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

by Craig Martelle

  “But Kimber has established a garrison in Portland, and it sounds like it’s going to be a good one,” Char offered.

  “It does indeed. Ramses and Marcie have linked up with her and they’re doing what they need to do—winning friends and influencing people. The situation with the women is disconcerting.”

  Char stopped and turned Terry toward her. “How so?”

  Terry sensed a trap. “The men will want to deploy up there to find wives,” he said tentatively. “It could create problems.”

  “Wives, husbands, who cares? The mission remains the same as it always does. Maybe they’ll be most diligent when they’re protecting their families. This isn’t going to be your Marine Corps, TH!”

  “My Marine Corps,” Terry repeated, not negatively. “We only had men in our unit. Single men. No distractions.”

  “Bullshit,” Char stated, turning her head to look sideways at him.

  “The he-man woman hater’s club?” Terry asked, referencing Spanky and Our Gang. That was what they called their boys’ club, but it wasn’t that at all.

  “You probably would have been better men if you knew what it was like to share your soul with someone, man or woman, and not try to out-tough someone.”

  “I had girlfriends, but didn’t want to be tied down!”

  “There were women you haven’t told me about?”

  “Holy shit! Is that a dragon?” Terry asked, eyes wide, and pointing. Char didn’t take the bait. “I think we’ve made the Force better by integrating fully. Until now, there were always more men available than women. Maybe we’ll get recruits from the fertile fields of Portland.”

  “Don’t you dare hold anyone back who is looking for a partner!” Char cautioned.

  “You know I talk about it, but when it comes down to it, they’re all adults and get to make their own decisions. I know what I can’t control and that’s the raging hormones of young warriors.”

  Char smiled and nodded. “I hope you’re feeling strong today. I see a lot of packages in my future.”

  “I see a new shirt in mine. You’re not the only one out shopping today.”

  ***

  When Terry and Char returned to Treasure Island, he was wearing a short-sleeve shirt with a garish Hawaiian print. He smiled as he strolled casually, one hand in a pocket, while Char found it hard to stomach, even more challenging to be seen with him while he was wearing it.

  “I think this is my new favorite shirt,” Terry said, pleased with the feel and the look. Char didn’t reply as she was already plotting the shirt’s untimely demise.

  Before they made it very far from the bus stop, they were summoned to the barracks, where they found the unit medic leaning over Boris’s dead body. He’d finally succumbed to the long and wasting disease.

  “Good-bye, my friend,” Terry said, resting a hand gently on the man’s chest. “Every so often, we have to welcome the new guard, train them, and turn them loose to do what we could not during our time.”

  Warriors gathered around. Standing silently in deference to one of their own.

  “Motherfucker!” Terry exclaimed, startling people nearby. “I want to die in battle.”

  “Me, too!” someone shouted and the call was carried throughout the halls and into the area in front of the barracks. Terry waved his arms for calm.

  “We fight whatever battle presents itself. Most often, it’s within ourselves where we find our greatest victories. Boris showed us that, sharing his wisdom and knowledge with us, being the one any of us could talk with at any time. To Boris!”

  Terry thrust a fist in the air. “To Boris!” came the reply from a hundred throats.

  Terry helped the medic put Boris on a stretcher. Refusing offers to help, Terry and Char carried Boris to the infirmary where he would be processed for burial.

  Instead of going home, Terry headed to the dock where he could sit and listen to the waves lap against the wood pilings. Char joined him and they sat in silence, holding hands and watching the water.

  Terry’s comm device buzzed. “There’s the Akio timing that we know and love,” Terry said before he answered.

  “Eve refined her search to the Los Angeles area and the timeframe leading up to when Kaeden-san found the Forsaken, and she studied a broad spectrum of bandwidths. She was successful. We have found them, Terry-san, and they are beginning to rise.”

  “Fucking A! Oh, sorry, Akio-sama. Time to go kill some Forsaken. When do we leave?” Terry asked, gripping Char’s hand tightly.

  “We have lost the other pod. We are, as you say, dead in the water.”

  “All this time, we waited for them and now that they are rising, there’s nothing we can do?” Terry asked.

  “Chasing them on foot is not viable, Terry-san. Quick simultaneous strikes will be the only way to defeat them. If we cannot hit them all at once, then we will do nothing more than try to brush back the tide with a broom.”

  Terry gritted his teeth until his jaw started to ache. “How long until the pods are ready?”

  “It is problematic to deliver an estimate, Terry-san. It is still five to ten years away based on our current mining of rare earth minerals.”

  “Crap,” Terry whispered. “We have to sit back and watch.”

  “I am afraid so, Terry-san. Plan for seven to ten years and then when we hit them, we will hit them hard, everywhere at once. They are trying to build quickly, increase their numbers. We will encounter a determined enemy, Terry-san, and people will die. But if we don’t do this right, people will die, and the threat will remain.”

  “Wise words always, Akio-sama. We will begin preparations immediately for an attack on how many different locations?”

  “We see twenty-seven, but expect that to grow over time,” Akio reported. “Mosquitos, Terry-san.”

  “I don’t understand, Akio-sama.”

  “Many bat at the mosquitoes to make them go away. Those people give the predator time to find an opening, because a mosquito will never go away. Predators will wait until the mosquito lands and is an easy target. We will be predators, as always.”

  “I concur,” Terry said and Akio signed off.

  Terry leaned forward with his head hanging between his knees. Char rubbed his back.

  “Patience is a bitter cup from which only the strong may drink.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  WWDE + 82

  San Francisco

  Time crawled at an agonizing pace. Terry had built a huge map on the wall of what he used as his headquarters. He continued to add pins until the numbers seemed to be overwhelming.

  Even with his tactical mind, the intricacies of a simultaneous strike plan seemed beyond the FDG’s ability to execute.

  Well over one hundred Forsaken had been identified in six main areas. When Akio was ready, he would deliver five pods. From South Africa to Hudson Bay, the Force would have to strike.

  They needed to be on six continents at the same time, but they could only lift one hundred and fifty people at a time.

  Pre-position? Leapfrog the attacks and not go after them simultaneously?

  Terry’s head ached from the effort to see all the details. His senior staff—Joseph, Kim, Kae, Marcie, and Ramses—had provided their input, changed their minds, and then given new opinions. They were trying to be helpful, but it wasn’t helping. Andrew was there, but it was all new to him. He went with the flow.

  Char provided her input separately, her deference to Terry’s embrace of being manly. He usually used what she presented and gave her full credit

  Terry knew that he’d shut out the rest of the Force de Guerre, counting on the special four to carry the burden of leading the battalion of warriors. Terry Henry Walton had not taken Boris’s death well. He’d distanced himself further from the unit, became the colonel that people would occasionally see, who worked out with them, but rarely made more than small talk.

  “I want to see my grandkids, all of them, tonight, and then I’ll know what we need to do.�
��

  The four nodded and left the small conference room. They knew the man well enough to know when something was up for debate or not.

  Terry put his arms up and his hands behind his head, lacing his fingers together as he pursed his lips.

  “Twenty-five years? Something like that, anyway,” Char said, kicking back and mirroring Terry’s pose. “Savor this moment. When the pods show up, we are at war. We will fight until it’s over. We will find Mister Smith and this time, we will finish him.”

  A slow smile spread across Terry’s face. “Mahan,” he said.

  “Of course. His premise applies in this case.”

  “We’ve had a lot of time to think about it. It hadn’t occurred to me before now. We deploy heavy forces to destroy the enemy forward, that was always a given, but cutting the head off the snake at the outset will give us the advantage of creating confusion among the enemy and delay their response time. We get inside their OODA loop.” Observe, Orient, Decide, Act—the decision cycle as theorized by Major John Boyd in the mid-twentieth century.

  “Have I told you today how much I love you?” Terry said softly.

  Char’s purple eyes sparkled. “Why do you want to see the grandkids? Not feeling old enough?”

  Terry chuckled. “Maybe a little of that. They do make me feel old, but my body says I’m not. No. I want to look at them, explain why I’m going to send all of us to the four corners of the Earth. We won’t have backup. You know as well as I do that we have to separate. We need to pull the pack in, and I swear to god, if Butch and Skippy look dumpy, I’m going to throw them into the middle of the Atlantic.”

  “I’ve been in touch with them. They respect their alpha. Same for all of them. Shonna and Merrit are ready to move on. They’ve trained their replacements and are ready to hand everything over. Butch and Skippy were reluctant, but they know it’s time, too. They’ve outlived everyone at the mill, for Pete’s sake. Gene and Fu? They’ll go on this op, but I think they need to return to Russia, remain there. It really is his home. Same for Aaron and Yanmei. China is their home.”

  “We said good-bye to them a long time ago, lover. It’ll be nice to visit them, but at their house, on their terms. We’ll need them for this, but that’s it. Our kung fu kitties can go back to their lives once we’re done. You know, my beautiful Char, I’m already tired and we haven’t started the fight.”

  Char nodded with a close-lipped smile. She stood so she could climb into Terry’s lap and cradle his head to her bosom, stroke his hair.

  “You’ve been on edge since Mister Smith escaped. You knew then that as long as he remained free, you wouldn’t rest peacefully.”

  “And I haven’t. The end is near. No matter which way it goes, I’m glad that it’s coming to a head. Did Mister Smith think we went away? I can’t believe that, but if he wasn’t able to hack back into the old satellites, then he may not know what we’re capable of,” Terry speculated.

  “Ted is even willing to come along, too. We only need to stop by and pick him up.”

  “Ted? Holy shit. How did that happen?” Terry wondered.

  “He said that he needs a break from the old ball and chain, as he put it.”

  Terry snickered. “That’s right. We abandoned him with Felicity.”

  “You know they have three kids, right?”

  “Where in the hell have I been?” Terry said in shock. “How in the holy jump the fuck up and down do I not know that?”

  “You’ve been busy,” Char lied.

  “Fuuuuuuuck.” Terry said. “Ted and Felicity have three kids.”

  “And a new wolf pack. Seems the kids and the wolves are being raised together,” Char replied.

  Terry rubbed his temples. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything. I’ll leave you alone so you can plan the final campaign, a worldwide campaign that you need to execute over the course of no more than a couple days.”

  Terry nodded. “Maybe we should just nuke it from orbit?”

  “It’s the only way to be sure,” Char replied, instantly picking out the reference from a movie produced over one hundred years earlier. “Stay frosty, lover.”

  She kissed him warmly and left.

  Terry stood and walked to his map. He didn’t need to look at it to see it. His mind was as sharp as ever, and he remembered every pin, every city.

  Los Angeles had been the hottest climate hosting Forsaken. Most sought cooler regions, the far north or the farthest reaches of South Africa or South America. And they stayed near the water because that was where life thrived, where trade happened, where the world was making a comeback.

  The map divided itself into sections. He closed his eyes and saw the regions.

  Kim, Kae, Marcie and Ramses.

  Andrew and Joseph.

  Sue, Timmons, Shonna, Merrit, Butch, Skippy, and Ted.

  Aaron and Yanmei.

  Gene.

  Terry, Char, Akio, and Yuko.

  That meant they could split into eighteen different teams. Each person from the Unknown World and their FDG support team would have roughly five targets. They’d work from the outside in, converging on what they suspected was Mister Smith’s headquarters. Akio suggested that he go in there personally and take care of things, but he didn’t push it because Terry’s honor dictated that he face Mister Smith first.

  The map distilled itself into its smallest elements and the deployment plan took shape. If anyone could have seen Terry’s expression, they would have learned what the war face truly looked like.

  ***

  Mary Ellen had brought her boyfriend. It was her condition in coming to her grandparents’ quarters. She lived in town, away from the base and the Force de Guerre, but her boyfriend was a private in the Force.

  Terry smiled to himself as she introduced the young man. He was rigid and unable to relax. Just how Terry liked it. Char gave the young man a hug and then told him not to hurt her granddaughter or she’d break all of his bones. Char nodded once, as if sealing the pact, and turned to their next guest.

  TH almost spit water out his nose, appreciating how his mate verbalized what he was really thinking.

  William owned the shop that he used to work at. He spent long hours at work, open for twelve hours, six days a week. William was a slave to the trade. Even though he worked for himself, he knew that he worked for everyone who walked through the door to his shop.

  “How’s it hanging?” Terry asked his grandson, earning himself one of Char’s elbows in the ribs.

  “Supply could be better. Is there any way to improve the turnaround time in the port? My last shipment sat for two days waiting for space to clear.”

  “That is the question, isn’t it? More cranes, more construction, better infrastructure.”

  “Exactly. When are you going to get on it?” William asked pointedly.

  “You need to talk with the council. I don’t have anything to do with that, but I do have something to do with pulling the mayor and the city engineer for some collateral duty. Sorry about that part, William, but talk to them soon and maybe they can get something rolling. I wonder if the facilities in Alameda can be refurbished. If you could make that happen, the amount of shipping flowing through here could almost double. With the Panama Canal almost open, San Francisco is going to need that extra capacity.”

  “It’s almost like you can read my mind, Grandpa.”

  “It’s almost like you’re ready to step up and do more.”

  William smiled, happy that the conversation hadn’t degenerated like so many before it. Just a shopkeeper? He loved that shop because it taught him about commerce, about people.

  But Terry Henry Walton knew that, too. He had never said he was disappointed in the young man, but always that he was destined for greater. Maybe it was time to take the plunge and build a private transshipping facility.

  “Where would I start?” William asked.

  “We bought the rights to it and secured a certain amount of man
power. Just say the word and it’s yours,” Terry offered.

  “How do you have money?” William looked confused.

  “What do I have to spend money on? I learned that the council had approved a separate salary for your grandmother and I decades ago. We learned recently that we had a rather significant pile of cash. We gave all of it back to the city for the rights to the derelict area. It’ll take a lot more money to bring it up, but we know people. Once this fight is over, we’re going to have a great number of Force personnel available.”

  William shook Terry’s hand and then hugged Char. “Let me think on it,” the young man said.

  Terry and Char strolled to their next victim—Mary Ellen. Her boyfriend stiffened as Terry approached. “At ease, Private.”

  “Grandpa!” Mary Ellen exclaimed in exasperation. She pushed the young man behind her to interject her body between him and her grandparents. “Play nice!”

  Kaeden and Marcie worked their way closer. Judging by the looks on their faces, they didn’t seem to approve of the young man. “Can you give us a moment, please?” Marcie told the young man. Despite Mary Ellen’s protests, he was off like a shot, out the front door and into the street.

  Mary Ellen glared at her parents and her grandparents, a teenage act from a thirty-year-old woman. It wasn’t pretty.

  “What have we done to deserve your ire?” Kaeden asked. Marcie grimaced as she rubbed her hand comfortingly up and down Kae’s back. She was distraught.

  “Really?” the young woman fired back.

  “Really,” Marcie said softly. “We’ve always only wanted the best for you. We joined the Force a long time ago because it was the only way we could shape the world into something that you could get the most from. Tell me what I need to do to make this right.”

  “And us,” Char added.

  “You can stop looking younger than me, stop being more beautiful than me, stop being great people that everyone looks past me to see,” Mary Ellen blurted.

  “I don’t know what to say to that,” Marcie replied. Char shook her head. Kae’s shoulders slumped.

  “When we went into the pod doc, we never thought how it might affect you,” Kae admitted.