“So what if we’re ruffling a few feathers?” said Malix. “We have a job to do, and you’re going to make it happen. You will take five men with you and travel unobserved to a location in the capital where you will deliver a coded phrase to this contact.”
He pushed across a photograph showing a human male dressed in smuggler chic. Even from the static image, the man oozed charm, but he revealed something else too: purple eyes. The man was a mutant.
“His name is Captain Tavistock Fitzwilliam, and he’s a free trader of flexible legitimacy. Let’s call him a smuggler for simplicity’s sake. You deliver the message and then return here without incident, after which no one will speak of this again.”
Osu kept his demeanor blank, but the questions were raging inside him. His officers in the 27th gave the appearance of having waved through the colonel’s bizarre orders, but the squadron sergeant major would not let this drop easily. He’d be lodged in an ambush point close to the colonel’s office where he’d be waiting to pounce on Osu and interrogate him. Vyborg would suspect him of conspiracy in this affront to proper conduct. His sappers as undercover spies? Osu would rather face a crusading army of newts than the sergeant major on the warpath.
“Make sure one of the men you pick is Hines Zy Pel.”
Osu’s mask must have slipped because Malix added, “If there is a problem, I expect you to speak.”
“Is Zy Pel a Special Missions operative, sir?” There. He’d said it.
“You’ll have to ask Colonel Lantosh. Even after they bumped up my rank, I still don’t have clearance to see Zy Pel’s full personnel record. Make of that what you will.”
“But you must have put feelers out…”
Malix gave him a cold stare.
You’re trying to decide whether to hang me from a whipping post or answer my question. Well, it was your decision to have me lead an undercover team, Colonel. Let’s see whether you trust your own judgement.
The colonel seemed to decide on the latter option and softened half a degree. “There was a Hines Zy Pel who died in the Defense of Station 11. Or so the official records tell us. I have reason to think that our Hines Zy Pel is the same man.”
“But…Station 11 was twelve years ago. According to the personnel record I’ve seen, my Zy Pel is in his mid-20s.”
Malix put his hands up in surrender. “I know, I know. The other Hines Zy Pel was 42 when he was KIA.”
“He’s 54? Can’t be the same man. Impossible.”
“For you and I, Sybutu, that is true. But away from the core worlds, I’ve encountered mysteries that defy explanation. Don’t discount the possibility. Keep an eye on him. For the moment, he is a vital asset, especially given the nature of what I have tasked you with. However, if you ever suspect him of an agenda that undermines his duty to the Legion, then I am ordering you to kill him before he realizes you suspect him.”
Kill Zy Pel in cold blood? That wouldn’t come easily.
“Acknowledge,” the colonel demanded.
“Yes, sir. If Zy Pel appears to be turning, I will kill him.”
“Do you remember Colonel Lantosh’s words when she was arrested on Irisur?”
Talk about a sucker punch to the gut! Osu remembered everything about the incident when the Militia arrested the CO for standing up to the corruption endemic on that world.
It was Legion philosophy to respond to defeat or reversal with immediate counterattack. Lantosh and Malix’s response had been the most un-Legion like possible.
“Yes, sir. She told us not to act. To let the skraggs take her without resistance. Without the Legion retaliating.”
“No,” snapped Malix. “She did not. She ordered us to let her go without retaliating until the right moment. This is the right moment, Sybutu. This message you will carry. You’re doing this for the colonel.”
Malix’s words set loose a turmoil of emotions in Osu’s breast that he didn’t fully understand. He wept tears of rage, something he hadn’t known was possible.
The colonel stood. “This is the moment when the Legion holds the line. Can I rely upon you, Sergeant?”
Osu saluted. “To the ends of the galaxy, sir. No matter what.”
* * * * *
Get “The Fall of Rho-Torkis” now at: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08VRL8H27.
Find out more about Tim C. Taylor and “The Fall of Rho-Torkis” at: https://chriskennedypublishing.com.
* * * * *
The following is an
Excerpt from Book One of Murphy’s Lawless:
Shakes
___________________
Mike Massa
Now Available from Beyond Terra Press
eBook and Paperback
Excerpt from “Shakes:”
Harry shook his head and yawned, then looked at the instruments. Crap, they were very nearly on the surface! There was no time to be surprised; he needed to work the problem. The shortness of the landing checklist didn’t make his situation any less dire.
“Ten seconds!” Volo said, unnecessarily warning both Terrans. “Prepare for manual deployment.”
If Marco Rodriguez was anything like Harry, he was watching the altimeter with growing apprehension. An impatient SpinDog technician had carefully repeated the instructions to an audience he doubtless regarded as incapable of using tools more sophisticated than rocks and sharp sticks. In theory, each craft would use a flicker laser to sense the minimum height-over-ground required for deployment of the chute to guarantee a safe landing. If he didn’t feel the automated systems deploy the capsule’s drogue and parachute combination, he’d have less than two seconds to mechanically initiate that critical step. Harry placed both hands on the pebbly surface of the L-shaped lever and took a deep breath. He watched his displays intently, counting down internally.
In three, two, o—
He was interrupted by the audible pop of the drogue ribbon launching over his head. One of his screens flashed the corresponding message, as the drogue gave his capsule a single, hard jerk, pressing him heavily into his couch. After dramatically slowing the freefall to a speed the twin parachutes could withstand, the drogue detached. A second, mushier jerk announced the canopies’ successful opening.
The capsule had barely steadied underneath the green and brown parachutes before the capsule crashed to a painful stop. The scant padding on the seat might have prevented any serious injury, but Harry still ached all over. But like the pain caused by a misaligned crotch strap during a regular jump, this was a good sort of pain to have. The parachute had worked, and the capsule was down. The cone-shaped vehicle came to rest on its side, however. Getting out was going to require a bit of scrambling.
“Four, Five, this is Six,” he said, trusting the hands-free microphone on his helmet while hanging sideways in his straps. “Sound off.”
“Five on the ground. Mind the first step, it’s a doozy,” Rodriguez said jauntily.
“I’ve opened the hatch already, Lieutenant,” Volo answered. “It’s daylight, and we must cover the ships immediately.”
“Copy,” Harry said, releasing his chest strap. He fell heavily against one of the instrument panels, painfully bruising his arm. He suppressed a heartfelt curse.
“Popping the hatch.”
He reached for the door lever, now inconveniently located over his head. After a pause, the capsule verified his intent, requiring a second yank before it obediently ejected the hatch outward with a percussive bang. Instantly, a cold wind filled his capsule, making him shiver. He poked his head outside and surveyed a bleak and rocky landscape which was partially obscured by the capsule’s billowing parachute.
After donning a hooded parka from a storage cabinet underneath his feet, he withdrew his personal equipment and weapon. Then, with an athleticism he didn’t feel, Harry used an inner handhold to swing outside. On either side of his aeroshell, the terrain rose several meters in elevation, forming a shallow canyon. His ‘chute was tangled in some stunted gray-green trees that bordered the drop
zone. Knee high, rust-colored spiky grass poked up in between the fist-sized stones covering much of the ground. The breeze smelled wet and musty, but the ground appeared dry. A football field distant, Harry could make out another capsule, and began trotting over. It was supposed to be dusk on R’Bak, but the overcast diffused the light. Out of reflex, he checked his wristwatch, which rode alongside a new gadget doubling as a short-range radio and compass. Both were still set to SpinDog station time, adopted during the mission prep. He supposed he could check with Volo. It didn’t matter yet. Experience had taught the SEAL exactly what time it was.
The local hour is half past “your ass is in a sling.” My team is untested and outnumbered, the local population is mostly hostile, the wildlife carnivorous, and, in two years, the local star is going to approach its binary twin, boiling the oceans and scorching the land. Oh, and your extract off-planet depends entirely on mission success, so don’t screw up.
Welcome to R’Bak.
* * * * *
Get “Shakes” now at: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0861F23KH.
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* * * * *
The following is an
Excerpt from Book One of the Revelations Cycle:
Cartwright’s Cavaliers
___________________
Mark Wandrey
Available Now from Seventh Seal Press
eBook, Paperback, and Audio
Excerpt from “Cartwright’s Cavaliers:”
The last two operational tanks were trapped on their chosen path. Faced with destroyed vehicles front and back, they cut sideways to the edge of the dry river bed they’d been moving along and found several large boulders to maneuver around that allowed them to present a hull-down defensive position. Their troopers rallied on that position. It was starting to look like they’d dig in when Phoenix 1 screamed over and strafed them with dual streams of railgun rounds. A split second later, Phoenix 2 followed on a parallel path. Jim was just cheering the air attack when he saw it. The sixth damned tank, and it was a heavy.
“I got that last tank,” Jim said over the command net.
“Observe and stand by,” Murdock said.
“We’ll have these in hand shortly,” Buddha agreed, his transmission interspersed with the thudding of his CASPer firing its magnet accelerator. “We can be there in a few minutes.”
Jim examined his battlespace. The tank was massive. It had to be one of the fusion-powered beasts he’d read about. Which meant shields and energy weapons. It was heading down the same gap the APC had taken, so it was heading toward Second Squad, and fast.
“Shit,” he said.
“Jim,” Hargrave said, “we’re in position. What are you doing?”
“Leading,” Jim said as he jumped out from the rock wall.
* * * * *
Get “Cartwright’s Cavaliers here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01MRZKM95
Find out more about Mark Wandrey and “Cartwright’s Cavaliers,” and get it at: https://chriskennedypublishing.com/imprints-authors/mark-wandrey/cartwrights-cavaliers-revelations-cycle/.
* * * * *
The following is an
Excerpt from Book One of the Salvage Title Trilogy:
Salvage Title
___________________
Kevin Steverson
Now Available from Theogony Books
eBook, Paperback, and Audio
Excerpt from “Salvage Title:”
A steady beeping brought Harmon back to the present. Clip’s program had succeeded in unlocking the container. “Right on!” Clip exclaimed. He was always using expressions hundreds or more years out of style. “Let’s see what we have; I hope this one isn’t empty, too.” Last month they’d come across a smaller vault, but it had been empty.
Harmon stepped up and wedged his hands into the small opening the door had made when it disengaged the locks. There wasn’t enough power in the small cells Clip used to open it any further. He put his weight into it, and the door opened enough for them to get inside. Before they went in, Harmon placed a piece of pipe in the doorway so it couldn’t close and lock on them, baking them alive before anyone realized they were missing.
Daylight shone in through the doorway, and they both froze in place; the weapons vault was full. In it were two racks of rifles, stacked on top of each other. One held twenty magnetic kinetic rifles, and the other held some type of laser rifle. There was a rack of pistols of various types. There were three cases of flechette grenades and one of thermite. There were cases of ammunition and power clips for the rifles and pistols, and all the weapons looked to be in good shape, even if they were of a strange design and clearly not made in this system. Harmon couldn’t tell what system they had been made in, but he could tell what they were.
There were three upright containers on one side and three more against the back wall that looked like lockers. Five of the containers were not locked, so Clip opened them. The first three each held two sets of light battle armor that looked like it was designed for a humanoid race with four arms. The helmets looked like the ones Harmon had worn at the academy, but they were a little long in the face. The next container held a heavy battle suit—one that could be sealed against vacuum. It was also designed for a being with four arms. All the armor showed signs of wear, with scuffed helmets. The fifth container held shelves with three sizes of power cells on them. The largest power cells—four of them—were big enough to run a mech.
Harmon tried to force the handle open on the last container, thinking it may have gotten stuck over time, but it was locked and all he did was hurt his hand. The vault seemed like it had been closed for years.
Clip laughed and said, “That won’t work. It’s not age or metal fatigue keeping the door closed. Look at this stuff. It may be old, but it has been sealed in for years. It’s all in great shape.”
“Well, work some of your tech magic then, ‘Puter Boy,” Harmon said, shaking out his hand.
Clip pulled out a small laser pen and went to work on the container. It took another ten minutes, but finally he was through to the locking mechanism. It didn’t take long after that to get it open.
Inside, there were two items—an eight-inch cube on a shelf that looked like a hard drive or a computer and the large power cell it was connected to. Harmon reached for it, but Clip grabbed his arm.
“Don’t! Let me check it before you move it. It’s hooked up to that power cell for a reason. I want to know why.”
Harmon shrugged. “Okay, but I don’t see any lights; it has probably been dead for years.”
Clip took a sensor reader out of his kit, one of the many tools he had improved. He checked the cell and the device. There was a faint amount of power running to it that barely registered on his screen. There were several ports on the back along with the slot where the power cell was hooked in. He checked to make sure the connections were tight, he then carried the two devices to the hovercraft.
Clip then called Rinto’s personal comm from the communicator in the hovercraft. When Rinto answered, Clip looked at Harmon and winked. “Hey boss, we found some stuff worth a hovercraft full of credit…probably two. Can we have it?” he asked.
* * * * *
Get “Salvage Title” now at: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07H8Q3HBV.
Find out more about Kevin Steverson and “Salvage Title” at: https://chriskennedypublishing.com/imprints-authors/kevin-steverson/.
* * * * *
The Ferryman Page 28
