FORGE OF WAR
A Jack of Harts Novel By
MEDRON PRYDE
Copyright © 2013 by Medron Pryde
Cover background designed by Stephen Huda under contract
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing, 2013
www.jackofharts.com
Dedication
I would like to dedicate this book to everyone who has served in the Armed Forces. It is thanks to all of you that we are here now, to enjoy this form of entertainment in the safety of our homes. I would especially like to thank every Marine aviator of Marine Fighter Attack Squadron 112. The Wolfpack in World War II, the Cowboys in recent decades. The Cowboys in this story are named in your honor.
I would also like to thank everybody who has helped me write this story, from those who brainstormed with me, proofread it for me, created art to bring it to life, or simply declined to roll your eyes when I nattered on about this story I was writing. Whether family or friend, whether I have met you in person or only over the Internet, your help and support is greatly appreciated.
FORGE OF WAR
Book 1 - Earth
All Good Things
The Metal in the Man
The Mighty Avengers
Hyperspace Cowboys
The Guardian Light
Hit and Dive
The End of the Rainbow
Cowboy Diplomacy
Book 2 - New Earth
Cowboys and Aliens
Gunfight at Alpha Centauri
Gunfight at Alpha Centauri
Loss
Celebration
Lost
Reflex
Big Damn Heroes
Boardwalk
Devilcats
Independence Seven
T&J
War Games
The Pav
Dreams
Home
Plans
Worlds
The Pooch
Jester
Faith
Rain
Book 3 - The War
Wits
Questions
Girls
Deception
Winter
Cowboys
Jack
Life
Hart
Crazy Ivan
The War
Epilogue
EARTH
Hello, my name is Jack. We all have days when the world changes for us. Those days when we realize that we have to start growing up. It took me a long time to get there, but there was one day when my childhood ended, just as all good things do….
All Good Things
Birds called out, their cries echoing off the early morning water. Mist filled the air, rays of sunshine burning through it visible to the naked eye. Fish jumped out of the water, feeding on bugs, and splashed back down, ripples of water spreading out from them in every direction. A Loon far above tucked its wings in tight and dove straight down into the water, the surface rippling behind it. Jack scanned the water and saw the bird break the surface with a fish in its mouth several seconds later. It shook its wings out, spraying water all over and prepared to lift off again. Jack smiled. Today really was a good day for fishing.
His wrist snapped back, his wrist snapped forward, and a lure whirred through the air to hit the surface of the water with a plop. Jack held the fishing rod in one hand and began to work the reel with the other, bringing the lure back towards the bass boat at the sedate pace a small fish might take on its way through the water. The line went taut, and the lure began to swim away.
Jack smiled, let it swim for a few seconds, and then began working the reel again, pulling it back. The lure, or more accurately the fish that had swallowed it, fought back. It fought well, and Jack estimated it at a good ten-kilos. That would make some good eating if it was the right type. He let the fish fight away before reeling it back, fight away some more, and reeled it back in some more. With each round of the conflict, it got nearer the small boat until he could finally see it thrashing in the water just below the surface next to the boat.
A fishnet splashed down into the water, and Jack’s father pulled the fish up into the air, still struggling. They both smiled. A Northern. That would be good eating all right. They immobilized the fish, worked the lure out, and dumped her into the live well in the boat where she had the chance to swim around with the half dozen fellow Northerns already pulled out of the Boundary Waters.
“I think that’s enough,” his father said and Jack nodded. The fish would feed their family for at least a week. They were a good catch. Jack reeled the lure up to the rod, locked it in place, and stowed the rod in its bin. It would be ready the next time they came out to fish.
“Time to gut ‘em?” Jack asked.
“Yup,” his father answered and powered up the small trolling motor to send them towards the nearby island where they always left the guts and heads for the birds.
A thunderclap echoed through the air and they both looked up to see a fireball way up high, probably up near the edges of the atmosphere. Streaks of light speared up, causing more explosions, and plumes of smoke rose up from the ground after them to meet plumes of smoke coming down. Explosions rippled across the sky, and Jack felt the blood run from his face.
“Ah, hell,” his father cursed and pulled the trolling motor out of the water. He dropped the big outboard down, pulled the cord once, and it roared to life. “We’ve got to find cover,” he shouted over the growl and revved the motor up.
Jack held on tight as the propellers dug into the water and spun the bass boat around for home. The boat’s nose lifted up out of the water as it picked up speed.
“Get in the nose!” Jack’s father shouted over the growl of the engine and the rush of the wind.
“On it!” Jack shouted back and clambered over the ribbing holding the boat together. He made it to the nose and his weight pushed it down towards the water. He held on tight to both sides of the boat as his father gunned the engine again. The nose lifted up again, though not as far as before, and the boat shot over the water, making for home far faster than it normally moved.
Wind blew Jack’s long blond hair back, and Jack would have crowed into it in exaltation if it weren’t for the sky full of fire above them. Jack looked up, wondering who it was. The Chinese? The Russians? It was hard to believe either of them would break the Treaty.
He looked to the west where one of the few orbital structures large enough to see with the naked eye hung in its permanent position over California. He watched explosions march across the sky towards it; missiles stopped cold by the point defense satellites covering the sky above America. But each explosion was closer than the one before it. He looked back over towards the east where the roar of explosions driving down from the sky drowned out the growling motor.
Jack tried to swallow but his mouth was dry as a tomb. He met his father’s gaze and saw his own fear mirrored in the far older eyes. There were so many missiles. It couldn’t be the Chinese or the Russians. They couldn’t have kept that many of them secret. They just couldn’t have.
He watched the explosions march down past the horizon in the east and licked his lips with a dry tongue. He looked back to the west in time to see the other wave of explosions envelope the yards in orbit.
Yosemite Yards, the largest orbital construct built by humanity. Well, the Terran branch at least. He watched, helpless as the place in orbit where the yards hung lit up with explosion after explosion after explosion. It s
eemed to go on for minutes. Then as suddenly as it started, the explosions faded away. The rumble in the east began to quiet, and the growl of the motor propelling them across the water came back.
He glanced over at the smoke filling the eastern sky, looked back up at Yosemite Yards, and tried to swallow at the sight. The yards looked smaller than before. Jack shook his head and brought his gaze back down to the shore the bass boat charged towards.
“They got it,” he whispered. “Damn them, they got it.” He wished he knew who needed damning. He wondered how many had made it to the escape pods. How many still lived? He sighed and looked back up. He blinked. It looked bigger again. No. It was getting bigger.
“Oh frak,” Jack said as it clicked. The yards weren’t getting bigger. They were getting closer.
“Watch your language, son,” his father shouted from behind. Jack winced. How had the old man heard him?
“The yards are falling, dad!” he shouted back. He felt the boat jerk a little bit and turned to see his dad looking up. He thought he saw his dad squinting.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Shit,” his father said too softly for Jack to hear, but he read lips just fine.
Jack wisely refrained from telling his dad to watch his language.
“We need to get under cover!” his father shouted and twisted the throttle. It was already turned as far as it went and the bass boat didn’t so much as twitch. “Damn.”
Jack knew there wasn’t anything closer than their lodge, and their fishing spot was an hour away from that. Of course his father wasn’t the kind to gun the engine like this so it would take well less than an hour to get back.
Jack let out a long breath as another small island shot passed them. When the yards hit the atmosphere…he was not going to want to be under them. He held onto the bench and just watched the wind-driven waves part around their boat. Jack let the world go, taking in one breath at a time, and just not worrying about anything he had no power over. All he could do right now was hold on, breathe, and wait. So he waited.
A new light in the sky pulled him out of his meditation and he looked up to see streaks of fire coming down from orbit. Yosemite Yards were falling. He hoped no one had survived the attack. Burning was not a good way to die. Not that he could think of many good ways to die of course. Well, there was always surrounded by a blonde, a brunette, and a redhead. As deaths went, that wouldn’t be too bad. But really, Jack planned to live forever. Burning, trapped in the remnants of a shattered space station, on a one way express to the ground was simply not a way he wanted to go out.
Most of the flaming trails ran out of stuff to burn up and faded away high up in the air. The big ones, still burning, fell below the horizon on their way to California, or maybe Washington. The western States. He hoped they landed in the country. He didn’t want to think about how many people would die if one of those hit a major city, or the ocean. Still, all he could do was watch, so he breathed deeply and let his eyes take in the disaster.
After a time, something began to bother him. He didn’t know what at first, and allowed the back of his mind to ruminate on whatever it was as he continued to sit and watch. The wind continued to beat against his face; the bass boat fell down between waves from time to time, rising back up quickly. Water sprayed up each time, hitting his face and clothing. It didn’t take long for the wind to dry him off again.
Another wave of fire fell down from orbit, and he frowned as he wondered where it was heading. Montana? North Dakota? The back of his mind screamed at him and Jack gasped as the odd feeling finally blossomed into a complete thought. The Yosemite Yards weren’t falling straight down towards the earth. They were spreading out before falling. The wreckage would be falling all over America.
“Dad!” he shouted and turned to look back. “We have to get off the water!”
“I know,” his dad answered and Jack saw another glimmer of fear in the eyes that met his gaze.
His father already knew. Jack looked away and turned to face west again. The wind beat against him and he licked his lips, watching the land with their lodge approach. It did so slowly, too slowly for his fear. No. He breathed deeply and pushed the fear away. He had nothing to do right now. He had no control over where that wreckage landed. All he could do was wait. So he breathed deeply, watched flames and wreckage fall on the Dakotas and western Minnesota, and waited.
Their dock appeared in the distance and the bass boat turned to aim directly at it, engine still growling away. Jack swallowed, eyes flicking up to watch more wreckage raining down in their general direction. The rain of fire was getting way too close for comfort.
“Dad?” he asked, turning to make certain his voice would carry.
“I know,” his father returned with another worried glance at the sky. “We’re almost there.”
Jack nodded, faced forward again, and forced himself to relax and breathe. He watched the land approach, each second more quickly than the last it appeared. It was an illusion, but he couldn’t help holding on tighter as they closed with the dock at what must be far too fast.
The growl died behind him and the boat shifted as the water grabbed it. The sound of the bass boat flowing through the water ruled now, and he held on even tighter as momentum tried to pull him out of his seat. The bass boat still seemed to be moving far too fast as it approached the dock. Jack’s hands grew white from holding the bench, his feet bracing against the nose, and the water pulled the bass boat down.
It slowed to a stop and gently bounced off the rubber guards on the dock. Jack sprang into action, grabbing a rope and tying it around a piling. He jumped out onto the dock and felt it drop an inch with his weight. He spun around to see his father scrambling up as well, his end of the boat secured. He looked up to see another spray of burning wreckage coming down, closer than any of the others.
“Move it!” his father shouted.
Jack turned and ran towards the lodge, leaving the dock in less than three strides. He heard his dad behind him and glanced up towards the rain of fire. It was too close. Far too close. He could hear the rumble of wreckage exploding in the distance, far to the west where International Falls lay. He really hoped they missed International Falls.
Jack vaulted onto the deck, skipping the stairs on the way up, turned the doorknob, and pulled the door open. In the distance, another man-made meteor burned down. He heard it hit the water and swore as he ran into the lodge. He had a job to do. “Mom!” he shouted and ran into the living room. He dropped to the floor and ripped a rug off it, sending it flying onto a couch with a flick of his wrist. He grabbed a ring in the floor and pulled the trap door up hard. Finally, he placed his hand on the panel beneath the door and waited for it to beep, recognizing him as one of the people approved to open it. A click sounded in the hatch and it slid out of the way smoothly to reveal a set of stairs.
“Mom!” he shouted again and looked around frantically. Where was she? His father’s boots banged around upstairs where he was searching.
Jack heard the boots screech to a stop. Then someone shrieked and his father thundered down the staircase. Jack rolled into the bunker, dropped onto the stairs hard, and gasped. He pushed himself onto his feet, and spun to face his father.
His father hit the bottom of the stairs at a full run with his mother hoisted over one shoulder and Jack wondered how many steps he’d skipped on the way down. “Get down!” his father shouted over the roar of…water…that was getting closer.
Jack took a step back, moving further down into the bunker. He saw the wall of water caused by the falling debris explode through the front wall of the lodge and he met his father’s gaze. His father dove for the bunker and Jack threw himself further down the stairs to get out of his parents’ way.
His father barreled into the stairway a second ahead of the water. The wave hit them, driving them down with a force that crushed the air from Jack’s lungs, and Jack fought to stay awake as he hit the floor at the bottom of
the stairs. Hard. He felt a leg snap and the pain brought with it an odd clarity.
The hatch above them, at the top of the stairs was closed. It’s emergency systems had recognized the threat and locked it. Water surrounded him. It was going away. The pumps were taking care of the water that pushed them in. He looked around, seeing his mom, soaking wet from head to toe but uninjured. She really was a beautiful woman. He considered that thought, felt the pain in the back of his head, and recognized the symptoms of a concussion. He was going to feel that in the morning.
His mother screamed. His mother ran across the bunker, slipping and sliding through the ankle-deep water still on the floor.
Jack blinked and wished she would stop screaming. It really hurt right around in the temples. He rolled to the side, feeling the bones in his leg shift. That should really hurt too, but it didn’t. Jack considered just how odd it was that he could feel the screams in his temples but not how badly his leg had to be hurt, and shrugged the thought away. It should hurt. It didn’t. Shock. Yeah, he was in shock too. That must mean he’d been hurt a lot worse than it felt like he had. It was probably a blessing. He figured he really didn’t want to be feeling all the pain he was in right now anyways.
Come to think about it, he probably shouldn’t be moving right now either. But first he really needed to figure out why his mother was screaming. He could feel that pain real strong. He turned a bit more and looked over to see her cradling his father.
Jack blinked. That looked bad. That water had been awful strong when it smashed his father down the stairs. Yeah. That was real bad. Human bodies were really not meant to bend like that.
His mother stopped screaming and started to sob.
Well, that was an improvement. Jack’s headache started to go away and he rolled over onto his stomach. The water was gone, leaving just a thin film on the floor. The bunker had good pumps. He grabbed a shelf and pulled himself across the floor. His leg shifted in ways that really weren’t right. It was broke real bad. They were going to have to do something to splint it. The med kits were two shelves over. He was going to have to get his mother to get them somehow.
Forge of War (Jack of Harts) Page 1
