by Scott Moon
CONTENTS
Special Offer
Heavy Weapons
Copyright
Dedication
Previously in the Grendel Uprising series:
1 - LAST CALL
2 - THE LIEUTENANT
3 - ESCAPE & EVASION
4 - RIVALS
5 - A GENERAL & AN INFORMANT
6 - THE STRONGARMS
7 - AEFEL & JORGO
8 - SECCON'S ADVISOR
9 - AWOL FOR AEFEL
10 - CAROSN ARMY
11 - AWAY FROM ZERO BRIGADE
12 - SHOWDOWN
Also by Scott Moon
Sgt. Orlan is the toughest dog in the Fleet. Gangsters kidnapped is son. What is the worst that could happen?
Sgt. Orlan: Hero of Man (a subscriber exclusive!)
CLICK HERE TO GET
YOUR FREE COPY
HEAVY WEAPONS
Grendel Uprising: Episode 3
Scott Moon
Copyright © 2017 Scott Moon
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to fans old and new, because sharing a story is an honor and reading takes time in a world where there is little to spare. You may never know what your participation in this imaginative journey means to me. Thank you for coming this far.
Previously in the Grendel Uprising series:
Aefel moved through the wilderness surrounding the Sky Clan village to protect Fey, Sveinn, and the others as Seccon pursued his mysterious intrigue. Two military forces attacked, each for their own reasons. The New Galactic Order (NGO) wants the Blood Royal dead. They are the remnants of Earth System Commonwealth and want Aefel punished for his refusal to carry out the execution of Seccon and the entire Sky Clan village. Neither Seccon nor Aefel learns the exact identity of the other secret society, but find a group of soldiers known as the Zero Brigade, who make a deal with Seccon.
1
LAST CALL: IRISH PUB
GRENDEL 0473829: ORBITAL STATION
MISSION CLOCK: 00:00:00
FIRST Sergeant Cindy-Loren 71019 watched with her retinal incident camera turned off as Paul 69891 did three things all at once. His bearlike size emphasized each movement as he stood from his favorite barstool at the Lucky Death Dropper Pub, slammed a two-pound stein on the countertop, and roared at the top of his lungs for Aefel.
“The lieutenant would have you in lock-up for this shit,” Cindy said.
Paul groaned. “Aaeeefel.”
“He can take care of himself. He isn’t just a Reaver, he is The Reaver.”
Paul raised the beer stein slowly, twisting his torso in agony, then uncoiled, slamming the drink down again. “Aefel! I’m really mad at you!” Sadness and misery colored his words.
“Easy there, big guy,” Cindy said as she worked her left arm under his right and around his waist to guide him away from the liquor. It was easy to maneuver under him. He was two feet taller than she was. Moving his tree-trunk legs toward the door proved a bit more challenging.
Paul looked down as she steered his unsteady bulk across the floor. “I said I was thirsty.” The pain of misunderstanding flooded his bleary-eyed expression.
“No, that is not what you said.”
“Bullocks.”
“You said where the fuck is Aefel; if someone doesn’t tell me, I am going to tear this space station apart with my over-large, over-handsome hands,” Cindy said.
“Handsome?” Paul stopped and stared as she tugged on him.
“I added that part. Sue me.”
“I can be your handsome giant. I can, Cindy. Please take me home with you.”
She laughed louder than she had in months. “Oh, Paul. You are so easy.”
“Well, when you say it like that, you make it sound dirty.”
She shoved him into the street. “Relax, stud. Let’s get away from the Commonwealth Military Police before you propose.”
He gave her a confused look as concern spread across his features. “Don’t push me, Cind. A man needs to have options. Sow his wild oats. You’re one of the guys. You understand.”
She had been joking about the fictional marriage proposal — as always. His reaction was classic every time. The drunker he was, the funnier his confusion.
“I understand where your balls are located and how to reach them with my boot. Let’s move. I think they called the cops before you finished your little speech.”
Paul smiled at her with wet, unfocused eyes. “You wouldn’t touch my gonads. That’s a bluff.”
Cindy shook her head and moved down the street, searching for an ambush or a CMP check point. “No, I wouldn’t. And no, it’s not. Get it together, Reaver. It’s game time.”
Paul took a deep breath and looked right and left. “I’m still drunk. You can’t just say ‘Reaver’ and expect me to be one hundred percent.”
“Sure I can.”
“What are we doing in the street? Why isn’t Aefel back from his mission?”
Cindy stopped. She didn’t have time for the way huge freaks like Paul flirted. His emotions were up and down tonight, just like every other heavy gunner she’d gotten involved with. “This is why you shouldn’t drink.”
“Why isn’t Aefel back from the surface?” Paul asked.
“I don’t know, big guy. Smashing pubs and pool halls won’t bring him back any sooner,” she said. “I really thought he was being tested for the Strongarms.”
“Bullocks.”
Cindy laughed both genuinely and nervously. “Move out, soldier. We’ve got miles to go before we sleep.”
“Ooja,” Paul said.
“Ooja.” Cindy thought about Aefel as she walked three strides ahead of Paul, watching for Commonwealth Military Police patrols and muggers. Crime was exceptionally high on the Grendel support station. She found this odd since it had only recently been brought back online and most of the residents were military personnel or contractors.
How had the slums popped up so rapidly? She’d never seen so many brothels and drinking establishments.
“Cindy, there are SLRD Turds up ahead. I think they’re looking for us in the wrong place,” Paul said.
She saw the men Paul was talking about — Seventh Light-infantry Reconnaissance Division, five of them. The SLRDs preferred two teams of four, each with a team leader. Add a squad leader and it overloaded their eleven-soldier squads with noncoms compared to standard ESC squads. The setup allowed them to break into sniper-observer pairs as needed with supervisors to coordinate the micro-units.
The concept wasn’t new but had fallen out of favor in the ESC Military long ago. Only Recon units used it.
Which meant there were five or six more SLRDs out there that she hadn’t spotted.
Cindy smiled as she walked up behind the five birds-in-hand. It wasn’t every day she could get the jump on SLRDs. “You boys must think we’re moving faster than we are. You’re looking the wrong way.”
The sergeant in half off-duty clothing and gear looked startled as he faced her. “We’re looking for a place to get laid, not for a couple of grunts.”
“Right. Yeah, sure.” She studied t
he spacing of the men along the narrow street. Each of them had a fresh tattoo — stylized letters that might be NGO… she wasn’t sure in the poor lighting. “That’s disturbing. Looks like you were about to jump someone. Is that how you boys get laid?”
The SLRD leader stepped toward her. “What the hell are you trying to say?”
Paul thumped his palm on the man’s chest and sent him flying backward.
“Were you trying to spy on us?” Cindy asked.
The SLRD leader stood and dusted himself off as his squad surrounded Paul. “You snuck up on us, remember.”
“I do.” She moved to Paul’s right side, since he was left handed. Rolling her neck as she clenched and unclenched her fists, she took a ready stance. “So before you give us any trouble, think about what Reaver payback looks like.”
The SLRD squad leader communicated to his team with a chin thrust toward the end of the street, then faced Cindy. “Like I said, we’re just out for a good time. Don’t worry, little sister, you aren’t my type.”
She watched them leave and noticed how most touched their tattoos unconsciously, just like grunts did after too much alcohol led them to getting too much ink. Problem was, none of them were drunk.
The leader turned back, presented his middle finger, and blew her a kiss. “G’night, little sister.”
“You might have to hold me back, Paul,” Cindy muttered.
“Okay, little sister.”
She punched him in the gut. “Let’s go.”
Paul gazed toward the end of the street. The night was darker than normal for a space station. Far above them was a ceiling designed to show the stars; it was outdated technology and looked like a sparkly oil slick. The central generator stored solar power for the bulk of the usable electricity, but it was being refitted and the output was strictly rationed.
Every third streetlight was on, struggling weakly against the industrial gloom of the place.
“What do you see?” Cindy asked. Something had perked the big gunner’s interest. He sobered with each ponderous stride.
He held up a hand for her to hang back. A moment later, he stepped into an access alley with her. “I thought it was the other half of the SLRD squad you’re so cozy with, and it was, but it was also a rifle squad.”
“Are they geared up?” Her heart thumped in her throat. No matter how many battles she survived, the adrenaline always came too fast and hot at the beginning. She didn’t understand why they would be fitted out for a gunfight.
“I didn’t get a good look. Can we go another way?”
Cindy looked around. “We can go back. There should be something that direction.” She examined a group of the newcomers as they climbed a fire escape. “Damn it, Paul. Those aren’t SLRDs.”
She watched as the lightly armed SLRD soldiers retreated from the area. They might have been following her and Paul, but they didn’t want anything to do with this new group. Paul’s sharp eyes and decision to get off the street might have just saved them both a lot of grief.
“Those are Sixth Armored-infantry, Lightning Division grunts, SALDs,” Cindy said, never looking away from the soldiers who were definitely on duty.
“I liked those guys on Remington,” Paul said, watching them closely.
“Yeah, sure. They were great. A bunch of real swinging dicks that didn’t slow us down. But do I like them here is what I am trying to decide.”
“Maybe they ran off the SLRDs to help us,” Paul said.
“This isn’t Remington. All the rules changed when Aefel disappeared. For now, I only trust FALD Reavers.”
From this distance, she couldn’t make out details. Chewing her lip and placing her fists on her hips, she wondered if the SALDs were also getting new tattoos tonight.
“What are you thinking, Cind?” Paul asked.
She hesitated. “Random thoughts.”
2
THE LIEUTENANT
REMINGTON WORLD 0102001: CONTESTED ZONE
MISSION CLOCK: 99:99:99
“WELCOME to Remington World, you Reaver dogs,” First Sergeant Cindy-Loren said as she moved from soldier to soldier. Each man or woman adjusted weapons and armor before dragging the remains of drop suits into the shadow of an escarpment. “Capital Trading Company Forces are dug in and Park Rangers are well established in the area.”
She strutted past Paul, Red Brave, and Chip. It felt good to be planetside. She was completely free of injuries for the first time in eighteen months and ready to kick butt. Her Lightning Class body armor was so well tuned to her body that she felt naked.
In a good way.
“The Park Rangers ain’t gonna do nothin’,” Chip said. “You lookin’ good, Smashface.”
“Thanks, jerk,” she replied.
“She has a cute face,” Paul said as he connected his multi-barreled chain gun to his armor.
Chip and the others laughed.
For some reason, Paul’s comment annoyed her more than Chip’s jibe about her face. Not long ago, during a boring liberty compounded with too much alcohol, she admitted her insecurity about her face. Big mistake. FALD Reavers didn’t forget something like that. Paul’s reassurance was, well, just awkward.
The Lightning Class armor allowed the temperature of the environment to touch the skin based on the theory of better sensory perception. It also kept a soldier from going into shock if he or she were suddenly forced to shed the armor.
Remington World was cold and damp. Deciduous trees shed blood-red leaves and sprinkles of gold as the wind gusted. Clouds raced between the pale yellow sun and the first wave of the First Armored-infantry Lightning Division invasion.
“Cindy, get Alpha Squad on point. Once the perimeter is secure, everyone gets five minutes to flush suits and consume calories,” Aefel said as he moved across the landing zone. “Tony and Zach, Bravo and Charlie squads have the perimeter and will fall in to form a staggered column as soon as we move. Kodiak...”
“I have the rear guard with Delta. Yes, I remember this from the briefing.”
Cindy guided her squad into position and double checked the other assignments. Kodias 69845 looked cool and confident as always, despite being the newest sergeant in the platoon. The kid was a fourth-generation grunt. Each member of his family had served with distinction. Despite the serious reputation, Kodias, aka Kodiak, defied expectations.
The young man was short, slender, and intellectual. He was also good at his job.
So far.
“Status report,” Aefel said across the comlink.
“Nothing to see here, Lt. Just a walk in the park,” Cindy said. “Looks like the orbital bombardment did the job this time.” She saw smoke on the horizon and wondered what the Capital Trading Company Forces had planned. Would they bunker down? Sally forth? Run?
“Don’t count on it. The CTC assholes aren’t stupid enough to be above ground when the navy drops meteors.” Aefel moved forward to walk beside Cindy. He popped his visor and spoke with his radio off. It wasn’t private — nothing was during an operation — but no one was actively listening. “Did you talk to Kodiak about his girlfriend?”
“Turns out she isn’t his girlfriend. First cousin, his mother’s side,” Cindy said with her radio off and one hand over the boom mic just to be sure.
Aefel laughed.
“There was an awkward silence after that. Then he asked if I wanted to meet her for a date,” Cindy said.
“Do you?”
“You know me better than that.”
“It would be weird if what we suspected was true. Them being cousins.” Aefel looked back long enough to check the positions of his other squad leaders.
A blinking light inside of Cindy’s helmet caught her attention. She yelled at Aefel before she was finished reading the alert. “Shut your visor, boss. I just picked up a Carosn Device warning.”
Aefel flipped his visor in place with a crisp but unhurried motion. “Do you think armor will help?”
“Protocol, sir.”
&nbs
p; A moment passed. “Fine, sergeant. Take us to the top of that escarpment and look for shelter. I will contact HQ.” He put a hand on the shoulder of her armor. “There shouldn’t be a CD on Remington. This is a recreation planet, not a Regenison world.”
“And the Regenison Uprising fell to the might of the 1-6-7 Battle Group.” Cindy didn’t like the coincidence. The 1-6-7 hadn’t shared an operation since the worst pre-Crises conflict on record. Now here they were, the Earth System Commonwealth 1st, 6th, and 7th Divisions. “We should reach the rally point in fifteen minutes.”
“Ooja, Reaver. Take that escarpment.” Aefel turned smartly and went to each of his squad leaders for a face to face.
Sweat ran into Cindy’s eyes. She did double duty, watching her team and checking her Internals for sign of a Carosn Device. Aefel hadn’t received a warning, which meant it was a false reading or it was a legitimate reading and she was going to die first after gouging the eyes out of her squad mates.
Securing the escarpment as a rally point happened quickly. One minute she was giving orders, the next she was guarding the position as Aefel and the rest of 1st Platoon climbed the steep backtrail.
Aefel checked everyone’s gear per protocol. He didn’t attempt to lighten the mood. That would have been a waste of time. By the time he was contacting HQ with his findings, the entire unit was tense but calm.
The single Carosn Device warning Cindy’s armor had registered faded away and never returned. No other sensors alerted to danger, real or imagined. HQ sent supersonic drones to check the quadrant, then gave the all clear.
By the end of the day, the First Armored-infantry Lightning Division was bivouacked with the Sixth Armored-infantry Lightning Division and elements of the Seventh Light-infantry Reconnaissance Division. At sunset, the mood was almost festive. Less than a day’s worth of maneuvering would bring them into contact with the CTC.
