Hide the Lightning

by Kevin Steverson

  Off to the right a half mile away, Major Audell turned to the sergeant major and said, “We’re pinned down, Big Jon. That hill is high enough for them to take advantage of us. Those two bunkers have already taken out two squads. We need to get past them somehow. You got any ideas?”

  Big Jon studied the map overlay in the clear-steel screen in his helmet. He was wearing his preferred four-armed heavy battle armor. It had been made by Grithelaons over two thousand years ago. As always, two of the arms were locked against his chest.

  “I have an idea, sir,” Big Jon said. He took off his helmet and ran his fingers through the fur on top of his head, squinting a little in the bright light of morning. “Call Captain Rogers and have his platoon come forward. They can move around the side of that hill. Look at the map, the backside ends in cliffs. They’re only seventy-five feet high. A Rincah could climb that in his sleep.”

  “Dustin, can you move to the front?” Major Audell said on a direct call. “The sergeant major and I would like to give you the opportunity for a little climb. If you feel like a little one-on-one type fight, that is.” He smiled back at Big Jon, who was grinning with every tooth showing.

  * * *

  Bolt Command Element

  Eastern Front

  Captain Brink fired two shots from low at the base of the tree. The Bleeve manning the tripod-mounted laser fell away from it, two holes in its armored torso. He stood, looked around the tree, and prepared to rush to the next covered position. A fallen tree lay ten yards ahead.

  “Head for the log,” he called out.

  “I see it, sir,” Zarmlon said. “Come on, Pailoth.”

  The two troops sprinted for the position, while Nate fired several shots ahead, just in case. When he saw they were down and doing the same, he rushed forward. Off to their left and right, squads and fire teams were doing the same.

  There were only a few more trees up ahead, then it opened up into a field. Halfway across it was an anti-air battery. It was still intact and protected by a company of Bleeve infantry.

  The first sergeant made his way over to them. “What do you think, sir?”

  “I don’t know, Top,” Nate said as he magnified the image of the emplacement in his helmet screen. “We have to take it out. We might be able to get some air support from the transport shuttles if we do.”

  “That would make life easier,” admitted Top. “We may lose a few in the attempt.”

  Corporal Zarmlon interrupted them, “I got this, sir. Watch this.”

  Captain Brink and First Sergeant Lonkle looked at each other in amazement as they heard her speak on a direct call. “Lieutenant Smithers, this is Corporal Zarmlon. Fire mission, over.”

  “She’s a keeper,” Top said. “Mine. Don’t even think of making her an officer.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Thirty-One

  By the end of the hostilities, three hundred and thirty Bleeve surrendered. General Fellgothah contacted Harmon through local authorities. They met in the park of the city nearest the last battle. The Bleeve left alive had slipped into the city and were hiding among the population. After being hunted down through the streets and in the homes they hid in one by one, the general opted to surrender.

  Harmon looked over at Big Jon and Colonel Arthok and said, “He probably thinks we’ll leave him with the local authorities. They won’t condemn him to death.”

  “He’s right,” Evelyn said from his other side.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Harmon agreed, smiling at his fiancé. He put his arm through hers and pulled her body to his.

  On the other side of the small, grassy area, General Fellgothah and his executive officer moved toward Harmon and the group with him. They both carried short, thin poles with triangular white flags fluttering in the breeze. Bahroot had explained, even to their race, the white flag was sign of truce.

  When the two Bleeve were ten feet away, they stopped. “President Tomeral,” General Fellgothah said, “though it pains me to do this, I must do as my queen bids.”

  Harmon was confused slightly by Fellgothah’s choice of words. He started to speak, then Fellgothah pointed the flag at him. Time slowed, and he felt a burn across his arm as he was falling from a tackle by Big Jon. Fellgothah never knew whether he succeeded. He was shot in the face.

  Major Ashlah, taking his cue from his superior, started to lower his flag to point at Harmon when he was also hit in the face by a kinetic round. He and the flag dropped on the spot. Staff Sergeant Rinek stood on the edge of the group holding his pistol. Smoke from the barrel slowly wafted up past his glowing tattoo.

  Big Jon rolled to the side, off of both Harmon and Evelyn. Harmon sat up holding his upper arm. The shot had clipped him. He looked over at Evelyn. She lay on her side facing away and wasn’t moving. Time stopped.

  “Evelyn!” Harmon shouted, reaching for her.

  He rolled her over, and she opened her eyes and said, “Owww, take it easy, my arm burns like fire. It took my breath away.”

  “Are you alright?” Harmon asked, his pulse still pounding.

  “No, I’m not,” Evelyn said. “My arm burns, and my last clean uniform is muddy.” She slowly broke into a grin. “And I’m in love with a man everyone tries to kill, even after the battle is over.”

  Harmon looked over at Big Jon. “Thanks…again!”

  Big Jon gave him a tight smile and nodded. He pointed at Rinek. Harmon looked and saw the pistol still in the Peace Monitor’s hand. It was a beautiful weapon.

  “Rinek, is that a…” Harmon asked.

  “No, sir, it’s a replica,” Rinek assured him. “A working replica, but a replica all the same.”

  “Whoa,” Cameron said as he pushed his glasses back up his nose. “Is that a six shooter? Is it a Colt? How cool is that? Will you do it again? Can I shoot it? Can I at least hold it?”

  Bahroot chimed in from his slate, held by Corporal Galooth, “Can you do it again? I’ll video it and analyze your movement. It was very fast. I can time it for you, and we can compare it to archived records from Earth. Is that smoke? What propellant do you use? Perhaps we can devise a smokeless one. Are you striving for historical accuracy?”

  * * * * *

  Epilogue

  Two months later, in a different arm of the galaxy, two humans walked into a dimly lit room. They stopped, both scanning for any sign of danger, or the potential for it. Seeing nothing that alarmed them, they made their way around a table of a large race of beings arguing over whose turn it was to buy the next round.

  Grant Lowantha turned to his friend and said, “We should be good, Hawthorne. There’s not another human in the place.”

  “Yeah,” Hawthorne agreed. “I don’t see any of the races associated with that damn Harmon Tomeral, either.”

  “I didn’t think there would be; we’ve been staking the place out for a week. Let’s find this potential client and see what he’s offering,” Lowantha said, looking around the room. “I mean, it’s never good to give up your weapons, but this place is strict. No weapon play allowed, and any argument gets you put out on the street with no questions asked.”

  “We’ve been checking this guy’s backstory for a week. Everything on the Galaxy Net matches up. The guy’s legit. There he is,” Hawthorne said. “Fits the description he gave us. Tall, thin, exoskeleton. Let’s go see if he throws credit around like we heard."

  Over the next thirty minutes they learned what their potential client was looking for. They answered some of his questions so he could determine if they could pull off what he was asking. This client was definitely worth a lot of credit. He asked for an account and sent the required down payment to it using his small slate.

  “Ok,” Lowantha said, feeling comfortable with their new client, “so we’re clear. You want us to track down your ex-business partner, break into his place while he’s on vacation somewhere, since he takes them all the time, and steal a piece of art?”

  “Yes,” answered the insectoid. “If you are successf
ul, I will give you the remainder of your fee.”

  “Well, it’s not really our line of work,” Lowantha said. “We usually deal with big picture kind of stuff. Not actual pictures. Can you tell me what it looks like?”

  “Certainly,” the client said. “It looks like blue lightening on a face.”

  Lowantha paused. “Who are you?” he asked slowly.

  Sheemral slowly reached up with one hand and pressed three places on the side of his face. The lightning tattoo glowed brightly, flashing on its own. The men stared.

  Seated at the table beside them, two grey-furred beings stood up. They reached up and turned their tattoos on. Realizing the danger they were in, Hawthorne shoved the table toward the three with glowing tattoos and ran. Lowantha made a break for the door with him.

  They were stopped in their tracks when they saw all six of the huge aliens at the table they’d passed had glowing tattoos. Two were blocking the door, resting on their knuckles. They turned toward the back of the establishment, hoping to get out the rear door. They were met by several humanoids with four arms, two ending in pincers. One side of their faces glowed, too. They turned and faced the fake client.

  “It is not who I am that matters,” Sheemral said. “It is what I am that should concern you. I am a Bolt. Specifically a Peace Monitor. Sometimes…sometimes one must Hide The Lightning.”

  # # # # #

  About the Author

  Kevin Steverson is a retired veteran of the U.S. Army. He is a published songwriter as well as an author. He lives in the northeast Georgia foothills where he continues to refuse to shave ever again. Trim…maybe. Shave…never! When he is not on the road as a Tour Manager he can be found at home writing in one fashion or another.

  * * * * *

  Follow Kevin Online

  Website: www.kevinsteverson.com

  Instagram: kevin.steverson

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  Twitter: @CallMeCatHead

  * * * * *

  The following is an

  Excerpt from Super-Sync:

  Super-Sync

  ___________________

  Kevin Ikenberry

  Now Available from Theogony Books

  eBook, Paperback, and Audio

  Excerpt from “Super-Sync:”

  The subspace radio chimed an hour later, just as Lew put aside the holonovel with dissatisfaction. There was no such thing as “happily ever after,” no matter how many books she read. No one was going to carry her off into the sunset. Lew reached for the radio controls and felt the thuds of Tyler’s boots on the deck in the passageway below. He burst onto the bridge and vaulted into his chair.

  He looked at Lew. “Identify the transmission.”

  Lew fingered the controls and read off the diagnostic information, “Standard Ku band transmission from Earth. Origin point known through Houston nexus. Encryption is solid Johnson Analytics with the proper keys.”

  Tyler grinned. “Boss.”

  Lew nodded and smiled as well. “Appears so.”

  Their mysterious benefactor hadn’t called them in more than six months, but every time he’d employed them, the take had been impressive. How he was able to garner the contracts he had bordered on magic. Lew thought the man sounded like some kind of Texas oil baron. Despite the technology, his calls were always voice-only, and there was never any interaction between them and whoever he represented.

  Whatever he contracted them to acquire was delivered to a private, automated hangar on Luna. The robotic ground crew would unload Remnant and send them on their way again. Anonymous cash transfers always appeared in their accounts by the time Remnant returned to lunar orbit. The first mission had earned Tyler’s company over a million Euros. The following missions were even more lucrative.

  Their benefactor went by a call sign, and they talked in codes meant only for their own ears. It should have been a red flag, but the money was too damned good to pass up. A call from him could not go unanswered.

  Tyler punched a few buttons on his console, and a drawling voice boomed through the speakers, “Remnant, this is Boss. Are you receiving?” The transmission ended with a chiming tone that dated back to the early days of spaceflight. The clear delineation of conversation allowed Tyler to answer.

  “Boss, this is Remnant. Nice to hear from you. How can we be of service?”

  A few seconds passed. “Tyler, it’s good to hear your voice. I understand you’re on a contract flight from our friend in India.”

  “That’s affirm, Boss.”

  “Roger, you’ve got a shadow. Are you aware of that?”

  Tyler’s face darkened. “Roger, Boss. We’re aware of the bogey.”

  By definition, a bogey was an unknown contact with unknown intentions. Should the situation turn bad, the radar blip would become a bandit. Lew checked the telemetry from the unknown ship. There was no change in direction or speed. It was still gaining on them.

  “Remnant, the trailing vehicle is not your concern. I have a change in mission for you.”

  Tyler shook his head. “Negative, Boss. I have a contract.”

  “Remnant, I bought out that contract. The shadow on your tail is the Rio Bravo, under contract by me to get Telstar Six Twelve. You’re going high super-sync.”

  * * * * *

  Get “Super-Sync” now at: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07PGS545X

  Find out more about Kevin Ikenberry and “Super-Sync” at: https://chriskennedypublishing.com

  * * * * *

  The following is an

  Excerpt from Book One of the Earth Song Cycle:

  Overture

  ___________________

  Mark Wandrey

  Available Now from Theogony Books

  eBook and Paperback

  Excerpt from “Overture:”

  Dawn was still an hour away as Mindy Channely opened the roof access and stared in surprise at the crowd already assembled there. “Authorized Personnel Only” was printed in bold red letters on the door through which she and her husband, Jake, slipped onto the wide roof.

  A few people standing nearby took notice of their arrival. Most had no reaction, a few nodded, and a couple waved tentatively. Mindy looked over the skyline of Portland and instinctively oriented herself before glancing to the east. The sky had an unnatural glow that had been growing steadily for hours, and as they watched, scintillating streamers of blue, white, and green radiated over the mountains like a strange, concentrated aurora borealis.

  “You almost missed it,” one man said. She let the door close, but saw someone had left a brick to keep it from closing completely. Mindy turned and saw the man who had spoken wore a security guard uniform. The easy access to the building made more sense.

  “Ain’t no one missin’ this!” a drunk man slurred.

  “We figured most people fled to the hills over the past week,” Jake replied.

  “I guess we were wrong,” Mindy said.

  “Might as well enjoy the show,” the guard said and offered them a huge, hand-rolled cigarette that didn’t smell like tobacco. She waved it off, and the two men shrugged before taking a puff.

  “Here it comes!” someone yelled. Mindy looked to the east. There was a bright light coming over the Cascade Mountains, so intense it was like looking at a welder’s torch. Asteroid LM-245 hit the atmosphere at over 300 miles per second. It seemed to move faster and faster, from east to west, and the people lifted their hands to shield their eyes from the blinding light. It looked like a blazing comet or a science fiction laser blast.

  “Maybe it will just pass over,” someone said in a voice full of hope.

  Mindy shook her head. She’d studied the asteroid’s track many times.

  In a matter of a few seconds, it shot by and fell toward the western horizon, disappearing below the mountains between Portland and the ocean. Out of view of the city, it slammed into the ocean.

  The impact was unimaginable. The air around the hypersonic projectile turned
to superheated plasma, creating a shockwave that generated 10 times the energy of the largest nuclear weapon ever detonated as it hit the ocean’s surface.

  The kinetic energy was more than 1,000 megatons; however, the object didn’t slow as it flashed through a half mile of ocean and into the sea bed, then into the mantel, and beyond.

  On the surface, the blast effect appeared as a thermal flash brighter than the sun. Everyone on the rooftop watched with wide-eyed terror as the Tualatin Mountains between Portland and the Pacific Ocean were outlined in blinding light. As the light began to dissipate, the outline of the mountains blurred as a dense bank of smoke climbed from the western range.

  The flash had incinerated everything on the other side.

  The physical blast, travelling much faster than any normal atmospheric shockwave, hit the mountains and tore them from the bedrock, adding them to the rolling wave of destruction traveling east at several thousand miles per hour. The people on the rooftops of Portland only had two seconds before the entire city was wiped away.

  Ten seconds later, the asteroid reached the core of the planet, and another dozen seconds after that, the Earth’s fate was sealed.

  * * * * *

  Get “Overture” now at:

  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B077YMLRHM/