Hammer's Commandos (Hammer's War Book 4)

by James McEwan

  They had received only one message from Thad. It simply stated, “Going after the twins. God help those who took them.”

  The AI version of Eve that inhabited the Eden had kept herself busy by having a facility built that could house her ever-growing code. She had also had another body built for her so she could move around while her other body was off with Thad. She tried to keep in touch, but either Thad was operating in the dark or long-range communication was being blocked. Either way, there was little that she could do about it.

  Connell had married Sasha in a small private ceremony. He wanted his heir to be legitimate. Even though those ideas were as old as mankind, they had stayed with him even to this day. It was just in time, as Sasha had given birth to a healthy baby boy shortly after their return to Earth. They named him Emrys Thaddeus Barros. He would, in time, be in line to become Emperor. However, they also realized that when he came of age there might not be an Empire for him to rule. If they lost the war then all of creation, save a few elites, would become undead slaves. And that possibility was not acceptable to any of the intelligent races in the universe that were still free of the New Galactic Empire.

  Nevertheless, what could end his chances of becoming an Emperor was the new purposed Terrain Alliance. The Terrain Alliance was new collective government that would encompass the rest of the remaining human governments throughout the galaxy.

  It was late on the eve of a historic vote that would effectively end the Terrain Imperium, which had rained for almost three hundred years. Conall was in his office too tense to sleep. He had a lot on his mind coupled with the added benefit of having to be a new father and having little or no sleep. It was nearly two in the morning in Rio, the Capital of the Terrain Imperium. He was sitting in a fine leather high back chair. It was a deep brown with highly polished brass brads that lined the sides. In his hand was a tablet. Conall was going over the new charter that would serve as the backbone of the new Terrain Alliance when Sasha and the baby entered the room.

  “Up late again my dear?” She said as she sat on the corner of his desk. Her black silk nightdress rode up a bit, but she didn’t care, as she wanted to show a little leg. Maybe she could tempt him back into her bed.

  “Yeah, it’s just that I want to make sure every word is right. One poor word choice and it could spell disaster,” he said without looking up from his work.

  The baby stirred, “Well daddy. Is there any way I can get you to come back to bed anytime soon?”

  “Sorry love, not tonight,” he looked up. Sasha leaned in and he kissed her.

  “Okay then if you insist on staying up all night you can take the baby and I will go get some sleep,” she said as he handed him the baby.

  Conall took his infant son into his arms and kissed his little forehead. “I will take my little man,” he said.

  Sasha leaned in and deeply kissed her husband before leaving father and son alone. Conall looked at his baby boy, who in turn looked up at him and cooed. It was then that his com beeped. Using voice control, he commanded the system to answer. A little hologram projection of Commandant Grunt appeared on his desk.

  “Sorry to bother you so late Sir,” he paused when he saw that Conall was holding his young son. “Is this a bad time Sir?”

  “Not at all Jim,” Conall said as he shifted the baby into a better position.

  “Well, Sir we believe we have located the target,” Grunt informed him.

  “How good is the intel on this one?” Conall asked.

  “As good as it gets Sir,” Grunt replied.

  “Jim, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Conall?” He asked.

  “Sorry Sir, old habits,” Grunt said without thinking. “Sir, ah Conall” he corrected himself. “I just need your authorization for the mission.”

  “You have it. Oh, and Jim?” Conall paused. “Execute the mission with extreme prejudice. After you get your intel and Professor McEwan, I don’t want any of them getting out alive. This is too important.”

  “Understood,” Grunt nodded.

  “And Jim,” Conall said.

  “Yes, Sir?”

  “I’m sorry you can’t be there on this one,” Conall said. James Grunt had been many things to Conall over the years, mentor, confidant, friend, and protector, but he knew that Grunt was a true Marine’s Marine. He could see in his friend's eyes that he wanted nothing more than to be there leading the raid. He felt bad about having to ask his friend to do the worst thing a combat Marine can be asked to do and that is to lead from the rear.

  “No worries Sir, I would like to be there, however, the corps needs a hell of a lot of work to get ready to be the main force of the new alliance. And since there is not one else that can do it, I guess that leaves me. Besides I have my best unit in the field on this one,” Grunt said.

  “Well tell your men God’s speed and to give them Hell,” Conall replied.

  “That is a given Sir,” and with that, the hologram of Grunt blinked out.

  Twelve hours later on the other side of the planet. In a warehouse district of old London, things were quiet. It was well past midnight and there was a heavy fog rolling in off the Thames. It had been raining and everything was good and wet. Most of the warehouses in this area had been abandoned and were waiting for approval to be torn down. Yet in the middle of this seeming wasteland of rusting siding, rotting wood, and broken glass sat a warehouse that was strangely out of place.

  The thing that made this one seem different was the fact that it had armed guards constantly patrolling the perimeter and stationed at every entrance. The men who were protecting this old building had no idea that they were drawing their last breaths.

  A guard stood outside near the main door. He shivered from the wet cold that seemed to pass right through his clothing and straight into his bones. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it with an old worn zippo lighter. Smoking had been banned on Earth for nearly five hundred years because of its dangers to one’s health. However, this didn’t stop people from getting cigarettes on the black market and it clearly didn’t bother this man as he took a deep drag. The end of his cigarette burned brightly in the darkness.

  Seemingly, out of nowhere another shorter man appeared next to the him. “Damn it Dmitry!” He cursed before pulling the cigarette from the man’s lips. He dropped it on the ground and crushed it out. “What is wrong with you? Light discipline!” the shorter man said in English, but with a heavy Russian accent. There was no doubt they were Fabians.

  “Hey,” the smoker protested. “Do you know how hard those are to get here?”

  “I don’t care if you had to give your left nut for them. No lights! We can’t afford to be seen,” the short man said angrily. The smoker opened his mouth to say something when they heard a soft humming. The short man held up his hand to silence his comrade. “Did you hear that?”

  The smoker went to reply but he couldn’t as he had an armored glove gripping his mouth. It held him with such force that his teeth cracked. A second later, he felt the searing hot pain of a force blade. It easily passed through his body armor and severed both his right Subclavian artery and vein. He bled out internally in just a few seconds. At the same moment the other man met the same fate. It would have been a strange sight to see if there was anyone around to see it. Two men attacked by invisible assailants. Their bodies jerked and then relaxed as their lives were extinguished as easily as the cigarette had been. The bodies were gently lowered to the ground but not as a courtesy or any sign of respect for the dead. The assailants didn’t want to make any noise. A fraction of a second later and there were three rapid soft almost silent pops, as a suppressed sniper rifle dropped three guards on the roof.

  Inside the warehouse in the center of the open floor was a large cage made of chain link fencing. In the middle was a metal spring bunk. On top of the bunk, an old man was snoring away. His face was dirty and he was sporting a two-month-old white beard that looked gray now, as it was also dirty. He had dried blood caked on hi
s face and in his beard. He looked like he had been worked over a few times by his captors.

  Near the door to the cage sat two more guards at a small table who were keeping themselves busy with a game of cards. The warehouse office was hung from the ceiling and had attached stairs. In a corner of the warehouse a sectioned off area had been turned into a makeshift barracks. The dozen cots that had been set up were all full at the moment.

  The office lights were on and sitting in a ratty old office chair was the man in charge of the operation. His pants were down around his ankles and a terrified young girl was on her knees in front of him. The man had a laser pistol pointed at her head and was forcing her to perform a sex act on him. He was far too busy to notice the outside office window disintegrate.

  Down below the two men playing cards also didn’t notice the outside door disappear as it too had been disintegrated by an unseen slaver disintegrator. Not that it would have mattered as there were two more soft pops and the both men crashed down on the tabletop dead.

  Up in office, the man in charge was enjoying his last moments of pleasure when he felt a crushing armored hand seized his mouth and then his left hand with the pistol in it. Before he could do anything, pain ripped through his mind as he watched his hand twist almost completely around. The pistol dropped harmlessly to the floor as his hand hung limply at an unnatural angle.

  The bones in his wrist had made a crunching sound as they were snapped causing the young woman’s head to jerk up to see what was going on. She watched as the man tried in vain to pry the invisible hand from his mouth. She was paralyzed by the sight and could only stare.

  A second later, all Hell broke loose as weapons fire could be heard from downstairs.

  Down in the barracks area, two of the guard were about to change shifts with the two at the table when they watched their comrade’s heads explode in a mist of pink. They acted fast and with both cone rifles on full automatic, they opened fire in the direction of the door. This woke the rest of the guards who rolled of bed reaching for their weapons.

  One of the guards got lucky and hit one of the Commandos squarely in the chest. His optical camo shorted out and he was now visible. His armor took the brunt of the force and even though it stopped the rounds from penetrating, it still felt like he had just been hit in the chest by a raging bull. It knocked the wind out of the Marine but instead of dropping to his knees like his body wanted to, his training kicked in and he dropped all the way to the ground. This served two purposes, first to keep his head out of the line of fire and second to try to trick the enemy into thinking that they had just taken him out of the fight for good.

  The battle was short and intense. When it was over all of the guards were dead and the Commandos had two men with minor injuries. While upstairs the man in charge was dangling from his head as if he was a being held up like a prize catch by a fishermen. The young woman was too scared to move she just stayed on her knees staring up. She heard a disembodied female voice, “Are you okay?” The girl nodded. “Oh, I’m sorry I forgot,” the voice said and then a female faded into the visible spectrum. The young woman was looking up at a woman dressed in full silver colored armor with strange symbols etched into it. She still had a solid grip on the man who whimpered and wiggled.

  Her helmet was unlike anything this girl had ever seen and she was surprised when it seemed to fold itself away. She was greeted by a face that was by far the fairest and most beautiful she had ever seen. Her long golden hair was braided and twisted up on the back of her head. She had pointed ears and blue eyes that were the color of sapphires.

  The young woman was in awe, “You’re an Eli,” she said with baited breath. “I have heard stories, but I thought they were just stories,” she said.

  “Yes, I’m an Eli and my dear you need to get out more. Maybe take a trip off world, get a little experience,” the Eli woman said with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

  “I’m sorry. You must get that a lot. Don’t you?” She apologized.

  “More than you know. My name is Kára,” she said.

  “Nora,” she gave her name in response.

  “Well Nora, would you be a dear and” she let go of his broken wrist and pointed to his pants.

  “Oh,” she said as she realized that he was still hanging out. She grabbed his pants and wasn’t too polite about pulling them up and when she zipped up his fly, she intentionally caught the skin of his manhood in the zipper. The man’s scream was muffled by Kára’s hand, which was still across his mouth. Kára laughed at this and so did Nora.

  Downstairs, the old man who had been asleep was now hiding underneath his bunk waiting and hoping that the people who had just killed his captors were the good guys and not someone worse. A tall man in matte black armor used a force blade to cut the lock off the door to the cage. He then entered walked up to the bed and took off his helmet. He stuffed it under his left arm and then he waited. The old man under the bed peaked out up at him. He could see that he was a man in his early fifties and had a weathered by kind face.

  The man in the armor looked down at him, “Professor McEwan I take it?” The old man nodded. “Well, Sir, don’t you know a rescue when you see one?” The old man relaxed and crawled out from under the bunk. The man in the armor bent down and helped him to his feet.

  “Who are you people?” the old man asked.

  “I’m Dominic St. Claire, my friend, and I am here to bring you home.”

  The man looked him up and down again, “Nice to me you Mr. St. Claire, but who do you work for?”

  “I’m from the government and I’m here to help,” St. Claire said with a laugh and a grin.

  The old man laughed and said, “In that case, I think I will crawl back under the bed.”

  St. Claire laughed even harder then turned to one of the other men, “Sean, see to the Professor’s needs, Kára has someone I would like to talk with.” St. Claire handed over the old man’s care to the unit’s medic and he vaulted up the stair to the office.

  Once St. Claire walked in, Kára slammed the man back down into his chair. He let out another scream as his broken wrist smashed against the top of the desk. St. Claire found another chair and placed it on the other side of the desk opposite the man. Kára let go of his mouth, but placed a hand on his shoulder. He tried to slip his right hand down to his groin in an attempt to relieve the pain. Kára noticed his hand slipping down below the desk.

  “Put that hand back on the desk. If you try that again I will twist it off,” and she meant it. His hand jumped back to the top of the desk.

  St. Claire leaned forward and looked at the man’s left wrist, which was turning a deep purple and was now about twice normal size. “You should have that looked at, it looks painful,” as he grabbed the man’s wrist and squeezed. He paused to watch the man’s reaction. This one was a real tough guy it seemed, as he didn’t even blink. “No, really it looks like it could be broken. Would you like me to call my medic in here?”

  The man stared at St. Claire trying to get a read on him. “It will not matter,” he said in his heavy Russian accent.

  “Now why would you say that?” St. Claire asked.

  “You are just going to kill me once you have the information you need,” he replied.

  “What would make you think that I would do such a thing?” St. Claire feigned hurt feelings even patting his chest as if he had been offended by the statement.

  “Cause that is what I would do,” he answered.

  “Normally I would but I am a changed man! I have her now,” he said as he nodded toward Kára. “So I don’t really have to do anything anymore. I get to just sit back and enjoy the show. But be that as it may, I must admit that you are right you are going to die today. But the big question you have got to ask yourself is….how painful do I want my death to be?”

  While St. Claire was not a man who would condone the torture or the killing of POWs, this was a different kind of war they were fighting. This war was for the whole of existence.
He knew the plans of the enemy and he knew that if the New Galactic Empire were to win the war, then everyone on every planet, with exception of a few elites, would be murdered and their remains turned into an abomination.

  “I’m not going to tell you anything until you get this crazy b….” he didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Kára bounced his face on the top of the metal desk with a resounding thud.

  “Dude. If I may make a suggestion here. I would not, under any circumstances, call her names. She is a little sensitive. You know Eli woman. Being around one is a bit like being around a volcano. Breathtakingly beautiful yet extremely dangerous,” St. Claire said as Kára pulled his bloodied head back up.

  “Oh Dominic, you always know how to say the right things to make a girl smile don’t you dear,” Kára said as she smiled and winked at St. Claire.

  “Do what you have to I’m will tell you nothing,” the man said then spit a mouth full of blood at St. Claire. His years of experience as a cop he knew not to be too close to a suspect when interrogating them. The blood landed just short of his face.

  “Here is the thing you don’t know. I don’t need you to talk. I just wanted to be a nice and give you a chance to do a little good with what is left of your sad pathetic little life. However, you want to be the big bad tough guy right to the end. What a shame,” St. Claire shook his head.

  “What do you mean I don’t need to talk?” The man asked.

  “Wait a minute. You don’t know?” Again, St. Claire was like a cat toying with a mouse before the killing blow. The man looked extremely confused. “See as it turns out, some Eli woman have the ability to link minds with others,” St. Claire couldn’t help, but notice the look on the man’s face. “But don’t feel bad. It is a little known fact. One that I only learned a little while ago. But I digress,” St. Claire paused to let out a deep breath.

  “Go Fu…” the man started but didn’t get to finish as his face rebounded off the desk again.