A Warrior’s Home
DARKLANDING
Episode 9
By Craig Martelle and Scott Moon
This book is copyright © 2018 by Scott Moon and Craig Martelle
Darklanding Series is copyrighted ©2017 and ©2018 by Craig Martelle
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Kevin McLaughlin
Editing services provided by Mia Darien – miadarien.com
Formatting by James Baldwin – jamesosiris.com
Based on a concept by Diane Velasquez, Dorene Johnson, and Kat Lind who also provide developmental editing for the series
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
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Author Notes: Scott Moon
Author Notes: Craig Martelle
CHAPTER ONE
“So why did you come back to Darklanding?” Sledge asked.
Penelope Fry-Grigman, recently retired from the SagCon Special Investigative Branch, smiled without looking at him. She loved sunsets, even on rocks like this. “Thad is supposed to take me dancing.”
“I don’t think Shaunte will like that,” Sledge said. “Or Dixie.”
Penelope slapped him on the ass like they were football players after a good game. “I came to rescue my partner, you big oaf.”
“Huh. That’s believable.”
She shrugged. “Something big is in the works. No one creates an army like TerroCom from scratch for no reason. My new boss has questions.”
“Your new boyfriend should have answers.” Sledge looked at her with one eyebrow raised.
“And he’s not talking. It’s up to me to find out without shoving bamboo shoots under his fingernails, although he might like that. He likes all kinds of things.”
Sledge gagged. “I threw up in my mouth a little bit. Don’t ever joke like that again.”
“Who’s joking?”
***
Terror Command. A name intended to strike fear into the heart of Melborn’s enemies. A unit designed to win, without devastating the enemy’s planet.
General Adam Quincy stood on a platform and watched his people drill. They trained, they drilled, they ran exercises, and they trained some more. Two fireteams, the four-person combat units that made up a platoon, approached the objective, flawlessly executing the tactics as they’d been trained. They engaged, drop and fire, fire and move, focus on the objective.
Eliminate the enemy, but always deliver the objective. That was the major mistake they had made at Centauri Prime. They made it personal. Kill the enemy. Show no mercy. Soldiers hyped up on anger were incapable of eliminating the enemy’s will to fight. Both sides intended to fight to the last man.
“That’s no way to fight a war,” the general said.
Thad leaned against the back rail of the platform, a casual observer, having come at the general’s request. Having come because he wanted to see what his ex-wife saw in the man. A warrior’s warrior. The general would forever wear the uniform. It was his lease on life, his destiny to die in uniform.
And that was what Thad hated about the man. He’d die in uniform and take too many good soldiers with him.
“Sometimes wars don’t need to be fought,” Thad pondered loud enough for the general to hear.
“You are right about that, Captain.” The general took one last look at the soldiers as they closed on the objective before turning to the sheriff. “We need someone on board who is looking at a different way to accomplish the objective. We’ve trained them—” The general waved in the general direction of the training ground behind him. “—and they can execute, but can they think? They will perform well in combat. Of this, I have no doubt. But will they avoid combat if that’s what it takes to win?”
“No,” Thad replied barely audible.
“And you know why too, don’t you, Captain?”
“I go by Sheriff nowadays.”
“Come now. You know you are still on duty. You have a great deal of time left, thanks to your frequent marriages.”
“My ex-wives may think I’m made of money, but you know that I am not. I only want to make a living, enough to have something that doesn’t immediately get funneled to the witches around the boiling cauldron filled with all things Thaddeus Fry!”
“Sheriff is higher pay, but what if I offered you even more. We seem to have an opening for a lieutenant colonel.” The general cocked his head and tried to read the sheriff’s response.
The Fry-man stayed cool. He hadn’t expected that, but he didn’t let it rile him. “Let me think about it, but you know I have a pretty good thing here.”
“Miss Plastes. Yes, I’ve heard.”
“What have you heard?” Thad subconsciously moved toward the general. He clenched his fists and shook his head, trying to return to his casual demeanor.
The general smiled at him.
Too late.
“It’s still a good thing,” Thad said dismissively.
“It calls to you, doesn’t it?”
“Shaunte? She only calls me names.” The sheriff laughed to himself. He was contemplating asking her out on a formal date, but women had been his downfall throughout his life. He was honorable, believed in marriage, but then realized his mistake when he was too much himself and not enough husband. “Sometimes, you stop trying, when you should be trying harder.”
“War, Captain Fry. War calls to you because you feel at home there, even with the blood, the misery, and the chaos. It’s the only place where you feel like you know what you’re doing.”
Thad ground his teeth together. “So?”
“We are more alike than you think.”
“We’re nothing alike. I’m the Sheriff of Darklanding, trying to make the best of it. I’ve made some key arrests, put people in jail who needed to be there. I’ve kept the people safe.”
“How did that work out for young Pierre when you were on your version of a vision quest?”
“That’s not fair. Boom Town almost destroyed Darklanding, independently of whether I was there or not. Bust Town is bringing life back to a more sedate version of normal. People with hangovers don’t get into fights. Like I said before, it’s a good thing I have here.”
“So they can do without you, for a while. I don’t want to joust with you. I want you in TerroCom for a specific mission. We leave tomorrow, so you’re going to have to make up your mind. Of course, you’ll want to talk to the Company Man. I want to see Penelope one last time before we ship out, because you never know when your last time is going to be.”
“Come on, man! That’s my ex-wife you’re talking about.”
General Quincy shrugged. “Give me a ride to the other side of the planet?”
“Now you’re pushing your luck.”
“It never hurts to ask for what you want, Captain Fry,” the general said, motioning for Thad to precede him off the platform. Quincy looked at the training area. The next groups were conducting fire and maneuver as they approached
the objective. He never thought he’d be disappointed by perfect tactical execution. But he was. He wanted ingenuity. What he had were well-drilled and disciplined soldiers. He needed Thaddeus Fry to bring out-of-the-world thinking.
Lieutenant colonel pay was a small price.
CHAPTER TWO
Shaunte acknowledged that the sheriff had walked into her office. He sat down and she continued her work. She waited for him to interrupt, as was his usual modus operandi. He decided to wait for her to stop.
They both took great pains to out-wait the other. It was a full thirty minutes before she caved. She turned from her computer to face him. “Fine. What do you want?”
He casually watched her for a few seconds longer. She blinked rapidly to clear her eyes, having stared at the computer screen for too long.
“That general from TerroCom wants me to join the unit.” Thaddeus remained calm and watched her closely.
“So?” she asked.
“They’re leaving tomorrow for a place that he won’t say until operational security is assured, as in, when the ship is in hyperspace.”
“What’s this have to do with me?”
“Do you get paid when they’re not training?”
Shaunte glowered back, narrowing her eyes. “As long as we maintain the training facility, we get paid.”
“As the town goes bust, you continue to make a fortune.” Thaddeus kicked himself for being petty. That wasn’t why he’d come. “I’m sorry.”
He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and looked at the floor.
“Someone has to keep this town afloat, through the good times and bad. I probably should have fired you after your great spelunking adventure.”
“Then you wouldn’t have been around to hear this.” The sheriff stood, removed his badge and his pistol, looked at them curiously, and then placed them on the desk. “I’ve been recalled to active duty. I leave tomorrow.”
Shaunte looked at the badge and pistol as if they’d grown from her desk. She realized the sheriff was leaving. He was at the door, pulling it open and stepping through.
“Wait,” she called softly, torn between wanting him to hear and wanting him to keep going.
He came back inside and closed the door. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the door. She was instantly mad again.
“The least I can do is wish you well. You’re going to war, right?”
He nodded. “I expect so.”
She walked around her desk and approached him with her hand out. He didn’t take it. He bumped her hand with his stomach as he stepped close to her.
She took his face in both her hands. He was older but different. “Every man I’ve ever known has wanted something. Eye candy, my family’s power, money, prestige. What do you want, Sheriff Thaddeus Fry?”
He threw his head back and laughed easily. “Isn’t that the question we’d both like an answer to. I’d like a normal life, but what is normal for a man like me? Will I ever come home at five from the day job to dinner waiting on the table? That ain’t me and sure as hell ain’t you. Maybe I want an adult who doesn’t want something from me besides what you see here.”
Thad shook his head. He worked his way past Shaunte and resumed his position in the chair. He pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her waist. She wrapped hers around his neck.
“Sometimes, I think you’re the biggest ass I’ve ever met.”
“And then you remember that LeClerc stayed right here in this hotel.”
“I have to thank you for taking care of him. I thought he’d go away on his own.”
“That type never does. They need to crush the lives of those around them, whether on the race course or in the privacy of their own room.”
He pulled her close, enjoying the warmth of her body against his.
“I like this,” he said.
“What do you like about it?” she asked.
Thaddeus Fry wasn’t just a man, he was a man’s man, which meant he suspected the question was loaded and no matter how he answered, it would be wrong. He searched for the words, but the delay was wrong, too. He felt her tense. He was losing her.
“The fact that we can sit here together and simply enjoy each other’s company. No expectations of anything else.” He frowned as he looked into her eyes. “I really do need to go. I think tomorrow could be one of the longest days of my life. I’m getting promoted to lieutenant colonel, but all I feel is dread. Back in combat, where the general told me that he thought I felt most at home.”
“Is he wrong?”
“I want him to be, but I’m afraid he might not.”
He helped Shaunte off his lap and stood. He closed his eyes as they kissed. He held her loosely, afraid that he didn’t want to let go. Thad came up for air, brushed the hair out of her face, and nodded. He walked out, gently closing the door behind him.
A lone tear trailed down Shaunte’s face. She let it run off her cheek and fall to the cheap rug covering her floor.
“I don’t want to be her, but I’m afraid I might be,” she said to the empty room.
***
Thaddeus walked to the bar, where he found Penelope Fry-Grigman standing close to the general and nursing a drink. The only open spot was next to her. He took it and called to Pierre for a whisky.
“Get in another fight with the Man?” Penelope asked.
“Not tonight,” Thad replied.
“I know that look,” she said. “You used to have it for me.”
The sheriff refused to look at her.
Penelope didn’t miss a thing.
“Your badge and gun are gone. Don’t tell me you’re going on a misadventure with this jackass?” She stabbed a thumb over her shoulder. The general laughed. Pen smiled at him before turning back to Thad. “Well? Are you?”
Thad bumped her out of the way as he reached out his hand.
“Welcome aboard, Colonel,” the general said. Outwardly, he was calm, but the inner Quincy breathed a huge sigh of relief. He raised his glass. “Another whisky for the lieutenant colonel, and here’s to a quick victory and bringing our people home to their loved ones.”
Thad drained his shot glass, turned it upside-down, and slapped it on the bar. He took the new glass and drank half of it with one swig. Maybe tonight was a great night to get drunk.
Something rammed against his leg, followed by a heavy snort. Thad scratched the pig-dog’s head. Maximus looked into Thad’s eyes and shook his head. “What?” The pig-dog used his snout to bump his arm. “Tonight’s not a good night to tie one on, is that what I hear you saying?”
Maximus nodded slightly, farted, and motioned with his head at the newly replaced double-doors leading outside.
“Do you think you’re going, too?” Maximus exaggerated his head nod. “We’re kind of a package deal.”
The general looked at him as if he had an arm growing from his face. “Not going to happen.”
“Thank goodness. I can go get my badge and gun back. Come on, boy, there’s sheriffing to do.”
The general grabbed his arm as he tried to pass. Thad looked at the hand gripping his bicep and growled low in his throat. Maximus bit the general on the leg. “Don’t be so hasty, Colonel. I think we might be able to make an exception.”
“Please do,” Penelope interjected. “It’s the only thing that makes any sense. The sheriff and his pig-dog. No one else can tolerate his antics, except maybe our very own Company Man.”
Thad glared at his ex-wife. He was far better without Penelope Fry-Grigman in his life. He reached down to pet Maximus’s head. When he looked up, he caught Dixie watching him. Before he could take a step, Mast Jotham appeared in front of him.
“They say that a sheriff should tell his deputy when he’s no longer sheriff,” Mast said accusingly, pointing at the empty spot where the badge had been. “They say this, yes, they do.”
“You were my next stop, Mast. I had to see Shaunte first.”
“Now that you see Mast Jot
ham, what will you tell him?”
“I’ll tell him that I hate it when he talks about himself in the third person. And that I’ll be gone for a little while. Hold down the fort, my friend.”
“It is only you and me. No third person is here. Maybe Mast is blinded by his anger?”
“You are very muchly not,” Thad replied. “You are the best deputy I have ever had, even though you shot me, but you still saved the day.”
“These are mean words. I am your only deputy, muchly onliness.” Mast’s head slumped against his chest. He started to cough, but not too much. After the treatment that Cornelius Vandersun had delivered, Mast had significantly improved. “I am a bad shot, not a good shot like good sheriffs.”
“You are a good enough shot, Mast,” Thad said soothingly. “Maximus is coming with me to keep me company. Maybe he’ll want to go home once we’re back in space.”
“To Glakridoz?”
“Wherever that is,” Thad replied. He shook Mast’s unnaturally long hand. “Be well, my friend. I promise to return.”
The custodian called Nimian Todd appeared. “I heard you’re back in the service,” the man said.
“For all of two minutes. How in the hell does everyone know what I’m doing?”
The man looked hurt. Thad grabbed his shoulder and smiled.
Nimian looked up. “You going back to Centauri Prime?”
“Why in the hell would we go back there?” He made eye contact with the general. Adam Quincy’s expression was frozen. “No! You have a training base there.”
“Had,” the general said.
Thaddeus Fry pursed his lips and jammed his eyes closed. He could still hear the screams of the injured men, the bombardment, and the cries from the terrified.
CHAPTER THREE
Thaddeus slowly climbed the stairs to his room. After two shots of low-grade whisky, he wasn’t impacted. He wanted the drunk so he would be free to explore what the hell he was doing. Without inhibition, he wanted to yell at himself, argue in circles, and after that, sleep it off. When he arose in the morning, he would be Lieutenant Colonel Fry, responsible for a TerroCom unit going to a war that no one knew about.
A Warrior's Home: Assignment Darklanding Book 09 Page 1