Fairies, Trolls, and Staff Sergeant Maltin

     Staff Sergeant Walter "Walt" Maltin parked his battered

armored personnel carrier, known in the service as an APC, just

outside the force field of the underground prison designated

SPR-15. He hesitated over the controls, obviously nervous as he

squinted at the scanners for several moments then shut down all

power, to make the APC harder to detect. In a rush, he opened

the small door behind the pilot's compartment and ran for the

compound. He stopped just short of the force field and held up

his metallic ID card for the security cameras while his eyes

scanned the skies. The high-pitched whine and shimmer of the

field suddenly stopped and he moved forward. The field sprang up

again inches from the back of his head. He jumped forward and

glared at the camera.

     "Somebody's really jumpy," he mumbled to himself as he

trudged across the red sand to the front iris, no longer in

a hurry now that he'd reached the protective field. It had been

easier long ago when he could park inside the field, that was

until the day that a shipload of 18 trolls suddenly flowed out of

an Earth ship and overran Delta, just a few miles north, totally

wiping it out. The iris opened automatically and he hurried

through, not taking any chances.

     "Staff Sergeant Maltin for prisoner exchange," he said to the

room at large."

     "Be right up, Sergeant," a familiar voice called from around

him. Maltin sat on the battered wooden bench. He propped one

booted foot up on the bench and laid his rifle across his knee.

He proceeded to check his automatic weapon as he waited, although

he had checked it just a few hours earlier. He had always told

his men --- well they weren't his men any more, they were lead by

somebody else --- that you can never check or maintain your

weapon too much. There has never been a case in recorded history

where a rifle was worn out by over-cleaning it.

     With a slight smile, he removed the power cylinder, noted the

dull color, and slipped a new cylinder into the chamber just as

the Lieutenant appeared with the prisoner. Maltin sighed and

shook his head.

     "Lieutenant, can you explain why I always draw the women on

this detail?"

     The Lieutenant leaned against the worn counter and appeared

to be thinking for a moment, then nodded.

     "Just lucky, I guess."

     "Funny, sir, very funny."

     "The truth is, you get your prisoners to Alpha in one piece

and unmolested. In fact, they appear to arrive happier than when

they left. So, it's your bailiwick, Staff Sergeant."

     "Bahhh," Maltin said in apparent disgust, although he stood a

little taller as the prisoner approached. She was a 20 years old

black woman, stocky, but not fat or over-muscular. She had short

hair, a pleasant face, and a nice figure, despite the gray

uniform.

     "Well, Corporal, it looks like we'll be best friends for the

next week."

     "Private," she corrected automatically, without looking up.

     "You haven't been convicted yet, Corporal. Federated doesn't

bust soldiers without a courts-martial, even on this god-forsaken

planet."

     She looked up for the first time with the hint of a smile in

her eyes, until the Lieutenant came alongside and handed Maltin

the paperwork. Maltin stuck it under his arm without reading it.

     "Luck, Corporal," the Lieutenant said. "The way things are

shaping up it might be best to stay out of the action for a

while."

     "Things are that bad?" Maltin asked in concern.

     "The troll blockade is air tight. No ships even get close,

much less make it through their fleet. We have lost 50 percent

of our ground forces. I don't envy you, sergeant, I'm staying

behind my force field. It will take a blockbuster to get me out

of here. I wouldn't relish the idea of becoming the next meal

for an alien troll either."

     "Any word on how the 3rd is holding up?"

     "They were pounded only yesterday by 9-16's then trolls,

almost simultaneously. It's the first reports of the two

forces working together. I think the 3rd ended up scattered and

retreating, they may be disbanded. You might meet a few of them

at Alpha."

     "Sir, could I ask a favor?"

     "I know what you're going to say, Staff Sergeant. I'll miss

you."

     Maltin smiled as he realized his transfer back to the line

was being approved. He saluted briskly, then shook the extended

hand of the Lieutenant. Maltin took the Corporal by the elbow

and escorted her to the portal. The iris cycled open and they

stepped through.

They waited outside until the shimmering force field dropped,

then hurried through to the armored personnel carrier. Maltin

scanned the skies as he helped the prisoner into the narrow side

door. He closed the door quickly, hurried to the controls and

turned on the scanners. The skies were clear for at least 50

miles. With a sigh he turned and watched his prisoner strap in.

     "What's your name?" Maltin asked conversationally.

     "Corporal Paterson," she said in a surly mood.

     "Try again, Corporal."

     "Milicent, they call me Mili."

     "I'm Walt. Maltin if your uncomfortable with first names."

     "Rather informal," she said, looking at him suspiciously.

     "Why not, you can't escape because there is nowhere to go on

this damned planet except our bases or theirs. So let's come to

an understanding. As you know the skies are controlled by the

Rapizek and the ground by the 9-16's. Since those damned trolls

shoot down anything in the sky, we are stuck using this APC. It

will take us from three days to a week, we will undoubtedly come

under attack and I will need you to cover my back. So until we

get to Alpha, let's keep this very informal. We are just two

people trying to survive. Ok?"

     "Ok."

     "Good. Your weapons are in the compartment behind you.

Clean them and check them out. I will be inspecting them at our

next stop."

     Maltin activated the apu's and waited until they were up to

speed before activating the repulsor beams. The APC raised up on

the sixteen golden legs like an ungainly spider. Maltin shifted

into forward gear and the beams altered slightly, pushing them

forward.

     "Can you work a main gun?" he called over his shoulder.

     "Sure. I've been trained for an AA plasma battery, although

I never had a chance to man one," she said as she checked her

automatic weapon. "Maltin?"

     "Yeah?"

     "What's a 9-16? I've heard of the Rapizek, they look like

seven hundred pound hairless gorillas with troll ears, but I've

never heard of a 9-16."

     "Something new, they only started showing up a week ago. We

think they are purely mechanicals. They are saucer shaped,

except the front end is almost flat, like a windshield. They

have retractable tripods and move very fast. That's why they are

called 9-16's they travel at nine-sixteenth the speed of light.

Anything that travels faster than one half light speed, tends to

appear instantaneously. That's why everybody is so afraid of

them. The only weapon they've used so far is a sonic weapon that

works like a disrupter. It decays metal and melts flesh like a

microwave."

     "But a disrupter won't work in space," she said suddenly.

     "Smart girl. Yeah, they're specialized, they can only attack

ground troops and vehicles. Their weapons won't work against

space ships."

     "Are the trolls making them?"

     "No, they can't be. The average troll has an IQ of a three-

year-old child. No, there's another force at work here, somebody

we've never seen."

     "Oh God, what a mess," she said quietly.

     "God ain't in this war, honey. If he was we might be able to

leave this planet. As it is, without relief ships to get us off,

we will stay here until every last one of us is dead. Your only

option is to face up to death and choose to die proud. What's

your specialty?"

     "Computers, anti-aircraft computer maintenance and

programming. That's what got me into this mess," she said as

she came up and sat in the copilot's seat.

     "What's that?"

     "I have been charged with sabotage. They said I created a

computer virus that downed the Eastern front defenses for 30

seconds and killed an entire company."

     "Did you?"

     "No. I was trying to establish a satellite uplink to the

troll fleet so I could disable their weapons. Apparently a

backlash of alien script temporarily scrambled our own

programming. I'd give my right arm to read the data in my

computer right now on that alien script. I might be able to

disable their fleet."

     "How?"

     "All computers are basically the same. They are just a

series of on and off switches. Our own brains work the same way.

All I have to do is decipher their computer language and I can

control their computers. Now I'll never have the chance."

     "Damned," Maltin swore softly.

     "Well, its somebody elseþs problem now," she said as she laid

her rifle on the console beside her.

     "You haven't been listening, have you?"

     "About what?"

     "We have been stranded on this planet for 8 months. In that

time we have lost 50 percent of our forces. With fewer people to

fight, our forces will continue to decrease exponentially. You'd

have to be a real cynic to believe that any of us will last out

the month."

     "Maltin, what's that," she pointed a finger at the scanners.

Maltin squinted at the screen until his eyes widened in horror.

     "Shoot the son-of-a-bitch, Mili, it's a 9-16!"

     Mili grabbed the gun yoke and swiveled the barrels around to

line up the red cross hairs on the saucer. She was a moment too

late. The scream of the 9-16 started a second before she fired

and grabbed her ears screaming. The target exploded, but the APC

crashed to the ground as every component inside it suddenly aged

and deteriorated. They bounced from side to side as the APC

rolled down a small hill and broke wide open, spilling them and

their gear, out on the ground. Maltin struggled to his feet,

grabbed up his automatic rifle and hunched down, looking for a

target. The smoking pile of rubble told the story.

     "Good shooting, Mili. With a little more experience you'll

make a fine soldier."

     "Experience?"

     "An experienced soldier would have recognized the 9-16 right

away and shot without asking questions. After today, you will

too. That's how you get experience."

     "Well I have something else, she stood slowly and motioned

toward her twisted arm.

     "Broken or what?"

     "Dislocated, I don't know what else. Right now it's a mass

of pain."

     Maltin felt down the length of the arm, then the shoulder, as

Mili jerked, stiffened, and held her breath. Sweat broke out on

her forehead, but she didn't say a word. In a moment Maltin

firmly grabbed the arm and slapped the palm of his hand against

the upper biceps. Mili screamed as the arm went back into the

socket. It took a moment to find the first aid kit and inject a

painkiller. Mili waited expectantly, then moved her arm

experimentally.

     "Hey, good work," she moved her arm freely with a smile.

     "We got off lucky. On the other hand, we are certainly

dead," he looked at their smoking vehicle.

     "How far do we have to go?"

     "Well, each base is exactly one hundred miles apart. Secure

Prisoner Restraint-15 was part of Delta Base before it was

destroyed and it's occupants eaten. So we can walk a hundred

miles in any direction and find a base. On the other hand,

anybody who walks more than a few minutes becomes an airborne

target for the trolls. Nobody has survived out here for more

than a day or two on foot," Maltin said as he gathered equipment,

handing some to Mili.

     "Do they really eat people?" Mili asked in disgust.

     "Oh, yeah. Raw, boiled, broiled, or alive, it's all the same

to them. There are no prisoners in this war. To them, the sheep

are fighting the farmers, us being the sheep."

     "This is a friggin nightmare," Mili sighed as her arms filled

with equipment. In a few moments Maltin devised straps, packs,

and bags out of whatever he could find, to help them carry what

they needed. Mili adjusted the objects hanging from her body and

watched as Maltin surveyed the area with a portable scanner and

led the way north.