Bad Moon on the Rise (Soldiers of New Eden Book 3)

by T. L. Knighton

  As Megan finished the paper, she looked up and smiled. "Are you serious?"

  Simon nodded. "I suggested it after our meeting the other day. He's a politician, so he did the calculus himself. If word gets out that I made the suggestion to put Rangers on the buses, and people got killed because he didn't, it's his ass. He knows that."

  She nodded. "But he still doesn't believe that we're right?"

  He shook his head. "Doubt it, but the fact is that he has to admit that attacks are happening. Putting Rangers on the buses makes sense regardless of who is right and who is wrong."

  "I'll take it," Megan said.

  "Johnson, were you born brain dead, or were you conceived too damn close to one of the nuke sites? Please, explain for everyone why 'cover' is preferable to 'concealment' again," Chu barked.

  Simon watched then leaned over, "Is that Johnson guy that bad?"

  Megan chuckled. "Nope. It's just his turn. He's done well enough on everything else, so Jackson's just jumping him on the one thing he truly sucks at."

  He smiled. "Equal opportunity asshole then?"

  "Something like that."

  "Good. I know Jason had some concerns with him before."

  She nodded. "I know, but I don't. I learned a lot of stuff after I got out of Somerton. Everything I could get my hands on, truth be told. So far, he's teaching them the real deal, so I'm satisfied."

  "Good. So…who's going on the first bus?"

  "Rick Calvin and Mal Kane," she said without a hint of hesitation.

  Simon nodded. "Rick makes sense. I don't know Kane though."

  "Oh? Then this should be amusing," she said with a smile. Then she yelled, "Mister Chu, I think now would be a fine time for some hand to hand."

  "Yes ma'am," the small man responded, then turned to his charges. "On your feet and circle up. Johnson, you take the middle so I can see if you have any redeeming qualities whatsoever."

  The Rangers sprinted to form the circle, the man named Johnson taking the center.

  "Alright, ladies, impress me. Williamson, you challenge first. Counter clockwise until someone has taken everyone or I get bored. BEGIN!" Chu barked.

  One of the Rangers stepped forward. The two men took fighting stances, then began the intricate dance. A feint here, a jump backward there, until finally Johnson moved forward ramming his shoulder into the middle of the other man's stomach. The two men collapsed in a heap, a mass of humanity with arms and limbs seeming to flail.

  Eventually, Johnson stood and turn toward the man to Williamson's right. The exercise continued, Johnson taking most of the comers until someone beat him. To Simon's eyes, there was almost no way to tell who actually won, but the people in the ring could tell.

  The new man in the middle took several other men down until a thin man entered the circle. He walked with a calm assurance, like he was a man who knew what he was capable of and accepted what he wasn't.

  "That's Kane," Megan said. "Watch."

  The man in the center of the ring charged Kane, his body almost parallel to the ground. The thin man moved to his left so quickly Simon could barely comprehend what he was seeing. He then dropped an elbow onto the back of the attacker, dropping the other man.

  One by one, the Rangers came at Kane, and each was dispatched just as quickly. It didn't matter how big they were, he was quicker and more skilled. Soon enough, they'd worked their way through the circle.

  "The only person he can't put down that quickly is Rick. They go about fifty-fifty. It's kind of unreal," Megan volunteered.

  "Damn," Simon said.

  Megan nodded. "Plus, he's one of the best shots in the enter organization, a veteran of The Pass and some of the mop up operations after that, and is the best damn tracker the Rangers have."

  "How does Rick feel about that?" Simon asked, curious.

  She shook her head. "I think he likes someone being around to challenge him on some stuff, and Rick's used him as an example for the others."

  "How so?"

  "Pointing out how it's not what your strengths are, but how you use them that matters. Stuff like that. They're different, but they're the two best we've got. Probably the two best in the Rangers at all, really. Yet they're different in a lot of ways."

  Simon nodded. "Nice. Well, they probably need to be on the bus soon enough."

  "Yep. I'll get them there."

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jason coming toward them at a run with another man he wasn't familiar with. A sheen of sweat glistened against the sheriff's forehead.

  About fifty yards away, the two men stopped, exchanged a few words, and split apart.

  Jason strode towards him.

  "Good run?" Simon asked, noting that he seemed only slightly winded, a far cry from where he'd been when this whole mess had started.

  The other man nodded. "Yeah, not too bad."

  "How far?"

  Jason shrugged. "Three miles, I think? Honestly, I just run where they tell me to run these days."

  Simon nodded, then said, "You're looking good. Just about back to the 'you' I've always known."

  He laughed and shrugged. "I wasn't always like this, but it's damn good to be back here."

  "I bet."

  Jason looked over at the Rangers. "Watching?"

  Simon glanced at them, then turned back to look at Jason. "Not actually. I had to let Megan know something."

  He nodded and said, "Anything I need to know?"

  Simon shrugged.

  "Well, if I don't need to know right now, I'm going to get something to eat. Let me know later. Cool?"

  Simon nodded and said, "Will do."

  ** ** **

  The weather was cooling, the temperature dropping in the night. His black vest, long held dear as his uniform, wasn't going to cut it any longer. The cave was warmer than outside, but that didn't mean a whole lot when he had to spend so much time exposed to the cold. Still, he refused to wear a jacket, though he couldn't bring himself to begrudge his people who did.

  Besides, the harder it is to tell the difference between them and us, the better, Walker thought with a smile.

  Grayson walked through the assembled mass, stopping to talk to his men here and there, but otherwise focused on Walker.

  "Mr. Dennings," Grayson said with a nod.

  Walker nodded in return.

  "It seems that this TVA figures things out. Had a couple of men on board with grenade launchers on a bus. It helped 'em bust through the ambush," Grayson said.

  The former New Lord nodded. "Yeah, they're adaptable bastards, ain't they?"

  Grayson nodded his agreement. "We're going to restrict our efforts against softer targets. We don't have the manpower to lose these numbers."

  "I can understand that. What are you calling 'softer targets'?"

  "Merchants travel in small caravans, and they put up a bit of a fight, but they're limited in numbers. We can take them out with minimal loss of personnel," Grayson said.

  Walker nodded. "I guess that makes sense, but what good does it do?"

  The commander smiled, like he was talking to a small child about why the sky was blue. "Economics, Mister Denning. Trade is the lifeblood of any nation, even a small one like them. If we disrupt trade, we disrupt everything. No community is truly self-sufficient, so they need things from other communities. We make it too costly for that to happen, and we have them by the short and curly ones."

  Again, Walker nodded. "And you think this will be enough to draw Calvin out?"

  Grayson shrugged. "I don't know. I'd have thought he'd have come out for us already. Our assets in their government tell us there are obstacles in his way, but you indicated he wasn't likely to be the kind to be held in check by that."

  "He's not. Everything I know about him says it's not. But he's not a moron either. He ain't comin' without help. Obstacles might just hold help back though."

  The other man nodded. "That might be."

  A lingering silence fell over the two men. Walker's eyes s
canned the crowd in the cave. His men sat amongst the Somerton men, each chatting with the men nearby. Their faces lit by the flickering glow from campfires.

  "Well, Mister Dennings, I have things to see about. I'm sure I've taken up enough of your time," Grayson said.

  "One thing before you go. Why haven't you hit New Eden itself?"

  Grayson shrugged. "Too much risk, too little reward. Conklin hit them. Did it with mortars, so he didn't risk his personnel. New Eden unleashed hell on us."

  "Yeah, but he don't know you're here, does he?"

  The soldier considered for a moment. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea. If he followed you, we could be exposed. We can't afford that."

  Walker smiled. "Unless we let them follow us."

  He outlined his plan. It was simple, but minimized the risk. Walker knew the intelligence coming from inside the TVA. He knew they weren't going to be allowed to bring any major military force against them. Not directly, so his plan played to that.

  Grayson nodded as he spoke. When the other man finished, the Somerton man said, "That might work. It's got its risks, but what doesn't?"

  Walker smiled. "No risk, no reward."

  The other man smiled. "Agreed."

  Grayson stood and walked away.

  As Walker watched the other man move further away, Mike squatted down next to him. "I've got a couple more folks to talk to," he told his superior.

  Walker nodded. "Good. I'm sick of having to put up with him. At least Declan earned the right. This jackass got it handed to him and thinks we should bend over and kiss his fucking ass."

  ** ** **

  Mike walked through the cave, the fires providing the only real light. Numerous small tunnels in the ceiling, all natural, acted as chimneys and pulled the smoke up. They also dispersed it enough so no pillars of white reached toward the sky and acted like arrows toward the encampment.

  The New Lord—and he refused to think of himself as anything else but a New Lord—sat at the fire of a particular Somerton refugee. "Wilson," he said.

  "Mike."

  "You thought any more about what I said?"

  The other man shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I get it. Grayson's a pussy. He didn't do shit until your boys got here, and even now he's timid as hell. I'm onboard for a more aggressive stance, but this 'new feudalism' stuff?"

  Mike smiled. He was used to this side of the business. He'll, he'd been there himself, once upon a time. "I get it. The idea of feudalism doesn't really sit well. Not for most of us who were raised with good old American values. The thing is, this doesn't really go against that."

  "Serfs were slaves," Wilson said, his voice resigned. "Now, I didn't have a problem with indentured servants like we had. I thought it made a hell of a lot of sense when dealing with criminals and all that, but people who just don't have it in them to fight?" He shook his head, then continued, "I mean, we have to eat too. Free people don't like being slaves, you know?"

  Mike nodded again. "I get that, but that's not what a serf is to us. The number of serfs and vassals someone has enhances their status, sure, but free will plays its part too. You have to have their loyalty, they have to want to serve you. If you try to hold someone against their will, well…there are some pretty stiff repercussions for that kind of thing."

  Wallace gazed at the fire. "So no peasant revolts?"

  "Nope."

  "Everyone's equal too?"

  "Of course not," Mike said with a laugh. "They never have been. All that bullshit about equality? That was just what pussies pushed for because they knew they didn't have it in them to do anything else. We don't play that shit. The strong are superior. They always have been."

  "That's something else that bothers me."

  "How so?" Mike asked.

  "How are you defining 'strength'?"

  "Ah," Mike said, "that's the beautiful part. It's how you define it. If you value intelligence, then you serve someone smarter than you. If you value physical strength, likewise. If you're looking for someone who can inspire, the same. And so on."

  "What if I don't think there's anyone stronger than me?" Wallace said.

  Mike smiled inwardly. He's an ambitious one. "Well, you challenge the boss. Of course, since he's being challenged, he gets to pick what form the challenge will take."

  Wallace looked up from the fire. "So, if I challenged Dennings, he gets to decide how I have to beat him?"

  The New Lord nodded. "Yeah, but there's a reason for that. It makes sure the boss man has it all. He's got to be smarter, more charismatic, and more physically stronger than most. Someone's always better than you are, and Declan knew this, so he built a system that made it difficult for the wrong person to call the shots."

  Wallace smiled. "But you're not following Declan now."

  "True," Mike said. "But that's another feature. You're not tied down. If the boss loses his way, and you don't think you can take him, you can go out on your own. That's what we did. We're loyal to Walker, so we stuck with him. That's the key. Loyalty."

  "And it goes both ways?"

  Mike nodded. "It has to. If it doesn't, you throw your weight behind someone else and enhance their power."

  "I don't know, seems too…I don't know, just too out there."

  "Just think about it," he said, but he already knew what the answer was. He always knew.

  ** ** **

  Jason walked across the commons. He was used to being noticed, but now people actively watched him. Reading so many eyes as he walked was impossible, though he tended to be pretty fair at it.

  He reached the other side of the commons and turned around a corner. The voice reached him before he could see a face. "The problem is, Jason Calvin is believing his own hype. He didn't back out of that fight that laid him up because he thought he could handle it. If I'm sheriff, I'm a man who knows what the job really requires and can promise you all that it'll be handled appropriately."

  Norman Boutham turned and saw Jason, his eyes widening in surprise. Rail thin and bordering on elderly, the man looked like he should be a dentist, though anyone who talked to him claimed you'd be giving him far, far too much credit on brainpower.

  "Norm," Jason said with a nod.

  "I prefer Norman," the other man said with a sniff.

  "I don't care," Jason fired back. "What I do care is you talking about stuff that isn't true. Particularly when you don't have a damn clue what you're talking about."

  "Everything I say can be backed up!" Boutham protested.

  "Then you'd better be ready to back it up," Jason said, a sadistic gleam in his eye. "You'd better be ready pretty quick. Lies aren't illegal, but you're defaming my character. That can get ugly. You realize that, right?"

  "Is that a threat?"

  Jason smiled. "Nope. Just a warning. You see, part of any process is going to involve folks chatting with that young lady you have living with you. I don't think you really want that."

  "Leave Theresa alone. She's a good girl!"

  He leaned in close, so only Boutham could hear his words. "The question is, are you a good man?"

  Jason leaned back and held back his smile. Boutham's eyes were wide, his jaw slack. The man looked terrified.

  "You've already crossed that line, Norm," Jason said. "I have witnesses. Plenty of them. Now, I'm not really going to say you're lying. That means you meant to tell something untrue. You might actually believe what you're shoveling. But none of that matters. You presented your opinions of what happened that night—that are way the hell off base, I might add—as an absolute fact. That's all I needed."

  "Needed?" Boutham choked out.

  He nodded. "Yep. We've suspected something was up with that girl, and we're about to find out what."

  "She's…you can't. She's a good girl."

  "I'm sure she is," Jason said as he walked off, "but we're about to see exactly what kind of man you really are, Norm."

  ** ** **

  Rick watched as the slender man pulled the young woman
's arm. She looked to be around his age, with dark hair and eyes he could see as vacant all the way over here. He turned to look at Collins. "You'd better go get the boss. Things are about to get interesting here."

  Collins looked at the couple, then back at him. "You sure? I mean, the guy's creepy, but maybe they're just going for a walk."

  Rick shook his head and said, "In the whole time you've been here, have you ever seen these two going for a little walk?"

  He shrugged. "Never paid much attention to it."

  "Well, I do. Go get Megan. Let her know something's up."

  Collins nodded and sprinted off in the direction of the garrison.

  Rick turned to McLaren, the only other Ranger with him. "Well, looks like it's up to us."

  McLaren shook his head. "You realize I just came to bring you two some lunch, right?"

  "And look at what you get to do instead," Rick quipped with a playful grin. "You get to help make the world safe for all mankind."

  McLaren groaned, then sat the bag he'd been carrying down. "Alright, alright. Knock the 'rah rah' crap off and let's get this done."

  Rick laughed softly as he stepped forward. "Mister Boutham? You need to stop right there," he called out.

  Norman looked at the two Rangers and started running. Aw hell no, Rick thought as he took off as fast as he could.

  Botham released the girl as she tripped. He chanced a quick look back, then continued on.

  Theresa lay there. No crying, no signs of distress. She just lay there as Rick sprinted by, closing the ground between he and Norman.

  Rick leapt onto the other man's back, his bulk slamming the thin man into the hard ground.

  "Norm," Rick said as he grabbed the man's arms and held them behind him, "running really didn't help your case out. You know that, right?"

  He stood and pulled the other man to his feet. As he turned, he saw McLaren kneeling down to help the young woman.

  "You're okay," McLaren said. "You're safe."

  She shook her head and mumbled something Rick couldn't hear.

  "We're Rangers, ma'am. We can keep you safe," McLaren replied.