Prime Alpha (Planetary Powers Book 1)

by Joshua Boring

  Nathen smirked, knowingly. “How many did you ghost?”

  Helen looked up in thought, counting in her head.

  “Four. Two at the edge of the compound, another two once I was inside. You?”

  “Same. Any sign of the others?”

  Helen shrugged. “Nada.”

  “Well, we can’t wait around for them. If we don’t get the target and get out quickly, someone’s going to notice that a couple sentries aren’t reporting in.”

  Nathen saw Helen’s black face mask shift, betraying a pleasant smile beneath. “Lead on,” she said, her azure eyes glinting in anticipation.

  Nathen pushed himself up and off his haunches in one motion, with Helen following suit. There was no need for Nathen to coach Helen to “stay alert” or “keep close”. She knew what she was doing. Nathen cast one last look at the downed sentry, and then crept up to the corner. Once he was sure the coast was clear, Nathen quickly and quietly moved across the open area with Helen following close behind. They reached the next set of buildings without incident and then were back in the darkness away from the light of the main pathways. The two commandos crept their way along, at times prowling on all fours like primal predators, until they reached the next well-lit path.

  Several feet from the corner, Nathen slowed to a stop. He knelt down to one knee and placed a hand against the hard-packed ground, inhaling deeply. Through his mask’s small breathing slit under his nose, he could faintly detect the smell of the cool night air, his own sweaty mask…

  …and the guard’s cigarette smoke.

  Nathen edged closer to the corner, keeping out of the beam of light projected by a luminescent pod. Reaching into his chest pocket, Nathen used two fingers to pull out a small, palm-sized mirror. Holding its corner between his thumb and forefinger, Nathen carefully stuck the mirror around the edge of the building.

  It took him several seconds of searching, but by the time he was done, Nathen had identified the distance to the guard, how well armed he was, which direction he was heading, how much cover there was, and the locations of two rotating security cameras. Nathen pulled back, now able to hear the guard’s boots crunching against the dirt, and turned to Helen, flashing a series of lightning-quick hand signals. Helen replied in turn, and took the small mirror from Nathen when she was done.

  Nathen backed up and let Helen take his place at the corner. She would use the mirror to establish when it was safe to attack. The rotating cameras would need to be turned away before Nathen struck. That was the easy part; the strike. The tricky part was the timing.

  While he could have easily just shot the guard with his electro-dart pistol, the weapon issued a distinctive ‘zap!’ when fired. Someone was bound to hear it, what with all the patrols. But Nathen had an alternative. Three weighted balls, tied together with a cord that Nathen now clutched in his fist: a bola. He crouched low to minimize his profile as the guard approached. Helen held up a spread hand, and started ticking down fingers.

  Five… four… three…

  The guard walked into view, barely glancing at the shadows where Nathen and Helen were hiding. Nathen kept absolutely still as the guard passed, a good fifteen feet away. His eyes froze for an instant on the fierce visage of the helmet. His heart hammered ice through his veins as a cold shiver ran up his back, staring at the familiar face. The face he’d encountered on so many worlds. In his mind, he could faintly hear the Vorch battle cry, like a banshee’s scream, as the armored warrior charged forth like a possessed…

  The sensation was brushed aside as Nathen solidified his focus on his target. Encounters with Vorch warriors were hard to forget. In his mind’s eye, Nathen saw the security camera turning its lens away. Helen formed a fist and pulled down.

  Snapping his wrist into motion, Nathen whipped the bola about in circles, rapidly winding up its speed as he stepped into the light. Shifting his weight and timing the throw, Nathen released the weapon. The bola flew like a released raptor, whipping through the air toward its target.

  Helen was a half-second behind it, sprinting like a rabbit.

  The guard faltered mid-step, uttering a curious ‘Hmm?’ as he started to turn toward the low flapping sound.

  He hadn’t even turned his head halfway when the bola hit the back of his neck. The three weighted balls gobbled up the slack in the cord in a heartbeat, constricting around the guard’s neck and coming together with a ‘clack’. The knockout came when the balls connected, triggering the miniature neural-shock generators built into each ball. The beta shockwave that pulsed from each ball was silent and undetectable, but the impact was clear. The guard spasmed once, then collapsed like a rag doll.

  Helen snatched him under the arms before he hit the ground. Moving rapidly, she swung around and dragged the unconscious guard backwards into the shadows of the building. Nathen shadowed her in perfect unison, scooping up the guard’s dropped cell blaster off the ground. The commandos had merged back into the shadows by the time the camera had completed its sweep.

  Helen lowered the guard to the ground and rolled him over, face up like the last one. Nathen checked the safety feature on the cell blaster before putting it down.

  “Good takedown, Boss,” Helen whispered.

  “Hopefully no one in the security room saw this guard disappear into thin air,” Nathen said, unwinding the bola from the guard’s neck. He felt for a pulse, again pulling the protective scarf back. It wasn’t hard to find a beat on a Vorch. Their double hearts tended to produce a strong pulse. Once he was satisfied the guard was out, he stood up. Now Nathen was close enough to the satcom building that he had to look up to see the dish. They were very close to their goal now.

  “There’s the objective building,” he said, waving two fingers up at the three story structure. “Entrance should be just on the other side of this building. The VIP will be in the control room, so he shouldn’t be hard to find.”

  Helen’s face mask shifted again as she smiled. “Let’s get to it, then.”

  The two moved on, leaving one more limp body in their wake. Soon enough they came to the next corner. The distinctive smell of recharging anodes wafted to Nathen’s mask. He pressed on, nerves on alert, and discovered the compound’s vehicle depot, excessively lit with spotlights and battery lanterns. Several canvas tents stretched from adjacent buildings to cover parked cars. Supply crates, charging stations, and a variety of maintenance equipment lay strewn about. Nathen could see at least three Labrador chase cars, two Beagle troop transports, even a six-wheeled Jaguar fast-attack vehicle. One of the Labradors had its electro-magnetic pulse engine running, idling at a low hum.

  Nathen saw only three guards from where he was. Two guards, recently returned from perimeter patrol, chattered to each other between two parked Labradors. A third car was carelessly parked several paces away, engine running. The third guard was pacing near the Jaguar, fairly close to where Nathen and Helen were, casting an occasional glance at the other two guards but not joining them. Nathen drew back, frowning.

  “This won’t be pretty,” he said. “We need to cross that lit area to get to those two there,” Nathen pointed out the two guards to Helen. “But we’ll need to deal with him first.”

  “Pistols then,” Helen said.

  “And hope that engine will cover the sound of our shots,” agreed Nathen, pulling his electro-dart pistol free of its holster. “We need to be quick, and it’s a tricky angle. Ready?”

  Helen braced her knees in a half-crouch and aimed with her arms straightened over Nathen’s right shoulder. “Ready.”

  “Alright then. We take the talkers on three. One…”

  Just then the two talking guards were seized from behind by a pair of massive arms and pulled out of view, cutting their conversation short with startled chokes.

  “…or maybe not,” said Nathen as a hollow ‘clunk’ sounded from behind the cars.

  The third guard spun in place, alerted by his comrades’ violently interrupted conversation. He saw instantly th
at they were gone and dashed toward the cars, bringing his cell blaster into a firing position. He made it about halfway there. From behind one of the Beagle troop transports came a familiar flapping sound, and in the blink of an eye a bola was flying through the air. At first the projectile was off target, but as it flew the bola actually swerved in the air, tracking the running guard. The guard saw it at the last second and started to twist toward it.

  Homing in on the Vorch trooper’s alloy armor, the bola struck him dead in the neck and wrapped around. The balls connected, the guard twisted and collapsed in mid stride, folding and tumbling to the ground. Nathen turned to look at Helen.

  “Dang we’re good,” he said.

  Helen squinted in the direction from which the bola had come. “Looks like someone else made it into the compound after all.”

  “Right,” said Nathen. “Let’s go.”

  Moving quickly and in a half crouch, the two ESCs hugged the side of the building and headed for the parked Jaguar. From there, they had a much better view of where the bola had been thrown. Pistol still in hand, Nathen watched the two Beagle transports closely. He pursed his lips and whistled, just loud enough to be heard over the hum of the Lab’s engine.

  Instantly, a black-clad figure popped out from behind the farthest Beagle, aiming an electro-dart pistol, just like Nathen’s. The figure saw Nathen and faltered in his aim. Nathen waved two fingers past his eyebrows in a friendly salute, and the figure lowered his pistol and waved back. Nathen and Helen emerged from behind the Jaguar at the same time the newcomer emerged from behind the Beagle. The three converged on the downed guard, still folded on the ground in a heap.

  Nathen hooked the body by one arm while the newcomer got the other. Helen retrieved the cell blaster, and together they hauled the unconscious guard over to the parked Labradors. When they got there, they found the other two guards lying on the ground, each with a large dent in their helmets, and a very, very large man sitting on the hood of one of the parked Labs. This commando was so tall, so huge, that Nathen’s six-foot-two frame only came up to the top of his chest. The massive figure, dressed in a black stealth outfit identical to Nathen’s and Helen’s, had bashed the guard’s heads together with sheer arm strength. Nathen didn’t envy them the headache they would have when they woke up. He released his end of the guard and dumped him on the ground next to his two friends.

  “Thet was sweeeeet!” said the massive man, in a heavy Aussie accent. Nathen turned his eyes on the man and nodded a greeting.

  “Good to see you, Buckshot.” Nathen turned and inclined his head to acknowledge the other newcomer. “Daytana.”

  The one who had thrown the bola saluted. “The one and only. Glad to be here.”

  Nathen was pleased to finally see someone else from the team. When they’d parachuted in almost twenty-four hours ago, the darkness had swallowed them instantly, separating them from one another. Now, out of the seven of them, at least four were working together. The job had just gotten a little easier.

  Chapter 3

  Daytana was Nathen’s technician: Phillip Norsehill. Technical expert, virtual master, mechanic, etc, etc. The other one, at just shy of three hundred pounds and built like a tank, was Buckshot, aka Kyler Jeston. Nathen’s gunner, and a master hunter.

  “Good to see you,” said Nathen. “And nice takedowns. Both of you.”

  Kyler slid off the hood of the car, which seemed to sigh with relief once his weight was gone. “Et was awesome, right? Et’s not always easy to sneak up on someone when youh seven feet tall an’ weigh as much as a house. But I guess thet’s why I am the best.”

  “And your humility is unmatched,” said Phillip, disentangling his bola from the guard’s neck.

  One of the guards Kyler had knocked out groaned, shifting slightly. Nathen knelt next to the two guards and drew his knife. He gave each guard a shallow cut with his knife. The groaning guard shuddered and lay still. Nathen hit the hidden release switch on the knife and ejected the drained vial. He caught it before it could hit the ground and swapped it for a new one. He palmed the compartment closed, checked the knife’s fill meter, and sheathed it.

  “This is too easy,” said Helen. Nathen thought he detected a hint of concern. “It doesn’t feel right.”

  “You think they’re holding something back in reserve?” asked Nathen. Helen crossed her arms.

  “Why would they? They don’t know we’re here, do they?”

  Nathen frowned, considering the resistance they’d come across so far. A Vorch warrior was nothing to disregard, much less an entire compound of them. But Helen was right. Nathen kept expecting to see packs of prowling Flogs, or lumbering Golos, every time he turned a corner. Yew forces always worked in concert, unlike what they had experienced so far. But Nathen wasn’t going to complain. Vorch warriors were more than enough threat to keep him preoccupied.

  “Did you guys see any way in to the objective?” Nathen asked Phillip and Kyler. “Front door’s going to be most secure and hardest to breach.”

  Phillip secured his bola and tucked it in his belt behind his back. He pointed to an alley between the main building and the motor pool’s garage. “In there. There’ll be a secondary entrance to provide access to the garage.”

  “Well, we can’t expect them to just open the door for us,” said Nathen.

  Phillip stretched his arms out and cracked his knuckles. “That’s why you got me.”

  “Wat about them?” asked Kyler, motioning to the three unconscious guards.

  Nathen glanced down at them and shrugged. “They’re not going anywhere. If we move now, we can be in and out with the target before anyone stumbles on them.”

  “Wat then?” asked Kyler.

  “Then we either sneak out, or we can commandeer a vehicle.” Nathen motioned toward the alleyway with two fingers. “Move out.”

  The four commandos passed the humming Lab and merged into the shadows once again, leaving the vehicle facility behind. They entered, single file, into the alley, staying low and quiet. It was only about a dozen yards into the alley that the tight space split into a T-intersection where three buildings came together. Nathen, in the lead, signaled for the others to stop as they drew up to the edge. Nathen knelt near the edge and carefully glanced around the corner to the left.

  Sure enough, there was the secondary door. The darkness melted back for several yards by the door lamp’s yellow glow. And standing in that glow was yet another solitary guard. This didn’t look like a guard who’d been there long. Probably someone who’d come from inside the building to have a quick smoke. The smoldering stub in his fingers told Nathen he’d been there for a couple minutes at the most. As he watched, the guard tossed his stub onto the ground, smashed it with his foot, and started reaching for a fresh stick.

  Nathen pulled back and turned to the others. He didn’t speak. He was close enough that the guard might overhear him. Instead he used hand signals. Nathen held up his index finger, showing there was one guard, thumbed at himself, then made a slashing motion across his neck. Helen, who was closest, nodded and signaled for Phillip and Kyler to stay back.

  Nathen took a deep breath and drew his knife, focusing in on the guard in front of the door. He’d have about two meters of light to cover before reaching his target. Nathen watched as the guard lit up his second cigarette and tucked his thermal lighter away. The guard sighed, tucking his cell blaster into the crook of his arm. He reached up, holding the cigarette still while he took a drag, before nonchalantly turning his head away from Nathen.

  His head was only turned for a few seconds. In those fleeting heartbeats, Nathen raced silently across the distance separating them, grabbed the guard and gave him a shallow cut on the side of his neck. Nathen noted that this guard had neglected to don his gel scarf, letting him administer the cut even more quickly.

  The guard inhaled sharply in surprise, hand snapping up to touch the cut. His startled breath inhaled too much smoke and the guard sputtered, alarmed as his le
gs wobbled and folded under him. The cigarette fell from his trembling lips, and then he stopped moving. Nathen released the guard’s collar, and he flopped onto the ground, face first.

  Nathen prodded the guard in the back with his fingertips to see if he would twitch, and when he didn’t he rolled him over like his other victims. When he patted him down, he was again frustrated to find the guard didn’t carry a keycard.

  Again, nothing, he thought. How do they get into their own buildings?

  Nathen sighed and twisted to signal to the others.

  Just then, the door opened.

  Nathen was caught in the lamplight, dead to rights, as a second guard stepped out into the alley.

  “Siato. Virks? Did you forget your gel scarf aga-…”

  The guard broke off mid sentence when he spotted Nathen crouched there in his black infiltrator suit. The gel scarf slipped out of the surprised guard’s hand. It took both men a heartbeat to react. Nathen spun in place, planting one hand on the ground and preparing to lunge as the guard snapped his cell blaster upwards.

  “Ari’tok vahk! Die intruder!”

  Nathen braced himself as his legs bunched up to push off, but he knew he wouldn’t be fast enough to stop the guard’s shot. He saw the guard drawing a bead on his head…

  …and then the guard was flattened as Jonathan Harper landed on him after a twelve foot drop from the roof’s edge.

  Nathen stalled mid lunge, knife pulled back and prepared to slash. The guard was knocked out cold, cell blaster now out of hand and laying on the ground. The figure sitting on his haunches on top of the unconscious guard was dressed in the same black infiltrator’s suit as Nathen and the others. Nathen couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw a hint of a grin under his face mask.

  “Hello, Fiend.”

  The newcomer’s eyes flashed in amusement. “Evening, Commander.”

  Jonathan Harper, also known as Fiend, was a Stealthist. While the entire team was trained for stealth, Jonathan was stealth. Behind him, the door began to slide closed. Before it clicked shut, Kyler ran up and clapped a huge hand on the edge. The automatic door groaned, struggling momentarily against the powerful hunter’s strength, then the failsafe cut in and the door yawned back open. Kyler leaned partway in, electrodart pistol at the ready, but no one else was in sight. Holding the door, Kyler turned and motioned the all-clear to Helen and Phillip, who were already moving up. Helen saw the battered guard and planted her hands on her hips.