The Conscripts: Fight or Die (Blood War Book 3) (14 page)

Weening waited for more questions. There were none.

“Listen up. I know you'll have the layout of the port on your suit’s heads-up, but I want all of you to memorize every inch of this place anyway. If you’re looking at your heads-up, you’re not looking for the bad guys. They have a habit of showing up just when you were checking your position. You all have the layout on your pads now. Use your 3-D mode and study it. Squad leaders, I expect you to make sure everyone in your squad knows this place by heart. The armorers are requesting one last fitting and system down check before the drop. Check the armorers’ list and make sure you’re there on time. They have a lot of armor to go through. If there aren’t any more questions, you have a lot to do and not enough time to do it. Get to it.”

Hu and Nani walked away together. “Well?” Hu asked.

“Well is right. I keep remembering what we did to those hybrids back on Rift. They tried to take the port and we stopped them, and we didn’t know they were coming. The Xotoli have got to know we’ll be coming sooner or later, so they'll be prepared.”

Hu looked over at Nani. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. This could be a JAFDIP,” he said with a smirk.

“Yeah, just another fucking day in paradise. Looks like you’re going to get your wish to kill a bunch of Xotolis and hybrids.”

“If we don’t get killed first.”

Sol System

LSD Tarawa

Hangar Deck

Task Force 54.1

Chief Petty Officer Zenes Lee walked among the Mike boats in the Tarawa’s huge hangar, his footsteps echoing throughout the compartment. The Mike boats were big, blunt-nosed ships designed for functionality and not for beauty, but Lee loved to look at them. They were not sleek like fighters—they were designed to take troops to the surface of a planet through the atmosphere and ground fire. They bristled with weapons systems and rockets for close ground support. Each was a ship made to take damage as well as dish it out. The designers had increased the wing and tail surfaces after 703, and the four engines on the wings rotated so they could hover and land anywhere, the design coming from the lessons learned in combat and not some corporate engineer’s idea of what was needed in a war.

His job would be to fly his Mike boat to the drop zone, insert the Marines, then stick around and provide close support. When the LZ was taken, he would work in the atmosphere, providing close air support to other ground units. He was driving a flying tank that would be taking the war directly to the Xotolis this time. That was something he had longed to do since Rift, and now he had the ship to do it. He placed his hand on the nose of his boat. The entry heat shield was rough, designed to melt off as they dove through the atmosphere.

It was hard to believe it had been just over a year and half since Rift, when everything changed. So much had happened it was hard to put it in perspective. In a single day his life and the lives of all humans had changed. He had been a back seater on a swift boat, just doing his time out on the edge of the Confederation. Just another sailor putting in his time until he could get out and get a job with a corporation flying cargo ships from orbit to the surface of some corporate planet. But then the Xotolis had attacked Rift, and it had changed him.

In the desperate fight that long day, he’d found something inside himself he never knew he had. Maybe it was the loss of Brigia—he had found he cared for her more than he had realized before she was killed—that had first lit the fuse of the explosive change. Maybe it was his volunteering to fly a swift boat into combat even though he was only a relief pilot, and when he did, finding he had the talent and skill to take a ship into the teeth of an alien fleet. Whatever it had been, he was now a Navy lifer. In for the long haul, and not just any sailor, but a naval special warfare crewman with his own Mike boat and crew. One of the select few who were qualified to fly Marines into combat then provide combat support.

“Hey, Chief, what are you doing here? We’ve done all of the final inspections.”

Lee turned to see his copilot Aram Odaka standing on the other side of the ship.

“The same thing as you, I guess. Making sure she's ready.”

Odaka came around the nose. He was a big Sol with the blonde good looks all Sols were bred to have.

“Yeah, I think she's ready.”

“Ready? It’s as if I can feel her trembling anxious to get into the fight. Like a racehorse in the starting gate. She’s ready.”

“No shit, Chief. Our girl is ready to go.”

Lee and Odaka turned to see Petty Officer Suria Toland stepping down from the rear ramp. Lee laughed. Toland was always full of surprises. She acted like she didn’t care, but she was the best gunner’s mate in the fleet as far as he was concerned. She was a tall Sol-Rift mixed-breed mongrel who had gotten the best features of both. She walked up to the two and put her elbow on Lee’s shoulder. She was head-and-shoulders taller than him.

“What are my two favorite pilots doing with my boat this time of night?”

“Your boat, Petty Officer?” Lee said with a smile.

“Yeah, Chief. You may fly her, but she and I have an understanding that only two women can have.”

“Help! She’s bringing up the sex card on us,” Odaka said with a smile.

“No, Chief, just telling it like it is. Our girl’s ready for the shit and can’t wait to kick some Xotoli ass.”

Lee looked up at her and said, “For once, you know what you’re talking about, even if it’s only through intuition.”

Lee looked at the other two. They had been through 703 together. Now they would be facing a whole new set of challenges in a new boat. But he couldn’t have asked for a better crew.

“Let’s catch a few Z’s while we can. It’s going to be a long time before we’re able to sleep in our bunks.”

The three slowly walked toward the hatch leading to their quarters. Each one touched the ship as the last thing they did before leaving the hangar.

Lyten System

Rift

Rift Harbor

LSD Tarawa

Landing Ship Dock

Tactical Operations Center

Lieutenant Mai Netis hesitated before she entered the hatch leading into the mobile command center. Today was the final full operational run through of the command-and-control combat information systems, so the drop ship was filled with corporate technicians as well as the men and women assigned to the center during the combat operations. The center was contained in its own drop ship and would be inserted after the landing sites had been secured. It was armored and had its own defenses making it a complete stand alone command center. It was also the day she was supposed to kill General Sand.

She scanned the large amphitheater again, looking for something that might give away which of the men and women was the other hybrid whose assignment was to kill General Sand. Technicians, naval and Marine personnel moved everywhere as last-minute adjustments were made to the various individual stations. She walked slowly to her station, paying more attention to men and women around her than to her own test. The technicians were dressed in the different colors of the various corporations. Ecomcon was orange, SCIA was yellow, KDCL was green, and Von Fleet wore black. They moved among the uniformed Marine and naval personnel. The command center was a large room filled with stations arranged stadium style up to the main command platform, where General Sand would stand. Covering the front wall were all manner of displays and screens as well as holo projectors needed to coordinate a joint operation. Hundreds of different systems collected and collated the incoming information, then presented it in a format so it could be understood by everyone in the room.

Netis’s station was three tiers down from Sand’s command platform. She kept bumping into people as she scanned the faces of the men and women in the room looking for a sign, something that would give away which one was the hybrid assassin. Nothing. There was nothing that gave them away. She reached her station and went through the motions of getting it ready for the exercise, all the while her eyes still scanning the room.

“Attention on deck.”

Mai snapped to attention. General Sand had walked into the room and stood on the platform above her.

“As you were,” Sand said.

Everyone returned to their duties. It wouldn’t be long now, Mai thought. With all the confusion in the room it would be easier to get close to Sand now than if they waited. A man in an orange suit suddenly caught her eye. He was two tiers down on her left. He was not trying to check equipment. His eyes were fixed on the command platform. He was watching Sand. Suddenly every Xotoli gene in her body came alive. He was the one. Her body was reacting to his killing excitement. A hybrid put out pheromones that alerted those around them it was killing time. He was getting ready.

Mai began to inch her way toward that side of the room. Her claws kept extending and contracting in spite of her efforts to keep them in check. She felt the need to fight begin to build in her. She wanted the fight. She wanted a kill. She had been bred to kill, but now she was going to use that breeding on another hybrid. If she could stop him, maybe all the years of hiding her real self would prove to have been worth it. He was not hiding now. He was pushing people out of the way and moving purposefully up to the platform. A security guard stood at the door watching Sand, his arms crossed. He wore a rail pistol. The assassin would take him out first then go for Sand. That would be her chance.

He exploded into action, jumping twenty feet before landing next to the guard. He took the guard’s throat out with one swipe of his extended claws before he could move. At first there was little reaction—it had happened so quickly. Then, as people began to realize what had happened, pandemonium broke out. Some ran away. Others ran toward the orange-suited assassin. He killed two naval officers who had been near the guard before she could make her move. Mai jumped and landed in front of Sand. She pushed him down behind her. She crouched and growled. The hybrid in the orange suit looked surprised, then smiled.

“So I will kill a traitor to her people too.”

He feinted right and came from the left. His clawed hand raked across her arm but missed her neck. Mai used his momentum and threw him into a group of stations. They crashed to the deck with him in the middle of it all. It took him a moment to disentangle himself from the wreckage. Mai took that time to ready herself for the fight. Her uniform was binding her, so with one quick pull she tore it off and stood there naked. They had always fought naked in training and she felt most at ease fighting like this. The assassin stood and did the same. Behind her she heard Sand yell, “No, stand down!”

He must be calling off his security types. Sand understood what she was doing. Now it was time to kill. She dove at the assassin swinging a arched clawed hand at his throat, but he was too quick. He jumped straight up and drove his claws into the ceiling. He hung there for a split second.

Netis realized he was sizing up a try for Sand. He arched and dove toward Sand. Mai jumped a split second after him and caught him in midair, the power of her legs driving them both crashing into the opposite bulkhead. They fell to the deck together a tangled heap of arms and legs, both fighting for an advantage.

His claws tore at her back as she tried to mount him for a killing hold. He was too quick. He countered her move and tried to stand. Mai remembered her training being on the ground could be an advantage, as he stood, she sprang up, driving the top of her head under his chin.

His head snapped backward and he was off his feet by the force of blow. It did not knock him unconscious, but he was staggered. It gave enough time for Mai to grab his throat. She closed her clawed hand into a tight fist, tearing out his throat, leaving only a bloody hole where his trachea had been. Blood flew everywhere, covering Mai’s and the assassin’s naked bodies. The hybrid had a surprised look on his face in the last seconds of his life as blood flowed in a stream from the gaping wound that had been his throat. He died at her feet.

She held the remains of his throat above her head and let out a primal scream of victory. She expected rail rounds to tear into her at any moment. She slowly turned and faced the men and women in the room. General Sand was just a few feet from her. There was no fear in his face—only the respect she had seen when others under his command performed well.

“Netis, are you there?” Sand asked.

Slowly Mai dropped her hand and let the bloody flesh fall to the floor.

“Look at me.”

Mai looked up at General Sand.

“I couldn’t let them kill you, sir. I…I had to stop them. I.…”

“I know, Netis. I know. We will have to take you away now, but I must say something.”

Netis looked at him.

“Aijuba taught me something a long time ago. You judge people by their actions, especially when their lives are on the line. Thank you, sister warrior.”

Netis stood straighter. “It is an honor, sir.”

“Take her away now and contact the admiral. She will know what to do.”

Guards roughly grabbed Netis’s arms.

“Stand down!” Sand barked. “She could kill you without trying, so simply lead her away until we can figure out what to do. Hold her in the brig.”

Mai let herself be led away without any resistance. It was over. After all of these years, they knew what she was, and she was willing to accept her fate.

Lyten System

Von Fleet Troopship VF 11213

135th Penal Battalion

3rd Company

First Platoon

Probationary Sergeant Dieter Fenes stood at the head of the first squad. The rest of the platoon was in formation behind him. Probationary Sergeants Ardan and Minga stood at the head of each of the other squads. Staff Sergeant Striker stood in front of the formation. They were armored up and ready to board the APCs that stood waiting for them. This was it. After everything Fenes and the rest had been through, they were about to invade a hostile planet.

Fenes was glad he was armored up, because otherwise the rest of the platoon would see just how much he was shaking. Despite everything he had been through—jail, boot camp, and the training under Striker—Dieter still did not feel like a real soldier getting ready to go into battle. Sure, he was in the best shape of his life, tougher and more competent than he’d ever thought he would be, but that didn’t mean he was ready to fight hybrids and aliens. It didn’t seem that long ago that he was in his apartment bingeing on his favorite shows after being laid off.