Stone Blade

By James Matt Cox

After Micah Stone loses a fight with three thugs higher in his homeworld's social order he becomes a military man. First he serves on his homeworld until a cowardly commander orders him kicked out rather than face his own lack of honor. Next he joins the League Drop Marines where he learns the horrible truth about his former unit: it is dirty and it routinely commits atrocities no civilized society would condone or tolerate. Next Micah turns a blind-side surprise attack against the League forces on the protected world of Ceto into victory by leading the remnants of his unit to decimate an enemy starport. The League deems this too costly a victory and Micah ends up in a world of deadly shadows and unseen foes. Now he must face an entire planet full of enemies, rescue a group of hostages and save the lives of himself and his two friends or face a fate too horrible to contemplate!

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Matt Cox
• Release date: Jul 12, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310017575

James Matt Cox

James Matthew Cox Jr. was born in Texarkana Arkansas and he lives there today. His parents encouraged him to read and to enjoy it at a very early age. His father made certain he gained an appreciation for science fiction. His childhood heroes had names like Asimov, Bradbury and E. E. Smith. After graduating high school he earned a Bachelor's degree in computer science and a Master's degree in mathematics. He worked 25+ years as a math/CSCI instructor and recently added 'Open-Source Java Developer' to his resume. During all those years he continued to enjoy science fiction, both reading and writing, and finally decided to DO something about it.

Book preview

Stone Blade

by James Matt Cox

The story presented here is fiction.

Any similarity to any person, group or entity living, dead or virtual is purely coincidental.

Version Code: 201002

Copyright 2013 by James M. Cox, Jr.

Smashwords Edition

Cover Art by: www.viladesign.net

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Books by James Matt Cox

A Pattern of Details

The Dungeon Crawl Unlimited fantasy RPG system

Open Source Tools for Independent Authors

Vortex Portal

----------

The Children of Wisdom

The Dawn of Wisdom; Beyond Wisdom; Flashes of Wisdom

----------

Books in the Stone Blade series:

Stone Blade; Double Bait

The Radical Factor; The Burning Crown

Expedient Measures; Lethal Max

The Border Incident; The Blatant Prey

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The Moons of Epigaea

Sage's Moon; Reaper's Moon; Hallow's Moon; Planter's Moon

This book is dedicated to Kat and Jim Cox;

My mother: who taught me to love reading at an early age,

My father: who taught me to love science fiction at an early age.

- - - - -

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

-The First Amendment to the

Constitution of the United States of America

Chapter 1. An Ordinary Day

Micah Stone frowned at the complex fractal shape hovering before him. He moved his fingers minutely, just enough for the complex machinery in his terminal gloves to detect. The figures changed subtly and Micah knew the data were ready to go. He allowed himself a small, tight smile of satisfaction. He didn't know precisely what the data represented nor did he particularly care. He could, if he desired, investigate the cusps more closely or key in a query on his datapad but that prospect interested him not in the least.

Pulling his hands out of the gloves and removing the holovisor Micah took a deep breath and stretched his arms and shoulders. None of the others in the office spared him much attention. Most of them deliberately so. Bad enough that he had the fine motor skills and mental flexibility to use a dex at almost full gain, Micah also earned his co-workers' contempt by his Status. Or by his lack of it.

Not that it mattered now. At first Micah entertained visions of using his job, not one usually taken by lowcarders, to gain more Status for himself and his family. Now he knew better.

Originally settled near the end of the Terran Imperium Caustik was a marginal colony at best. During the years of the Collapse and the chaos of the Interim afterward most of Terra's old colonies had to fend for themselves. All too often they regressed, dwindled and ultimately died. Not so Caustik. The ad hoc 'default' government instituted a priority system for utilizing the planet's meager and tainted resources. No doubt it helped Caustik survive the interim, if not thrive, but by the time the erstwhile colonists had the planet mostly detoxified the priority system was too firmly entrenched to go away on its own.

Now a proud member of the New Stars Sovereign System States Trade League, Caustik held its Status system dear. At least the highcarders who controlled and profited by it did. That left little room for Micah and other lowcarders like him to aspire to something better.

Shaking away his black mood Micah checked the time. Not long enough to start a new correlation and barely enough to fully service and clean his terminals. Micah powered down and took out the cleaning tools.

Stone.

The voice belonged to Donald Adamson, Micah's supervisor. A man of little ability, no competence and just enough Status to keep him his job.

Sir, replied Micah.

I want this month's summaries done before you leave.

What? The word slipped out of Micah's mouth before he could stop it. Most of the others in the office already had their gear packed and chatted about what they planned for the coming long weekend.

I said I want this month's summaries and estimates before you leave. Reprimand.

Micah bit down on his anger this time. Several of the others tittered and began talking in cabalistic whispers. Adamson hovered over Micah silently daring him to earn another reprimand. That hurt. Today was payday and this reprimand would take a chunk out of Micah's already meager paychit.

Adamson left when Micah powered up his terminals. As to himself Micah let the fury boil within him. Adamson wasn't stupid enough to give Micah enough reprimands to get him fired, he out-produced all the others in Adamson's division combined, but he knew to a credit just how much he could shave off Micah's chit up to that point. Nor could Micah request a transfer. His only route was through Adamson and that reprimand hurt too.

Five minutes before quitting time Micah had the office to himself. He started the routines to gather the summary information and they just took time to run. When they completed he could begin the slow task of massaging the data into proper shape.

Well hey there, darlin'.

Micah felt a blush starting as Jennifer Harling walked into the room with her cleaning unit dutifully following her.

Hi Jenn.

They attended school together, nothing more, until Micah ended up working in the offices she cleaned. Jennifer started the automatics, swayed up to his desk, sat by the terminal and propped her legs on his chair arm. Across him.

Working late?

Y-yeah. Summaries.

Jennifer shifted and settled herself with a good rub against Micah. She'd always been a friendly flirt. Most of her classmates vied for her attention but none received them. The first time she met Micah working late she behaved no differently. Then, when she saw the effect it had on him, she began working it into an art.

I'm sorry, darlin', she said sincerely. But no bad without some good. She reached out and ran her fingers down Micah's arm. I'll have you all to myself, sweetness. All night long.

That produced the desired result. Micah blushed full and bright. Jennifer squeezed his hand.

Don't you dare leave without me.

Micah's terminal chose that moment to beep, saving his frazzled brain from the need to reply. Still smiling Jennifer rose, tousled Micah's hair and left him to his work.

***

Micah's fingers quivered just short of a cramp. He knew how to produce summaries with maximum efficiency but he usually didn't face them after a full day at work. Finally, though, he had the last fractal shaped. He saved the results, priority-coded them for immediate backup and disengaged himself from the terminal.

Well indeed, sweetness. I'm glad you didn't run away. Jennifer reclined at his desk with her feet propped up looking at him. I wondered if you were ever going to finish. She smiled and shifted her legs. For maximum show.

Uhh...

Before Micah could complete that thought Jennifer rose and moved behind him. She took his shoulders and began massaging them. Micah relaxed as the tension drained from him.

Better, darlin'. Now. What were your plans for the evening? I hope you weren't planning to spend it all alone.

I've... I have work. Studying.

She chuckled warmly and honestly.

"And waste a perfectly good payday? Lethal Max III is starting tonight and I really don't want to watch it all by myself."

Jennifer's words and their implication froze Micah's thoughts. She smiled with no apparent awareness that she'd just capsized the world under his feet.

Uh... Would... Would you like... Micah tried to force out the words.

Yes, she said simply. I very much would. Shall we?

***

Outside the building Jennifer lit a drugstick and took Micah's arm. She didn't sway, that she saved for when she had him cornered, but she did occasionally run her fingers along his. They stopped long enough to pick up their paychits. Micah noted the reprimand and with it an unexpected bonus of overtime. Apparently Adamson miscalculated and Micah actually received credit for working late.

Slaggies. Jennifer dropped the chit into her bag casually. At least I got some over, too. Guess I took too long cleaning those offices.

That's not good, said Micah.

What are they gonna do, fire me? Jennifer tilted her head at the building behind them. That's a stipe anyway. If I lost it they'd just give me another one.

Micah puzzled over this. Stipend jobs, usually menial nasty makeworks, ordinarily fell to those with criminal cards, zero Status or no useful skills whatsoever.

Insubordination, said Jennifer, reading Micah's expression. My supervisor, Status 5 and mean, wanted to torque me. I said no. The bastard managed to bar me.

Jennifer looked away but Micah still caught a twinge of anger and resignation.

I'm sorry.

She looked back and smiled.

That's why I like you, sweetness. You see more than just a pair of... Jennifer's smile widened and she pulled his eyes downward.

Micah's blush lasted until they reached the theater.

***

They settled in the middle back row. Micah ignored the holographic ads and trailers and concentrated on Jennifer who sat snuggled against him. He splurged on a large bag of popsoy and a pair of sodas. Now every time he put his hand into the bag Jennifer found an excuse to reach inside as well. She seemed to know when she had his attention and she took care to smile at him.

Halfway through the movie Micah found himself paying less and less attention to it. With the sodas gone and the popsoy only a memory, Jennifer moved even closer and somehow managed to maneuver Micah's arm around her. Much more fun than watching Arn Ironhand mow his way through the various villains plotting to subvert the League. Jennifer wore some soft, subtle perfume. When she settled her head on Micah's shoulder she captivated all of his interest.

The sudden, regular light reflected off Jennifer's face informed Micah the movie had finished. She turned to him, her face bare inches from his. She leaned in and kissed him, quickly and softly, and made to rise.

Let's go to the starport, she whispered.

Lips still tingling, he could only nod.

***

Off in the distance one of Caustik Down's myriad landing pads brightened. Then, slowly but with acceleration, a shining spark lifted toward the sky. After a few seconds came thunder that didn't stop and the small speck of light joined the others sparkling in the sky.

Micah sat with Jennifer on a conveniently secluded bench with a spectacular view of the port.

You know what I wish, asked Jennifer.

Tell me.

I wish they'd take me with them. Before she died my Gram used to bring me here. We'd have soyadogs and a lite and watch the ships take off. She always told me if I was a good girl they'd take me somewhere wonderful. Somewhere that wasn't here. She grew silent. Did you ever wish that?

Um... Not really. I used to wish I could do better. For my family. And my little brother.

That's so sweet. She snuggled closer. I like that. You never find it any more.

There was something else, too, said Micah. He pushed the words out before he could consider what he planned to say next.

Two wishes? Jennifer shifted around to look at him.

There was someone I really wanted a date with. Micah looked away and worked to calm himself.

Oh? She moved fractionally away.

Yeah. Her name's Jennifer. There. He said it. Micah finally managed to look back at her.

Blather, she said.

Truth, he countered.

She smiled, wider and brighter than the starport.

Well, indeed, Mister Micah Sweetness Stone. Why don't you lean over here and find out just how much Miss Jennifer wants that too?

Heart racing, Micah leaned over and pressed his lips against hers. Time slowed and a hot, tingling warmth flooded him. His brain worked furiously as it tried to record every detail and every nuance. Finally Jennifer pulled away.

Mmmm, she said. I think I like that.

Micah nodded.

But I'm not sure, she added impishly. I need more data.

After an eternity Jennifer scooted back.

I'm really enjoying this, she smiled, but I'd enjoy it a lot more somewhere private.

Uhh...

My billet's not far.

***

Micah walked with his mind full of nothing but Jennifer. He hadn't lied to her but he didn't consider his likelihoods very high. Apparently he was wrong. Jennifer didn't speak but she did occasionally look warmly at him. Micah suspected telepathy. They almost reached the tran station when his pleasant thoughts were rudely interrupted.

A hard shove to his back sent Micah sprawling. Jennifer stumbled but managed to keep her feet.

Well duff me doofy, said a voice Micah knew and loathed. What have we here?

As Micah stood Francis Adamson, Donald's son, stepped into the light along with Lom Michaels and Fred Karris, his inseperable friends.

Looks like a pair of prollies to me, said Karris.

Plus-plus, responded Adamson. No doubt planning to whelp a litter before sunup.

Michaels and Karris guffawed at this. Micah's first instinct was to back away and Jennifer's hand on his arm pulling him that way only made him feel better about it. The other three didn't seem inclined to let them go, though. As they moved an errant breeze blew toward Micah. He smelled cheap liquor and beneath it a sour, sweet odor. Turbo. Highly illegal and ruthlessly prosecuted for those without enough Status to avoid it yet sought nonetheless by those of high Status and low. Micah felt a hollowness in his gut. For him to smell the drug so strongly at distance meant the other three were juiced to the stem.

Michaels and Karris moved to flank Micah and Jennifer, cutting them off from the station. A sharp intake of breath told Micah that Jennifer smelled the drug too. With luck, thought Micah, he'd just take a beating and Jennifer could outrun the others while they thrashed him. He had no thought for the constables.

Get ready to run, whispered Micah softly.

What?

Jennifer paused and that cost her. Adamson darted forward and grabbed her arm roughly.

Nice, nice, nice little sluttie, said Adamson.

Micah thought to stop Adamson but Karris grabbed him from behind.

Mighty nice for prollie meat, continued Adamson.

Jennifer struggled but Adamson's grip, even without Turbo, was vise-strong. Chuckling, Adamson reached around her, got a handful of hair and pressed his face against hers. Micah tried to break away but Karris fisted him under the ribs.

Jennifer had some tricks of her own. Although Turbo masked pain enough of it inflicted suddenly would still hurt. Opening her mouth slightly she gave Adamson a brief instant to register the fact and react. Then she bit down as hard as she could. Adamson backed away with an almost feminine shriek and blood pouring down his chin.

"Whoreslut." Adamson slapped Jennifer as hard as he could.

Micah's vision blurred red and he lost awareness. Somehow in the surely-brief time since Adamson struck Jennifer Michaels decided to sit on the ground and hold his knee. Karris sat on Micah's other side trying feebly to rise. Micah kicked as hard as he could. Karris managed to get a hand between Micah's boot and his own face but something crunched and he flopped backward.

Adamson, meanwhile, worked to straighten himself from having Jennifer's foot planted where it would do a lot of good. But it didn't. The Turbo finally took effect and Micah could see by Adamson's glazed stare that he'd feel no pain any time soon. Jennifer kicked again and Adamson slapped it away, chuckling.

Micah charged Adamson and slam-tackled him as hard as he could. The unexpected direction of Micah's attack caught him unaware and his head bounced off the ground. Adamson shook his head, tried to rise and slid back.

***

"Micah. Micah."

Micah looked dumbly at Jennifer. She took his arm and tried to pull him toward the darkness. Blood trickled out her nose and mouth but she was still incredibly...

"Come on you ruddy stape. We have to leave. Now."

They didn't make three good steps before light exploded down on them.

"Freeze, zilchies. Do not move."

Micah spread his feet and held out his visibly-empty hands. Beside him Jennifer did the same.

You should have run, whispered Micah.

What? Jennifer sounded shocked. And leave you?

Shaddup, nubb.

Constables and medics arrived in amazingly short order. They frisked Micah and Jennifer roughly, then shackled them. With the adrenaline gone Micah discovered several bruises and sore spots he didn't remember getting. Several constables interviewed Adamson and Michaels without bothering to separate them while another tried to rouse Karris. Micah felt a faint hope as one of the medics approached him only to have it vanish as the man merely took a blood sample. He didn't speak or even look at them.

After a time two constables shoved Micah and Jennifer to the ground. Karris finally roused. A constable and a medic both took his statement.

You should have run, said Micah again.

They'd have ripped you to pieces. Besides, if you think for one second...

"I said quiet, you zilchies. One more word and it's resisting arrest."

Sir, please, said Jennifer softly. We didn't do anything.

Tell your solicitor, said the constable. And that's resisting.

After a few more minutes the constables shoved Micah and Jennifer into a hover. Jennifer somehow managed to work herself so she could take his hand. The constable driving might have said something but Micah ignored him completely.

***

Micah's trip to the Constabulary was a journey through hell. No one spoke to him save to order him to strip and then to hold still as they searched him. Thoroughly. Then they took more blood, his prints, his retinals and repeated the search. Finally, bereft of all dignity, he was thrust into a small, cold cell with a flimsy wraparound tossed in as an afterthought. The door slid shut and all sound vanished. The room had a rudimentary sink, no towels, a crude toilet and an unpadded shelf against the back wall. Micah washed his face and dried it on the robe. Then, too tired to sleep and aching from more than just the drubbing he took, he sat on the shelf and pulled the damp wrap over himself as best he could.

The sound of Micah's cell door opening woke him from a fitful rest. He was cold and sore and he assumed it must be the next day.

On your feet, prollie. Your solicitor's here. The constable acted as though speaking to Micah soiled her.

The woman escorted Micah to a room bare of furnishings save a table and two chairs. A rumpled man with a professionally preoccupied expression sat in one of these, attention buried in his terminal. Micah took the other chair uninvited.

Oliver Crump, said the man, not looking up. Stine, is it?

Stone, sir. Micah Stone.

Crump did look up at this and he did not look pleased.

I don't suppose you want to confess,

What?

Crump handed Micah a bundle of papers.

This isn't right, said Micah, after a brief perusal. They assaulted us. Jenn and I tried to leave but they grabbed us. Adamson was...

Mister Adamson, interrupted Crump. Or Seigneur Adamson, if you wish to be polite.

Adamson, continued Micah, was going to force himself on Jenn.

They told you this did they? No? Crump sighed and entered something on his terminal. Not guilty, then, but I advise against it. You're in enough trouble already, Stone.

But I'm not guilty of anything. I was defending myself. Besides, they were on turbo. They could have...

Crump snapped shut his terminal.

Stone, slandering your victims will not help your case. Keep that in mind.

But... Micah felt his heart drop to his feet. He should have known. Did know, in fact, but allowed a stupid hope to cloud it.

Crump rose, his detritus gathered.

Sir?

Crump looked at him.

Can I speak with my parents? Will you call them for me?

Crump pondered this a moment. Finally he dug out a stylus and pad.

Nothing to do with your crime, Stone, or I won't be able to pass it.

Micah wrote a moment, paused to consider something then wrote again. Crump took the pen and paper and summoned the guard to return Micah to his cell.

***

A time later another guard brought Micah from his cell. He shuffled into a line of others, most wearing bleak expressions, and the lot of them lock marched to a small open yard. Under the guards' watchful gaze the prisoners marched around the yard several times. Micah ventured a look up. Almost noon. He and his family should be having a picnic downriver of the billets. With Jennifer. That thought lasted him until a cloud smothered the sunlight.

After a few minutes of exercise the guards herded Micah and the rest into a cafeteria of sorts. Each received a small bowl of protein and vitamin paste, two slices of soyabread and a bulb of weak tea. The stuff had no flavor and Micah didn't linger over it. No one spoke.

Around early evening Micah repeated the walk-and-feed. After this meal he and the others marched to a long hallway. The other prisoners removed their wraps. Micah copied them nervously. As the line of men started down the corridor, jets of water sprayed from the ceiling and walls. The streams were freezing cold and scalding hot by turns and alternated with some strong cleanser. After the first of these Micah closed and covered his eyes. An automated rack at the end of the hallway dispensed degradable towels. Micah discovered just how quickly they disintegrated. Another rack dispensed wraps.

Back in his cell again Micah tried to sleep. He tried to have some hope, some justice, but none came. What Adamson the father couldn't do Adamson the son had. Micah tried to take some solace in the production his division would lose but he couldn't. Small though it was Micah's income helped his family. He supposed they'd survive without it but he saved as much as he could to send Deke to an upstatus school. Micah felt that hope fade too. He knew he'd be barred at the very least. Never mind his talent he'd receive a stipe somewhere. If Adamson had any say Micah's stipe would be nothing less than hellish.

The next day after noon feeding a scowling guard fetched Micah. Again without words the man escorted him to a small booth with a thick pane of glass and a vox. His parents sat on the other side, both looking upset.

Son. Micah. We were worried, said his father. He tried to say more but couldn't.

I'm all right, father. Bored, though. It's not really that bad.

The lie curdled Micah's tongue but his parents looked relieved.

What happened, son, asked his father.

He told them. His mother dabbed her eyes and his father nodded sadly.

I'm sorry, son. I tried to get you out. No solicitors over the holiday. Certainly none for us.

I have one, said Micah. I told him what happened.

Micah's father nodded. You know you've been charged.

"Lawrence."

It's all right, mother, I know. Mr. Crump explained it to me.

Time, said the guard.

Mother, Father, I love you. Tell Deke too.

We will, son.

Come on, prollie. I don't have all day.

Micah's last glimpse was of his mother holding back tears. And his father.

***

Micah saw Crump again the next morning. He missed early feed but that didn't bother him. Crump had a parcel that turned into a coverall and a pair of scuff shoes.

You're being arraigned today. Hurry up and change. The ombudsman doesn't like to be kept waiting.

The ombudsman might not like to wait, thought Micah, but he didn't mind if his cases did. Some long time after noon found Micah still in the waiting cell. Finally a bailiff came for him.

Micah hoped to see his family but the gallery held only a few disinterested people. The bailiff sat Micah none too gently next to Crump to await the ombudsman's attention.

40435-16, called the clerk. Commonwealth vs. Stone. Assault, multiple counts. Armed assault, multiple counts. Battery, multiple counts. What say ye?

Crump stood and motioned Micah to do likewise.

Honorable and esteemed sir, Mister Stone wishes to place himself at the mercy of the Commonwealth. He is remorseful for his actions and he wishes...

No. said Micah. I'm not guilty. I...

Rough hands grabbed Micah and he felt a hypo against his neck. His arms went flaccid and suddenly it took all of his concentration not to fall to the floor. He made his chair. Barely.

Honorable and esteemed sir, said Crump. Mister Stone spoke with the regrets of his actions clouding his judgment. I implore you toward lenience.

The ombudsman looked at his terminal and then the prosecution.

Honorable prosecution?

One of the men rose.

Most honorable and esteemed sir we, the humble representatives of the persons and aggrieved families of Francis Adamson, Lom Michaels and Fred Karris do wish to see justice done. These victims were maliciously used by this common criminal and we beseech you to confer upon him a punishment equal to the pain and suffering he so wrongly inflicted. We urge the maximum sentence, sir, and request that it be on the equatorial band.

Micah wanted to weep. Detoxifying the equatorial regions wasn't strictly necessary but the Commonwealth kept the program active for capital crimes and stipes worthy of such.

Micah waited for the ombudsman to pronounce sentence. He'd receive equatorial, of course. He had no idea what maximum sentence would be but whether one year or ten it would be for life. Modern medicine could cure most of the equatorial toxins but it required lengthy and expensive treatment. Treatment Micah had no delusions of affording.

Hear then our sentence, said the ombudsman. "Having reviewed the pertinent facts and taking cognizance of the perpetrator's plea we are inclined toward mercy. The perpetrator is hereby sentenced to three years' equatorial labor per offense. Half of the perpetrator's earnings shall be garnished to recompense our honorable citizens who were harmed by his actions.

Upon completion of his sentence the perpetrator is barred from service for a period of not less than ten years. The ombudsman seemed bored. In addition, for untimely and unwarranted disruption of our court the perpetrator is fined one thousand credits. So let the record show.

Numbness suffused Micah as the bailiff escorted him away. Equatorial. Micah knew he'd die there but for the ombudsman to fine him most of his savings... No doubt his life geld would go to Adamson and Deke would never afford a better school.

Crump glared coldly at Micah until the sedative wore off.

You didn't help, Stone. I could have gotten you off with ten plus ten, max but you had to disrupt the court. Ombudsmen don't like their courts disrupted.

But I'm not...

Be quiet, Stone. None of you are guilty. None of you are ever guilty. I've tried to arrange a meeting with your family but I doubt that will happen now.

Crump fiddled with his terminal.

Sir, said Micah, quieter now. Is there anything else to do?

Crump looked disgruntled at this.

If his honorable and esteemed sir is free at the end of the day and if he is still inclined toward mercy I may be able to sway your sentence to enlistment.

That comforted Micah very little. He toyed with the idea of enlisting after he graduated school. Military service elevated Status and had other benefits. Mister Carruthers stopped him. Rather, his stories had. Carruthers himself volunteered early and lived most of his life in service to the Commonwealth. More, being of low Status, he had given most of his life to the Commonwealth. Both legs, an arm, both eyes and most of his skin were artificial. Still, thought Micah, better than slow poisoning. He nodded.

***

The next day Micah's parents visited again.

We heard, son. Enlistment? Clearly Lawrence Stone remembered Carruthers' stories too.

It was that or equatorial, father. Micah shrugged. His parents nodded.

Young Jennifer called on us yesterday, said his mother.

That brightened Micah.

How is she?

Doing well. She says you still owe her some data.

Micah smiled, which puzzled his mother.

Adamson wasn't really interested in her, said his father. Just had her demoted to the port labor pool. We may share shifts, sometime.

She does seem nice, smiled his mother.

She is. Will you see she's well?

Of course, son. I'll tell her you asked. I think she'd have come if they let her.

Micah nodded.

Time, said the guard.

Chapter 2. Enlisted

Micah's trip to boot camp was a long ride in a hot, uncomfortable, crowded hoverbus. Several of the young men and women at the front talked with excitement but most of the others kept quiet. Micah sat at the back with another lowcarder who had a vacant stare and an impressive collection of recently-healed scars. Disinterestedly Micah watched what terrain he could see passing.

"Fall in, you worms."

The booming voice broke through the milling mass of people the hover disgorged.

I said fall in, you worms. Put your worthless worm feet on the white line, you worms.

Micah and the others hurried to comply. The source of the voice, an elemental force clad in an immaculate uniform, dogged the heels of the slowest ones.

Listen up, you worms. I am sergeant Williams, you worms. I am your mother, your father and your whole swine-raping family now, Do you understand, you worms?

Yes sir, spatted an anemic chorus.

Say what? I can't hear you!

"Yes sir." Louder this time and closer to unison.

Did you worms say something?

"Yes sir!"

Do not sir me, worms. I work for the commonwealth, may liberty reign.

Yes sir! vied with Yes sergeant! this time.

Williams strode up and down the line looking at each person like the worms he'd named them.

"I want you to know. I have never in my life seen such a worthless collection of worms, maggots and sewage-sucking vermin. Do you hear me?"

"Yes sergeant."

Williams gazed upon them a moment longer.

If you're the best this generation can do I feel sorry for your mommies. I feel sorry for your daddies. I feel sorry for all the worms you used to crawl around with, do you hear me?

"Yes Sergeant."

Micah almost grinned. This was straight off the holovee and nothing he hadn't expected. Perhaps, he thought, he'd not made a bad choice after all.

Fall out, you worms. Haul your worthless worm asses to the orientation center. That is the building right in front of your worthless worm faces.

Williams perused them a second more.

"I said move! Move, move, move, move..."

Micah and the others moved.

***

Micah lay back on his bunk not wanting to chat with his erstwhile roommates but not particularly avoiding it. Orientation was an ordeal of filling out forms, being inspected, being examined, being measured, getting uniforms and constantly being barraged by Williams or one of his ilk. When they moved they moved double-time and when they didn't move they stood at attention. The training staff had small yet stiff crops they used eagerly. More recruits than Micah bore small bruises.

Vacuum city, groaned Terry McRiddle from the upper bunk. Coming down.

McRiddle sat on his footlocker and faced Micah.

I know that motherless bottomfeeder said we don't have a past but nulling our Status? That reeks to orbit.

"Only if you got some to