War Wolves: Boxset 1-3

by Jonathan Yanez

  “Let’s not think that way,” the queen answered, leaving the room, barking orders to the Trilords who waited outside.

  27

  I’m going to need something to eat some time soon, Rizzo signed in the light of the giant moon that orbited Hoydren’s nighttime sky. When’s the last time we ate?

  “We just missed dinner,” Riot said through the dark. Although she was feeling her own stomach grumble, they had been through much worse. “We’ll get Ketrick onto the ship and stable, then we’ll worry about food, and showers.”

  Riot looked to her left, where Vet strode beside her. The rank smell of sweat on a dirty body wafted off him almost as badly as the infected wound came off Ketrick.

  “Vet, when was the last time you showered?”

  “Why would that matter?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  “Okay, what day is it?”

  “What?” Riot looked at Vet with raised eyebrows. The silver of the moon glistened off his metal eye patch. “Why would it matter what day it is?”

  “I schedule my showers so I don’t forget.” Vet looked at Riot like she was crazy. “I check my calendar every morning and it tells me if it’s a shower day or not.”

  “Why wouldn’t you just take a shower every day?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, because you sweat and get dirty?” Riot couldn’t believe what was coming out of Vet’s mouth. She knew her friend had issues, but this was taking things to another level. “Vet, seriously?”

  “Maybe you sweat and get dirty every day, but I don’t,” Vet said matter-of-factly. “I only take showers when I’m dirty, or if it’s a scheduled shower day. Besides, it dries out my skin.”

  Riot was about to continue the conversation, when a moan from the stretcher in front of her broke her concentration.

  “We’re not done with this.” Riot shook a finger at Vet. Instead of waiting for a reply, she quickened her pace until she walked beside Wang and the stretcher carrying the prince. “How is he?”

  Two Trilords carried the stretcher on which Ketrick lay motionless. Only a moan came from the injured prince every so often to signal that he was even alive. The main force of Kila’s unit walked in front, then came Riot’s group and the stretcher, followed by two more Trilords bringing up the rear.

  “He’s one tough son of a gun.” Wang looked over to his right, shaking his head in wonder. “I don’t know if it’s because of his size, race, or something else, but I’ve never seen anyone live through an infection this bad.”

  “Do you know what made the wound?” Riot glanced down at Ketrick’s wrapped leg. “I’ve never seen anything like that. It was so clean and deep, right down to the bone.”

  “Beats me.” Wang nodded toward the Kila. “We’ll have to ask their fearless leader, or Ketrick when he wakes up. I really wish they would have given us our weapons back.” He glanced around the dark jungle. “This place gives me the creeps.”

  Riot understood exactly what Wang meant. She felt it, too. Despite the giant moon in the sky casting down its silver light, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched, although stalked would have been a better word for it. The thick jungle interior and alien wildlife didn’t help; vines hung from trees down to bushes, playing with Riot’s imagination, while creatures chittered and cackled to one another as if sharing an inside joke.

  Riot noticed a tiny creature the size of a squirrel, eyes bulging from their sockets, stop to gawk at her. A tiny mouth with jagged teeth dropped open before it scampered up, entering a copse and running up a tree.

  Regret at not asking Queen Revna for their weapons back grew inside Riot as they continued to walk back to the ship. Something that had begun as speculation became more and more real by the second, and a sixth sense Riot had developed over the years kicked in, a gut feeling that told her that something was wrong.

  As if to add emphasis, the caravan stopped. Kila exchanged quick words with a scout who had run back to the main party. Riot was too far away to hear the exchange, but their rushed tones and hand gestures told her all was not well.

  Instead of waiting with the others to be told what was happening, Riot pushed her way to the front. The Trilord speaking with Kila was the red-eyed soldier who had frisked and tied Riot earlier that day, who she now knew was called Hemming.

  The soldier’s large eyes were excited about something as he continued his report. “More like fifty. We’ll be outnumbered five to one.”

  Kila’s eyes narrowed at the news.

  “What’s going on?” Riot made it to their sides. “Trouble?”

  “The Brutes have decided to claim your ship for themselves.” Kila rolled her shoulders in anticipation of the fight to come. “With them, they have brought the strangers. We’ll be greatly outnumbered if we choose to fight.”

  “Maybe not,” Riot said as her mind worked on overdrive. Ketrick was on death’s doorstep and he needed the medical aid their ship promised. Their safety, along with the success or failure of the mission, rested on his health, so the only viable option was making a run to the ship. “I know how we can even the playing field.”

  “Explain.” Kila looked at her with curious eyes. “I’d like to hear your idea.”

  By now, everyone had gathered around the group, with every head, human and Trilord alike, tilted in to hear the plan.

  “We have to go forward. We can’t chance that Ketrick will survive long enough to call for help or turn back.” Riot looked at as many of the red eyes in the circle as possible. “Agreed?”

  Many shook their heads, including Kila and Hemming.

  “Then we’ll have to go through.” Riot took a deep breath, ready to relay her plan. “I know we may look smaller than you, our eyes aren’t red, and we don’t have fangs like werewolves, but my men and I are the fiercest warriors on our planet. Let us help you, and together, we can get Ketrick on our ship.”

  When Riot told them she and her men were the fiercest warriors on Earth, a dozen pairs of red eyes swung toward Deborah with surprise.

  “Everyone, but her,” Riot added, glancing at Deborah, who stood opposite Wang next to the stretcher. She still looked like she might throw up from the smell of Ketrick’s wound. “No offense, Bubbles.”

  “None taken. Just get us on that ship, Riot, and hurry, because his heartbeat is slowing,” Deborah replied, whispering the words, trying to suppress the urgency in her voice.

  “All right.” Riot took a knee in the rich, brown soil. “Let’s talk about how we’re gonna make it back to the ship.”

  28

  Your people are small, but you have stones the size of oxenheim,” Hemming said from Riot’s left. “Oxenheim, I say.”

  Riot looked over at Hemming, then to Kila, confused.

  “You don’t have oxenheim on your planet?” Kila asked with a raised eyebrow. “Large, bloated creatures, good for their meat and work?”

  “Nope.” Riot shook her head. Thinking of meat made her stomach rumble. What she wouldn’t give for a nice, juicy steak. “But after we get Ketrick help, we need to talk about food.”

  “I agree.” Hemming clapped Riot on the shoulder so hard, she almost fell. “Be assured when our prince stabilizes, there will be a celebration feast the likes you have never seen before on your planet of Mirth.”

  “Earth,” Riot corrected. “It’s pronounced Earth.”

  “That makes more sense,” Hemming mused as the three continued their trek through the jungle. “You are not a joyous people.”

  “Shhh,” Kila warned, crouching as they caught sight of lights through the jungle foliage. “I can hear them now.”

  Riot crouched down, squinting through the dark. Although the Trilords had taken their weapons, Riot’s helmet was still attached to the clip on the small of her back. With Kila’s permission, she had instructed her squad to don the helmets before she left. Riot unattached hers and placed it on her head.

  “Impressive,”
Kila breathed beside her as she admired her armor. “You look like a warrior from our stories of old.”

  Riot nodded. She was already making use of her helmet’s infrared abilities as she examined the enemy unit. Hemming wasn’t far off in his estimation. Her heads-up display outlined forty-seven Trilords of the Brute clan, along with a more slender figure that had the name “Karnayer” above it.

  They carried the same kind of weapons as the Trilords of the Savage Clan, the kind Riot and her squad had trained against in the Hazard Room—all brutal hand-to-hand weapons that were also capable of firing from the weapon’s end.

  Forty-seven heavily armed targets and an unknown entity in the Karnayer, against Kila’s dozen Trilords and Riot’s War Wolves. The playing field seemed pretty even to Riot. She would have been even more confident in the success of their operation if she and her men had been given their weapons back.

  “Hey.” Riot motioned with her chin to the long, double-bladed axe-blaster in Kila’s hands. “What about giving me a weapon before oxenheim excrement hits the fan?”

  At first, Kila looked confused at the analogy, but whether she understood what Riot was getting at or just refused to give the words any extra thought would remain a mystery. Kila motioned with her chin to Hemming. “Give her your war hammer.”

  “It’s only a secondary weapon in case of an emergency.” Hemming pulled out a weapon from a sheath he carried on his back. “I let my daughter play with it.”

  Hemming handed the heavy weapon to Riot. It was a thick, metal staff that came to her waist. On one end, a blaster was set between the head of a war hammer and a thick spike that curved slightly down, resembling a giant fang.

  The weapon felt both heavy and comforting in her hands. Riot swung it a few times to get a feel for the weight.

  “There’s a trigger set into the edge of the handle,” Kila pointed out. “Push the button on top of the handle and the trigger will slide out for you to pull. You can pull the trigger continuously without fear of the weapon overheating. If you hold down the trigger, it will give you a few seconds of nonstop fire until the weapon overheats and needs to cool.”

  “But by that time we’ll be on top of them, and you can put that hammer and spike to good use.” Hemming winked at Riot. “Are we ready?”

  “Let me listen for a moment before we head in.” Riot tuned a control on her forearm that adjusted her heads-up display. Her helmet’s audio capabilities picked up on the conversation taking place in front of them.

  A large, yellow-eyed Trilord from the Brute faction was speaking with the slender alien guest. “Why must we wait? Let’s just take their ship and be done with it.”

  “A fair point, Lord Boris,” the slender alien answered the Trilord leader. “However, in battles, weapons are only a portion of the upper hand. We need information on who came to visit your enemies, what they want, and what they are capable of.”

  The Brute leader mumbled something Riot couldn’t hear. She edged forward to get a better look at the force standing between her and her ship. It was one thing to have the heads-up display in her helmet telling her how many and what kind of enemies stood in front of them, it was another thing to actually see them.

  The enemy force had lit fires around the ship. The Trilords stood in a staggered circle around the craft, their muscles bulging, weapons ready and begging to be used. They resembled the Savage Trilords very closely in size and appearance, the main difference being their yellow eyes and lighter hair.

  The Savage race of Trilords Riot had encountered thus far had red eyes and hair that was mostly either black or dark brown. The Brute race was mostly made up of yellow or even red hair.

  What caught Riot’s eyes the most was the new alien who stood beside what Riot guessed was the Brute leader, Boris. Boris was a large Trilord, six-and-a-half feet tall with a red beard that was already greying.

  Next to him was a slender alien with light blue skin and long, white hair. This must have been the Karnayer. The alien was human enough, despite his skin and pointed ears that made Riot think of an elf. He was about six feet tall and wore a long-sleeved coat that buttoned down the front to his booted feet.

  How he was wearing something like that in this heat was impossible for Riot to wrap her head around. She was burning up in her suit, despite the late hour of the night. She’d have to get Vet on creating a cooling system for the armor, but that was a different conversation for another time. Right now, she needed to have her head in the game.

  “Ready?” She looked over at Kila and Hemming. “Let me take the lead.”

  Kila and Hemming both nodded in response.

  Riot stood from her crouched position, making sure the blaster end of her weapon was pointed down. She didn’t want to tip her hand too soon. Kila and Hemming moved with her. The noise they made as they came through the forest immediately alerted the Brutes around the ship.

  The next moment an army of weapons was pointed at Riot and her companions. Riot clenched her jaw as, once again, she was forced to play nice … at least for the time being.

  “You’re in the way of my ship.” Riot looked over at the craft, and then back to the Brutes surrounding it. “I’ll ask you once, and even ask once nicely, to move.”

  “Who … what are you?” Boris stepped forward, glaring at Riot. He held a shield with a blaster set in the middle, along with a long-edged weapon with teeth on the blade that made it look like a cross between a chainsaw and a sword. “This is our ship now. I’ve claimed it in the name of the Brute faction.”

  “My name is Master Sergeant Riot. I’ve come from a planet called Earth. You can’t just claim my ship.” Riot nodded to the slender Karnayer who stood back behind the bulk of the Brute force. “No matter who your fancy new friend is. Now move aside.”

  “Or what?” Boris looked behind him at his men with a roar of laughter on his lips. Spittle flew from his mouth as he cackled in the light of the fires. “Or what will you do, tiny Earth Riot?”

  Riot waited until the laughter from Boris and his men had died down. She waited a moment longer to make the silence uncomfortable before she spoke. Riot was a product of the Marine Corps and she wasn’t about to back down from anyone, not on this planet or any other.

  “Or I’ll end you,” Riot finally replied as she stared through the eyes of her helmet at the Brute leader. “I’ll end you where you stand.”

  29

  Why you little bi—”

  “Lord Boris.” The Karnayer who had remained quiet up until this point moved forward to stand next to the Brute leader. “May I make a suggestion?”

  “What?” Boris’s yellow eyes never left Riot. A vein the size of a rope pulsated on the side of his neck. His jaw muscles tensed in anger. “You heard how she spoke to me. That, and for approaching with our enemies, she deserves to die.”

  “Of course, you are right, and perhaps that will happen.” The Karnayer showed the palms of both hands as he tried to placate the seething warlord. “But maybe there’s another way.”

  “What way, Remus?” Boris finally tore his eyes away from Riot to look at the man beside him. “Speak plainly for once.”

  “Maybe she has valuable information.” Remus had lowered his voice to just above a whisper. Only with the aid of Riot’s helmet was she able to pick up the conversation. “Maybe before you kill her, we find out more about her planet and her people. Maybe once we conquer Hoydren, this Earth of hers will be next.”

  Riot allowed the scene in front of her to take a backseat to reading the information in her heads-up display across her visor. The rest of the Trilord unit and her squad had made it to the right of where she, Kila, and Hemming stood. It would still be a hundred yards or more of a sprint for them to reach the ship, but it was the best shot they would have.

  “Hey, if you girls are done whispering, I have an appointment to keep.” Riot readied herself. Every one of her muscles felt tense, and adrenaline surged through her. “You two make a cute couple, but it’s time for me
to go.”

  “Insolent fool!” Boris shoved Remus behind him, giving in to his temper. “Kill them! Kill them all!”

  “Click! Click!” Riot shouted into her helmet.

  “Boom!” Vet and Wang responded over the comms.

  A red word came up in their heads-up display from Rizzo’s keyboard on his arm. BOOM!

  THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!

  Yellow laser fire was traded between the two factions as the rest of the Trilords led by Rizzo and Vet erupted from the tree line to the right. Outnumbered and outgunned, Riot had understood their chances of survival had rested on surprise.

  Yellowish bolts of energy from the Brutes around the ship struck Riot on her right shoulder and left leg. It felt like being hit with a rubber bullet. Luckily, neither of the blasts made it through the layers of her armor. Hemming wasn’t so lucky, though; he took a shot to the gut and doubled over on the ground next to Riot.

  As soon as the initial barrage of fire had fallen over Riot, Kila, and Hemming, a slight hesitation swept over the group of Brutes as they pivoted to meet Rizzo, Wang, and Vet with the rest of the Savages. Riot seized the opportunity as she unloaded with the war hammer.

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

  She fired it like a mini-gun. The weapon felt good in her hands, with the barrel warming and Riot stalking forward. She danced between incoming fire, sweeping her gun, dropping the enemy in bunches. She blew out the neck of an attacking Brute fighter on her left, then skull-capped another who advanced on her right. Left and right, she squeezed off shots, screaming, urging the others to carry the fight to the enemy.

  “Evonne!” Riot shouted into her helmet. “Lower the cargo bay ramp, pivot to let Rizzo and the group approaching with him inside.”

  “Roger that, Riot.” Evonne’s calm voice was a perfect contrast to the eruption of chaos all around the battlefield. “Lights on. Moving to intercept the approaching group.”