by Alex Mersey
COPYRIGHT
Beasts of Byron
Silvers Invasion Book 2
Published by Alex Mersey
Copyright © 2017 by Alex Mersey
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or resold in any form or by any means without permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations for non-commercial uses. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author.
All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to people, living or otherwise, is purely coincidental. If real, names, places and characters are used fictitiously.
The planet has been devastated by the invading intergalactic enemy. Sean McAllister’s gut instinct to flee into the scrub of the land is no longer an option. They’d run out of country before they outrun the Silvers.
Along with his small group of survivors and the satellite army unit that has made camp in Little Falls, the time has come to make a stand and strike back.
The fight to save humanity has begun.
- 1 -
Sean
“Just climb over my damn ass, McAllister.”
Sean grinned. He’d been wanting to climb all over Sergeant Cassandra Woods’ tempting body for a week now. “Is that an order?”
“McAllister!”
His grin deepened. Even that caustic attitude was starting to grow on him.
He went up on an elbow over her boots, his gaze skimming the shadowed length of her slender form. “Um, Cassie? Maybe I should be underneath.”
“Because you’re a man?” she huffed. “And the name’s Cassandra, not Cassie. Better yet, Sergeant Woods.”
“The suggestion was more practical than chivalrous,” he said. “I’m easily double your weight and you know the deal. I’ll call you anything you want when you start calling me Sean.”
“Never mind.” Her boots squiggled beneath him, nearly taking out his chin. “Let’s move back.”
“Move back?”
“You’re obviously not interested in seeing this.”
“Hold your guns.” He placed a hand on her thigh, another on her hip.
The drain tunnel was so tight, above and to the side, the only way to do this was slither over her like a snake. “You okay?”
“I’d be better if you’d skipped those pancakes this morning.”
“There were pancakes?”
“That was a metaphor for shut up and crawl.”
Fine by him. The tunnel was bone dry, and yet a cloying, damp feeling persisted, leaving a gritty taste in the back of his throat.
Sean clamped his back teeth and slithered over her soft curves, and damn if he didn’t feel every inch of the journey. She shifted beneath his weight, rubbing him in all the wrong places. Or right places, depending on how amenable she was to the idea. By the time his jaw hooked over her shoulder, their bodies were snug as lovers and he was breathing in the fragrance of her shampoo and playing mind games with the kind of moves that wouldn’t have been possible in this cramped space.
His first glimpse out the open end dampened those amorous thoughts. “Jesus.”
“Yeah, something like that.”
Below them, the majestic stone masonry of a fort nestled in a natural basin of the rocky hills they’d climbed to get here. Parked in the rectangular courtyard out front, the fit almost as snug as him and Cassie, was a Silvers battlecruiser.
Sean had never seen one up close, or from above, but there was no mistaking the sleek, obsidian husk. About the size of three eighteen-wheelers side-by-side and twice the height, the lines of symmetry were a work of art that drew the eye and kept it. From the ground, the battlecruisers looked boxy, but not so from his birds’ eye view. The corners and edges were rounded, seamless. A thin, silvery mist clung all around like an illusionary side-effect.
“It shouldn’t be this beautiful,” Cassie whispered in awe.
“No, it shouldn’t.” The Silvers destroyed and eradicated. Their ships should be vicious machines of brutality.
Sean lifted his gaze to the craggy slopes enclosing the fort, and a further twelve foot of solid man-built stone wall on top of that.
They’d spotted the walled, hilltop compound from the road and once they’d climbed high enough to judge the height of the walls, they’d considered returning to Little Falls for rappelling gear. But that was a good hour’s drive and the daylight had already started to fade, and then Cassie had discovered this drain tunnel to take them through the mountain and under the wall.
Sean stretched his neck to peek out another inch, and saw the catchment areas that required the drainage. Sentry towers built into the inner walls, natural ledges for footpaths and sufficiently wide, in one part, for the guard house that stood there. He scanned the slopes of the bowl, in parts gentle enough to slide down while groping the shrubbery, elsewhere granite ridges.
Unfortunately the section they’d come out at was cliff and only the width of the funnel feeding into the drain. No army would be breaching the fort’s defenses via this tunnel, which was probably the point.
“Is this fort still operational?” asked Sean.
“No idea if it’s even army,” Cassie said. “But that’s exactly what I was wondering about that battlecruiser.”
Sean looked over the sleek ship again, wedged into the courtyard without much room to spare. “That’s no crash landing.”
Cassie sighed. “So now they’re using our prime defense locations for ground bases?”
“No one ever accused the Silvers of being stupid.” They’d travelled across the galaxy from God knows where, established their dominance within the blink of an eye with superior technology and brilliant military strategy. No, definitely not stupid.
“See any movement?” asked Cassie.
A breeze rippled through the hardwood bush and Indiangrass on the slopes, but nothing else stirred. Of course, the courtyard was filled with battlecruiser and he couldn’t see through walls. “Doesn’t mean no one’s here.”
“What do you think they look like?”
“The Silvers?”
“No, the people who were here before the Silvers moved in,” she muttered.
Sean ignored the sarcasm. “I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.”
“Seriously?”
“You have?”
“A bit.”
And…?”
“Short, pointy,” she said. “They’d have to be small to fit into those fighter drones, right? And scabby skin definitely, because aliens, blech.”
“Blech?” Sean laughed. “Careful there, you almost sound like a real girl.”
Her body stiffened beneath him. “As opposed to?”
Sean knew when to retreat with dignity. He squirreled back along her tempting curves until his knees hit the safety of time-crusted slime and hard concrete. “Come on, Captain Davis needs to know about this.”
- 2 -
Sean
The debriefing did not go as Sean expected.
The captain was a staid, solid man with peppered hair and a broad face hardened with battle-weary experience. He listened to everything they had to say, asked the right questions, all without betraying a hint of emotion.
Cassie poured over the state map spread over the table. “I don’t see the fort marked here.”
“If we don’t know about it, then it must be a private compound,” Davis grunted.
Military or private, thought Sean, it belonged to the Silvers now.
Cassie traced their journey on the map and circled the approximate spot. “It’s definitely along this ro
ad, but I might be a couple of clicks out.”
“What’s the plan?” asked Sean, sincerely hoping it involved the mortar ready to launch on the LAV right outside the tent.
“Well, your timing is excellent.” Davis stroked his jaw, eyes screwed on the map. “The pigeon arrived a short while ago. I’m sending him straight back to base command with this news and then it’ll be up to Colonel Ainsley. Meanwhile, we do recon on the place.” His gaze lifted to Cassie. “I want 24/7 surveillance. You mentioned there were watch towers?”
“Several, built into the walls,” Cassie responded. “There’s also a guard house just inside. It will be tricky getting to it unseen, but once inside we’ll be sitting pretty.”
“Team up with Private Evans,” Davis said. “You leave as soon as you’re ready. Private Ritter will drive you there. Your orders are to sit tight and observe, engage only as a last resort.”
Cassie saluted. “Understood, sir.”
“Wait a minute,” Sean said as he caught up to the conversation. “You’re sending Sergeant Woods out there?”
A quick sneak and peek was one thing, but remaining undetected until Colonel Ainsley stepped in, that close to the Silvers? “We have no idea how many Silvers are there or what they’re capable of. For all we know, they can scent us, scan our heat imprints, see through walls or whatever the hell else.”
“That’s exactly the point.” Davis looked at him. “We know nothing about the Silvers, which is why this is an opportunity we can’t afford to waste.”
Sean shook his head. Knowledge was a fundamental advantage in any battle. He’d stayed in Little Falls to make a stand, to fight back at the Silvers instead of trying to outrun them. And he’d taken on the role as ambassador for one reason only: it put him inside the captain’s circle and gave him access to first class intel.
The part he shook his head at was Cassie, sending her into the enemy camp to spy. Without him. “It’s too risky.”
“War’s a risky business.”
“I’ll go with Private Evans,” Sean said. “Sergeant Woods stays.”
No one could ever accuse Cassie of being perky, but she turned an extra shade of sober as her scowling gaze found him.
“That’s not an option,” Davis informed him flatly. “This is a military operation.”
Grim expression uninterrupted, Cassie did an about turn and left the tent.
Sean rounded on Davis. “You can’t send her.”
“Your role as ambassador doesn’t give you any authority over how I delegate my resources,” Davis said in a low voice thick with underlying irritation. “If I were sending a civilian out there, I would take your concern under advisement. My soldiers are trained for situations exactly like this, McAllister.” He cocked his head, his narrowed eyes nearly disappearing beneath his thick brows. “Unless you saw something out in the field today that questions Sergeant Woods’ capabilities?”
In Sean’s experience, lies were never the solution to any problem. But he seriously considered it now, anything to keep her away from the viper nest.
Cassie dressed in fatigues, carried herself like a soldier, but to him she was the woman he’d spent a large chunk of this past week on patrol with. The beautiful, spirited, caustic-tongued woman he couldn’t get off his mind.
Sean rubbed his brow, sighed. He was the problem here, not Cassie or her abilities, and he couldn’t do that, belittle her to Captain Davis for his own selfish reasons.
“No, of course not,” he clipped out. “She’s a fine soldier.”
“Then perhaps we can get back to the job you signed on for?” Davis said. “I have an urgent domestic matter that requires your attention.”
Five minutes later, Sean walked out the captain’s tent with his orders and an itch under his skin.
In theory, as appointed ambassador, Sean was supposed to be some kind of goodwill operative, managing liaisons between the military regime and civilians.
The reality was something closer to Captain Davis’ string puppet.
Oh, he’d accomplished some good. Restructure and reorganization was what he did—or had done before the shit hit the fan. After the shootout at Sunrise Farm, he’d worked with Mayor Preston to move four of the refugee families out there, to farm and protect the land. The army had supplied the guns and some basic training.
Then they’d expanded that program to other farms in the area. Without machinery and at risk from desperate roamers and ruthless opportunists, the farms needed the extra laborers and guards. The town needed the fresh produce and it took care of their refugee problem. The solution was neat and efficient, a win-win for everyone involved.
But Sean wasn’t naïve and he’d known the true purpose of this ambassadorial role was merely to pave the way for anything Captain Davis wanted. And right now that meant striking a bad deal and somehow preventing anarchy in the process, and being stuck here instead of scouting out that fort and seeing for himself what the Silvers were up to.
He crossed the clearing to where the tactical vehicle and jeep were parked. The camp was dark, lit only by the sliver of moon. Shaded lanterns were allowed only inside the tents. It was practically impossible to hide an entire town and army camp from the Silvers, but that didn’t mean they should light up like a beacon in the black of night.
Leaning against the jeep, Sean waited. It didn’t take long before Cassie came striding up in that purposeful march she favored.
“Hey,” he called with a hesitant grin. “Listen, I guess you’re mad at me and I just wanted to say sorry about back there.”
“Sorry for what?” She slung a camo backpack from her shoulder and tossed it into the jeep without looking at him. “For trying to undermine me in front of my commanding officer or because it failed?”
His grin flattened. “I was worried, okay? This isn’t anything like the usual enemy territory you’re going into.”
“I’m not one of your little women, McAllister.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I can take care of myself.” She spun around, finally looking him in the eye. “It means you can save your big man muscles for Lynn and Beth and Allira.”
“Hey, that’s not fair.”
She threw a hand up. “I don’t have time for this.”
And marched off.
Sean stared after, frowning, struggling with the by now familiar pot of frustration, admiration and irritation the fire-and-ice Sergeant Cassandra Woods always seemed to leave in her wake.
“Oh, no need to look so forlorn,” a distinctly British voice said, pulling his focus. Beth, emerging from the shadows of trees. “You still have your little women.”
He grimaced at her. “You heard that?”
She cocked her ragtop head of short hair and gave him a sugary fake smile. “I’m pretty sure the whole camp heard.”
“You do know it’s not like that, right? I don’t think of you guys as my little women.”
“I’d think not.” She hefted the M4 strapped across her chest at him. “I have my own muscle power.”
Sean’s brow hitched on the automatic rifle. “How did you arrange that?”
“Night patrol duty.”
“I do night patrols every damn night and no one ever offered me one of those.”
“Did you ever ask?” She laughed and turned to slip off into the trees.
“Beth, wait!”
She turned back to him, rolling her eyes. “Armory is next to the supply tent. They’ll give you just about anything, so long as you sign it out and in again.”
“No, it’s not that,” Sean told her.
“If this is about your precious Sergeant Woods, don’t sweat it.” She drew a line across her mouth to zip her lips. “I never spy and tell.”
“It’s about the Silvers,” Sean said grimly, ignoring the urge to explain Cassie wasn’t his precious anything and that there was nothing to tell. “Is Lynn around?”
The glitter dusted from Beth’s mood. “She was sett
ling Johnnie into bed about a half hour ago, but she usually stays until he’s fast asleep. What is it?”
“Nothing to be alarmed about,” Sean said, and hoped to God it was the truth.
They cut a quick path through the camp to their sleeping quarters, a tent with six cots that would be cramped when Beth and Allira moved in. For now, they were still staying at Doctor Nathan Jeffries in town while Allira recuperated. Her thigh had been cut open while they’d been crossing the Hudson and by the time they’d arrived in Little Falls, her body had gone into toxic shock from the infection. She was out of danger and recovering well, but the doc was concerned that some of her internal organs might still be compromised. Without technology to perform scans or diagnostics, he wanted to keep an eye on her for a few more days.
Lynn looked up expectantly when Sean poked his head inside the tent flap.
He glanced at the sleeping lump of Johnnie, whispered, “We need to talk.”
She brought the lantern over to the cot near the flap, set it on the floor as she sat, and didn’t bat an eyelash when Beth followed him in and propped the M4 up against the tent canvas before joining her on the cot.
Sean dropped on the cot opposite, watching the two women exchange terse smiles.
Beth was twenty-one, a fashion student from London, young, attractive, with that blend of artfully trendy and graceful that was probably a prerequisite in her old world of haute couture—an illusion she still managed to pull off in this new world where a rifle was the most important accessory, with her golden locks hacked off and wardrobe limited to jeans and tees and a pair of sturdy walking boots. Lynn was closer to his age, early thirties, petite and pretty with blond hair feathered onto her pixie face.
If Cassie could take a look at the grit and steel that wrapped their nerves and knit their bones, however, she’d never have mistaken them for his little women. They’d come a long way together, escaped the utter annihilation—cremation—of Manhattan, learnt to trust each other with their lives. They had each other’s backs and that’s how they’d survived—it had nothing to do with muscle.
