Starfist: Kingdom's Fury (11 page)

Claypoole got out his UPUD Mark III and examined it. Its infra display didn't show anything larger than a smallish dog within a kilometer of the platoon's position.

He called up the caves download from the string-of-pearls and saw they weren't in easy striking range of a known or suspected cave outlet either.

"Hold up," he said into his helmet comm. The platoon stopped, accordioning by squads as the squad leaders relayed the order to their men. Claypoole muttered, off circuit, about the stupidity of the Kingdomite high command in keeping comm units out of the hands of the troops. As if a small unit leader being able to communicate directly with all his men would promote heresy. "Assemble on me." He raised his helmet's chameleon shield and rolled up a sleeve so the soldiers could see where he was. He watched as they listlessly moved into a rough formation in front of him.

"You out of whatever excuse you've got for a mind, Corporal Rock?" MacIlargie asked on their private circuit. What he said might be insubordinate, but he said it with proper military courtesy.

"Shut up and cover my Six," Claypoole said on the same circuit.

"The platoon's assembled, Acting Second Acolyte," Priestly reported with a dull voice when the ranks were formed.

"Thank you, Second Acolyte." Claypoole nodded at the Kingdomite officer. To all he said, "Listen up. Rear rank, about face. Get into prone positions and keep watch. The rest of you, sit in place." When they did as he ordered, he moved close to the front rank so everybody could hear without him having to yell.

"Look at you," he began. The Kingdomites looked anywhere but at themselves.

"You call yourselves soldiers, but you look like a bunch of criminals headed for the gallows. I'll bet you think you're going to die today." The soldiers, even the prone watchers, seemed to fold in on themselves. "Well, let me tell you something. The Skinks can be beaten. I know that. Acting Platoon Sword MacIlargie and me, we were in the Swamp of Perdition when we killed more Skinks than we could count.

Sure, they killed a lot of Marines, but we got all of them." In fact, he wasn't sure all the Skinks in that battle had been killed, but that was beside the point. "We were out in the countryside, working with your defense garrisons. The defense garrisons, working with Marines, routinely beat the Skinks every time we fought them. We went onto Hymnal Hill and Heaven's Heights after the Skinks overran the high ground and we kicked them off it.

"Here's something else: a couple of years ago, Acting Platoon Sword MacIlargie and me, with the rest of third platoon, went to an uninhabited world called Society 437 to find out why the scientific mission there had stopped reporting. What we found was Skinks. Nobody had ever heard of them before. They had weapons we'd never heard of. They could do things nobody was supposed to be able to do; they could see us, somehow, in our chameleons, and they could breathe underwater. And they were fearless.

"You know what happened? I'll tell you what happened. We killed all of them.

They killed one of us. That's it, just one.

"Are you listening to me? Do you hear what I'm saying? I'm telling you that Acting Platoon Sword MacIlargie and I are accustomed to beating the Skinks every time we fight them. And I'm telling you that Kingdomite soldiers working with Confederation Marines also beat the Skinks."

"They wiped out an entire division on the heights," someone, Claypoole couldn't see who, said. "There were Marines with that division."

Damn! Claypoole had hoped nobody would mention that. "That's true," he agreed. "They did it because the 82nd Division was relying too much on surveillance devices the Skinks were able to get around, and the Skinks used all those buzz saws to cover their attack. They aren't going to do that to us. Now, let's find us some Skinks and kill them."

"Acting Second Acolyte?" A soldier looked at Claypoole, the first sign of attention he'd seen from the platoon. "Do you think it's possible the Lord will allow us victory?"

Claypoole looked at the soldier for a moment before replying. "I can't speak for the Lord," he finally said, "but a few good Marines insist on it." He looked about for other questions. A couple of soldiers seemed to be considering what he'd said and looked less dull, more ready. It wasn't much, but it was an improvement.

"On your feet, soldiers. We've got Skinks to find and kill."

When the Kingdomites reformed into their patrol formation, they were a bit less listless than before.

Claypoole wasn't the only Marine convinced he was on his terminal patrol that day. Corporal Doyle knew profoundly that he and everyone else was going to get killed on his patrol. He shook so badly he had trouble holding onto his blaster. He remembered vividly the heavy casualties 34th FIST had suffered in the Swamp of Perdition and was fully cognizant of the fact that only the strike by the FIST's Raptors had saved the infantry. He hadn't gone into any of the bunkers on Hymnal Hill, but he had on Heaven's Heights, and saw the Kingdomite soldiers the Skinks had killed there. And he knew the marsh was perfect Skink country. He was convinced that he and Corporal Kerr and Lance Corporal Schultz were going to die that day. The pending deaths of the soldiers from the Lancelot Guardians of the Faith whom the three Marines were leading didn't cross his mind; their fate was a foregone conclusion. Why had he let Gunny Bass talk him into becoming a blasterman instead of letting First Sergeant Myer court-martial him and send him to a nice, safe brig somewhere far, far away from the Skinks?

Doyle's conviction of impending death was so strong that, surprisingly, it saved his life.

Schultz, on the point in front of first squad as usual, even though he was nominally the platoon sergeant, froze and lowered himself to a knee in the muck. Behind him the platoon accordioned to a stop and the soldiers also lowered themselves, though they were reluctant to kneel in the water and muck. Schultz raised his shields and scanned the swamp with his naked eyes; he held down a shiver that wasn't caused by a chill. He sniffed the air and listened carefully, seeking whatever it was that made him stop. He stuck out his tongue and nervously tasted the air.

"What'cha got, Hammer?" Kerr asked over the Marine circuit from his position with second squad in the middle of the platoon column.

Schultz didn't notice the tremor in Kerr's voice. He sucked on his teeth to work up enough saliva to say one word: "Dunno." He kept searching with all his senses.

Closer to the rear of the column with third squad, Corporal Doyle, who was too distracted by thoughts of how he was going to die to pay attention to where he was going, tripped over a crouched soldier. He landed with a loud splash in a pool of standing water.

The sudden noise startled everyone, and they threw themselves down, ignoring the water and muck they landed in. Several of the startled soldiers, thinking they were under attack, fired their rifles. Those few shots set off the rest of them, and the entire platoon started firing randomly into the surrounding reed- and grasslike foliage.

Before Kerr could order the Kingdomites to cease fire, a streamer of greenish fluid shot over first squad. He gasped, momentarily stunned by their good fortune, then found his voice and shrilled out, "LEFT FRONT! FIRE! Second and third squads, hold your fire."

He fumbled for his UPUD, found it, gave the command for a real-time infra overlay of the close-up view of his position. During the seconds it took the string-of-pearls to process his request, locate the current data, and download it, he scanned what he could see of the action in front of him. The fire from first squad was wild, fléchette rounds chaotically ripping through the foliage, most of the shots too high—and the volume of outgoing fire was decreasing as screaming men were hit by the acid streams. Only the plasma bolts from Schultz's blaster were skimming the surface of the ground and water. Kerr saw a flash of light as a bolt hit a Skink. The UPUD shook in his hand. It took another second or so for him to realize the shaking in his hand was from the instrument, not his nerves. He looked at the display. The only red it showed in the platoon's vicinity was the red of the soldiers; either the UPUD was malfunctioning or the Skinks were disguising their already faint infra signals even more.

Now what should he do? He had no idea whether all of the Skinks were involved in the firefight or if there were more of them waiting patiently for other squads to move into their killing zone. He looked at the display again. It showed what might be a waterway that meandered toward the platoon, closing to about forty meters from first squad, within the fifty-meter range of the Skink acid guns. If the Skinks were in the waterway, it would explain why the string-of-pearls hadn't picked up any infra signals.

I'm a Marine, Kerr reminded himself. When in doubt, act decisively. He took a deep, shuddering breath and spoke into his helmet radio.

"Doyle, take second squad and move up to support first squad. Now." He heard a faint noise, but not an acknowledgment. "Doyle, do you hear me?"

"Second squad, move up and support first. Aye aye." Doyle's voice was high-pitched and squeaky.

"Do it. Third squad, stay in position until I reach you." He slithered backward, in the direction of third squad. He slid his infra shield into place and looked to the side.

He picked up the movement of man-size bodies—second squad moving forward to support first squad. He rose to his feet, turned about, and double-timed to third squad. "Come with me," he ordered, and led the way into the marsh to the side of the platoon's route.

The soldiers followed. None could have said whether they were more nervous because they were heading into battle or because they were following the disembodied arm Kerr exposed and held behind his back for them to see.

Corporal Doyle could easily tell where first squad was from the firing of their rifles. Fearfully, convinced that the Skinks were aiming at him and waiting their chance to shoot at any exposed skin, he slid his left sleeve up and used his bare arm to direct second squad into position.

"Fire as soon as you're in position," he said. He had to say it a second time because his voice caught in his throat the first time. In position himself, while he gratefully rolled his sleeve back down and sealed its join with his glove, he checked to see where the Kingdomite soldiers were firing. Most of them were shooting high.

Even he, who until this deployment had spent his entire Marine career as a clerk, knew their fire was thoroughly ineffective. Doyle worked his mouth to make saliva, cleared his throat, and tried to breathe slowly instead of hyperventilating.

"Low . . ." he squeaked. He cleared his throat again. "Lower your aim!" he shouted, little louder than a croak. He cleared his throat once more. "Lower your fire," he shouted more clearly. "Aim low! You're shooting over them."

The fléchette rounds began shredding foliage closer to ground and water level; the stalky plants that resembled reeds and grasses suffered more of the shredding.

Satisfied that most of the Kingdomites had adjusted their fire, he took a surface-skimming shot himself. His jaw dropped when he saw an answering flash.

"Great Buddha's balls," he whispered. If one random shot flared a Skink, they were probably densely massed. He started hyperventilating again.

Kerr stopped forty meters from the platoon's route and faced toward the waterway the UPUD had shown, where he suspected the Skinks were. He used his bare arm to signal the squad to line up on either side of him. As pale as their faces were, he was glad he had his chameleon shield down so they couldn't see the fear he was sure was on his face. He knew his soldiers were terrified, convinced they were going to be killed by the Skinks. He wondered what kept them from running.

He pitched his voice so every man in the squad could hear him and said, "We're going to hit them from the flank. Move fast. Walk, don't run, but move fast. Let's go." He stepped off and was relieved to see the Kingdomites move with him.

They didn't run, but walked briskly, passing to the left of second squad's flank in little more than a minute. Kerr shifted third squad farther to the left and resumed the advance. Twenty meters beyond, he saw a stream of greenish fluid arc toward first squad.

"FIRE!" he shouted, and sent three rapid plasma bolts where he thought the acid came from. Foliage shredded from the Kingdomite fléchettes, most of it low enough to be effective against a foe laying low. A bright flash answered one of Kerr's bolts.

"Keep moving," Kerr shouted. "Fire as you move. Fire low!" He spoke on his helmet radio's command circuit: "Doyle, get second squad up here with us. We're going through them." There was another flash as another of his bolts hit home.

Deeper into the foliage he saw another flash, a Skink hit by Schultz.

Third squad reached the streamlet. It was just wide enough to have a space in its middle that was clear of reeds. Kerr saw a few Skinks in that space, just enough of them showing above the surface of the slowly moving water for them to point and fire their acid guns.

"Halt and fire!" he ordered, then raised his blaster and flared the nearest Skink. He shifted aim and another flashed into vapor. Third squad fired wildly. Most of their shots missed visible Skinks, but few of their shots were too high. The surface of the water looked like it was being pelted by rain. The rain-battering increased to a storm as second squad moved up. Two more Skinks flared.

Suddenly aware of the attack from their flank, the surviving Skinks ducked under the surface.

"Keep shooting!" Kerr roared. Schultz led first squad up at a run and they added their fire into the streamlet. The water surface roiled with the fléchettes hitting it. Red stained the boiling water and steam rose where plasma bolts struck it.

After a moment Kerr ordered the platoon to cease fire and the shooting trailed off.

No streamers of acid broke the sudden stillness.

"Casualty report," Kerr said when he was sure the Skinks weren't going to counterattack immediately.

Second and third squads reported no injuries. First squad had three dead. The Kingdomite medic with them was struggling to save the lives of two others who'd been wounded by the acid.