Reclaim: Books 1-3

by J. A. Scorch

  The last bullet rang out of Teve's barrage as Mish spoke into his earpiece. "What was that all about? More of them will be on us in a second."

  "That's what I was hoping to achieve. I'm going to test X's theory about the Zeal being stuck in the city."

  Mish cursed under her breath as she reloaded her rifle. "You could have given me a heads-up instead of putting us all at risk."

  "We'll be okay. Just keep us rolling. I'll hit any drones they send our way. Moreno and Harris can focus on the foot mobiles."

  "What happens when they pull out the large guns? An assault like this will draw out their heavy weapons."

  Teve stared into the distance at another patrol a few notches out of range. "When the time comes, I'll signal our withdrawal. We'll back out until they reach the edge. I've got the combat camera rolling to record the whole thing."

  Mish sighed into the comm. "You better be right about this. Miller will have your ass for dinner if this goes sideways—provided we make it back alive."

  "What could go wrong?" he asked with a chuckle. Mish groaned her acceptance and moved the Humvee partially up the hill and hit the brakes.

  For the next ten minutes, Teve blasted the approaching drones out of the sky before they got within range. The rest of the fire team focused their shots on any slow-moving Zeal soldiers, taking several out before they returned fire.

  "Heavies inbound from the south," Moreno yelled.

  Teve shifted his focus to see two Claws stomping through the wreckage. The angular armored plating of the tanks stuck out, clipping low hanging walls as they approached the Humvee from below. The alien tanks had a giant cannon capable of turning anything into slag. One shot on or near the truck and the four UEF soldiers would be mush.

  "Mish. Time to go. Head up the hill. Keep the first marker in range."

  "Wilco," she shouted over the gunfire as several bolts struck the turret.

  Teve didn't flinch, expecting the hits to start landing. Multiple shots thumped the thick glass right where his head had been, compromising the integrity of the protective layer. He blasted down upon the closest Zeal and lit up its chest in a hail of explosive rounds.

  "One of the Claw tanks is lining up a shot," Moreno roared. "We're toast."

  "Not today," Mish muttered over the comm. The massive spike of the Claw's cannon streaked across the top of the Humvee and punched a hole clean through the side of the mountain, toppling over multiple trees. The truck rocked sideways from the blast radius.

  Teve's turret shook so hard to the left he smashed his head into the metal of the armor. His helmet cracked on the side of the canopy, sending a white flash into his eyes. Before he could find his bearings, another spike leaped out of the second Claw tank and exploded the road behind the Humvee, launching it into the sky.

  The last thing Teve remembered was the city facing the wrong way up before the world turned black. A mess of vibrations rattled his brain to the core, sending flashes of white into his closed eyes.

  The Humvee was gone. He killed them all.

  Chapter Thirty

  Porter's alarm blared away for only a short moment before he silenced it. He didn't need the reminder to wake up as his eyes were both wide open. He leaped out of bed and stretched, touching his toes with his fingertips.

  After a long yawn toward the sink, Porter gazed into the tiny mirror above the faucet to soak in two bloodshot eyes, seeing each screaming out for more sleep. He splashed a handful of water straight into his face.

  On the walk over to training, a cadet belonging to Briggs bumped into him and shoved something into his hand in a hurry. The item was a scrap of paper most likely sent from Briggs himself, so he made sure the two corporals didn't see it.

  Unfolding the small slip of paper in the relative privacy of the control room, Porter found a short code directing him to the real message. He opened a training tablet he had limited access to during the day and discovered the code listed under one of his cadets. A new entry was attached to the cadet's file. He read the words and quickly deleted the record from the system with half a smile.

  Briggs had been busy. His trainees had done plenty of running around for him, snooping and monitoring the ship's brig without alerting the authorities. The note merely confirmed that Briggs was not going to let him fall into the cracks of the ship. Porter would be freed for the fight.

  As Porter directed his cadets and pushed them to their limits during training, he couldn't help but notice a few standouts amongst the twelve. Cadets Wren and Dalton were starting to shape up to be an efficient team, taking on Porter's words with some degree of professionalism. He kept the pair in mind for his next report and would recommend they be pushed up to the second attack wave.

  It was no secret the first stream of pilots sent out during the assault would suffer the highest casualties. The second and third waves would contain all the elite men and women, giving them the best chance at penetrating the Zeal defenses. Porter would gladly launch in the first wave, but he knew Briggs wouldn't allow it. Even Garcia wouldn't place the fake pilot in there for strategic purposes. At least he assumed so.

  The thought cast his mind to Cannon. The knowledge she would be partially responsible for directing the fleet on launch filled him with concern. On the one hand, he trusted her with his life. She was an amazing pilot and more deserving of the promotion than him. But on the other, she had taken the job knowing the problems associated with the task without a second thought.

  As Wren and Dalton performed one of Porter's orders to perfection, he shook thoughts of Cannon out of his head for as long as he could. Over time, his mind came back to the expression on her face when he told her how he felt. He would never remove the anger her eyes forced into him.

  An emergency request beeped, bringing Porter back to reality. One of the cadets' Stalkers demanded attention as its main engine began to overheat. He reacted in an instant and attempted to communicate with Cadet Hooper but got no response, so he punched in a few commands to remotely terminate the Stalker's engines before the ship exploded. His tablet showed the fighter shutting down and going into an emergency cool down procedure that would bring the ship to a relative stop, but a new problem became apparent: the X90 was drifting on a direct course for the Andromeda.

  "Damn stabilizers have failed," Porter said. "Wren. Stalker Zero-Four-Five is on a direct collision course with the Andromeda. Pilot is unresponsive. Intercept Zero-Four-Five with your grapple hook and use reverse thrusters to alter her course." He repeated his message for good measure. Wren confirmed the order and blasted out toward the drifting fighter.

  Dalton jumped on the comm, without warning. "Sir, requesting permission to help. I was just communicating with Hooper. I think she passed out during the last exercise."

  "Roger that, Dalton. Get in there and back Wren's play."

  Porter focused every sensor he had available on the dead ship, predicting its impact with the carrier. The two fighters endeavoring to prevent the plane from colliding into the Andromeda trailed too far behind. If they didn't intercept the problem within the next thirty seconds, Porter would need to make a decision he hoped to avoid.

  "Wren. Dalton. Speed up your approach. The drifting fighter is on a direct path to the Andromeda. If you do not stop the ship, we will be forced to open fire."

  The two cadets signaled their understandings. Porter could hear the nerves in their voices.

  He punched several commands into his tablet and contacted a battery team on the side of the ship facing the impact. "Battery Team Seven-Zero-Niner. This is Lieutenant Porter of Control Bay C requesting fire mission on the inbound fighter. On my mark, I need you to clear the ship from the sky. Do you copy?"

  "Control Bay C. Copy that," the gunner said without question.

  The backup plan was in place. It was up to Wren and Dalton to save the day. The Andromeda had impact shields to protect it from a single fighter colliding with the armor plating of the ship, but Porter didn't want to put any additional str
ess on the system given how much they would need the ship's strength over the coming days. The Andromeda was already on the brink of failure due to the number of repairs needed. If the fighter impacted and bypassed the shields enough, the result could be devastating.

  With nothing left to do, Porter stared into the monitors as Wren and Dalton shot out their magnetic grappling hooks from the nose of their Stalkers. Wren's hook missed by a few meters while Dalton's managed to snag the back of the drifting X90. A cheer erupted throughout the control room.

  "I wouldn't celebrate yet," Porter said to himself as he switched views to Dalton's feed. The cadet engaged his reverse thrusters and threw everything he had into slowing down the Stalker. The pair were now only three clicks out from being shot down by the battery team, moving at a rate of one hundred meters per second.

  "Dalton," Porter shouted. "Reverse thrusters aren't going to cut it. You need to hit your e-burners and take control of both ships."

  "Sir, that doesn't make sense. I'm trying to slow her down, not speed her up."

  "Trust me, Cadet. Aim your nose past the fighter and hit your e-burners now."

  "Okay," he yelled. "Engaging e-burners in three, two, one. Engage."

  The next few moments, time slowed down. Dalton did as instructed and managed to take control of both fighters. He was going to pull the drifting plane from a collision course until the magnetic hook snapped off and sent the broken X90 into a spiral toward a different section of the Andromeda.

  There was nothing anyone could do.

  Hooper’s ship had to be dealt with.

  Porter gave the order to the battery team in a whisper and watched over the system as they cleared the fighter from the sky in less time than it took him to give the command. The Stalker exploded into a million tiny pieces and showered over the Andromeda’s shields, doing no damage to anyone involved. Only the dead pilot had been disintegrated into dust.

  A barely audible voice recalled the eleven remaining cadets. Porter requested them to head down to Deck C for a debriefing. His concentration drifted as he tried to think of the right words to say to the squadron after losing their first pilot. Nothing came to mind. Then again, nothing ever came to mind.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Teve's eyes rolled around in his head as he slowly woke up to the sight of Mish sitting over him. The specialist was waving a flashlight in his face while pressing something to his skull.

  "He's waking up," she said to someone off to the side.

  His vision began to focus along with his hearing, clearing up from a dark blur back to reality. "What happened?"

  "We went on a bit of a trip through the air," she said as Moreno stepped into view. "One of the damn Claws landed a spike right behind us. Flipped the Humvee straight over."

  With a wrinkled brow, Teve tried to sit up. "Jesus."

  "Hey, take it easy." Mish held a bandage to the side of his forehead. "Don't get up."

  "I need to sort this all out."

  "No, you don't. Like I said, we got launched into the air, but the truck landed on its feet. I managed to keep us going by jamming my foot down."

  Teve let out a chuckle "You saved us?"

  "Don't sound so surprised. We landed the right way up, so I was able to drive farther up the hill and out of the Claw's range."

  He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He gazed around a clearing in what appeared to be the edge of an area on his map formerly known as La Tuna Canyon Park.

  "Did everyone make it? Where's Harris?"

  "Right here, Sarge," he said. A large, bleeding gash sat across his head.

  "Are you okay?"

  "No worse than you, Sergeant."

  "Good to hear." Teve let himself smile for a moment. The relief of not losing another soldier sent him back to the ground. As he tried to relax, a sharp pain stabbed into his head. "Okay. That hurts like a son-of-a-bitch."

  "Try not to move. You've got a deep cut on the side of your forehead." Mish grabbed his hand and placed it on the cloth she had been using to stem the bleeding. "Keep up the pressure."

  He held the gauze on his skull and asked the first question that entered his mind. "Did the Zeal follow us and press the attack?"

  "No," Moreno said. "They stopped as soon as they reached the edge of the city even though they had us dead to rights."

  "I knew it. What did I tell you?"

  "Still doesn't prove anything," Mish said. "All it tells me is that they ran us out of town. And let's face it, they've never once followed us back home since they began building their base."

  "Did anyone witness them go physically beyond the limit of the city?"

  The three shook their heads. Mish leaned over him. "Command will want more than a flipped Humvee."

  Teve thought about the recording on his mounted gun. "The truck. Where is it?"

  "Over here," Mish said, pointing to her right. "She's not operational, though. Axle finally gave way and snapped in two once we cleared the Zeal. The engine is also dead. We're going to have to radio for help or leg it back to base. Should I call it in?"

  "Not yet."

  A thick line creased across Mish's forehead. "Excuse me?"

  "We can't limp home now. We need to sneak back to the city and see what happened."

  Mish slanted her head. "Did the head wound scramble your brain?"

  "Listen to me. We have to head back to where the Humvee flipped and find out what they are up to now. The attack will have forced them to bolster up defenses at that location. This is the perfect opportunity for us to observe the Zeal and work out how they respond to further aggression."

  "Further aggression? Have you gone completely insane?" Mish yelled. "No. We are heading back to base, right now. This bullshit is over."

  Teve tried to stand, but she shoved him back down to the ground. She pulled out her rifle and pressed it to his face, flicking the safety off in the same motion. "I am relieving you of your command, Sergeant."

  Moreno and Harris stayed back, neither one getting involved in the sudden power shift.

  Teve held both of his arms out to show he wasn't reaching for his sidearm. "What are you doing, Mish?"

  "What I should have done all along instead of letting you convince me you actually found something."

  "I'm not lying to you. I saw—"

  "You didn't see a damn thing."

  The two soldiers yelled over the top of one another until Moreno stepped in. "Guys. Shut up. There's something in the bushes over there." He held his rifle out toward the disturbance.

  Teve sat up as Harris raised his weapon.

  "Don't move," Mish said through gritted teeth.

  Harris and Moreno ran over to the bush, covering each other as best they could. Harris removed one hand from his rifle and snatched something out of the bushes in a single sweeping motion. X stumbled out of the shrubbery and fell to the ground.

  "X? How the hell are you here?" Teve asked.

  "Tevey. I saw you on top of the hill, so I thought I'd say hello." X waved from the dirt patch Harris had thrown him on.

  Teve sat up and stood on two feet, brushing Mish's rifle aside. Everyone had dropped their weapons down by their side, not because X had recognized Teve, but because of the purple mess covering the man's arms.

  X's gleaming purple eyes were impossible to miss as they flicked from one confused soldier to the next.

  "Something I said?"

  Teve stepped closer. "Guys. Meet X: the half-human, half-Zeal person I've been trying to tell you about."

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  With the two corporals by his side, Porter rushed down to Deck C and met the recalled pilots head on as they disembarked from their Stalkers.

  Dalton hopped down from his fighter and immediately threw up on the floor. The rest of the cadets stood scattered apart, talking amongst themselves.

  "Squadron. Form up," Porter yelled.

  None of the cadets listened.

  "What did I just say? Form the hell up."

>   The young officers fell in line. Dalton stumbled in last, letting his helmet hang by his side.

  "What you have now experienced will happen again. Death is a part of war. And I realize no one wants to listen to this right now, but it's a reality we all face. Pilots die. Plain and simple."

  "Why did you shoot her?" Dalton asked, his eyes begging. "I could have saved her, but you gave up."

  Porter moved over to the cadet and placed an arm on his shoulder. "This is no one's fault. These things happen."

  Dalton lurched back with a clenched fist, but Porter saw the move in time to dodge the cadet's rage. He felt the anger in the man's attack penetrating the air as he stepped sideways and pushed the pilot to the floor using his momentum against him.

  Porter stood over the defeated man and put one foot forward. "Are you done, Cadet? Or would you like to spend the night in the brig with me?"

  Dalton stared at the ground as he breathed heavy, rapid breaths. "This isn't fair, goddamn it." He punched the deck with a flat fist and cut open his knuckles on the rough, metallic surface.

  "Of course it's not fair. But you can't let your feelings cloud your judgment," Porter said. "Come on, Dalton. You survived basic. You got through flight school. You know the MAF mantra: you are not a soldier until you accept one truth: you are already dead."

  Dalton began to blubber under his breath. "You don't understand. I've known her for years. We went through it all together. Training and school. Now this. And like that, she's gone."

  Porter lifted him up by the back of his flight suit to his feet. "I understand more than you could ever know. Now get out of here. Hit the showers and hit your rack. I don't want to see your face for the next few hours. Come back when you've got your shit together."

  Porter shoved him on his way and stepped back as Dalton stumbled off and away from Deck C. The lieutenant turned and faced the remaining pilots. "Does anyone else need a warm bath and some cocoa?"