Grendel Uprising: The Complete Series

by Scott Moon

  “Keep up, Reaver,” Aefel said. He didn’t yell or curse.

  As far as Cindy could tell, he was more intellectually than physically engaged. That was part of his reputation. Nine times out of ten, he went into battle as calm as a computer programmer on a lunch break. She had seen him tuned up and desperate and hoped never to witness his darker side again. If he became angry at the SALD units racing them to the final objective, she would never be able to keep up with him. He was tall and strong and capable of pushing his body through legendary amounts of pain.

  She surged forward and ran on his left flank, watching a group of Park Rangers parked on the slope of a hill in the distance. She glanced to the right and slightly behind Aefel to check on the progress of the SALD platoon. They were down to ten percent of their strength but still driving ahead without slowing down.

  We’re down a lot more than ten percent. This is crazy, she thought.

  “They almost beat us,” Aefel said.

  “This race isn’t done yet.” Cindy regretted speaking. Fire burned in her lungs and her fog-proof visor was starting to fog up.

  Several moments passed as she realized the Park Rangers had begun to parallel the race on their lightly armored, but very fast all-terrain vehicles. They couldn’t possibly be planning to join the fight. They weren’t even mercenaries; they were security guards. Unfortunately for them, they lost regardless of whether the CTC or ESC forces won.

  On days like this, she hated spectators.

  “You’re right, Cindy. This isn’t done. The SALD platoon is faster than I hoped.” He turned and veered toward the rival ESC soldiers. “You are going to capture the flag this time. I will catch up if I can.”

  Cindy cursed. Aefel was about to pull one of his stunts. She didn’t have time to watch exactly how it played out, but she did catch a glimpse of him “falling” into the lead element of the SALD platoon, tumbling them like bowling pins.

  “If you aren’t going to help, then get out of my way,” Aefel said over the main channel.

  That is really going to piss those guys off, Cindy thought as she caught three members of the CTC high command and their support staff packing their gear to flee the field.

  “We’re out of ammunition!” the leader said.

  The CTC general looked smaller than he had from a distance. Cindy laughed through her external speaker. “That’s your problem.”

  “Our lawyers will have you tried as a war criminal,” the CTC general said.

  “Relax. I am only going to kill the dumb-asses who refuse to comply with every single fucking order I give. Now get down on the ground, you pansy-ass mercs.”

  She secured what was left of the CTC Headquarters and counted her prisoners. A short time later, Aefel and the SALD platoon arrived as reinforcements.

  “Good work, Reaver,” the SALD First Sergeant said.

  She studied the man Aefel was ignoring.

  “Sergeant Black 79942. My mother calls me Jon Washington Black,” the SALD said. “Good work. I’ll be glad to be done with this mission.”

  Cindy expected sarcasm and insults. She moved closer to the man and shook his hand, staring him in the eyes, looking for the trick. It was a matter of time before the trash talk began. “I’ll buy you a beer. That was a dirty trick, but my boss likes to win.”

  “That was Aefel. To be honest, I was wondering what took him so long to put us in our place.” Jon Black glanced at Aefel, who was supervising the movement of the prisoners. “I’ll take that beer as soon as possible, sergeant.”

  3

  ESCAPE & EVASION

  GRENDEL 0473829: ORBITAL STATION

  MISSION CLOCK: 00:00:00

  CINDY watched as Paul used a pipe as a lever. He could have kicked the door to the unused structure, but prying it open was quieter. She wanted to believe the SALD soldiers were friends, maybe even led by Jon Washington Black, who had turned out to be a good kisser. Not too bad at back rubs when she could keep him on task.

  With Commonwealth Military Police canvassing the area as though Paul had murdered someone, SLRDs acting like the spies they were, and SALDs roaming the street in full urban assault gear, she didn’t know who to trust. ESC Command wouldn’t give her an update on Aefel, and she was his First Sergeant.

  “I’d like to get off this station,” she said.

  “I’d like another drink.” Paul removed the door and set it quietly to one side. “Why didn’t we grab a bottle when we left?”

  “I don’t like this drinking thing with you.”

  “I never realized how pleasant it was to get shit-faced oblivious.”

  “Don’t get used to it. Sooner or later, Aefel is going to need our help,” she said. The inside of the structure smelled stale, but not as much as an equivalent planetside building would have. During the station’s mothball stage, most of the atmosphere had been pulled into storage tanks to eliminate rodents, including smugglers and outlaws.

  “That would be outstanding,” Paul said as he pulled the door back into place and checked his work. “Are you telling me you think Aefel is alive? Are you saying he has hopped a shuttle up to the station and scheduled a meeting for whoever is running this cluster fuck? Why are we running, Cindy? Please explain it to me.”

  “We were told to wait in our assigned area.” She looked around for CMP or other units, speaking without thinking. “Not sure what the penalty is for that.”

  Paul grunted. “That’s a verbal counseling, maybe a written reprimand at most. It isn’t like we are in a war zone.”

  “It feels like a war zone.” Cindy explored the ground level as Paul followed her and watched her back. She couldn’t stop thinking of Remington and how the campaign went back and forth. One day the FALD was surging toward the CTC main battle group and the next they were defending a natural cavern, or river delta, or fortified plateau and freezing their butts off. One day the FALD was saving the SALD, and the next they were both running for their lives. Then the SALD came to the rescue and they were racing to finish the CTC mercenaries for good.

  “I don’t like it when you’re so quiet,” Paul said. He stood very close, shielding her from whatever might slide out of the darkness.

  “Just remembering some battles.”

  “Regenison,” Paul said quietly.

  She wished he hadn’t mentioned that particular war. The Regenison Jump Gate Engagement had been the worst slaughter for two standard centuries, but every Regenison World had been a knockdown, drag-out fight. Three systems were eventually consumed by the conflict. Each world had been unique and exceptionally compatible to human life before the Scientific Society of Regenison created the Carosn Device and told the Earth System Commonwealth to shove it.

  “I say we hunker down for an hour, then work our way back to our quarters,” Cindy said.

  “Unless they come in after us.” Paul looked tired but ready for a brawl as always.

  Cindy kept her mouth shut and concentrated on improving their position. They locked the doors they could and barricaded the others, leaving two ways to escape if needed. “I wish you hadn’t mentioned Regenison.”

  “Wasn’t that what you were thinking about?”

  “No, dummy. I was remembering Remington and the time Aefel and I raced the SALD assholes to the CTC Headquarters.”

  Paul laughed. “That was a walk in the park. The way you were moping about, I thought you had to be flashing back to Regenison crap.” He paused. “Now that you mention it, isn’t it weird that the old 1-6-7 is here on Grendel, or ready to deploy to the Grendel system at least?”

  Cindy shrugged and sat with her back to the wall. Paul joined her, lowering himself with more grace than seemed possible for such a tank. “Aefel about bought the farm.”

  Paul nodded.

  Cindy’s guts went loose as her eyes glossed over and she thought about how Aefel had looked after Regenison, a far worse campaign than the fucking Remington holiday. That hellish experience had made Aefel famous for his description of a fully fu
nctioning Carosn Device Host. She remembered the vacant look in his eyes and thought it was like he had seen all the death and horror of an entire career crammed into a few minutes. A team of medics had treated his wounds as she stepped back from the chaos to watch him bleed out.

  His eyes weren’t his eyes. He’d given up, and Aefel didn’t give up. The color was gone, but what trapped Cindy in his gaze was the depth. She could see straight through eternity. The effect caused her to lose her balance and fall forward.

  One of the medics shoved her sideways and cursed, but otherwise ignored her fainting.

  Back in the moment, Paul laughed. “You fainted like a green recruit.”

  Cindy forced a smile but didn’t look at him. “Don’t make me kill you, big guy.”

  She settled in for a long wait, experience telling her the midnight hunters lacked patience.

  Time passed. Paul snored softly for a minute, standing in place as though he were watching his zone.

  Cindy shook her head. The man definitely wasn’t a drinker. With all that muscle, he should be able to metabolize a bottle of scotch in each bicep.

  He snorted, shook himself, and looked around in panicked embarrassment.

  “Shit,” he said. “Shit, shit, shit. How long was I out?”

  “About an hour,” she said. “Feel better?”

  “Oh, damn. I’m sorry, First Sergeant,” he said, trying suddenly to watch everywhere at once.

  “Relax. It was about ten seconds. Chill out,” she said, minimizing his offense in hopes of avoiding further apologies.

  Alert now, he helped her guard their hiding place behind a nondescript building in the poorer section of the space station.

  “This place used to be nice. A real luxury resort for history tourists,” she said.

  “Doesn’t look so great now,” Paul said. “Why don’t we just head back to quarters? If we get caught, we get caught.”

  “I want to petition up the chain of command to General Friday,” she said, expecting his excited interruption.

  “Are we going to rescue Aefel?”

  “Yes. The original mission called for our entire platoon. If we’d softened on the weapons issue and agreed to blend with the natives, we’d all be down there right now,” she said, holding up a hand to fend off interruption. “I don’t want a recent discipline problem on my file right before I meet with the man. I had to pull a lot of favors to get the appointment outside our chain of command.”

  “Not your fault with Aefel gone,” Paul said.

  She chose not to argue the point. “Let’s sneak back inside and pretend you never made me come get you from that pub.”

  “Sorry,” he said.

  Civilian and military workers began moving toward work stations about an hour later. Cindy led her hungover friend and subordinate back to their assigned area on the space station in orbit over Grendel. They hadn’t been billeted in a proper barracks, but it was close enough. Security was mediocre, or seemed that way.

  She wondered about the SLRD units with their fresh tattoos as she walked into familiar territory. Paul stepped away from her as soon as they were inside the spacious hallways and gathering rooms. She dreamed of sleep even before reaching her uncomfortable bunk.

  4

  RIVALS

  GRENDEL 0473829: ORBITAL STATION

  MISSION CLOCK: 00:00:00

  THE Grendel space station shuddered. Someone less familiar with old places like this would have bolted for the escape shuttles. There were several explanations for the phenomena, including years without proper upkeep. The people who had been left to live here, roughly one percent of the original population before unexpectedly high reproduction rates, were dispirited, lazy, and not entirely sane. Their existence explained why there were already slums when she had thought the place abandoned for a hundred years. As a maintenance and security crew, these people had lost their way some time ago.

  An altered orbit was another good candidate for the alarming sounds coming from support beams, floors, ceilings, and walls. This wasn’t a weather satellite or communications nexus. The Grendel station was a city in space, or had been. Now it was more of a military base with civilian support personnel. From time to time, the orbit needed to be corrected to avoid falling into the planet’s gravitational well.

  Cindy waited for the next bone-rattling vibration. It came with a fraction of the earlier intensity. Her attitude regarding divine acts, or random bullshit, was markedly muted. A senseless death would put an end to all her worries. She didn’t seek death, but she knew it was coming. Why couldn't it come because a station manager cut corners and bought cheap parts or because an engineer who was addicted to Chronic quit doing his job years ago? Or maybe it was a hardworking, earnest engineer who just made a mistake and doomed everyone to a fiery death as the station plummeted toward the surface.

  “I am really ready to be planetside,” she said.

  Kate 80999 swung her feet from the bottom bunk and stood up. “I thought you were awake. Lights,” she said. “I said lights! What the hell is wrong with this bucket of bolts?”

  “It’s old.” Cindy climbed down and stretched until all the ghosts of her injuries were placated.

  “Paul tiptoed in from the men’s billet and asked if you were awake. Said he wanted to talk to you,” Kate said.

  “He always wants to talk to me.”

  Kate laughed as she stepped into the sonic shower. “I thought you liked that.”

  “I’m tired. Boys are a lot of work.” Cindy waited her turn to get clean, ignoring the other women who slept in bunk-beds lining the walls. The room wasn't a proper barracks, but it was big.

  Another thing she hated about ships and space stations were the showers. A sonic cleansing probably did a better job than soap and water, but she never felt clean or refreshed. While inside getting the treatment, it didn’t seem loud. It was only when she stepped out that her ears were ringing. With all the advances in technology, she thought someone should design a better option.

  She stepped out to find the room empty. Kate and all the other women noncoms and soldiers were gone, even those who had been sound asleep moments before.

  “What the hell?” She threw on her clothing and buttoned the top half of the uni-suit as she walked into the hallway with untied boots. She ducked into the men’s billet.

  Empty.

  Cursing, she knelt and tied her boots, and ran to the equipment locker, finding that her password still didn’t open the weapons compartment. With one hand, she grabbed one of the ballistic safety vests and a helmet and ran for the main corridor. She found the common room empty, games of pool abandoned, televisions still on, and cards splayed across a table.

  “What the hell did you do, Paul?” She went onto the faux street and the poorly adjusted, glaring “day sky” dome. She shielded her eyes with one hand and rushed to the lines of soldiers facing off.

  There was good news and bad news. Paul was leading the FALD Reavers and Keifer 90543 was leading the SALD soldiers. Keifer was a friend of Jon Black whom she trusted, despite his devil-may-care reputation. She’d dated him after her dramatic falling out with Black. Cindy couldn’t decide which part of that equation was good, so she admitted it was probably all bad.

  “Paul!” she shouted as she strode forward, vest tugged over her head and helmet in one hand.

  He didn’t turn away from Keifer and the other soldiers. If the man saw her, he acted like he didn’t.

  “What the hell is going on here? Half of you were asleep five minutes ago. Is this really important enough to drag everyone out for a royal pissing contest?”

  “These jackwagons are going around saying Lieutenant Aefel is a traitor and marked for death,” Paul said.

  Cindy clenched her teeth and studied Paul as the giant glared at SALD soldiers he would crush as soon as the fight tipped off. She turned abruptly and crossed the space between the two groups, stopping in front of Sergeant Keifer.

  “Is that true? Have you been runn
ing down our boss?”

  “It’s true, Cindy. Doesn’t mean I like it. My men are taking this almost as hard as yours,” Keifer said.

  “I doubt that,” Cindy said.

  Keifer shrugged. “Aefel is arrogant and insufferably lucky, but it isn’t just his Reavers that admire him. My heart dropped when I read the bulletin.”

  Cindy didn’t know what to say, so she clenched her jaw, breathed through her nostrils, and stared.

  “His mission wasn’t complicated.” Keifer spread his hands, talking low, but not low enough for true privacy. “Whatever he did or didn’t do is going to be clear as day to Command. The mission was monitored around the clock.”

  “Aefel is no traitor,” Cindy said.

  Keifer looked grim but didn’t respond.

  “Tell your fucking SALDs to shut their fucking mouths.” Cindy knew she was making a mistake. She couldn’t disrespect Keifer in full view of his troops and expect him to back down.

  “Damn it, Cind. Do we have to do this?”

  “Yep.” She punched him in the face and soldiers on both sides of the line charged forward. It was about that time she realized how badly outnumbered her side was.

  Keifer was big, strong, and athletic as a gymnast. She thought she could take him because he wasn’t mean enough to fight like she did.

  He took the punch with a grunt, even as he swept aside her next attack, two arms against her one.

  She slammed her forehead into his face, grabbed his shoulders with her arms, and drove her knee into his groin. He twisted to avoid the strike but seemed hurt as he staggered back.

  Another SALD soldier tackled her from her left side and she went down hard.

  She caught a glimpse of Paul throwing SALDs and even a couple of CMPs this way and that.

  “How’d that feel, Keifer?” she yelled, not expecting an answer.

  The man who had driven her down tried to pin her arms. She twisted free, causing one of his punches to glance off her left cheek instead of knocking her unconscious.