The Pike Chronicles - Books 1 - 10

by Hudson, G. P.

  Tess kissed him gently. “Try not to be cynical with others either.”

  “It’s hard, after all I’ve seen.”

  “You’re not the only one who’s seen things, you know. Did you forget that I’m a trauma nurse? There isn’t a battlefield injury that I haven’t seen, or worked on for that matter.”

  “I know. You’re a badass.”

  “You better believe it. So don’t give me any of that tough guy nonsense.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “You’ll do more than try.”

  “You know, you’re pretty hot when you’re acting all badass and stuff.”

  “Forget it.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not stupid, Jon. I know that look, and you can get it out of your head. The girls will be up soon.”

  “We still have time.”

  “No.”

  Jon heard the pitter patter of little feet outside their room.

  “See, I told you,” said Tess. “Rise and shine.”

  Jon turned to roll out of bed just as the door burst open. His two daughters ran in and jumped on the bed. “Daddy, daddy, can you take us to the playground today?”

  “Sure thing,” said Jon, barely resisting an urge to pinch his daughter’s pudgy cheeks.

  “You kids take it easy on your father today,” said Tess. “Remember, he’s leaving tomorrow morning.”

  “Are you going to war again, daddy?

  “I am.”

  “Do you like going to war?”

  “No. I don’t.”

  “Then why do you always go?”

  “I go because I have to. I’m a soldier, and we are at war.”

  “Why can’t they send someone else?”

  “Because I’m the best!” Jon seized the two girls and tickled them, causing belly laughs to burst forth from both of them as they squirmed and kicked, futilely trying to get away. Laughter filled the room. Jon looked over at Tess, who laughed along with her daughters. A moment of happiness he wished would last forever.

  Tomorrow he would leave. Again. Back to the horror and misery of war.

  One day we’ll be free, he thought. One day this happiness will last.

  Chapter 17

  “All teams will board in five minutes,” said the Diakan commander, his voice coming through the speakers in Jon’s helmet.

  Jon stood on the hangar bay deck wearing an armored combat suit, as the ship shuddered from the repeated enemy bombardment. The Diakan fleet had successfully pushed through the system’s defenses, and now engaged the ships defending the main planet. While the Diakans had the numerical advantage, the planet’s defenders were proving to be more stubborn than anticipated.

  “The Juttari aren’t happy to see us,” said Kevin St. Clair, Jon’s friend and team member, from behind his own combat suit.

  “Nobody told them we were having a party,” said Jon, with a chuckle. “They probably feel snubbed.”

  The Diakan commander stood by one of the shuttles, keeping a wary eye on all the humans.

  “I don’t think our Diakan commander is too keen on the party idea,” said Kevin.

  “He is a bit of a stiff, isn’t he?” Jon didn’t like taking orders from Diakans, but this was a Diakan operation, and they were on a Diakan ship. That meant the Diakans were calling the shots.

  Jon scanned the cavernous hangar bay. Endless columns of human soldiers in combat suits waited for the order to board their assault shuttles. The shuttles would then take them into low orbit where they would be shot into space, toward the planet. Once on the ground their objective was to take out a planetary defense station.

  A low orbit drop could be scary, but it wasn’t Jon’s first. In reality, a low orbit drop was much safer than coming down in a transport. The combat suit protected them from the elements, especially atmospheric entry.

  Once they entered the atmosphere, they would free fall to the surface. Unlike a ship, or a missile, they would not generate a heat signature, making it difficult for air defenses to get a lock on them. It was only when they got close to the surface that they would activate thrusters to slow themselves down. The g forces of the drop, and the braking maneuver were immense, but the combat suits had small, built in inertial dampeners that nullified most of the adverse effects.

  “Think we’ve got enough numbers?” said Kevin.

  “If we don’t, it was nice knowing you,” said Jon.

  “Funny.”

  “I thought so.”

  A loud horn began blaring repeatedly and the Diakan commander’s voice filled Jon’s helmet again. “Begin boarding. I repeat, begin boarding.”

  Jon and Kevin fell into line with the rest of the human soldiers, slowly following the combat suits ahead of them to their designated assault shuttle. As they approached, Jon noticed the weapon turrets mounted on the exterior of the jet black spacecraft.

  An assault shuttle could be formidable under some circumstances, but not in this instance. He doubted any of them would make it to the surface on board that thing. They would end up as target practice for the Juttari defenders.

  Inside the shuttle the heavy metal boots stomping to their seats, and the bolts locking each man in place, sounded like hundreds of jack hammers pulverizing the ship. The rows of seats lining the interior of the shuttle quickly filled with the lethal metallic warriors headed for the surface.

  Jon and Kevin sat beside each other and waited for the shuttle to get into position. Once it was full, and everyone locked in place, the Diakan craft began to move. Jon pulled up a display on his visor, showing their progress. An icon differentiated their craft from the rest of the shuttles. They were like a school of fish, swimming in the black sea of space.

  Jon noticed with dismay that some of the shuttles drew fire from the enemy, and their icons began to vanish from his display. He had hoped the Diakans would not launch the shuttles until they had asserted some sort of orbital superiority.

  Since the planetary defense station focused on the large battleships, not the shuttles, it meant the shuttles were drawing fire from enemy ships. Clearly the Diakans preferred speed, regardless of how many human lives were lost.

  Jon cursed as more icons disappeared from the display, while the rest raced for the edges of the planet’s atmosphere. Jon turned off the tactical display and closed his eyes. He focused on his family, visualizing their faces, and hearing the sound of their laughter. He would not die today. He would see them again.

  “Begin planetary insertion,” ordered the Diakan commander, as their shuttle got into position for the orbital drops.

  “Game time,” said Kevin.

  The bolts released the combat suits, allowing Jon and the others to stand. They all made their way toward the drop compartments at the back of the shuttle. Each man would enter the compartment, and then literally get shot, like a giant bullet, at the planet. Entering the atmosphere would turn them into white hot fireballs.

  Jon tried not to think about it too much, as it only served to convince him of his insanity. Why didn’t this scare him? Even with his upbringing in the resistance, he probably should feel some pang of fear. But he never had. Not the first time, and not now.

  His turn came and he entered the drop compartment. “See you on the ground,” he said to Kevin through his comm.

  The door shut, sealing the compartment off from the rest of the shuttle. “Computer, lock limbs for orbital entry,” Jon ordered, and the combat suit became rigid, with his arms and legs locked in place. Flailing arms and legs were a recipe for disaster in an orbital drop.

  Jon stood there trying to predict when it would happen. There should be a countdown or something, he thought, as the floor vanished, catapulting him feet first toward the planet.

  A shield dropped over his visor, blocking his view of the space around him, and protecting his eyes. A myriad of biometric data filled his vision instead, telling him how well his body dealt with the situation. His heart rate was up a bit, but that was to be expected. Other than
that, everything functioned normally. If something did happen to be off, the combat suit would administer drugs to compensate.

  Other statistics reported on the integrity of his suit. It stood up well so far, withstanding the vacuum and radiation of space.

  When he entered the atmosphere another number appeared, showing the external temperature of the suit. He wasn’t a fan of that number, as it made him feel like a human shish kebab.

  That the suit could withstand such temperatures and not melt was nothing short of astonishing. Although, when you considered that all sorts of vessels did the same thing as a matter of routine, it seemed logical that a combat suit could use the same technology.

  His visor told him he had successfully entered the planet’s atmosphere, and now had another two hundred kilometers to go until he made it to the surface. He would free fall most of the way, but his suit would now start making adjustments, steering him to his desired landing coordinates.

  Jon pulled up a tactical display showing the other troopers streaking through the sky toward the surface.

  “Computer, identify Sergeant Kevin St. Clair,” said Jon.

  His display responded by zooming in on one of the icons, a couple kilometers above him. Jon opened a comm. “Enjoying the party so far, Sergeant?”

  “Yes, Sir, Lieutenant. It’s a lot of fun, although I can do without the fireworks.”

  The words, Incoming Weapon Fire, flashed across Jon’s visor, as energy bolts came up from the surface to greet them.

  “The Juttari are still angry with us,” said Jon.

  “They need to learn to be more flexible.”

  “I don’t think they’re the social type.”

  Weapon fire continued to streak by, and some troopers were hit. Their suits careened wildly. Jon hoped the damaged suits at least maintained their integrity, and that the soldiers inside could somehow land safely. He knew it was a long shot, but everything was possible in war.

  As Jon neared the surface his thrusters fired, slowing his velocity for a safe landing. No sooner did his boot touch the ground, that he broke into a run. The drop zone was already very hot, and energy bolts flew by in staggering numbers. He raised his weapon to fire back as he ran. Other soldiers were landing all around him and their weapons joined in the melee.

  A soldier keeping pace next to him was cut down by a flurry of energy bolts. Others fell under the barrage of plasma cannon fire.

  Jon ran the gauntlet. Carnage reigned.

  Jon pushed harder, running as fast as his suit would let him.

  He hated the randomness of battle. Each soldier on this mission was highly skilled, yet some lived and others died. Luck of the draw. No matter how hard he fought, it would be lady luck who would decide whether or not he saw his family again. He couldn’t accept that.

  His visor identified suitable cover, a half destroyed low rise building. He raced towards it, energy bolts biting at his heels.

  Reaching the building he took cover behind its walls, as enemy fire pounded the structure. Several troopers had already taken positions in the building, and were actively returning fire. More men piled in, and Jon crouched beside an opening in the wall, trying to get a vantage point.

  The building wouldn’t last long. It already showed signs of impending collapse.

  Jon scanned the enemy positions, and pinpointed the source of much of their problems. A cluster of enemy defenders wreaked havoc with heavy energy weapons, and plasma cannons.

  Jon’s visor calculated the coordinates of their position and he forwarded them to the Diakan armada in space. After that, there was nothing left to do but wait, and return fire.

  “What did I miss?” said Kevin, appearing beside him.

  “You’re just on time. We’re about to get a light show,” said Jon.

  “Great. I love light shows.”

  “Should be any minute now.” Jon waited for the orbital bombardment to commence, but as the minutes ticked by, nothing happened. He sent the coordinates up to the fleet again, but still nothing.

  “I don’t see any light show, Sir, and this building’s seen better days.”

  “Something’s wrong.” Jon opened a comm with the Diakan commander. “Sir, I sent a request for orbital bombardment, but nothing’s happened.”

  “Nothing is going to happen,” said the Diakan. “There will be no orbital bombardment while the fleet is still engaged with the enemy ships.”

  “But my men are pinned down over here. We need orbital support.”

  “You have heard my explanation, Lieutenant. I will not repeat myself. You and your men are ordered to storm the enemy positions.”

  “What? The enemy’s dug in. We’ll lose a lot of good soldiers.”

  “Are you saying you will not follow your orders, Lieutenant?”

  “No. That is not what I’m saying.”

  “Then I expect you to storm the Juttari positions immediately.” The Diakan commander closed the comm, leaving Jon stunned.

  “That didn’t sound like it went well,” said Kevin.

  “No, it didn’t.” Jon slammed a metal fist into the wall in front of him. It cracked. “Fucking Diakans.”

  The building buckled under more enemy bombardment. They were out of time.

  Jon opened a comm with the rest of his team. “Ok listen up. We’ve been ordered to storm that Juttari position, and that’s what we’re going to do. When I give the word, we break cover and attack. Understood?”

  Silence. His men were not stupid. They knew the orders were crazy. But orders were orders, even if they came from a goddamn Diakan.

  “I can’t hear you!”

  “Yes, Sir!” came the reply from his team.

  Jon checked his weapons, and braced himself for the assault. He glanced at Kevin who gave him a thumbs up. He thought of his wife and daughters, and prayed he would see them again.

  “Charge!”

  Chapter 18

  “You are not permitted to carry weapons in the city,” said the Diakan, to the four Marines. “You will surrender your weapons immediately,” persisted the Diakan.

  “I don’t think so,” said one of the Marines. “Although I might give you a close up view of mine.”

  “What’s going on here,” said Kevin, stepping up to the group, as Breeah, Seiben, Dr. Ellerbeck, and Jon emerged from their shuttle. He couldn’t believe that after making it all the way to Diakus without incident, their first obstacle was on Diakus itself.

  “You all must relinquish your weapons. It is the law.”

  Kevin looked past the Diakan to a group of waiting vehicles and a contingent of armed Diakans. “What is your name?”

  “I am Major Erdos, of Diakan Planetary Security.”

  “Why are they carrying weapons?” said Kevin, pointing to the Diakan contingent.

  “They are Diakan Security. Only Diakan Security is permitted to carry weapons on Diakus.”

  “Do you know who this man is, Major?” Kevin pointed to the hovering gurney where Jon lay.

  “Yes. That is Admiral Pike. He requires medical treatment. I have been briefed on the nature of your visit.”

  “So you are aware of his condition?”

  “Yes.”

  “Captain, we don’t have time for this,” said Dr. Ellerbeck. “The Admiral’s health is deteriorating rapidly.

  Kevin exhaled sharply, feeling the tension build in his neck and shoulders. “You are aware of his condition, and yet you insist on wasting our time? Do you realize you are putting his life at risk?”

  “I am performing my duty. Weapons are not permitted. By refusing to surrender your weapons, you are delaying the Admiral’s treatment.”

  “These men are tasked with protecting the Admiral,” said Kevin. “They will not relinquish their weapons, and neither will anyone else in this party. Or should I contact General Dathos and have him intervene?”

  “This is Diakus, not Earth, or one of your starships. General Dathos does not govern here, and neither does Admiral Pike. Diaka
n Security will protect your Admiral.”

  “Is there a problem, Captain St. Clair?” said Colonel Bast, who approached with two other Chaanisar. Just behind him was Jonas Vicken, with two Reivers. Bast and Jonas had each taken shuttles down to the surface to accompany Jon. They were all armed to the teeth.

  “Your weapons pose a risk to the populace,” said the Diakan. “Relinquish them or you will not be permitted entry into the city.”

  “I want to see you try and take our weapons,” said Jonas, advancing on the Diakan, who took several steps backward.

  The group of armed Diakans raised their weapons. The Marines, Chaanisar, and Reivers responded in kind.

  “Stand down!” ordered Kevin. “Major, order your men to do the same.

  Major Erdos turned nodding to his men, who lowered their weapons. “All this is unnecessary, Captain. We are not your enemy.”

  Goddamn Diakans, thought Kevin. They needed to get the Admiral treated, and they were wasting precious time with these imbeciles. As much as he hated doing it, he didn’t see that he had much choice. “Hand over the weapons.”

  “Sir?” said one of the Marines, with a look of disbelief.

  “You heard me, Marine. The Doctor’s right. We don’t have time for this. Saving the Admiral is our top priority.”

  The Marines dropped their weapons to the ground, followed by the rest. Jonas and the Reivers, however, did not.

  “Jonas?” said Kevin expectantly.

  “You want me to walk naked through this alien world?” said Jonas with a mix of anger and disgust.

  “No, you just need to do so unarmed.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “Father, please,” pleaded Breeah. “These aliens are the only ones who can help Jon. We need them.”

  “Only because you ask it, child,” said Jonas, conceding his weapon.

  “I will need all your weapons,” said Major Erdos.

  Jonas grumbled, and then threw several more weapons to the ground. “There, are you happy now?”

  “I do not understand why you believe this gives me pleasure. I am performing my duty. Nothing more.”

  Jonas shook his head, grumbling some more.