Free Stone Blade by James Cox Page B

datafeed covered the tactical situation. The background mostly matched what Sanders had given. From the rest of the information Micah gathered that the Consortium had indeed managed an ambush. Either they were lucky or they had good intel; they managed to peg most of the League ships assigned to orbital bombardment. Those ships hadn't taken much damage, they'd only been delayed. The Corpsies launched massive missile swarms, followed them in and did what damage they could before leaving.
    Simple summary, thought Micah, the Consortium probably had the planet if they wanted it. A given. With a little time to consolidate the ground positions they'd be in excellent shape to keep the League from taking the world. As to the petition, well, Micah didn't worry about that. Not in his orders.
    Micah cleared the queries and located the mess hall. He'd see how League Naval rations compared to Caustik's.
    Upon entering the hall Micah almost turned and left, convinced he'd made a wrong turn. Instead of long, straight tables this room had small scattered ones. The tables had chairs instead of benches and wall holos to give it even more room. Only the fact that those present sat with military precision indicated the room's function.
    “Micah. Here. Join us.”
    Micah waved at Rigby. He drew his rations and sat at her table.
    “I tell you we got whacked,” said Norris Alberts, ComSpec, support squad, “Intelligence and luck my rosy pink duff. You'd think these high shiny boys could at least guard their own ships!”
    “Stow it, Alberts,” said Scully with the annoyance of many repetitions, “No plan survives first contact. We got firsted. We both know it happens.”
    Micah concentrated on his rations. They tasted even better than the ones he'd eaten dirtside! He couldn't even taste the soya!
    “So what d'you think, Stone,” asked Alberts.
    “Not my job. My orders were to take a fire base. Obviously we didn't.” Micah tried to stay diplomatic but he knew some of his disgust leaked through.
    “Obviosity,” replied Alberts, “We were just outed. Out-numbered, out-gunned, out-flanked, out-foxed...”
    “Fuse the teeth, Norris,” said Rigby with considerable irritation, “In case you missed the fact, Micah was the one who brought us the data about the armor flanking us. After he lost all of his unit and almost his CO.” She turned her smile on Micah. “I think he did a hades of a job. And he saved his L-T.”
    Micah half-smiled and looked down. After his lieutenant failed to contact or support, he thought traitorously.
    Alberts thought of something, thought better of it and fell silent. Dessert suddenly absorbed his attention. After a moment several others tried to start the conversation again.
    “So, Stone,” said Scully, “Tell us something about Caustik. Nobody's been there.”
    “Not much to tell,” shrugged Micah, “It's, well... It's like... Hm. It's not too cold but it's not too hot. Except on the equator. That's where the 113th trains. The atmosphere is mostly clean but there's still some work to be done.”
    Micah covered a few general points about Caustik. He felt uncomfortable talking much about his military training so he kept away from that.
    “So tell us about this TAS,” prompted Rigby when Micah stopped speaking.
    “113th Tactical Assault Squadron,” corrected Micah, “We do the things the other crunchies can't. That's pretty much it.”
    “That's not saying much,” smiled Rigby, “Surely there's more than that.”
    Micah tried to think around his forming headache. Dessert too rich, he decided.
    “Leave over, Tats. He's not interested in you anyway.”
    Micah looked sharply at the speaker. His tag read 'Oslov' and he'd scowled at Micah since he first joined them.
    “Besides,” continued Oslov, “I can tell you all about Caustik Ass-Troopers. First of all it really means Terror and Atrocity Squads. That's what they do. They get all the dirty little jobbies nobody else wants.”
    Micah scowled back