Nomad's Force: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Book 9)

by Craig Martelle

  “This was a great spot until that!” she declared, pointing at the brown and holding it against the green of the surround small bushes. “Close but no cigar, gentlemen. Damn! You stink.”

  “This channel acts as a sluice. I can’t say I’m sorry to get out of it,” the younger of the two said.

  “A sluice, huh? Let me guess. You grew up on a farm and you—” She pointed to the older of the two. “—did not.”

  The young man nodded.

  “And this is where none of us are as smart as all of us. Work together. Get yourselves cleaned up and then get back here and find a different hide site.” She leaned close to them and looked around before whispering. “I won’t tell anyone I found you, if you don’t.”

  The two nodded and ran for the fence, climbed over it, and disappeared into the woods. She couldn’t fault their motivation. Training was about identifying deficiencies, correcting them, and getting better with each new session.

  They had two more days to prove themselves.

  Kimber was most impressed by their base level of training. The four new team leaders assumed it would take months. After the first couple days, she revised her timeline to no more than a month. She expected the others had come to the same conclusion. Since Kae, Marcie, and Ramses already knew their squads, they could focus their training on new procedures, and the team leaders needed to learn how to integrate their enhanced capabilities.

  The training was as much for them as it was for the new teams. Learning to work as a team was a constant challenge, as Kimber had just seen. It was too easy for the older or more experienced person to take over, discounting the opinion of someone junior.

  Kimber strolled through the pasture. A couple cows came up to her, looking for a handout. “I have nothing for you,” she told them as she scratched their foreheads. She wondered if her ranch days were forever behind her.

  She could lie to herself and say that someday she’d be back, but with her enhancements, she would live hundreds of years. She’d fought her calling for as long as she could, but her home was with the FDG, just like the rest of her family.

  She slowly climbed over the fence and headed for the cabin, unsure of what to tell Auburn.

  ***

  Kaeden, Marcie, and Ramses had prepared a squad on squad contest, pitting the three squads against each other to determine what was in a remote homestead in the north. The three squads had to reach the homestead undetected, conduct the reconnaissance, and then leave. If they encountered one of the other squads, they were to neutralize them through use of non-lethal hand-to-hand combat.

  Gunny Lacy and her two squads were acting as the judges by staging themselves along the route and acting as the targets at the homestead, which was an active vegetable farm.

  The few members who would be working at the farm were looking forward to the inevitable good eating that came from helping the farmers with the manual labor.

  The three team leaders collaborated to choose their routes north so they didn’t have conflicts the second they started. They’d learn more when their people were tired, which would best replicate combat conditions. The colonel always told them the most impactful training happens at the end.

  The three squads chose nighttime to travel. They all assumed it would take one night to get into place.

  After the first mile of pushing, Kaeden slowed his group. They were making too much noise and highlighting themselves by moving through open areas to maintain the speed.

  Kae called a halt and huddled the team in a small depression. “We go slow. Bing on point. Slow and stay to the shadows. We’ll get into place tomorrow night. We can’t risk being discovered before we get there. The mission objectives are clear; stealth takes priority. We can run back if we need to, but we can’t be found out before we get there,” he whispered.

  The old stealth versus speed argument. He’d fallen into the trap by setting a schedule that was too aggressive. When the team moved out, Kaeden was pleased with their efforts to blend into the shadows. He relaxed as they moved and listened intently, observing with his enhanced vision, reveling in his new abilities.

  ***

  Marcie chose a route close to the lake, which doubled the distance she had to travel. Her squad took off running and maintained a withering pace for over half the night as they ran along roads. Her idea of stealth was to stay away from the areas where she could be observed. When she finally stopped the team to reorient them to approach the objective from the east, they dropped their packs and fell to the ground, exhausted.

  She wanted to take a fifteen-minute break, but gave them an hour and a half to sleep while she stood watch.

  When they awoke, Marcie was still fresh, and they looked dogged. But she wanted to get into place by dawn.

  “On your feet. Stealth mode people for the last couple miles. We have time, so go slow to go fast. But we need to go now,” she told them, trying to be encouraging.

  The team stumbled from their temporary bivouac and headed back into the rugged terrain. They disappeared from view, but Marcie could hear them as easily as if they were driving the jeep.

  She shook her head and signaled for her team to slow down. Each warrior passed the signal up the line. When they slowed further, the noise died down to where an unenhanced human wouldn’t catch it.

  Marcie was satisfied with the stealth, but concerned as the false dawn started to light the sky.

  ***

  Ramses took the straight approach to the objective. He figured that the shorter distance they had to travel, the better off they would be. He had his team traveling deliberately from the start. He took frequent breaks and kept them fresh. He knew by midnight that they would make it that night.

  He settled his team in and placed one-hour watches, letting them rest in turns. He decided that they would move during the day, extra slowly, but when they were fresh. They would low crawl into position when everyone else could still see where they were going.

  Ramses expected that being able to see would outweigh the risks as his people would be well-rested and alert.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Cancun

  After cleaning fish for two days, Terry and Char had enough credits to find a sailboat to crew.

  Char wore her bikini and Terry wore the swim trunks that she had picked up for him in San Francisco. They strolled casually to the harbor where they picked the biggest boat and then worked their way down the line.

  Everyone stopped to stare; Char was probably the most remarkable woman who had ever stepped on the docks. Her bikini left little to the imagination, which made the men gawk.

  “You’re going to start a riot,” Terry whispered.

  “Seems like it,” Char replied with a smile, nodding to deckhands as she walked past one of the smaller boats.

  The largest boat had a full crew and an old captain. He waved Char and Terry away as they approached. “Hell no!” he yelled gruffly.

  “We just want to work and yours is the finest ship here,” Char called to him.

  “Hell no! A woman looks like you? It’ll be chaos, and the crew will make mistakes. And you hold no attraction to me. My baby is right here under my feet. Now scram!”

  “He’s got a point,” Terry whispered out the side of his mouth as he and Char turned toward the next largest sailboat.

  The look on the captain’s face told them that they had found what they were looking for. He leered as he looked at his small crew to see if they were watching.

  “Ahoy!” Char called. “We know how to sail, and we’re looking for work. We’d like to join your crew.”

  The man pointed to the gangplank. “Not him. Only room for one,” the captain said, crossing his arms and stretching himself upright.

  “We’re kind of a package deal,” Char told him.

  “Nope,” the captain insisted.

  “Sorry,” Char replied and walked away with an extra bounce in her step, an extra swing of her hips.

  “Wait,” the captain said firmly. �
�Come on. Let’s see what you can do.”

  The man couldn’t take his eyes off Char as she easily crossed the gangplank and stood on the gently rocking deck. She balanced as if she were born to the sea. No one noticed Terry as he stood in her shadow.

  “You, top of the mast for watch,” the captain ordered, pointing to Terry. TH acknowledged with a half-assed salute and jumped to the knotted rope, climbing quickly to the top. “Prepare to cast off lines!”

  The crew tried not to look at their captain’s latest prize as they went about their duties.

  Char watched what they were doing to see if she and Terry could sail the ship by themselves.

  Guess we should have thought about that before picking this one, she thought.

  Terry was crouched in the crow’s nest looking over the harbor and to the horizon. He saw her watching him and waggled his fingers at her. She shook her head before returning her attention to the captain. She joined him aft, by the tiller.

  “Where do you want me?” she asked shyly.

  “I think you know,” the captain said, thrusting his chest out. He was lean, as were most people in the world after the fall. His face was weathered even though he was still a young man.

  “I really don’t know. I can drive the boat, or work the sails, or clean the deck. But I need something to do. I can’t in good conscience just stand here and do nothing,” Char replied honestly.

  “You’ll be doing something soon enough,” the captain replied, not taking his eyes from the harbor as the boat started to pick up speed. The foresail had been deployed and billowed with the breeze.

  “This is a ketch, isn’t it?” Char asked, knowing exactly what the sailboat was. “The mainmast is forward and larger than the aft mast.”

  “Maybe you do know about sailing. How come I haven’t seen you before? You know that you’re hard to miss,” he said more conversationally.

  Maybe I won’t have to kill you, Char thought, as Terry enjoyed his perch, swinging back and forth as he looked ahead, seeing only Isla Mujeres to the northeast and the dark blue of the deeper gulf.

  ***

  Shonna and Merrit continued working in the kitchen to earn extra credits. They worked harder and longer than the rest of the staff, which seemed to suffer from a high turnover.

  A very large man sat in a chair all day and harangued the workers. Shonna and Merrit earned his ire often when there was no one else there.

  “You did more yesterday!” he yelled out of the blue.

  “You didn’t!” Merrit shot back. Shonna snickered as she kept chopping.

  “How about a sharp knife or a knife sharpener, you fat bastard!” Shonna yelled over the din of ventilation fans. They knew that they’d never get used to the smell. Their heightened senses were assailed by the egregiousness of it all. Shonna and Merrit believed that they’d be able to finish their work and clean the place to where it wasn’t so vile. The end was in sight. If only they had sharp knives, they figured they’d be able to move twice as fast.

  “You might cut yourself,” the man replied without moving. Shonna put her knife down and went into the adjacent kitchen. The banging of drawers suggested she was searching for a sharpener.

  “Get back in here or you’re fired, then you’ll be homeless with no place to stay!”

  “Fuck off!” Shonna yelled from the kitchen.

  “Without us working, you’d be fired and then you may actually have to lift a finger, you lazy fuck!” Merrit snapped as he continued to clean and prepare the fish.

  “Bingo!” Shonna yelled.

  “You get back to work!” the man yelled, still not moving from his chair. Shonna hurried through the door and rushed the man. She caught him as he was falling over backward in his chair, pulled him toward her, and kissed him on the forehead.

  Shonna jogged back to her station. With a few deft swishes, she sharpened her blade and tossed the piece of steel to Merrit. He made quick work of his knife and the four others at his station.

  “It’s like magic!” Shonna claimed as she turned up the speed. The man watched them wordlessly.

  “When we finish this batch, we’re cleaning this place top to bottom and killing that terminable stench,” Merrit said, projecting his voice toward their overseer.

  “You’ll do as your told!” the man said.

  “And you’ll shut your pie hole and get us some cleaning supplies, you lazy fuck!” Shonna yelled.

  “How dare you!” the man called as he rocked back in his chair.

  “Is it time?” Merrit asked softly.

  “I think so, M. It’s time for a leadership conversation,” Shonna replied.

  “What are you saying down there? Shut up and get back to work!” the man bellowed, finally leaning forward.

  Shonna and Merrit stabbed their knives into the cutting board and together, they ran to the man, getting there before he could respond.

  “All you have to do is sit there and be quiet, except when we tell you to go do something. Why do you think no one wants to work here, that people would rather be homeless than work for you?” Shonna asked sincerely, taking a knee to look at the man directly.

  “Get back to work!” he shouted.

  “Shhh.” Shonna held her fingers to her lips as Merrit loomed over the man. “This is going to be the best fish processing facility ever. We clearly don’t need you. If you would like to come along for the ride, we’ll leave you in charge, as long as you do what you’re told. Now go get us our motherfucking cleaning supplies before you make us angry.”

  “Get back to work,” the man said, barely above a whisper.

  “Demonstration?” Shonna suggested, looking at Merrit. The Werewolf nodded once and swung, past the man’s head and into the cinder block wall.

  “Look,” Shonna told him. Sweat poured from the man’s face as he turned. A hole had been punched into the wall. When he turned back, Merrit showed that there was no damage to his knuckles. “Imagine what would happen to your head if you keep pissing us off.”

  The man nodded slowly.

  “Just do as we motherfucking ask!” Merrit snarled.

  Shonna held out her hand, calling for calm. “Get us those cleaning supplies. We’ll finish this up within the hour, now that we have sharp knives. And then find us four new workers. You sit here and do nothing, except when we need something. Then you take care of it. That’s our take it or leave it offer. I suggest you take it. You like it here. We like it here. There’s no time for senseless squabbles,” Shonna explained.

  “How about I go get you some cleaning supplies, but not because you asked. Because I determined that we needed them!” the man declared, having found his voice.

  “Of course, dear,” Shonna said in her friendliest voice.

  “Sounds good, blow-hard,” Merrit said, slapping the man’s round shoulder.

  “That’s Beauregard,” the man replied as he struggled to his feet.

  “That’s what I said. Blow-hard.” Shonna poked Merrit in the stomach as they returned to the table and dug into the fish with renewed vigor.

  Shonna started whistling. Merrit picked up the tune and provided accompaniment. The overseer thought them strange, but shrugged and shambled toward the hotel where he knew they kept the cleansers.

  Tianjin, China

  Aaron and Yanmei walked into the port city, holding hands as they always did. There were a few westerners, enough that Aaron didn’t look out of place. Yanmei was tall, but Chinese. She blended easily. They talked with people on the street, while also stopping to use their senses, feel others with etheric abilities.

  They sensed no one besides themselves.

  “Today is a good day,” Aaron said.

  “I couldn’t agree more, Aaron,” Yanmei replied. They continued walking to the docks where food carts lined the streets.

  Aaron and Yanmei leaned casually against a low wall and watched the shipping, steel ships, using fuel oil in their engines that drove the propellers. It was almost the world that they had kn
own. They found there was less pollution in the water, but it wasn’t clean like they’d seen in other parts of the world.

  Aaron was interested in how the workers were paying the street vendors for food.

  When a group of men approached, he nodded for Yanmei to follow. They got in line behind the men and watched closely.

  They carried square coins that were handed over. They looked the same size, with something on each side. The vendor quickly pocketed the tokens and handed over the meal, which was eaten quickly near the stand. The bowl was turned back in and one of the two coins was returned.

  When Aaron and Yanmei reached the front, they looked at the food hungrily. Yanmei checked her pockets and Aaron checked his. “I’m sorry, we seem to have no money,” Yanmei said gently in Chinese.

  “Then you can’t eat. Please move along to allow space for paying customers. I hope you’ll be able to return when you find where your coins have gone,” the wrinkled old man replied.

  “We will. It looks very good,” she said, bowing her head slightly.

  “Your hand,” he said. Yanmei held her hand over the cart. He turned it palm upward for her and slapped a ball of noodles with fish and vegetables into it before waving her away.

  She nodded to him quickly. Aaron and Yanmei returned to their spot against the wall and ate slowly, relishing the first Chinese meal they’d had in half a century.

  “I miss my home,” Yanmei shared.

  “I’d love to see your home. Is it far?” Aaron asked.

  “I don’t know, a couple hundred miles, maybe,” she answered.

  “Then next week, we’ll take a trip. There is nothing here and that will be our report to Terry Henry Walton. I think we may have to find jobs,” Aaron said.

  “The horror!” Yanmei smiled and together, they finished the small meal the vendor had shared with them. She knew they’d pay him back as soon as they could.

  She rinsed her hand in the port’s ocean water and they continued on their way through the city.

  Petersburg, Russia

  Gene was shoveling manure like a fiend. He was using a shovel that he had to make himself because he had broken three smaller ones.