banger shot him.

  “I can't tell you I read the report,” Brumley had said hypothetically, “since I don't have access, but a good Marine knows.

  “After that bottomfeeder shot you you took him apart totally. There were quite a few torqued-off bangers but enough civs gave corroboration to clear you and the others. After you went down someone called the Shore Patrol. You were about dead then. They were working to stabilize you when you woke up. You grabbed a field medic by the throat and started squeezing. They hit you with a stunner. Quarter blast, then half, then full. You shook it off like nothing. Then they gave you a hypo that knocked you out. When they got you to the base and put you under a neural damper you almost got one of the orderlies. Flaming near took out two more after surgery when you shook off the tranqs.” Brumley lowered his voice. “Fact is, only your three buddies were brave enough to sit with you here. And that was under restraints.”

  Micah looked away and tried to hide the awful feeling inside him. Not long before he'd have taken pride in it.

  “You can stop now, Micah.”

  Micah pulled his fingers out of the dex and powered it down.

  “Are we making progress?”

  “Yes.” Micah knew Tiber fought hard against her inner demons. “Do you still want... It?”

  “Please, Eva.”

  Tiber held a sparkling, glowing something before his eyes.

  “Concentrate Micah. When I count three, you will remember. One.”

  Micah took a breath, relaxed and concentrated. They'd been discussing his missions.

  “Two.”

  By the look on her face this would be something truly abhorrent. Tiber had an abundance of empathy and a sensitivity Micah could not fathom.

  “Three. Remember, Micah.”

  ***

  Micah remembered! He remembered everything! The voices, the sounds, the feelings. He remembered every mission he'd ever taken. He remembered every detail. He remembered the pirates, the rebels and the traitors. All the crunchies and meats...

  The people. People! They weren't all criminals. They weren't even mostly criminals. Or traitors, or pirates. That was the justification fed to him while he slept.

  Micah heard the voices now. He heard them pleading, begging, desperate for their lives. He heard them screaming as he cut them down. Underneath it all he heard the voice speaking to his sleep. The voice woven into the sounds and the noise around him.

  Micah saw every person whose life he'd taken. Brave men and women - not meat! - fighting and dying because the Commonwealth of Caustik deemed them less valuable alive than dead.

  The eyes stared at Micah openly now. Now he knew why and what and who. Some of them brimming with hope others with certainty. Some of them so filled with terror...

  Micah remembered the blood. The fear he'd caused. The men and women and...

  “No. No! NO!”

  Micah remembered what he'd fought so long to keep forgotten. All of them killed because the highcarders on Caustik didn't want to be bothered with their lives...

  Micah felt the hot wetness rolling down his cheeks. He squeezed his eyes shut as hard as he could but they eyes didn't go away. The faces. Pleading...

  “Micah! Come back! Now! On the count of three... One.”

  Micah tried to look away. He fought their gazes but to no avail.

 
“Two.”

  No reason for them to die other than being in his way at the time.

  “Three. Micah, come back NOW!”

  Micah blinked. He still remembered but now with a small sense of history. Still...

  “Micah, we can deal with this!”

  Micah felt a familiar clench. One he'd not felt in far too long. Straining against the bands holding him down he thrust his head sideways, turned and vomited.

  “Micah,” said Tiber, “this is not a bad thing. This is good.”

  Tiber must have read the disbelief in Micah's eyes; he couldn't speak.

  “It is,” she affirmed, voice warm now, “Micah, you have a very high social conscience. Now that it's finally making itself felt we can help it along.”

  “Eva... I can't. It's... That's...”

  “Micah, I can't change the past. No one can. You can't stop what's already happened. But you can learn from it! You can change, Micah. You can change!”

  The sincerity and honesty with which she spoke helped Micah more than the words themselves.

  “Listen, soldier,” said Brumley, sounding like a drill sergeant, “The first time I killed someone I spewed so hard I couldn't eat for three days. It's only bad when you stop feeling it.”

  Micah managed a small smile.

  “Thank you. Both of you.”

  ***

  Over the next week Tiber spent most of the day with Micah. They went over his memories, then over them again. And again. All of them. What he'd done made Micah sick but they were his and they were a part of him. Tiber managed to give him a blessed sense of distance but Micah vowed never to let this distance grow too great.

  The day before Micah's release he had a visitor. Dale Jeffers, dressed in civ clothes. Jeffers refused to meet Micah's eyes.

  “They broke me, Micah.”

  Saying that cost Jeffers a great deal and shook Micah.

  “Dale...”

  “I couldn't do it. I tried. Bix and Paige, they wouldn't let me slide but...”

  Micah felt a sadness both for Jeffers and for himself.

  “What will you do now?”

  Jeffers shrugged.

  “I can transfer my enlistment to the Patrol.”

  Micah tried not to think 'crunchies.'

  “They'll transfer a lot of my training. We shouldn't have anything more than customs patrols or some anti-piracy missions. And rescues! I'll be saving lives.”