by L. E. Horn
FREEFORCE
The Gryphon Saga
L.E. HORN
FREEFORCE
The Gryphon Saga
L.E. HORN
COPYRIGHT © 2019 L.E. HORN
All Art Copyright © 2019 L.E. HORN
Sherrington Publishing
Canada
ISBN: 978-1-988431-09-3 (Electronic Book)
ISBN: 978-1-988431-10-9 (Paperback)
All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication, reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, or stored in a retrieval system without the prior written consent of the publisher—or, in the case of photocopying or other reprographic copying, a license from the Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency—is an infringement of the copyright law. All characters and character likenesses are the property of L.E. Horn and cannot be reproduced without the written consent of the author.
Disclaimer: This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people or places are used fictitiously. The persons, places, things, and otherwise animate or inanimate objects mentioned in this novel are figments of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to anything or anyone living or dead is unintentional.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication Pending
Welcome to FREEFORCE, Book One of the Gryphon Saga. My name is Zante, and I am a Gryphon historian.
Although it is true that history is written by the survivors, it must be noted that great pains have been taken to accurately portray more than one side of the war that consumed the Gryphon for over three years, from 98:518–98:521. It is one of the reasons that this story has taken years to complete.
L.E. Horn’s original effort to record Lianndra’s story resulted in two books: FREEFORM and FREEFIGHT. Over time it became apparent that the story would be better served by combining them into one entity, so FREEFORCE was born.
I hope you enjoy L.E. Horn’s portrayal of Lianndra’s journey. She was not only a key player in the war but has become a close friend.
I also invite you to explore our series of short stories featuring the beloved characters in FREEFORCE: WARRIORS, SLAVES, and REBELS. The stories contained within these three books explore the individual struggle that many of my new friends faced during the war.
Tirrek raih,
Zante, Historian, 2nd Rank
Written by order of the Gryphon Council, year 98:524
If you like FREEFORCE, don’t forget to write a review!
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To Myste and Wendy, who inspired.
Prologue
NO MATTER THE ORIGINS OF a sentient species, it seems there always comes a time when they focus their attention on the heavens. Those bound to their home planets envision space as eternal blackness relieved only by the serene blaze of stars, a place of infinite mystery. It beckons careful exploration with frosted fingers, an invitation to examine every comet, asteroid, or planet.
Those who know better recognize the vastness of the universe is dynamic and evolving. Although planets supporting life are not common, many can—and do. There are as many that once did—and can no longer. The apparent emptiness of space is actually not empty at all, instead, it exists as an immense ecosystem. The interaction between predator and prey is essential to the eternal balance, and the survival of an entire species can hinge upon where and how well they fit into the cosmic scheme.
Wrapped up in their daily existence, the residents of a particular blue and green world seldom give much thought to their place in the universe. They dominate their home without effort. It is an arrogance which does little to prepare them for predators that look upon an oblivious population as a means to a profitable end.
For if there is one rule that binds the cosmos, it is that only the strongest prevail.
Chapter One
THE BREEZE OFF THE CALIFORNIA dunes created cracking waves for a handful of surfers that braved the cold spring currents along the beach. After weeks of torrential rain, unseasonably warm weather produced a pleasant sunny morning for lying on the sand. Many people celebrated the early glimpse of spring, although most sunbathers were early tourists, not locals. The locals favored insulated neoprene while riding the waves.
The man sighed before leaning back under a sunshade. His chair creaked in protest every time his muscular body moved. Sweat dampened his shirt; even shaded, the stifling humid air encouraged a swim. Almost. He’d spent enough time here to know the water looked far more appealing than it would feel.
The beach simmered like high summer. The fact that he wore clothing and not abbreviated swimming attire might have revealed him as a local, but it didn’t make him any more comfortable. He glanced down at the smaller man seated next to him, who appeared engrossed in an e-book.
The burly man hated the surveillance phase. He lived for the final stalk and pounce, but with experience came the patience to wait for just the right moment. His efficiency had caused his superiors to place him in charge of these special acquisitions. This latest project proved a challenge to his reputation. Dark glasses prevented the other beachgoers from noticing where his eyes lingered, disguising the rigid focus devoted to a particular young man playing in the surf.
The target appeared unaware of his stalkers. The predator considered the youth’s oblivious nature a wasted opportunity since this location proved hopeless for any kind of ambush.
At the moment, his object of interest rode an enormous cresting wave. The man watched from the beach as the wave tanked and the youth easily stepped off the board before dropping into the water. His equally youthful friend followed. Excited voices carried over the waves to the intent ears of the stalker.
“Those two stick together like glue.” The smaller man didn’t look up from his e-book while he spoke. “Mr. Sociable isn’t alone often. He’s a tough one unless we grab him while he’s in the can.”
His muscular companion grunted. “This place is far too public anyway. The houses on the rise have a direct sightline. We might have to resign ourselves to collaterals on this one.” He looked at his watch. “We’ve got to split. Dan’s due in from the airport with our latest parcel.”
“The one you grabbed in Illinois? I hear she’s a real pistol.”
“Yeah. Matty got it good from her. If I hadn’t been there the whole thing would’ve gone bust,” the big man said. “Those guys have a lot to learn. They’re lucky the boss didn’t find out.”
“Sounds as though Juke will like her.” Packing away his e-reader, the smaller man stood and folded his chair.
“I hope so. We don’t have much for him this quarter.” The burly man slung the chair under his arm as he shook sand from the umbrella.
“What about the one coming from the Great White North?”
“Our prize winner arrives in a week, booked at the little inn on the bay. It will be an easy grab.”
“And the guy farther south?”
“I’ve decided he’s going to have a terrible hit-and-run accident. Being on the water alone is risky, especially in such a remote location. We’ll use the boat with backup on the shore.” The hulking man cracked a smile. “They’ll find the surfboard—destroyed by the prop.”
The smaller man nodded. “So you think two weeks here before we collect out east?”
“As long as prop boy and prairie girl go smoothly.” The burly man tossed the chair and umbrella into a dark green SUV. He glanced to the ocean where the youth and his friend caught another wave. “If we waited this long for all of them, we’d be out of business.”
WINTER ON THE CANADIAN PRAIRIES proves a test of resilience for the sturd
iest of specimens. By March, even those that enjoy winter are ready to see the snow disappear. Sometimes Mother Nature provides an early melt, bringing the trees to leaf in April. In other years she is not so obliging.
Lianndra watched a stray snowflake float toward the ground. Another gray evening in Saskatchewan. Winter just won’t let go this year. The setting sun painted the clouds vivid hues of pink. Sitting on her apartment windowsill, Lianndra remained immune to its charm.
Lianndra attempted to push her hair back from her face. It refused to cooperate, and a few strands fell right back to where they’d started. Rays from the dying sun streamed through the window of her tiny apartment, lighting the strands a lovely pale gold.
I must keep telling myself that natural blondes are rarely that color, she thought with a sigh. The windowsill hurt to sit on, but boxes covered every other flat surface. She surveyed them with a jaundiced eye and loaded another roll of packing tape into the dispenser.
Although a far cry from the spacious condo she had shared with her ex, Scott, the tiny apartment still stretched her limited student budget. Money. Just one thing I took for granted about him, Lianndra thought. She’d had to move mid-term when her two-year relationship dissolved. Now she prepped for returning home for the summer, and the prospect did not fill her with the relief she’d expected.
Her thoughts returned to Scott. Lianndra remembered her pleased surprise when he invited her to move into his condo. Their differences soon materialized, starting with the fact Scott loved to socialize while she preferred to curl up with a good book. In retrospect, she was surprised the relationship lasted as long as it did.
If we were meant to be, our uniqueness would’ve enhanced us and not torn us apart. Lianndra grasped the unwieldy packing tape dispenser to seal a few more boxes. I will not think about ex-boyfriends, she told herself. I have something more exciting to look forward to. Like a trip to California!
Up until now, Lianndra had never won anything of value. When first notified of the free flights to San Francisco, she’d been skeptical. A quick call, however, confirmed the prize’s legitimacy. She was even able to take some cash instead of the second ticket. As a student, she had limited funds available for such an adventure. I can use the rest of the money Mom sent me at Christmas, plus the bit I have left in savings, she thought. How many opportunities like this am I likely to have?
The tape fell off the roller for the umpteenth time, and the air in her apartment turned blue with increasingly inventive expletives. After the tape made a determined grab for the end of her ponytail, Lianndra abandoned the dispenser. One more poorly sealed box later, she succumbed to cardboard claustrophobia. Unearthing her parka from under a pile of books, she headed into the chilly evening air.
Despite turning the page on April, winter still had Saskatoon in its frigid clutches. Most of the snow had melted but she could see her breath. The slush underfoot leaned more toward ice than water, reflecting the streetlights off the slippery sidewalk. Lianndra focused on her senses, examining her surroundings in an effort to avoid thinking about Scott. Her enlarged shadow crept along the brick walls as she picked her way around the frozen puddles. The mature trees lining the street arched overhead, their delicate network of branches glowing in the overhead lights.
The cold and exercise helped clear her head, pushing back the depression. She usually coped by throwing herself into her studies. Veterinary medicine was as intense as human medicine, and in some ways even more so. At least humans can tell you where they hurt.
Lianndra experienced a prickling sensation on the back of her neck and turned. Parked vehicles stretched in a line under the large trees. She noticed a dark pickup with tinted windows a few cars back but couldn’t tell if anyone sat inside. The thought of someone sitting behind the dark glass—just watching—made her shiver.
Great. Now I’m getting paranoid. Lianndra faced forward again, pulling her parka around her neck. Should’ve worn a scarf. She shivered. When will spring arrive?
A young couple stepped out of the apartment building she approached. They walked with their bodies pressed together as though they couldn’t stand even a moment of physical separation. Lianndra stifled a stab of envy.
Her heart lurched. Time to go home.
LIANNDRA REMAINED AWAKE AT MIDNIGHT. The boxes sat in stacks closer to the door, leaving enough of her old couch free for her to curl up on with her laptop.
Time to check the ticket, she thought. That will cheer me up. Lianndra always wanted to visit California. The journey would take her to the San Francisco airport. From there, a rental car would take her up along the coast, and she booked a room at a reasonably priced inn right in Bodega Bay. There wouldn’t be much money for sightseeing, but parks and beaches existed within walking distance.
The coast has rain in the spring, but a little rain doesn’t bother me, she thought. Much better than snow. She put aside her laptop before walking to her window. Tiny white flakes drifted over the long rows of cars parked under the streetlights. For Pete’s sake, it’s snowing.
Glancing down, she noticed it had been snowing for a while. The white fluffy stuff blurred the outlines of the parked cars. With a prickle of unease, she noticed a dark pickup. It wasn’t yet covered in snow, and it resembled the one she’d just seen two streets over. As she stared at it, a tiny light appeared behind the tinted glass, and a sudden chill ran down her spine. Paranoid, that’s me. Probably just waiting for someone. One truck pretty much looks like another, and everyone is driving them these days.
Lianndra stepped back, letting the curtain fall across the window before turning her mind to happier thoughts. Bodega Bay, here I come!
THE SKINNY MAN BEHIND THE wheel lit his fifth cigarette of the evening, glancing at the window just in time to see the curtain close. He turned to his companion who hunched over a laptop.
“So, she’s coming alone? That’s great. Certain people will be elated,” the skinny man said.
“Yeah. Mr. Big is having trouble with a target down south. It’s making him touchy. I don’t like it when he’s touchy.” The passenger’s slender frame rivaled the driver’s, and he possessed a high-pitched voice to match his fine features. Curled into his parka, his pointed nose poked out of the fur-lined hood. Fingerless gloves helped with his accuracy as he tapped the keyboard but they did little to keep him warm. He paused, rubbing his fingers together before he closed the computer and pulled out a phone. He spoke briefly, passing on the new development before disconnecting. “Things are dovetailing nicely. If they solve their issue, they can collect three within two weeks.”
“Excellent,” the driver said. “This one’s not leaving for a week. It should give them time to set up the other target in North Dakota and finish the job in Wyoming.”
“Wyoming will be easy if Dan comes through. There’s no backup plan if they have to wait for him.” The passenger slid his phone back into his pocket. “But the girl will be vacationing for two weeks, so they have time. It sounds as though California will be lucrative with three targets within shouting distance of each other.”
“So long as we get paid on time. I hate these Canadian jobs.” The driver stubbed his cigarette in the ashtray.
The passenger shivered again, pulling at his hood. “Yeah, well, we’re off to Southern Ontario next. Should be warmer, I hope.”
“Ah, yes, Toronto. The center of the universe, right?” The man behind the wheel sounded pleased. He boosted the heat before pulling into the quiet street.
A WEEK LATER, LIANNDRA STEPPED out of the busy airport terminal. She turned her face toward the bright California sunshine, shaking her long, dark blonde hair clear of her jacket.
Closing her eyes, she let the sun’s warmth soak into her skin. The warm air feels so good. I can already sense the cold leaching out of my bones.
Lianndra looked down at the plastic fob attached to the rental car keys and walked to where the shuttle bus waited. After the short ride to the parking lot, she stepped off the bus whil
e throwing the bored driver an enthusiastic, “Thank you.”
Her small suitcase easily towed behind her, its size a testament to her ability to pack light. As she walked, Lianndra noticed the wet pavement with puddles along the curb. Water, not ice. Of course, it’s spring in California.
The coast recently received huge amounts of rain. She remembered seeing headlines about the mudslides. It didn’t worry Lianndra as long as it stayed warmer than back home. Besides, the sun already peered through the fast-moving rain clouds. With a surge of good humor, she noticed the local people wearing sweaters and coats. Lianndra felt warm in her lightweight jacket.
Wimps! She laughed out loud, which earned her a curious glance from someone walking past. Wouldn’t last a day in a Canadian winter.
The key fob led her to a cheerful yellow subcompact car. Lianndra dug through the outer pocket of her suitcase, retrieving her phone before sliding behind the wheel. She activated the map, tapped in the address, and placed it beside her.
Emerging from the airport was nerve-wracking enough, but getting out of San Francisco proved terrifying for a country girl. Where do all these people live? She somehow managed with a minimum of honking horns and missed exits, and in no time found herself on the coastal highway heading for Bodega Bay.
Lianndra opened the windows and synced music from her phone to the car’s speakers. Soon she performed yellow car karaoke as she drove along the coast, feeling liberated from entanglements.
The highway showed signs of recent work—necessary because in places the road margins had eroded away. The ocean views were spectacular, and Lianndra stopped at many scenic lookouts. I’d better get a move on if I’m going to make Bodega Bay by evening, she thought at the fifth such pause.
