Stone Blade (26 page)

Micah turned the gain on the thermal sensors to full. The landscape below hashed into meaninglessness but after a moment he found what he sought. Per request the captain fired Micah last; he intended to keep an eye on Kidwell. What she hadn't said but Micah knew was that she had a terrible fear of meteoric drops. So far she had it under control.

Micah guided his 'chute toward the beach he'd marked for his own. There was nothing thermal other than water and land and it lay within a not-long journey to a nearby town. He had a pulse from Ferrel and Kidwell as soon as they landed.

Micah hit and rolled, gathering the 'chute and scanning the zone even before he gained his feet. Nothing. He sent a pulse to the others and began divesting himself of drop gear and destroying it.

Micah crept up on Kidwell's position. He saw no sign so she'd destroyed her gear. A quick glance through thermal pinpointed her.

“Meteor!” whispered Micah emphatically.

“Feces! Micah?” Then when he didn't answer. “Meteor down. Burnit.”

“That wasn't so bad, was it? Do you still have it?”

“Yes and yes. Here. You can hold it 'till I get a chance to stuff it up your shiny duff!”

“You hurt or broken?”

“No.” Kidwell took a breath. “Thanks, Micah.” A quick squeeze on his arm.

Before long they stood watching the light traffic on the road leading into town. When they passed by a light Micah stopped.

“Here,” he said, giving Kidwell the other package.

She looked at him suspiciously as she opened it, then grinned as wide as he'd ever seen her. She looked at the silver meteor, winked at Micah and put it away.

Micah sat back on the hard bench, dutifully reading his Writ. A moderate crowd bustled around him, mostly waiting for the next tran. Off to one side Kidwell hovered around a public holovee, monitoring the latest news and reading the crowd. The tran pulled into the station announced by the sound of heavy-duty electromagnetics. Ferrel should already be aboard. Micah verified this with a quick glance at his chrono and he and Kidwell boarded. They found Ferrel in the dining car just finishing a likely-bland meal. Micah and Kidwell took a table and placed an order. In five days they'd be in Unity but until then they'd not speak to Ferrel.

***

Velvert paged through his latest report from Morr. Though unquestioning and obedient, Morr was also far from being a mental giant. Though this suited him for Velvert's tasks it tended to make his reports long and overly-detailed. Still, Velvert gleaned a not-small trove of information from Morr and his other sources. The choicest selections, and those concerning the Firsts he passed along to Frond but he kept certain tidbits for himself. He still thought Frond ill-advised to move against the League but the man refused to sway. With most attention diverted elsewhere, though, Velvert managed to gather vast amounts of useful information from otherwise careful targets.

Velvert dismissed reports of League ships withdrawing to distant orbit. The Firsts grudgingly conceded a few minor points and Ramsey ordered the close orbits cleared. Petty maneuverings. More important to Velvert: reports of several minor incidents in Anathema the afternoon of the League arrests.

Velvert questioned the six Brethren extensively. Fearing and receiving a penance to turn a solicitor's heart they recounted every detail of their chase. Hoodlum attacks against uniformed Brethren weren't common and non-uniformed constables normally avoided the low parts of Anathema. Still, Velvert suspected.

He traced the unlikely quarry to a hostel near one of Unity's tran stations but there the trail ended. Glory in the Light had no record of them, which surprised Velvert not at all. No, these two were League spies. Of that he was certain. Also certain was that they hadn't left. Whether they grounded in Anathema or elsewhere mattered little, they were still on the planet. The only thing Velvert lacked was their objective and he had some shrewd guesses about that.

Velvert refined his criteria and re-sifted his information concerning the League scum. Even if he didn't know their objective he could prepare. They would not find his preparations to their liking.

***

Micah regarded the other two. They sat in the common room of the small house they found near the low part of town.

“The crowds are pretty worked up,” said Kidwell, “Besides the usual fervor they want the League off the planet completely. It wasn't this bad when we left, so someone's whipping.”

“Any chance of finding them,” asked Micah.

“Not really. Not the ones we want. It doesn't take much to get a fanatic excited and you can bet your last that someone in the Circle or near it has a list. Then a simple conversation or two and a few days and you have instant mob-starter.” Kidwell reached for a nibbler. “Simple, effective and untraceable.”

“Counter-whips?”

“We don't have the list. Besides, with anti-League sentiment running the way it is they'd be massacred.”

“So we stick to the plan,” said Ferrel, “You sure you don't want me tonight, Micah?”

“Positive. What I'm doing only needs muscle and I've got that.” He grinned wickedly at Ferrel. “You two have the real work and I don't want any of that!”

Micah hadn't exaggerated much. While his job did require mostly muscle it had enough subtlety to make him uncomfortable. He made his way to the back entrance of the bar Loglain hadn't visited for at least three nights. Though Micah didn't know the man's exact rate of consumption, vinostim acted quickly once addiction set in. Discreet inquiries verified that no other place in Unity dispensed it. Micah suspected Loglain had some influence over that ruling.

Though the hour was late the bar hadn't closed and that figured importantly in Micah's plan. He balanced the risk of breaking into a business in operation against the looser security. Through judicious use of Ferrel's spider Micah located the building's storage rooms and their likely relationship to the back entrance.

Bypassing the alarm on the door took Micah longer than it would Ferrel but he still did it quickly. Inside the room Micah crept to the appropriate door, picked the lock and let himself into the storeroom. With a careful ear to the bar-ward door Micah searched the barrels, boxes and racks until he found what he wanted. Micah opened the box carefully; inside, nestled within the spongy packing material, lay three large bottles of 'prime stim from Humble Piety.' A dent in the material showed where a fourth bottle once rested. Micah inserted a tracking pin into the wood where it would not be seen.

Micah wandered around the room planting somewhat-larger but still easily hidden devices. As he finished Micah heard the key rattle in the bar door. Moving quickly Micah left through the other door, locked it and retraced his steps to his entrance. He re-locked the door and activated the alarm, with a slight modification.

Back at the house Micah paced. Kidwell and Ferrel hadn't returned. Not that they should have but Micah felt a twinge of anxiety. He considered blipping them, again, and decided against it. Again. Finally the door opened and they stepped through.

“Six-sigma,” said Ferrel, “We are prepared!”

***

The next morning they rose early and attended Matins at a nearby congregational. Apart from more martial hymns and a more militant message it differed little from what Micah remembered.

Micah spent most of the day splitting his attention between the Dome of the Circle, from whence information flowed, and Loglain's residence. The officials Micah saw moved purposefully between the buildings comprising the Dome complex. As they passed and noticed people they raised hands in benediction, their minds obviously set on other things. Micah took careful note of the crowd, its tensions, and its overall mood.

Back at the house Kidwell handed Micah a paper flyer. 

“Good work,” said Micah, meaning it, “Do you think they'll appreciate our efforts on their part?”

“Doubtful,” grinned Kidwell, “I just hope we do.”

Micah returned her grin. Among certain segments of the population thirst motivated more easily than greed.

***

“Rough crowds today,” said Ferrel. He arrived just before full dark. “It seems a great number of brawny laborers and hard-working folk are gathering.”

“Indeed,” replied Kidwell, “Shall we join them?”

Micah and Ferrel milled around the edge of the crowd at the bar. Most of the folk there, laborers from the businesses Ferrel and Kidwell targeted, kept a jovial mood. On learning of the party he was to host the saloon's owner produced what consumables he didn't mind giving away. Predictably, the crowd grew as word spread. Micah and Ferrel worked their way inside.

Chaos, but good-intentioned! The barkeep explained while handing out bottles and filling steins that the owner had not, in fact, announced an anti-League party for this evening. Yes, he'd seen the fliers and yes, that was his picture. Yes, that did look like his hand-written invitation - Ferrel grinned upon hearing that - but no, he hadn't published them. Most of the customers accepted this and paid but Micah heard some surliness. The holovees blared out news from the Dome and ragged cheers greeted each reiteration of some stale bit of news.

Close to midnight the owner had enough. After an evening of losing money he was in no mood to stay open late and continue it. The crowd, though, grew and grew. The lower-than-usual prices led many to overindulge and the mood, while still merry, balanced on a razor's edge.

“Not right, I tell'ee,” slurred Micah to a table full of jolly men, “We should be celebratin', we should! Shouldn't oughta be spendin' here. They said it's free!”

“Jolly right, brother,” said one of the men, not in the least inclined toward action.

“Not right!” Micah held their attention while Ferrel maneuvered in the crowd behind them.

“Whoof!” A man-shaped slab of solid muscle, assisted by a strategically-placed foot, crashed into the table. The table cracked and collapsed and scattered glasses and liquor about.

“Hey now!” While staggering back to avoid the splash Micah managed to slam into two others and douse a third with his ale.

“Watch yerself!”

The men at the table took exception to having their drinks spilled. They pulled the offending missile to his feet and heaped insults upon him. The men Micah jostled reacted similarly and before the bar's bouncer, a man far too small to handle the crowd tonight, arrived the punches started flying. Micah dodged one attacker drunkenly and guided him into an unsuspecting back.

The fight spread swiftly. Micah incited several patrons to fisticuffs without himself taking a punch. Inebriated and full of energy, the crowd started rumbling. Micah heard the barkeep yelling for order and then for the Brethren. He worked his way toward the door, starting several more brawls on the way.

The crowd outside still tried to work its way inward. Rumors flew faster than facts and Micah decided to add hydrogen to the reactor.

“He's a 'postate, he is,” burbled Micah truculently, “Said he's a Leaguer, he did!”

Someone nearby took offense to Micah's words. Micah left that rapidly-spreading fight for another part of the crowd. Before long he spotted what he expected. He raised his chrono and blipped Ferrel and Kidwell.

“Hold. HOLD, apostates!” Six Brethren waded into the crowd with stunclubs swinging. The constables cared little for being grossly outnumbered since a drunken fist held little opposition to a stunstick. Micah began evening the odds. He knocked the wind out of two careless Brethren when a third caught him.

“Peace, brother,” bellowed Micah as he deftly avoided the club, “I've done nothing!”

The Brother made a tactical mistake. He'd jolted several others before Micah but they  didn't drop. Aided by the rest of the crowd they decided to vent their anger. They took the constable from behind.

The last three Brethren realized their situation and backed into a defensive posture. One of them signaled desperately for assistance. Micah worked on his escape as the crowd turned even nastier.

Micah didn't hear the charges detonate but he saw the smoke rolling out of the building. The crowd noise increased as frantic patrons inside tried to escape the perceived fire. The flames wouldn't spread, Micah planted the charges carefully, but the billows of smoke threatened exactly that.

With both a riot and a panic in full force Micah lost himself in the chaos and made for the rendezvous point. He found both Kidwell and Ferrel waiting. Ferrel nursed a bloody nose and a black eye.

“Vera?”

“Got it.” She indicated a box at her feet. “It's heavy, too. One of you
will
carry this for me. I grabbed two plus some sip size. They were there and we might find a use for 'em.”

Micah nodded. “Charlie?”

Ferrel fixed Micah with a gaze worthy of envy. “Next time you start the riot all by yourself, pucko. This is not amusing.”

Micah very carefully didn't smile. “Then let's get back and take care of it.”

Chapter 13. The Silken Sledgehammer

The riot rated a mention in the next day's newsmods. Not a large one since few Unitites considered incidents in lowtown newsworthy but a mention nonetheless. Micah and Ferrel spent most of the day observing Loglain's residence and its residents as closely as possible. They knew they'd be acting before long, just not when. Kidwell joined them before nightfall with interesting news.

“They've detected the C-group. It's well outside their last orbit but they know how fast it can be here. The crowds are starting to schism.” Kidwell smiled knowingly. “Some of the more moderate ones seem to think maybe the arrest wasn't a good idea. Even the extremists are splitting. Mostly after they got a look at the cruiser.”

Micah nodded. The
Resolution
-class cruiser's primary job was eliminating opposing forces in orbit and outward and then raining destruction and devastation on any enemies below orbit. They did their jobs well.

“Any other progress,” asked Micah.

“Militants and militant extremists want immediate attack along with execution of all League vermin on the planet.” Kidwell frowned at this. “I hope Ramsey's as good as his rep. It's a flaming hot kettle he's stirring. Any ideas about phase 2?”