The Revenant: A Military Sci-Fi Series (Hunter's Moon Book 2)

by Walt Robillard

  “Subversive algorithm seeking to create partition for remote operation!” The robotic warning had none of the grit of Fluff’s normal voice but its dire implications were felt all the same.

  Morpheus blew through the wall, disregarding baseboard and carbodex sheeting with no more thought than a man walking through hanging laundry. He latched onto the collar, rotating the panther mech into a corner of the room out of sight from the window. He held the mech until the shiver paralyzing it stopped.

  “My turn!” He pulled the collar, holding it away from the Doom Cat. Morpheus knelt on the floor, his eyes going from their typical red lenses to glowing green.

  “Thanks for the assist!” Fluff said.

  “You are welcome, brother. Your Simicrion resolution matrix should purge the malicious architecture in a moment. We’ll watch your friend until then.”

  Across the street, several operators on one of the roofs ducked behind the cover of the carcrete molding. There was a short sequence of swearing as the device they were using fizzled into a smoking ruin. They moved back over the lip to aim their rifles at the room when blaster bugs ripped free of their equipment pouches, of their own accord. The tiny drones zipped away from the men only to reverse course, detonating on impact. Both were peppered with point blank blaster bolts from the one-use bots flying their kamikaze run.

  Morpheus stalked back into the hallway, lifting Lasher. Another bot walked in front of him, shielding him from any additional harm.

  The second bot knelt over him, careful not to alarm the vicious half-breed warrior. “Eyes should recover in a moment, sir. If you'll allow me, I can put a spray into them which will help you recover. Your hearing will have to return on its own.”

  “Thank you, miss.”

  The bot pulled away slightly. “My name is Priestess, sir.”

  “Thank you, Priestess.” Lasher grabbed the bot, pulling it into his chest. He whirled her away from the embrace, nearly colliding into Morpheus. A man with an M-1170 Echo stepped from the stairwell, bringing the weapon to bear. Bolts ripped into the hallway, flowing around the mongrel as though it was in their nature to do so. They whirled in all directions except for their intended one, slashing across the passage.

  Lasher jumped forward. He ripped the handle from the magnalock on his belt. There was a snap followed by the telltale scream of an energized whip coming to life. The weapon wrapped the barrel of the machine blaster, severing it with a single pull. Lasher crashed into his assailant, slamming him against the staircase railing beyond the door. The whip pulled back into the handle, becoming a blade engulfed in a fiery corona. Lasher drove it straight into the man's chest, drawing a pained gurgle. Grabbing his opponent's leg, he threw him over the railing, taking a moment to watch him strike multiple rails on his way down. A bolt to the strut above him rewarded him for the effort. He backed out of the stairwell, pointing at Priestess. “You ok?”

  “You saved me.”

  Lasher winked at the bot he could barely see. “Returning the favor. We have company coming up the stairs!”

  Fluff pounced into the hall. “I'm on it!”

  “Hold one. Beth, where are you?”

  A hologram of Beth floated into the hall. “Lasher, I'm with Kel. Kat is trying to get into position to give you a hand but these mercs have the hotel surrounded.”

  “We caught part of that show,” Fluff said.

  “Kel, you make it through the fire?” Lasher asked.

  “A little singed. Hey, you have to pop smoke and get out of there! They got some crazy Devil guy with space powers like yours heading to reinforce the guys currently giving you trouble.”

  “Great,” Lasher and Fluff said in together.

  “Listen up, Chen is here, too. And you know where that lady goes, trouble's riding co-pilot.”

  “I think I can help with that,” said a female voice.

  Multiple targeting systems engaged for a fraction of a heartbeat until they all realized that Ziella had made her way to them. The hotel employee was covered in blood and blaster burns, barely able to hold herself upright. Merlin and Priestess went to her side. Madame Tarot kicked down a door to lead her inside so her wounds could be attended to .

  “Before you start pumping me full of drugs so I can't talk, the guys you're squaring off with is a Direct Operations Group from Triton,” Ziella explained.

  “The contract military spies from the Core Worlds?” Kel asked through the comm.

  “Yes. Which is not good because Triton owns large stakes in the Palladium. They're violating their own rules of engagement to bring you in.”

  “Won't be good for business once the word gets out,” Lasher said.

  “They won't let it get out,” Ziella growled. “They'll kill all of us to keep it quiet.”

  “They're going to have to get in line,” Tolin said, appearing as a hologram beside Kel. “We've been keeping an eye on things. Do you hear that gunfire off in the distance?”

  “I can't hear anything,” Lasher admitted.

  “Well, if you could, you'd know the distinctive sound of Cyre-Rondeau built weapons taking on the gate. Our favorite marshal is leading a platoon of SAPers into the outpost.

  “She bring a ship?”

  “No. They came on Doru rovers like ours. They're punching their way through the gate. Pretty sure they're going to make a beeline right for you.” Tolin reported.

  Ziella regarded the mongrel as he rapidly blinked his eyes, trying to get haze from the stun grenades out of them. “You knew they would come.”

  “Cayadona Ziella, if you can get to a safe place, the lancers will be here shortly. Please take our new friends with you. There is another plate of Corodan for you if you can keep them safe.”

  Despite the pain and injuries, Ziella straightened herself. “Lasher, these Calla Stoviarra came into my place, murdered my people, and dragged my name in the mud. If they had come in politely to bargain for you, that's one thing, but this. I'm not hiding. I'm hunting.”

  Lasher nodded his approval. “Spoken like a true Vosi. And you, Madame? I assume you still want to tag along? If that's true, what does your principal say?”

  “She goes where we tell her,” Tarot said. “Yes, we tag along. Chen is here. We can end this today. We're hunting.”

  A tone came from the corner of the room. Ziella placed the clear plastic slab of her cell-comm on the lush footstool in front of her. A hologram of Ms. Chen sprouted above the device.

  “Ziella, this is Chen. I know you have the fugitive with you and I am ordering you to give him up immediately.”

  “Ordering, are you? Ms. Chen, these people are my guests. You know what that means – in addition to my terms being non-negotiable.” There was something sinister to her voice. Her threats were a blade with a silk wrapped handle. It was elegant, sensual, and dangerous all at once. The fangs common to all Vosi made her words seem more feral when spoken in Trade-2.

  Chen pressed her. “And if I told you, your boss in Triton Expeditionary ordered you to give him over?”

  “Triton forfeited any right to this establishment when they came in shooting. I have already contacted the other branches. I'm sure that twit, Norris, is going to have a hard time fending off the executives while holding your leash. Pull back your forces and I might spare you, Chen.”

  “We'll see who's holding what when this is over.”

  “Oh, my dear, when the sun sets on today, I'll be holding you by the throat.” Ziella dropped the signal. “Ava?”

  Another hologram emerged in the space. It appeared as a large spider surrounded by communications equipment. “I am here, Cayadona.”

  “Tag all people in my immediate vicinity. That includes the bots. Render them safe passage. Deactivate membership for all known members of the Seven Seats except for Kel Durado who should now be declared a member of Team Baby Doll.”

  Someone in the background of Lasher's call squealed. Holographic Kel was still among the several in the room. “I hate you all.”

/>   “Enable the surge protocol.”

  “Ma'am, the fire team has us locked out of the system.”

  “Do it, Ava. Find a way around and do it.”

  “Yes, ma'am.”

  The holograms all disappeared and Ziella stood up from the lush chair stained in her blood. She refastened the battered armored plate carrier over her meticulously tailored, yet ruined clothing. A long exhale signaled that she was back in control. She was Cayadona. She was the matron here and she would be damned if she would be run out of her own house.

  “Surge protocol?” Lasher asked.

  “Secure download of our network to my private server. We burn all on site information, then we make a mad scramble to our private tram to any of several escape routes. Last but certainly not least, we kill any intruders in as violent a fashion as we can devise.”

  “We have a plan for that.” Fluff said, nearly bouncing from the statement.

  Martel was listening to the radio chatter as he and Dovai walked into the room. Someone had gone to a lot of work to transform a work barracks into a luxury hotel. Kudos to the soon to be deceased Niomara Ziella for her efforts. Getting in the way of the operation had put her on Triton's naughty list – or at least on the list that SAC Norris kept. Those black bag guys held onto secrets and grudges like a hoarder. The radio chatter shifted back from one of his spotters, letting Martel know that his move was a go.

  “Roger that, four-two-two. We are go for rapid descent to target. Are they still stationary?” Martel asked.

  “Yes, sir. I also have an incoming message from Singh.”

  “Put him through.”

  Singh’s image as the Gun Wraith appeared in Martel’s HUD. “Captain, we are set to receive the target. How goes the push to get them to me?”

  “We're going to pinch them from opposite sides. We'll try to get them to take the elevator. There's a lot of them, so I'm not sure if they're going to try to evac the target with a security element left behind or just try to push the whole team.”

  “Black Taskers do not typically leave their bots behind.” Singh said as a statement of fact.

  “Regardless, hop time is three minutes. Any special requests or are we good to push this through?”

  “You may proceed when ready, Captain.”

  Martel cut the feed from Singh. He looped his comm over to Dovai. “We got the green light from his majesty. How're you looking?”

  “Good to drop.”

  Martel moved to the stairwell. “Alright boys and girls. Team Two is dropping in from above and we're rushing the stairs. We just pushed a couple of spider drones into the elevator shaft to support Biyodo and Myers going hot up the shaft. If Lasher tries that stupid death from above trick they'll fill him full of ten millimeter high explosive.”

  The captain got to the front of the stack, tapping a few of the operators on the pauldrons until he took his place as the second man. “Falchion mechs move to position four. Maintain cover and over watch. Teams one and two, execute.”

  Martel kept his hand on the shoulder of the man in front of him. In his sight, he had video feeds that showed him Dovai's progress as they hung outside the windows on repel lines. On his command, the team dropped from the windows in a controlled bound down the building's surface.

  The stack moving up the stairs resembled a centipede with a spine aimed in every direction. They slinked up to the next doorway, assembling themselves just ahead of it. A flash filtered scan of the door revealed no extraneous wiring or devices attached, which meant no booby traps. He'd been the boob on more than one occasion today, and that was stopping right now if he had anything to do with it. Several covert combat drops on a variety of worlds had yielded not a single failure for his team. This mongrel was proving to be a drain on his performance record and his patience.

  “Dovai to Cap, crossing phase line gravity.”

  “All units execute.”

  Martel's team filed into the hall. They took up alternating positions on opposite sides of the wall, pouring down the hallway in a rolling advance. Team members halted to cover radiating passages or unsecured doorways, only to fall to the back of the stack as the team moved past. They spilled into a T-shaped intersection, parts of the stack covering both sides of the hall. The captain threw two rotor driven drones which flew into the double doors. He was a scant few meters behind them when they melted onto the surface. They detonated the doors from their hinges, showering the grand ballroom in a flurry of splinters and flame.

  Dovai's rappel team blasted through the windows, raining gunfire across the open dance floor, into their targets past the stage. Lasher waved a hand, throwing tables over onto their sides, providing cover for the crew as they ducked. The heavy infantry mech, Justice, stood in front of Ziella, giving her cover to work at an interface against a wall.

  “We killed the power. Whatever she's working is dead. Just in case, pour it onto that mech!” Martel shouted.

  Gouts of blaster bolts flared the darkened ballroom into a brilliant light show, showering the target zone in sparks from multiple strikes on Justice. A brilliant orange flash preceded a power shield coming to life around the bot, protecting Ziella from the onslaught.

  One of the mechs threw a handful of marbles over his table. They rolled for a time, eventually sprouting legs. The spider bulbs bolted toward Martel's team with ghoulish speed, flitting under tables and debris to keep from being shot. The first marble attached to someone from team two. The resulting pop blew off most of his leg, nearly ripping off the other in the process. Another jumped over a table being used by one of the troopers from Martel's breach team and onto his helmet, blowing through the armor to rip out half the skull and pirouette the operator in a circle to dump his corpse to the floor.

  A trooper clearing himself from the rope threw two grenades. One dropped near his feet while the other landed a few meters near Martel. There was a loud twang then a blue flash, killing all the spider poppers. He called into the net, “I'm out of ion grenades. Keep an eye out for more!”

  No sooner had the words left his mouth than a bolt slammed into his armor, knocking him to the ground. Return fire from the entrenched targets answered all the incoming shots. The two sides traded bolts, turning the darkened hall into a hurricane of destructive light.

  Ziella had obviously planned ahead for situations like this, having the tables made out of resicarbon. It took multiple hits to crack them. They absorbed even more before turning to splinters. Each side rolled more tables in to make up for the shattered obstacles they were using to stave off death for a moment longer.

  “Got it!” Ziella yelled.

  A section of the wall pulled away, receding into itself to expose a set of blast doors that were as high as the ceiling and nearly a quarter length of the wall. It opened with a dangerous WHOOSH with the speed of a shuttle hatch.

  “Get in!” Ziella roared.

  Martel's comm beeped. “Team Two be advised, we have...” The line went dead.

  “Heads on a swivel! That was our outer cordon! Stop that crew from boarding...” The captain's last command stuck in his throat as a blaster bolt slammed him in the helmet. He tumbled over the table, pulling it on top of him.

  Lancers on jump packs sailed into the ballroom window. They made quick work of Dovai's team, dumping blaster bolts into their backs. They swerved to take on Martel's group hiding behind the tables. One of the strike team separated from the rest of the lancers. Mara Truveau walked past the firing line, her outstretched hand held against the onslaught of gunfire raining down on her. The bolts sluiced around, flying out the window. She sprinted at the enemy, coming into a slide under one of the tables. She stood from her skid, igniting her plasma sword with a metallic screech, taking the first operator down, slicing through the table, man, and then the floor. Bringing up the blade splashed molten bits of debris onto the helmet of the next target, obstructing her vision. She slashed across the operator's weapon, slicing it and the woman in half. Mara reached a third combatant t
ying to dump an entire magazine straight at her. The rounds veered around, straight into one of the other troopers. She plunged her sword through the man's chest, hoisting him off his feet, then dumping him into the remainder of his friends.

  “Drop them or die!” She left little room for interpretation or negotiation.

  The four remaining troopers did as they were told, sinking to their knees and interlacing their fingers above their heads. The gunfire stopped with a loud bang, terminating in a series of loud clicks.

  “Brasson!”

  “I’m there in spirit, Marshal,” he clicked over the Battle-net

  “I have blast doors, middle of the wall in the ballroom on this level. Talk your protege through slicing it.”

  “Yes, Marshal.”

  Mara took hold of Martel, hoisting him to his feet. “We didn't hit you that hard. Name, rank, and unit.”

  Martel's visor fell away, exposing him trying to blink away the haze at being slapped in the helmet by a blaster bolt.. “Martel. Captain. Unit, none of your business, because we're here during a sanctioned operation in accordance with the Hagen Accords.”

  The Accords, put in place at the end of the Sol Civil war, were written and signed by all member governments in the Core Worlds Alliance: a binding agreement that limited the size and scope of government militaries in favor of mercenary contracts. While the Accords had been put in place to curb the abilities of planets to wage war on each other, they also made the proposition astronomically expensive, giving rise to great mercenary houses that fought on their client's behalf. Soldiers could be facing each other across a battlefield one minute, only to have to join forces the next, under a new contract. The single part of it that Mara liked was that there were strict rules for dealing with war crimes and prisoners of war.

  Mara whirled, bringing up her plasma sword to crash into a mace head sheathed in a crackling purple hue. It flashed in an arc to recover into a fighting position. The trooper that held it, pulled it behind her, leaving her other hand free. She removed her helmet, showing tattooed skin under a crown of spiny, thorn-like horns. Her ash colored hair dumped from her helmet.