Reclaim: Books 1-3

by J. A. Scorch

  The grunt showed his teeth ever so slightly when his name was mentioned. "I'm sorry, sir. I just thought you should know whose bunk you're sleeping on."

  Porter dropped down and forced the three to back up slightly. They maintained their dominant stance in the area. "I was under the impression this was a UEF bed made available for the MAF."

  A single finger stabbed out and pointed past Porter. "That bed used to belong to one of the many soldiers you let die when you and your fellow MAF space jockeys screwed up that mission."

  Porter took his eyes off the grunt for a moment to inspect the bed that looked identical to every other one in the area. It wasn't until he found some crude initials carved into the frame that he realized the soldier wasn't joking. "Are you serious?" he asked as he turned back.

  "Serious," Michaels said, spitting the word.

  "What the ...?" Porter noticed something over Michaels' shoulder. He spotted Miller in the distance with both arms folded over his body and a grin on his face, clearly visible through his white mustache. The general had pointed these apes in Porter's direction.

  "Screw you, Captain," Michaels said as he wound up to attack. He yelled out as he threw a punch.

  Porter didn't waste any more time with words as he sidestepped enough to allow the strike to swing past him and collide with the solid metal of the bunk. Michaels' fist clanged off the structure, prompting Clay in the bottom bed to wake up.

  Michaels yelled out in pain as his two buddies advanced on Porter. The first one took a blow to the gut when Porter ducked down to take a quick jab against the ill-prepared corporal. The final grunt didn't stop and wrapped his big limbs around Porter's chest to pin his arms in place. He swung the pilot around to face Michaels.

  Before the three corporals could seize the opportunity, Clay jumped up and grabbed Porter's attacker from behind, wrapping his arms around the man’s neck to break Porter free.

  The move was a second too late as Michaels delivered a direct blow to Porter's gut, dropping him to the ground. A follow-up strike hit him in the face as a mixed group of UEF and MAF personnel all gathered around to see the fight.

  As Michaels coiled up for an even bigger punch on Porter's exposed face, he yelled out loud with bared teeth. Porter could see in the man's eyes that he meant business, so he rolled away to the side and got his footing sorted while the corporal recovered.

  The fight escalated to the next level when Michael's produced a combat knife from its sheath. Porter's eyes popped open wide as he realized this soldier intended to kill him. Whether that was the initial plan was now irrelevant.

  As Michaels raised his knife to strike Porter down, an order from one of the UEF MPs got shouted out to the group of scuttling soldiers and pilots. "Drop your weapon, now."

  Michaels paused for a moment as he glanced at the armed MP. He ignored the man and charged at Porter, ready to drive the blade into his chest. A single shot from the MP struck the corporal in the shoulder and stopped his attack. The knife clanged on the concrete of the base as everyone stepped back.

  Michaels fell to the ground and clutched his shoulder. "Why did you shoot me? Shoot these MAF dogs instead."

  "Shut your hole, Corporal," the MP said as he and his partner grabbed the wounded man. They made no effort to take care handling the person they just winged.

  Miller came stomping out toward the group. "What is all this?"

  Porter couldn't help but let a smile form on his lips at the performance he was witnessing at the hands of the general.

  "Sir," the MP said. "These soldiers were fighting. Michaels was about to kill one of the MAF pilots. We had no choice but to—"

  "Spare me the bullshit. These two MAF pilots probably caused this. Get Michaels patched up and take the rest of them to the brig." Miller didn't wait for an argument as he strolled off with flared shoulders. The MPs acknowledged the command and began cuffing each soldier involved in the fight. Porter and Clay were put in restraints and escorted along to the base's brig and were placed in a separate cell to the other two UEF grunts. The small cells were joined by a barred wall, allowing both sides the capacity to grab at each other. It was as if Miller had planted them in the same location as part of some grand master plan, but Porter doubted the general held that ability.

  "What the hell did you say to them, Porter?" Clay asked as he rubbed his jaw.

  "Nothing. I was asleep in their dead buddy's bed, supposedly. They didn't like the idea of an MAF pilot taking up the space of a UEF grunt, I guess."

  "Oh, Jesus," Clay said. "Even when we can crush these aliens into dust, we still take pot shots at one another. The world never changes, does it?"

  "Apparently not," Porter said as the two UEF soldiers continued to stare at him through the bars. Both sides kept away from the middle to prevent another fight breaking out until one of the grunts stepped closer.

  "What do you want now?" Porter asked. He saw the stocky, square-jawed man's name was Corporal Mackey.

  The grunt glanced down and back up again with a twisted nose. "Just sizing up the Martian asshole I'm going to kill."

  Chapter Sixteen

  "How can there be 200 Stiltz over that hill, sir?" Teve asked Sutton as he tried to contain his doubt.

  "And how do you know?" Mish added.

  Sutton turned from one soldier to the next and settled on Mish. "I spotted them when our bird went down. The last thing my optics managed to do was track 200 plus hostiles in that area. They were concentrating their forces for a surprise defense."

  Teve paced the limited space of the Dragonette. "They've probably moved on by now and resumed their standard patrols."

  With a new smile on his face, Sutton shook his head. "I thought the same thing until I saw them all still there a few minutes before I came back here."

  Mish stepped closer to him. "You went out there, sir?"

  "Yes, I did," he said, raising his voice at the implication that a pilot wouldn't risk their life on the ground. "And as I said, they've dug in. There's no way through, even if you have alien nanites."

  "Shit," she let out as she backed up.

  "Indeed," Sutton said. "That's not all. I couldn't find a single way back and around without having to cross an exposed patch of open ground the Zeal would have covered."

  Mish looked at Teve and back to Sutton. "We could push through that with our suits. Provided it's only Stiltz and not the hybrids that lurk around the base, we should be able to sneak through."

  "What about me? You can't leave me behind."

  Teve offered a solution. "You could come too and follow our every order. We can take you through that section and avoid the 200 Stiltz."

  "No, no, no," Sutton said. "We need to sit tight and wait for rescue. I've already activated a beacon for an emergency pick up."

  "And no one has come yet?"

  "No," Sutton said, a hint of anger in his voice. "Not yet. They need some more time."

  Mish shook her head. Apparently, the UEF didn't think it was worth the hassle to save one pilot. Maybe three people would be deserving of the time, but it was just as unlikely.

  "We need to get to a safer location with your beacon," Mish said. "They might consider the risk of sending out a bird."

  "She's right, sir. Plus, we are both Special Forces soldiers. If anyone can get you out of here, it's us. Not to toot our own horns, but we are a rare breed."

  Sutton scoffed. "Rare breed. You're nothing but freaks who can survive an alien virus. I'd like to see you fight without that crap controlling you."

  Not risking an incident, Teve stepped between Mish and Sutton and found himself surprised to observe her in the same position, not reacting to the accusation.

  "Just so you know, sir, we fought for over three years in Los Angeles before we got infected. Mish and I survived that long on the ground and not from the comfort of a cockpit in space."

  Sutton clenched his fists and focused on Teve with a stare that lasted longer than necessary. He stood from the fixed seat a
nd dusted himself off, releasing the pent-up rage in his arms. "I'm sorry, Master Sergeant," Sutton said, surprising both Teve and Mish. "I'm on edge is all."

  "Don't sweat it, sir. It happens to the best of us. Now I suggest we make a move while we still can. If there are over 200 Stiltz beyond that building as you say, then it won't take them long to start sweeping these wrecks."

  Sutton nodded as he adjusted his flight suit. The fire-resistant material stretched over the length of his frame. Teve could see the MAF logo above the lieutenant's insignia. The M on the logo had been torn clean off in the crash, but the suit still held up.

  "Have you got a weapon, sir?" Mish asked.

  "No. Lost my sidearm when I ran into the Stiltz. Dropped the damn thing in a panic."

  Mish pulled out her secondary weapon from her upper-thigh holster and twirled the pistol around to hand over to Sutton. She followed up the offer with a few spare magazines. The hardware was near useless from anywhere but point blank range against the Zeal, and Command was yet to upgrade the sidearm.

  "Thanks," he said. "It doesn't feel right going out there without anything."

  "Well, don't worry, sir. If the shit goes down, we've got you covered. You stay behind us."

  Sutton crossed his arms. "I can handle myself. Plus, it's not like you guys are bulletproof or something."

  Teve's mind cast back to when he was shot at close range by a doctor from the Black Forest research facility the UEF once housed. The man had been experimenting on him and the other survivors of the Zeal virus for weeks before one of his own experiments ripped him apart, limb from limb. The second Teve got shot, the nanites went into overdrive to protect their host and repair the damage done by the bullet. A few hours later he was fine and ready to fight.

  "Let's just go. We can decide who can play hero once we're all staring down the business end of a Zeal company."

  The three soldiers moved quietly out of the downed Dragonette and crept along at a swift pace in the dark, moving with purpose from cover to cover to sidestep the mass of Stiltz over the next rise. The going would be slow and cautious. Teve couldn't risk losing another soldier to the aliens, even if it was some MAF officer who thought he was too important to die.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Porter leaned against a brick wall and kept his eyes toward the dividing bars at the corporal who just threatened to kill him. Mackey mirrored Porter's stance in his own cell with crossed arms and one leg resting up on the wall. The only difference between the two soldiers was the permanent smirk on Mackey's face.

  "Ignore him, Cap," Clay said from one of the fold-down beds in the cell. He rested on his back with both hands behind his head, staring up at nothing in particular. Clay almost seemed to be enjoying their incarceration, as if it were a vacation of sorts.

  "That bastard wants me dead. I can't ignore him."

  Clay scoffed. "Come on. You think he was serious? He's just another UEF asshole who can't stand the thought of the MAF coming to save them from the Zeal." He made sure his words were loud enough for Mackey and his pal to hear.

  Porter saw no response from the next cell. Mackey continued to stare him down with his half-smirk. It was only when General Miller came into the room past the two armed guards that Mackey's gaze wavered.

  Clay almost did a double take when he spotted Miller from the corner of his eye. He scrambled to his feet, ready to stand at attention, but the general dismissed the thought before anyone in the room could shout it out.

  "Now, what the hell is this all about?" Miller asked, shifting his gaze from one soldier to the next. "We can't have any division down here if we are to finish the Zeal off and retake Earth."

  Porter didn't say a word despite knowing the general was keeping up his end of bullshit to perfection. The general knew this was going to happen when he sent the grunts in his direction. Perhaps he didn't count on things escalating to the point of deadly force, but the idea was his doing. The only saving grace Porter could muster in his mind was that Miller was merely trying to let the MAF personnel know that this was the UEF's show. They were in charge, and the MAF were only there to back their play.

  "I don't know what started all this, but we don't have the time or the personnel to keep you morons locked up in a cell. That last mission cost the UEF and the MAF in blood. The body count is the highest it's been in months, and you can bet your ass the brass won't take this little embarrassment lying down."

  Porter shook his head ever so slightly. He couldn't resist.

  "Something on your mind, Porter? Because I don't think you of all people should be satisfied with your efforts out there today. Your brother—a real goddamn soldier—is still in the shit fighting who knows how many of those alien pricks."

  "I understand, sir. I was trying to rescue him when—"

  Miller stepped forward with a raised voice. "Can the excuses, Captain. You fucked up and lost a valuable piece of hardware because you were too eager to get you and your fellow pilot killed. We don't play hero around here. You got that?"

  Porter stared at the general's finger as it pointed directly at his head. "Got it, sir."

  Miller eased up and moved back from the bars. "Excellent. Now, I think it's time you all shook hands and got on with the job." The general shifted his attention for a moment to one of the guards. The woman in her late thirties punched a few commands into her e-slate and unlocked the magnetic bolts on both cells.

  Mackey's eyes lit up at the sound of the bars sliding across to let him out and back into the world again. Porter kept a close watch on the corporal and made sure there was no exchange between him and the general to concern himself with.

  "The four of you are to keep your distance from one another. If I spot anyone crossing over from their side of the base for anything other than official business, I will put you in a real cell for as long as humanly possible. Understood?"

  "Yes, sir," the four prisoners said as one.

  "Now get the hell out of here. Tomorrow's a big day."

  Porter stepped out of the cell after Clay and moved toward the general. "What do you mean 'a big day,' sir?"

  Miller smiled, causing his mustache to raise. It wasn't a happy smile but one that told Porter he was in for a world of crap when the next day came for him.

  "We're going to hit the base again at sunrise. And this time there will be no mistakes, got it?"

  "Sir? Are you saying—"

  "Yes, you Martian idiot. I want you back in the air. How you managed to fly that Dragonette so far in without dying is beyond me."

  Porter nodded his head more times than needed as a smile broke out across his lips.

  "Don't think for a second I want you out there, Porter. If we weren't short on pilots, I'd have you in the first wave of boots on the ground. Got that?"

  "Got it, sir. I'm happy to oblige."

  Miller shifted on his feet without breaking his gaze before he turned around and left the room. He muttered his way out the door as the two guards stepped in the put themselves between the UEF and MAF soldiers.

  "Captain. If you and the lieutenant would kindly leave the area, it would be very much appreciated."

  Porter gave Mackey one last glance as he and Clay complied and headed for the exit.

  Mackey watched back with the same smirk he'd given Porter for the last few hours. "See you around, Captain. All the best for tomorrow's mission."

  Almost coming to a stop, Porter was ushered on by Clay. "Just let him go. Damn UEF grunts don't know when to let shit end. We'll keep an eye on him, but I doubt Mackey or Michaels will be bothering us again."

  Porter didn't respond. He realized one of these grunts would take the first opportunity they had to make their move. He only hoped the next assault would make them see reason.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Teve stared at an open crossing of the city that was exposed on all sides. Window-filled, half-standing buildings surrounded the area, giving the Zeal ample opportunities to cover the large space from every angle
. Only twenty minutes ago, he, Mish, and Sutton came from a small lookout that stared down at several hundred active Stiltz. The lieutenant wasn't wrong when he told them about the mass of aliens gathering in the one spot. It was unusual for the Zeal not to have their forces spread out unless under attack.

  "How are we going to do this?" Mish asked over his shoulder.

  Teve raised his rifle to utilize the scope and scanned the area for contacts. "Not sure. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but I can see at least a dozen locations for them to have placed a few Stiltz. They'd get the drop on us and have the advantage. We'd be dead in a minute."

  Mish scoffed as she kicked some broken fragments of concrete. "Should have taken our chances with the 200 Stiltz we could see."

  Teve lowered his rifle with a half grin. "Yeah," he chuckled. "Sounds like a real smart idea."

  She grabbed his attention and stared into his eyes with a smile that warmed him up. The night air was beginning to get a chill on it. In a few hours, the time would cross into the early morning and drop the temperature even more.

  Mish spoke softly to Teve. "If it wasn't for this lieutenant, we could pass this thing without being seen." Sutton was out of range of their conversation and had been told to stay down low at the bottom of a debris mound out of sight. He didn't have a suit on that concealed his location from the Stiltz.

  "I know, but we can't leave him here, can we? He seems the type that would hold a grudge."

  Shaking her head, Mish shifted her gaze back to the line. Something must have stood out to her as her brows scrunched up. "What is that?"

  Teve raised his scope up. "What do you see? Point me in the right direction."

  "The furthermost building, second floor, third window from the right."

  Teve shifted his scope to the exact point Mish described. He spotted what appeared to be a person staring out the window as if it wasn't a dangerous thing to do in the open area. Even with enhanced eyes, the figure appeared to be a little blurry in the scope.