Shadows and Anguish (A Cat Among Dragons Book 8)

by Alma Boykin

  “Sir?”

  The blond Hungarian nodded at the single page of reports from the assorted GDF units. “Nothing has stirred in several months. Even the British have had one false alarm, and whatever they are looking into at the moment seems to be minor at best. Perhaps everyone has decided to leave Earth alone.”

  Rahoul heard Rachel’s voice in his memory, growling at the last person to talk about how lovely quiet things were. “I hope you are correct, sir.” But this feels dreadfully like the lull before the storm, sir.

  “I’m too old for this,” Captain Edward O’Neil, the British branch’s logistics and supply officer groaned as he hung his body armor and weapons in their appointed places. It had been a mission more tedious than brutal, and he got no sympathy from his fellow officers.

  Captain Moshe ben David finished a final inspection of his own kit and shrugged. “I don’t know. No one got eaten or vaporized this time, and the mad Scotsman didn’t try to strangle the commander. Maybe we shouldn’t even bother putting this one in the log books.” A few discreet snickers and knowing grins spread among the officers at the description of their commanding officer and infamously irregular xenology specialist. Someone hissed from near the door to the magazine, and everyone got busy as General James McKendrick strode in, growling under his breath. The redhead ignored his officers as he locked away his weapon, then started putting the rest of his kit back where it belonged. The men and women finished and went about their business, glad to have come back with as many people as they started with.

  Up one level, at the far end of the headquarters complex, Rachel also stripped off her body armor, then gave it a quick wipe down. God bless access to modern technology she thought, wrinkling her nose at the thought of having to wear what the humans did. It was so bulky, with such minimal stopping power! She much preferred her own, Azdhag-made set. Among other things, the Azdhagi designed their personal defensive equipment to be worn discreetly under one’s robes, where it would not be obvious. The philosophy was that assassins would be less likely to attack if they knew that most of their targets had armor on, visible or not. For serious combat, Rachel had a much better, heavy-duty set, decorated with her House insignia and colors. Not that the humans needed to know about it, she chuckled. “What do you do in your spare time?” she mimicked O’Neil’s nosey manner. I command the defenses of an entire planet Rachel smirked.

  For once, Rachel was in a good mood. The mission had gone well, with minimum work on her part. The humans were progressing very quickly and she guessed that in another decade she could retire to a purely on-call status. The small woman hummed a naughty song as she changed into clean clothes, grabbed a handful of dried meat to tide her over until supper, and left her quarters. She bounced down the spiral steps and settled down at her work desk, meaning to skim through the previous few days’ reports before starting her write-up of the mission.

  Among the items in her in-box—and those of all the other staff and senior NCOs—was a list of which other GDF units were currently engaged in a mission. At the moment, Australia was on stand-by pending the results of a scout, and all was quiet in the Americas. The German Branch had reported an initial contact of interest and Rachel wondered if it was at all related to the materials that had turned up in the Vosges and Lower Rhine. I really need to look into those things she reminded herself yet again. The kettle beeped and Rachel added water to her teapot, then went back to typing.

  The next morning, Tuesday, found the senior officers, plus the Regimental Sergeant Major and xenology specialist, gathered in the larger meeting room for the weekly staff briefing. Rachel leaned back in her seat and surveyed the group as they waited for Lieutenant Slobodan “Sheep” Cluj to arrive. The Serbian was acting as communications officer while Captain Maria de Alba was away on compassionate leave after the deaths of her mother and aunt. The young, round-faced man skidded into the room, looking concerned and carrying a bundle of papers, part of which he slid down toward Rachel. She caught them and set the pile to one side for the moment, wondering why he’d printed out whatever it was.

  McKendrick didn’t say anything but gave the junior officer a significant look over the top of his glasses, making the dark-haired lieutenant flush. “Since we’re all here, let’s get started, shall we?” the Scotsman suggested. The reports were routine and worked around the table by rank, with one exception. RSM Sheldon Smith spoke immediately after Colonel Tadeus Przilas, the executive officer. Rachel couldn’t remember why, but it had been that way for twenty years now. She listened with half her attention and drifted with the other half. Captain ben David (adjutant) reported no changes in personnel for the near future and Captain O’Neil let them know that a new form for reporting materials expenditure would be coming from London. That news drew barely-stifled groans, and though McKendrick ignored the reaction Rachel caught a whiff of agreement from her commanding officer.

  It was Lieutenant Cluj’s turn, and he cleared his throat as if he were nervous for some reason. He kept glancing toward Rachel and she sat up a bit, wondering what was going on. “Ah, sirs, we received a class two alert from Vienna at 0730 which required decryption.” That got everyone’s attention and Rachel sensed a new focus among the humans. The junior officer continued, “All elements of the German Branch are currently committed to an operation in east-central Germany and the Austrian Branch has been placed on ready-reserve to support the Germans should the need arise. Vienna is asking for Great Britain, France, and Poland to prepare to come to alert status.”

  “Do you have information on who or what Germany is dealing with?” Tadeus asked.

  “Very little, sir,” the Serbian informed the American. “There was material included in a data burst for Commander Na Gael specifically, but nothing else at this time.”

  All attention swung towards Rachel as she skimmed through the papers Sheep had given her. She finished and called up data on the table-mounted computer displays. “Whoever the Germans are dealing with knows the terrain very well. They are in the Harz Mountains and have apparently taken over the main telecommunications relay point for east-central Germany and western Bohemia.” A map of the area appeared on the others’ screens, the communications node highlighted in yellow. “The worse news is that there are no images of, or data about, the intruders yet available. The Germans are too busy fighting to send more information.”

  McKendrick grunted. “Well, you and Lieutenant Cluj see what you can find. Tadeus, you and Smith see about getting everyone ready to move out if needed. O’Neil, go through and make sure we’re resupplied and start planning a move into Germany, with all the necessary coordination with the Bundeswehr and Vienna.” He thought for a moment. “Ben David, track down Captain de Alba. Warn her that she may have to return immediately.”

  A chorus of “yes, sirs,” followed, and at McKendrick’s nod the group scattered to their assignments. On the way out, O’Neil caught Rachel by the elbow. “That’s not Bohemia anymore,” the officious English officer reminded her. “It’s now called Czechoslovakia.”

  “If you look at the geographic description of the region affected, you will find that it includes the Czech-speaking portions of Poland, as well as Germany and Czechoslovakia and part of Lower Austria. Bohemia is the correct noun,” she replied tartly. “Now if you will excuse me?” and she walked over to where Cluj waited. The lieutenant pretended not to notice O’Neil’s sour expression.

  Rachel matched the acting communications officer’s pace as she went with him to the area containing the various radios, computers, and other devices the GDF used. There was even a civilian amateur operator’s set and Morse-code key as an extra fail-safe. Sheep Cluj set his papers down and cleared his throat a little awkwardly. “Ah, ma’am, I think I know where to begin.”

  She gave him a reassuring smile. “Start then, and I’ll just double-check you if you have a question or run into a problem,” and she pulled her laptop out of her ever-present black satchel.

  The young officer set to w
ork as Rachel observed. He ran through the usual public sources and GDF–specific files and data streams, then opened a desk drawer and pulled out what looked like an address book with black leather covers. The Wanderer got very busy with her computer, hiding a grin at someone’s irreverent sense of humor. That had to be Blackie Anderson’s idea she snickered. His way of digging at General Whitehead without Andrew knowing. “Baaagh,” the Serb announced after half an hour. “It’s strange. I should be able to find at least something beyond the initial reports from Germany, ma’am, but there’s nothing. It’s as if there’s a hole in the data net.”

  Rachel considered things. “Who has a satellite over the area just now?”

  “InMarSat, EROS 5 and,” he turned around and looked again, “something that’s not officially there.”

  Rachel made a noncommittal noise, then winked. “I don’t suppose you can tap one of the commercial satellites without getting a bill, can you?”

  Confusion appeared on the officer’s face, followed by a flash of understanding. “No ma’am, I can’t,” he said as he thumbed through the little black book and began typing a code. “That would be theft of data.”

  “Quite right, Lieutenant. I was just curious,” Rachel agreed piously, even as she leaned over his shoulder to see what he was pulling out of the commercial transmission stream. She probably shouldn’t have shown Captain de Alba how to do that, a faintly guilty bit of her conscience cautioned. It was promptly stomped upon for its efforts.

  “Oh, my. That’s going to require a bit of cover-up.” Cluj said with near-British understatement. The image resolution was one meter by one meter and the picture was not pretty.

  “Indeed. Someone should have been more careful,” Rachel tried to match his tone. The pictures revealed several hectares of flattened trees and crumbled rock, with what appeared to be bits of armored vehicle in the debris in a stream valley. “Can you enlarge this bit here?” She pointed to an area showing a ridgeline.

  “Um, let’s see,” and he did something. The picture zoomed in and human and Wanderer blinked. “It looks like powered battle armor, like in the Japanese cartoons.”

  “It is.”

  After a thoughtful quiet, Cluj turned around and looked at the advisor. “That’s not a good sign, is it ma’am?”

  “Not really, no. How big is the armor?” Rachel thought she could tell, guessing at three meters.

  She was close. “Three and a half meters, if the distortion’s not too bad. Do you know what it is, ma’am?” When she shook her head no, Cluj started bundling the data for distribution. And hiding the source of the images. As he did, a signal chimed and he spun around to catch the incoming urgent message. “It’s from Germany.” He started to decrypt it and Rachel read over his shoulder. Before he finished she’d packed her satchel and was out the door, bound for the lab. A few people noticed her rapid departure and the fast “step-tap-step” as she half-ran down the corridors.

  “That’s not a good sign,” Sergeant Tony Lee observed, before hurrying to accelerate his scouts’ resupply efforts.

  Time to get her serious field gear assembled, Rachel decided. She pounded up the steps to her quarters and laid out a change of clothes, her heavy-duty combat boots, an array of edged weapons and other implements of mayhem, and her rifle case. She looked at the number of extra ammo packs she had for her rifle and swore loudly and creatively. The rifle the humans had issued her was good, but not against powered battle armor that most likely had at least a basic shield capability. “Damn, it’s going to be RPGs around corners again and a lot of hiking.” Rachel trotted back down to the main lab, opened the false back of one of the chemical cabinets, and began taking out medical supplies. Most of them were common to Earth and just exceeded what her augmented medical kit was supposed to have in it. A few others dated from the mid 3000s and shouldn’t have been there. The Wanderer had long ago decided that the benefits of having the stuff exceeded the risks to her. After all, if they worked, no one would know that she’d used them!

  As she was packing, her “cell-phone” rang. She frowned, then flipped open the device. “Commander Ni Drako,” she said in Trader, still adding supplies to her medical bag.

  “Be careful! Rada, are you aware of the situation in Germany?” General Joschka Graf von Hohen-Drachenburg demanded in German.

  “Affirmative sir. I’m packing as we speak, medical and other,” she replied in German. “Any idea on the capability of the enemy yet? We’re not getting anything on the official data net, but the image we found of the battle armor wasn’t pretty.”

  The man at the other end of the line gasped. “Battle armor? Blessed Saint Michael, no wonder the Germans are having trouble. Could you tell what kind?” Rachel heard a slamming sound and engine noises in the background.

  “Negative. Bi-pedal, three point five meters tall, we’re guessing, and possibly plasma capable, but that’s just another guess based on the terrain damage. It took out a Challenger-series tank, or so the debris suggested.” She finished packing the medical bag.

  There was muffled conversation before Joschka’s voice returned. “Very good job Commander! And whoever else was working on the matter. I’ll have a general warning sent out.” More muffled conversation and he returned. “My regards to General McKendrick and his staff. Drachenburg out,” and he rang off.

  Rachel looked at the cell phone for a moment, then shut it back off and hung it from her belt. And a lovely rest of the afternoon to you too she snipped. No, this may well be an emergency. Harass him about his phone manners later, once this clears. “Typical male,” she sighed aloud.

  Meanwhile, thirty kilometers southwest of Frankfurt-am-Main, a blue-eyed man with grey-touched, dark brown hair and a light brown beard slipped his phone into the pocket of his uniform tunic and sat back against the car seat, thinking. Rachel’s news was not good. Powered armor meant other, even more advanced weapons—far superior to what his forces had. The military commander of the Global Defense Force frowned, calling up a map in his mind. Who was close enough to support the German Branch? France had just gone on alert for something in the Pyrénées, as had España. That left Austria, Poland, and Great Britain, since the Russians were on their way back from the Urals and he wanted to keep the Scandinavians where they could move in from the north as a blocking force if necessary. Poland-Lithuania would be closer, he mused. Yes, he’d start them moving. Joschka typed out his message and sent it via the GDF’s satellite com-stream.

  The trio of vehicles, including the Graf-General’s car, was only three kilometers from the Luftwaffe airbase when the Slepnir armored personnel carrier that led the way slammed to a halt. “It must be deer season,” Joschka’s driver joked even as he was starting to turn the car in case evasive maneuvers were needed. Suddenly, all hell broke loose as the Slepnir opened up with its main gun, firing forward, then swinging to the left at a still unseen target. “Ambush!” and the driver began reversing and turning.

  Fifty meters behind them, the car carrying Joschka’s communications gear and security guards exploded, trapping him for the moment. “We get out, now,” he ordered, grabbing his briefcase and the rifle kept hidden in the rear seat, then diving out of the car. Marko didn’t hesitate, and the two men ducked and wove, taking shelter behind some trees on the low hill slope to the right of the road. It had been a good choice, because moments later a silver-and-red robot-looking shape stomped out of the thicket on the other side of the road and fired into the car. Then it shifted its attention to the Slepnir. Joschka and Marko stared wide-eyed and prayed that it wouldn’t notice them as they slid through the brush and away from the site of the ambush.

  “Can you call for help, sir?” the driver hissed as they ran down the back of the hill.

  Joschka shook his head. “We’d risk being located if they’re monitoring the cell net. We head for the airbase and hope the APC gets word out.” He heard the sounds of a chain-gun firing and then an explosion, but he didn’t look back or stop. Please dear God, ma
y that have been one of the enemy. And please help us defeat these things!

  Back in England, grim determination enveloped the main briefing theater. McKendrick gave the initial overview briefing. As he did, Rachel noticed Lieutenant Cluj putting his hand to his earpiece and writing quickly in his digital notebook. The Wanderer hoped it was information from the German branch coming in, especially more data on the battle suits. We’ve gotten confident and sloppy, she sighed to herself. And now we’re about to pay the price. It was the same problem that had led to her becoming Lord Defender of Drakon IV, but it stemmed from a different cause. If the humans manage to contain this, at least it may force their governments to turn some attention to stand away defenses.

  “Commander Na Gael?” McKendrick pointed and Rachel straightened up, clicking a remote control as she did. The image Sheep had pulled out of the datastream appeared on the main screen and a wave of mutters, whistles, and curses flowed through the room.

  Rachel pushed another button and a schematic of generic battle armor came up beside the photograph. “I won’t ask anyone to confess to reading or watching cartoons from Japan, but if you do, you actually have a pretty good idea of what the Germans are currently dealing with. And no, at this moment it does not appear that these can fly.” Someone actually said “bummer,” and Rachel pinned the speaker with her good eye until the sergeant sank in his chair. Another push of the remote and the terrain damage picture came up. “Powered battle armor such as this seems to be can support a number of weapons packages. The most common are rockets, chain-gun-type projectile throwers, and plasma weapons. What you see here looks like the results of a plasma discharge.” Rachel looked around the room. “The good news is that if this is a plasma-equipped set of armor, the lack of a gas-pack on the rear suggests that it uses an internal supply, so it’s limited to five or six shots before the mass is exhausted. That’s also the bad news. Depending on the strength of the shields, an RPG to the control area or a leg joint may be enough to put the suit out of commission. Otherwise you have to tip the thing over, usually by getting it to step on a mine, or going at it with heavy artillery. The operator generally rides in the ‘head’ or ‘torso.’”