his vision he saw a crunchy raise something to its shoulder. The pile of rubble next to Micah exploded and he'd barely hit the ground when a second and much larger explosion pounded him against the it. Micah grayed out.
When Micah came to his senses he hurt in at least ten thousand places and the terrain around him had vanished. He'd obviously not hit the tank's fusion but its ammo supply. Micah felt sure he was alive. Time to leave.
“Lieutenant Sanders.” Micah's voice sounded weak, even to him. “L-T! Respond, sir.”
Micah staggered to Sanders' cover. Several of the man-shapes on the ground moved and Micah blasted them without thinking. In the distance he saw more approaching but he'd worry about that if and when.
Micah found Sanders buried and less than half coherent. The bottom half of one leg stayed in place when Micah pulled him free. Micah ratcheted the tourniquet tight and hit Sanders' saviorband. The man gibbered and showed no sign of rationality. At least he didn't resist Micah's efforts to move him along.
Plasma and blast bolts spatted around Micah. He thumbed his hud to the alternate channel and placed the League forces in relation to himself. At least he could warn them.
Chapter 4. The Reward
Once away from the line Micah concentrated on making speed. Rumbles and explosions behind meant the Corpsie meat didn't see them leave. Micah grinned. Give him a few spiders and a smart inferno...
As well wish for an orbital strike. Of which there had been none.
Two shapes in the haze turned into League troopies with weapons aimed and ready.
“Halt and identify!” snapped one.
“Stone. Micah J. Alpha Nexus 1459. TAS 113, Commonwealth of Caustik,” replied Micah impatiently, “Where is your commander?”
“Sir?”
“There's a full flaming column of Corpse meat back there, crunchy,” growled Micah, “They're coming this way fast!”
After a moment they directed Micah to their command post. Micah found two lieutenants and a captain, all in a frantic state. One of the lieutenants wore Navy tabs.
“Sir...” began Micah.
“Medic!” called a lieutenant, on seeing Micah's burden.
Two corpsmen took charge of Sanders and another began scanning Micah.
“Sir...”
“Easy son,” said the medic, “He'll be fine and so will you. Now sit down, please.”
“SIR!!” barked Micah, totally out of patience.
The captain glared but at least Micah had his attention. With as few words as possible Micah explained his situation. He squirted his data into their battlecomp.
“Bloody rut,” swore the captain, “They have us boxed!”
Micah examined the terrain.
“Sir, what about an orbital strike?”
“Negative, soldier,” said the Navy officer.
“But...”
“At ease, Mister,” said the Captain, “We are waiting for orders.”
Micah glanced at the battlecomp.
“Sir. Here, here and here the lines seem weak. With a few soldiers and some ordnance you could easily...”
“Belay that, Mister! That's an order!” That brought the captain to his feet. “You will join the third platoon. You will comply with this medic's orders when you get there and you will place yourself under the platoon commander. These are also orders! Do you understand them?”
Micah snapped to attention and saluted. “Yes sir.”
The League gave priority to evacuating wounded and they had ample opportunities to apply it. Captain Dalion, who gave Micah his orders, he learned, ordered the wounded aboard what cans he had and sent them back escorted by his light armor. The rest of the troopies covered the pullout and waited.
Micah saw Sanders before he left. He still gibbered, sedated, but Micah spoke a few reassuring words. He also managed to snag Sanders' spare Flame and ammo. Micah had a feeling he'd need them more than Sanders would. As Micah left the medic eyed him suspiciously.
“Let me scan you, soldier.”
“Sir?” said Micah.
“Don't play dumb with me, boy. Drop that armor and let me scan
When Micah came to his senses he hurt in at least ten thousand places and the terrain around him had vanished. He'd obviously not hit the tank's fusion but its ammo supply. Micah felt sure he was alive. Time to leave.
“Lieutenant Sanders.” Micah's voice sounded weak, even to him. “L-T! Respond, sir.”
Micah staggered to Sanders' cover. Several of the man-shapes on the ground moved and Micah blasted them without thinking. In the distance he saw more approaching but he'd worry about that if and when.
Micah found Sanders buried and less than half coherent. The bottom half of one leg stayed in place when Micah pulled him free. Micah ratcheted the tourniquet tight and hit Sanders' saviorband. The man gibbered and showed no sign of rationality. At least he didn't resist Micah's efforts to move him along.
Plasma and blast bolts spatted around Micah. He thumbed his hud to the alternate channel and placed the League forces in relation to himself. At least he could warn them.
Chapter 4. The Reward
Once away from the line Micah concentrated on making speed. Rumbles and explosions behind meant the Corpsie meat didn't see them leave. Micah grinned. Give him a few spiders and a smart inferno...
As well wish for an orbital strike. Of which there had been none.
Two shapes in the haze turned into League troopies with weapons aimed and ready.
“Halt and identify!” snapped one.
“Stone. Micah J. Alpha Nexus 1459. TAS 113, Commonwealth of Caustik,” replied Micah impatiently, “Where is your commander?”
“Sir?”
“There's a full flaming column of Corpse meat back there, crunchy,” growled Micah, “They're coming this way fast!”
After a moment they directed Micah to their command post. Micah found two lieutenants and a captain, all in a frantic state. One of the lieutenants wore Navy tabs.
“Sir...” began Micah.
“Medic!” called a lieutenant, on seeing Micah's burden.
Two corpsmen took charge of Sanders and another began scanning Micah.
“Sir...”
“Easy son,” said the medic, “He'll be fine and so will you. Now sit down, please.”
“SIR!!” barked Micah, totally out of patience.
The captain glared but at least Micah had his attention. With as few words as possible Micah explained his situation. He squirted his data into their battlecomp.
“Bloody rut,” swore the captain, “They have us boxed!”
Micah examined the terrain.
“Sir, what about an orbital strike?”
“Negative, soldier,” said the Navy officer.
“But...”
“At ease, Mister,” said the Captain, “We are waiting for orders.”
Micah glanced at the battlecomp.
“Sir. Here, here and here the lines seem weak. With a few soldiers and some ordnance you could easily...”
“Belay that, Mister! That's an order!” That brought the captain to his feet. “You will join the third platoon. You will comply with this medic's orders when you get there and you will place yourself under the platoon commander. These are also orders! Do you understand them?”
Micah snapped to attention and saluted. “Yes sir.”
The League gave priority to evacuating wounded and they had ample opportunities to apply it. Captain Dalion, who gave Micah his orders, he learned, ordered the wounded aboard what cans he had and sent them back escorted by his light armor. The rest of the troopies covered the pullout and waited.
Micah saw Sanders before he left. He still gibbered, sedated, but Micah spoke a few reassuring words. He also managed to snag Sanders' spare Flame and ammo. Micah had a feeling he'd need them more than Sanders would. As Micah left the medic eyed him suspiciously.
“Let me scan you, soldier.”
“Sir?” said Micah.
“Don't play dumb with me, boy. Drop that armor and let me scan
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