by Rick Partlow
Three stories tall, constructed of local wood and brick, cradled in the nook of century-old oak trees, it looked like something I could have seen in history videos from the Nineteenth Century on Earth. A barn loomed behind it, pragmatic sheet metal, and a garage beside that with an autoharvester peeking out the open doors, a flatbed cargo truck parked beside it. In the dirt driveway beside the house was a utility rover not too different from the one I’d rented and driven here.
No one was outside, which I thought odd. Surely on a place this size, he’d have hired workers. But I didn’t know shit about farming so maybe this was the wrong time of year and there would be nothing for them to do.
The steps to the front porch squeaked under my weight, the sanded plank flooring giving just slightly beneath the soles of my boots. They were military boots, though I’d had basic, utilitarian outdoor clothes fabricated before I’d left Inferno. I had a good-sized stake in my credit account, but I didn’t own much besides these clothes. My whole life was in the passenger’s seat of that rental car.
I knocked on the door.
Footsteps echoed inside, slow and deliberate. Dak opened the door. He hadn’t changed a bit from when I’d last seen him in the medical center in Gennich after Maria died, not even down to his style of clothing.
No, maybe there was a difference. Just a bit of softness around the eyes, whether from the pain or perhaps because of the presence of the woman standing in the living room behind him. She was very attractive in a rough, homespun sort of way, just the kind of woman who I could have pictured Dak winding up with.
“Cam,” he said and pulled me into a hug.
It was brief, a quick grip and a pat on the back, but I hadn’t expected it. Dak hadn’t struck me as the hugging type.
“How was your trip?”
“Long,” I said. “I guess I got spoiled by military transports that took you right where you were going instead of making half a dozen stops along the way to drop off cargo and passengers.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Cam,” the woman said, shaking my hand, her grip warm, dry and solid. “I’m Hannah. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“You’ve come such a long way,” Dak said, frowning. “Are you sure you can only stay a few days?”
“The transport pulls out of orbit in a week,” I said, shrugging. “And while I really appreciate the offer to make a life here, I think it’s time for something new. Something not the Marine Corps and not from my past. Time to make some new memories.”
I heard the footsteps coming up onto the porch behind me and grinned.
“Speaking of new memories, Dak, Hannah, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
There was still something crooked in Vicky’s smile, something that went beyond the physical. She’d never seen herself as I had when we’d pulled her from her suit, third-degree burns over half of her body. She’d been unconscious and the medics from the SAR bird had kept her that way until they were able to get her into an auto-doc. But just the knowledge of what had happened to her seemed to have affected her nearly as much as it had me.
“I’m Vicky Sandoval,” she said. “It’s wonderful to meet the both of you.”
“And you, my dear,” Dak assured her, smiling broadly as he took her hand. “From everything I’ve heard, you’ve managed to turn Cameron into a happy man, and God knows, there were times I never thought that was possible.”
“Well, come on in!” Hannah said, waving toward a couch.
“It’s been years, boy!” Dak said. “For God’s sake, tell us everything that’s happened to you!”
I shared a look with Vicky and laughed softly, gripping her hand tightly in mine.
“That,” I said, “could take quite a while.”
WHAT’S NEXT IN THE SERIES?
CONTACT FRONT
KINETIC STRIKE
DANGER CLOSE
DIRECT FIRE
HOME FRONT
ALSO BY RICK PARTLOW
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FROM THE PUBLISHER
Thank you for reading Direct Fire, book four in Drop Trooper.
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ABOUT RICK PARTLOW
RICK PARTLOW is that rarest of species, a native Floridian. Born in Tampa, he attended Florida Southern College and graduated with a degree in History and a commission in the US Army as an Infantry officer.
His lifelong love of science fiction began with Have Space Suit---Will Travel and the other Heinlein juveniles and traveled through Clifford Simak, Asimov, Clarke and on to William Gibson, Walter Jon Williams and Peter F Hamilton. And somewhere, submerged in the worlds of others, Rick began to create his own worlds.
He has written a ton of books in many different series, and his short stories have been included in seven different anthologies.
He currently lives in central Florida with his wife, two children and a willful mutt of a dog. Besides writing and reading science fiction and fantasy, he enjoys outdoor photography, hiking and camping.
www.rickpartlow.com
Table of Contents
Direct Fire
Contents
Copyright
WHAT’S NEXT IN THE SERIES?
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
WHAT’S NEXT IN THE SERIES?
Also by Rick Partlow
FROM THE PUBLISHER
About Rick Partlow