Timmons would do as he needed to do. For the pack.
For his alpha.
“Let’s get us a fucking Tisker,” he growled. He tapped the shortsword he carried. “If it gives us any grief, we hack off its tentacles. As long as it can talk, it’ll be useful. If we have to kill it? Then we kill it and go find another one. I don’t want to dick around out here any longer than we have to.”
Shonna and Merrit stripped off their clothes, put them in their backpacks, and stuffed them into a hole in the ground. They changed into werewolves, Shonna, shaggy gray, and Merrit, a dark brown. Christina wore loose clothing that stretched. She didn’t need to get naked in front of the others.
She saw how nonchalant they were about it, as well as indifferent. Christina liked their attitudes. I can be friends with these people. They remind me of the good people I had the honor to know as I grew up, she thought.
Christina changed into her Pricolici form and stretched, enjoying the power of her Were body. Timmons watched her. “We need them alive,” he told her, looking intentionally at her claws.
“Offf coursssssse,” she replied, looking down at the werewolf.
“Of course.” He laughed. Shonna and Merrit stood on all fours, fangs bared. “Can you feel them?”
Shonna and Merrit nodded. The Etheric dimension allowed them to see outside of reality, but also living things that affected the dimension, like those drawing power from it. Shonna and Merrit saw the entirety of the Bad Company, figures in the mists, the closer ones clearer than those farther away.
The power they drew was clear, too. Terry and Char drew more than most of the others. The warriors drew less as their nanocyte programming wasn’t as complex.
The Tiskers were faint shadows against the fog. Shonna, Merrit, and Christina bolted into the darkness.
“Dammit!” Timmons swore under his breath as he and Sue raced after the others. He could barely make out where he was stepping.
He peeked into the Etheric and saw a pair of Tiskers not far away. The werewolves were angling in one direction while the Pricolici was circling to come at the enemy from the other side.
Timmons and Sue were running straight at them. Someone had to determine which Tisker would live and which would die. That someone was Timmons, and he had four seconds to decide.
* * *
“What do you see?” Terry asked Char as they followed the others into a wide valley between the hills.
“Aaron and Yanmei far ahead, moving deliberately. The platoon is close together, maybe too close.”
“I’m making a list of how badly I fucked this up,” he whispered through gritted teeth. “You’d think I never fought a battle before.”
“Not like this you haven’t, and not with anything like this at your command, lover,” Char whispered back.
Terry chewed on her words before digging at himself. “Night vision, infrared, better intel, confirmation of landing coordinates before we land, and an objective that I can touch. Next time, we’ll meet personally with whoever submits the RFP. I can’t have this again.”
“None of us can have this again, but you’ll always be you. You’ll hold an after-action review following the battle and incorporate those into the Bad Company’s direct-action standard operating procedures. Your SOP will always be under construction,” Char replied in her most reassuring whisper. “I have to agree that this was a shit sandwich served by ass monkeys during a goat rope.”
Terry looked at his wife. Even in the darkness, her eyes sparkled with purple glints. The silver streak of hair trailed down one side of her face, the only hint of her werewolf nature. “I don’t deserve you,” he said softly.
“I know, but after one hundred and thirty years of putting up with your shit, you’ve grown on me.”
“After the first century, it’s all downhill,” Terry whispered as he ran his hand down her arm. They gripped each other’s hands for a moment before turning their attention back to their tactical movement to a secondary position that they would occupy for as long as they could before heading toward where the resupply canister would land.
Char kept one of her two nine-millimeter pistols in hand. She had a railgun slung over one shoulder, but her pistols had become a part of her, having carried them almost as long as she’d known TH. Prizes taken from one of mankind’s enemies.
Terry had been carrying an M1911A1 .45 caliber pistol, but after firing the Jean Dukes Special, he carried that and his sword.
“If I’m in the thick of things, wailing away on an alien, then no one is driving the boat. I need to stay out of the battle as much as possible, let the others fight,” he had told her.
And Terry Henry Walton had been right. Char watched him look into the night, not seeing anything in the darkness as his mind wargamed battle after battle in order to find a course of action that would give him the result he desired. Maximum victory with minimum casualties.
On board the War Axe
“The second ballistic canister won’t be ready in time,” Commander Wirth stated over the comm system. Captain San Marino looked at the screen, but didn’t let his disappointment show.
“Then we’ll deliver one canister now and the second one as soon as it is ready.”
“I’ll let you know when it’s going to be ready,” the commander said before signing off.
Micky San Marino looked back to the screens that replicated windows looking from the bridge into space. The ship had been under constant acceleration for two hours. To those on Tissikinnon Four, they wouldn’t even register as a speck of light in the night sky.
It would take another six hours before becoming a pinpoint and another twelve hours before those on the planet would recognize that the speck of light was moving.
“Targeting the fighter buoy?” Micky asked.
“Yes, sir,” helm replied. “Twenty-six hours to impact.”
“Weapons control. Where are we on the analysis of their last attack?”
K’thrall spun in his chair as he closed his holo screens. “Smedley and I have analyzed their attacks. They use their small size, speed, and agility to their advantage. We believe that by bringing the defensive arrays to full strength, firing before we arrive, we will deny areas of space in which they can maneuver. We channel them into kill zones where our main weaponry fires shorter range but broader bursts,” the Yollin explained.
Micky held one finger in front of his lips as he thought about the scenario.
“If we conduct preemptive fire, won’t we be vulnerable if they penetrate our defenses or come in from behind us?”
“For a few milliseconds, yes, as we change over from pre-targeted space to auto-tracking.”
“Ammunition burn?”
“Won’t be an issue,” K’Thrall replied. “At the speed we’ll be traveling, we’ll remain in the engagement envelope for less than ten seconds.”
“That could be a long ten seconds,” Micky intoned slowly.
“For reference, our last pass over Tissikinnon Four exposed the War Axe for more than two minutes.”
“If they review that engagement like we just did, what are they going to see as our vulnerabilities?”
“That’s a good question,” K’Thrall said. “Smedley, can you put yourself in their place and tell us what you think?”
“Of course. Standby,” Smedley said, using expressions that he’d been picking up from Terry Henry Walton.
The imitation wasn’t lost on the captain. TH didn’t demand respect. He earned it. Even from the EI.
“The lack of maneuverability is the greatest weakness shown. Last time the space fighters attacked, they hit the War Axe everywhere but forward. In addition to doing more of that, they could place mines in our path for a passive attack in addition to high-speed strikes from pre-positioned spacecraft.”
“Can we see the fighters?”
“Not if they are stationary and in a low-power mode. At the speed we’ll be closing, our active systems will not be able to differentiate them fr
om space junk before we are well past,” Smedley explained patiently, his wise, old voice coming through the bridge’s overhead sound system.
“If they are in low power mode, will they be able to catch us when we pass?” Micky asked.
“By my calculations, they will not. They could fire from a static position.”
“What I’m hearing is that we need to be maneuverable and not come in on a predictable flight path.” The captain climbed down from his chair on a platform overlooking the bridge crew. He strolled casually to his helm officer.
“Can you do that, Clifton?”
The man spun around to look at the captain. His face was contorted as he tried to fight against the sarcasm on the tip of his tongue. “Did you have something in mind?” he asked instead of making a smartass comment.
“We don’t need to adjust very far. Five kilometers, maybe ten at the last second. A massive thruster burn on one side of the ship, jolt us out of a predicted flight path. If they have ships prepositioned or mines in our path, that little bit should be enough to ruin their plans.”
Clifton nodded slowly. “Yes. I can do that. We’ll be heading toward one side of the fighter buoy and then jump to the other to take it out. We hit the atmosphere and use friction to slow us down while we dump the canister, then accelerate on a slingshot around the planet and head back for deep space.”
“Sounds like you already had it figured out,” Micky told the man. “Make it so. And, K’Thrall, make sure we don’t run out of ammunition in the ten seconds we’re in their attack envelope. Smedley, if you come up with anything else, let me know soonest. We’ll be committed pretty soon and won’t be able to adjust after that.”
Tissikinnon Four – the dark of night
Marcie moved forward between the units. She was by herself, but using her ability to see into the Etheric to maintain her awareness. Besides the Bad Company, the Tiskers appeared to have retreated, abandoning the valley.
The weretigers at the front continued to move more slowly than they were capable of, and Marcie wasn’t sure why. Her senses told her that it was clear.
Trust the weretigers, she thought. When they stopped and spread apart, she started to run. The platoon halted and hit the deck at the sound of a person running.
“Colonel Walton, coming through!” she cried as she continued to run. The platoon was wary, even though Tiskers made little sound when moving and didn’t speak English.
She accelerated past the platoon. “What’s going on?” Kimber asked as Marcie passed.
“The weretigers sense something,” she replied.
“How do you know?” Kimber wondered, sure that Marcie hadn’t heard her. “Platoon, inverted V formation, NOW!”
Marcie was almost on top of the weretigers when the Tiskers appeared. Two, then four, then eight. A weretiger scream split the night. Marcie aimed and fired as fast as she could pull the trigger.
“Weapons tight!” Kimber shouted as the platoon rushed forward. They could see nothing in the darkness, and there were three friendlies up ahead. Kimber yelled ahead, hoping that Marcie heard her over the roar of her railgun. “Marcie! Where do you want us?”
Chapter Six
The sound of the great cat’s scream came a second before a single railgun’s firing echoed across the valley. Terry ran two steps forward and stopped.
This battle would be fought without him.
“Joseph, right flank!” Terry yelled in the direction he expected the vampire to be.
“Heading out now,” came Joseph’s measured reply. Terry heard the orders issued. Joseph and Petricia’s eyes were better than Terry’s or Char’s in the darkness.
Kaeden. I know you’re still flying your drones, but I think we walked into something and could use your mechs, Terry said using the comm chip to communicate with his son.
Recalling the micro-drones. Heading your way now, Kaeden reported efficiently.
Once the recall was issued for the drones, they would return to the mech and reattach themselves without further direction. Kae and his team were free to engage.
Terry and Char hurried wide to cover the left flank. When they looked back, Cory’s glowing eyes were clear, showing where she and Ramses were.
“Put on your sunglasses!” Terry said softly.
The glow disappeared and everything became inky black once again.
* * *
“Pick up the pace, gentlemen,” Kaeden ordered using the suit’s communication system. With their infrared heads-up display engaged, they could see as if running through the twilight. The Tiskers burned half as brightly as any of the humans, with the Were registering brightest of all.
Kae saw his wife in the distance, at least, he expected that was Marcie firing and moving like a demon within a growing group of Tiskers. He counted fifteen.
Moments later, it was twenty. Marcie fired and moved, and fired again. The weretigers were nearby, darting in and out as they avoided combat, knowing that they couldn’t stand paw-to-claw with the Tiskers in the darkness. The enemy seemed able to coordinate and operate without a negative impact, but then again, this was their home planet.
Where are they coming from, Marcie? Kae asked using the comm chip as the four mechs pounded across the open ground.
Fuck if I know, she replied tersely. The railgun continued to bark, spewing hypervelocity rounds at the cyclic rate. The barrel of her rifle looked hot as lava on the infrared.
A red light flashed in the lower corner of Kaeden’s HUD. Power was getting low. When it stopped flashing, he’d be out of commission until it could get recharged by the sun or an external power source. They hadn’t brought one of those because of the weight and the long days followed by a short night.
They hadn’t expected the extreme operations tempo. It was less than halfway through the night and he was almost out of juice.
We’re coming, Marcie, Kae told his wife.
* * *
Timmons didn’t hesitate. As soon as he saw the first Tisker, he fired, raking it from its shell up the stalk that led to its head. Sue fired from beside him, but only two shots.
“Converge and capture!” Timmons yelled as he ran toward the remaining enemy. A slug hit him in the chest, nearly knocking him over, but his ballistic vest stopped it. Sue dove sideways.
“Converge and capture?” she mumbled as she hit the ground, then jumped back to her feet when she heard the impact of three furry bodies simultaneously slamming into the Tisker. A snarl and snapping jaws.
Timmons and Sue ran into the fray and found two of the Tisker’s four tentacles torn off and flopping on the ground. Christina was standing on the creature’s shellback, one claw wrapped around the stalk and a second claw shaking the slug-thrower free from one of its two remaining tentacles.
The gray werewolf’s jaws were clamped tightly on the other tentacle, while Merrit darted in to take a bite from one of the creature’s stumpy legs.
“Leave it!” Timmons ordered, prodding Merrit with his foot. The werewolf turned and snapped, before relaxing. All of a sudden, the Tisker stopped fighting.
Sue immediately looked into the Etheric to see if reinforcements were coming. “Nothing nearby,” she reported.
Timmons pulled the rope that he’d placed on top of the gear in his pack and wrapped it around the Tisker’s stalk while Christina held the creature’s neck steady, keeping it from biting Timmons.
“Dooo theeeey biiiiite?” she asked?
Timmons hesitated for a moment, before tying the Tisker’s tentacles to its stalk. “I don’t know. If it does, we’ll find out how many times I can punch it in its ugly stalk-head before it dies. Then we’ll have to find another one.”
A railgun opened up in the distant valley. As they started to drag the Tisker, the mechs pounded in that direction, the same direction they were going.
“We have company,” Sue said, firing into the darkness.
* * *
Joseph knew there was nothing on the right flank. The ridge provided a comm
anding view, but wasn’t close enough that Joseph could occupy it. With Petricia and his four warriors, he ordered them to run. He was determined to flank the Tiskers up ahead.
He could sense the platoon to his left as he passed. They were in an attack formation but holding steady as they waited for a clear target ahead.
Marcie was in the middle of a growing mass of Tiskers. The weretigers lunged and circled outside the enemy, but hesitated to engage.
“Hurry up!” Joseph encouraged the others. He sped ahead and angled toward the enemy. He started to fire, using his superior night vision to pick the blue shells of the enemy. Their stalks and head moved sinuously and faded with the darkness.
Petricia caught up with him and started to fire. She swept her railgun from one point to another, not firing at the center of the mass where Marcie was fighting for her life. Joseph fired and fired, using short bursts to clear a path. He ran through the enemy, using their mob tactics against them.
He lost sight of Petricia but her railgun continued to send hypervelocity darts into the Tiskers.
Marcie screamed in fury as she fired, slowly, railgun in one hand and a combat kukri knife in the other. She fired, slashed, hacked, and fired again. Joseph jumped into the circle with her.
They stood back to back and he fired outward. Petricia burst through and joined them. The three together fought furiously against the crush of the enemy. They surged inward, only to be driven back until Marcie’s railgun finally clicked empty. She backed between Joseph and Petricia as she let the rifle flip behind her, hanging from its combat sling. She switched her knife to her right hand and crouched. Ready to attack again.
The rest of Joseph’s team arrived and fired only when they were on top of the enemy.
“HERE!” Joseph roared over the relentless cracks of the railguns.
The Bad Company™ Boxed Set (Books 1-4) Page 5
