Thieves' Guild Series (7 eBook Box Set): Military Science Fiction - Alien Invasion - Galactic War Novels

by C. G. Hatton

  “I understand that none of us want to die here,” NG said.

  “I’m sending my XO back to the Tangiers to launch the nukes,” Hones said, standing up and turning away. “We’ll set up a defence here until the freighter is fixed. Get yourself some bloody medical attention. You look like shit.”

  The defence grid was struggling, emergency power flickering as the gunship offensive intensified, the facility rumbling with reverberations as each laser fired on target after target, mid-air detonations sending debris raining down onto the roof.

  NG sat at the table, trying to be patient as a medic cleaned the gash above his eye. He was holding a cold pack against the back of his neck with one hand and flicking through the screens of a data board with the other. He’d already skipped through the schematics and inventories three times, talked with the sullen supervisor twice, and there was no way he could see that this facility could be reinforced as a defensive position. He had the beginnings of a plan but it wasn’t great.

  There’d been plenty of times out in the field, especially in active military theatres, dabbling as the guild was wont to do, when he’d had the distinct impression they were on the wrong side. It was never that they were outnumbered, or outgunned, or technologically inferior – those odds just fuelled the mischief – it was always a sinking feeling that whatever corporation or ruling government or political faction, or whoever they were working for, had simply had its time. Once your time is up, you’re done, whatever superiority you thought you were supposed to have had over the hordes at the gate.

  He had that sinking feeling now.

  ‘And, Nikolai, when you understand that, you disengage and leave them to their fate. We don’t owe these pathetic creatures anything. The Bhenykhn are about to deploy ground troops. Time to disengage…’

  It wasn’t that simple. The armed guards that Hones had set to watch him had ditched the pretence of keeping a distance and were now standing close, one on either side, more to protect him than detain him. There was simply nowhere to go. He was splitting his concentration, giving LC as much guidance as he could while trying to track the team that Hones had sent to the Tangiers and listening in to an increasingly overwhelming net of intel flowing between the Bhenykhn commanders that Sebastian was throwing at him.

  It was the first time in his life that he felt like there might be no way out.

  The medic taped a dressing into place and stood back, regarding him strangely, something weird flitting across the surface of her mind. She leaned in and whispered in his ear, “You died on board the Expedience. Nice recovery.”

  Ah.

  ‘Caught out,’ Sebastian mocked. ‘Where is this going, do you think?’

  “Wasn’t as bad as it looked,” he whispered back.

  She raised her eyebrows. “You were dead. I called it myself.”

  “I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”

  She smiled, wondering how he’d done it and wanting to ask but the power dropped out suddenly, completely, plunging the room into darkness.

  ‘They’re in trouble,’ Sebastian murmured.

  Not LC. NG could sense that the kid was struggling but they were getting close. He switched to the others. They’d made it through the tunnels and were out in the open, within sight of the Tangiers, but they weren’t moving, numbers down and a panic about them that was escalating. He homed in on the XO just as the guy died. He broke loose with a curse, scanning wider to find Thom Garrett as the young engineer started to run again, feeling a fearless determination kick in as he slid and fell down the slope amidst a hail of gunfire, staying with him until he made it inside the perimeter of the warship’s defensive guns and scrambled inside.

  NG looked up as the reserve power spluttered back into life.

  Hones caught his eye from across the room, dropped what he was doing and barked, “What?”

  “Your XO and his team just got hit. He’s dead.”

  There was a hush.

  The medic squeezed his shoulder and moved away. Hones was furious but hiding it well.

  “Garrett made it on board.”

  If anything, the colonel seemed to calm and focus. “Get over here,” he said. “We need a new plan.”

  NG stood up and walked over, glancing towards the door as he caught a hint of a figure he recognised out there, someone pushing his way through the crowd.

  ‘Now this is going to be interesting.’

  “I’m going out there,” Hones said. “Given your unique perspective on the situation, I’m going to leave you in charge of the defence here. Can you handle it?”

  NG kept his voice low. “Yeah.” He slid across the board. “If you’re going, you need to go now. They’re about to quit the air offensive and pull the gunships back to contain the area surrounding us while their ground troops move in. And we’re about to get company.”

  The door opened and Fiorrentino blustered in, surrounded by an entourage of his own people, soaked through and pissed off, in a slick grey suit rather than powered armour but with the potential to shift the balance of command again in favour of the Wintran contingent in the room. He caught NG’s eye and smirked.

  This they didn’t need.

  The colonel followed his line of sight, flicking a glance over to the Zang suit who was openly glaring at them and looking back again, cursing inwardly, thinking he was on a goddamned war footing with these people. Not official. Not yet but inevitable, was the briefing he’d been given. And a corporate suit walked in here as if he was about to take command? Not likely. A bullet between the eyes was what was needed here.

  It was a sentiment he shared, but NG said quietly under his breath, “Don’t.”

  Hones picked up the board and looked him in the eye, thinking, I know exactly what you’re doing, son, and if you can hear this, if you want us to protect you, you just remember which bloody side you’re on.

  Fiorrentino was taking off his mud-splattered suit jacket and handing it to one of his cronies with a disdaining, “Get this cleaned.” He brushed down his white shirt, rolled up the sleeves and approached the table.

  Hones met him with an outstretched hand, a warm smile and a squeeze of a handshake that was brutal. “Listen in,” he said, firmly in barely more than a whispered growl, “we are now at war with an unknown aggressor. This is a joint military operation under Imperial command. My man here is in charge. Make sure your men follow his orders. If you want to survive this, you will go over there, tell them who is in charge then sit down and be quiet. Or I will put a bullet in your brain right now. Do you understand?”

  Fiorrentino nodded. He wasn’t stupid and he wasn’t a coward but he knew how to play games and win them, and he was thinking he could bide his time here. “Of course,” he said and Hones let him go, throwing a knowing look at NG and heading back across the room.

  The door opened again.

  Martinez pushed through, clearing the way, Hal Duncan at her side, herding LC in ahead of him. They all had rain capes on, hoods up and weapons out.

  An older guy who could only have been William Gallagher was following them. NG recognised him from LC’s debrief, and from the confused mix of satisfaction and shock in his mind at finding out his aliens were real after all.

  Luka was almost as distraught, emanating a cold, numb chill, working hard to dampen down an instinct to break and run. He was very aware what he was walking into here, only Duncan’s hand on his shoulder stopping him, flashing back to a dark night years ago when that hold had been a hell of a lot more rough and the soldiers hadn’t thought anything of punching a young kid in the back of the head to get him to move. It hadn’t been that many years ago in the scale of things. NG had been in post about six months when Mendhel had called in, saying he had a prospective, no background, no time to run checks and what the hell, he was bringing him in. And that snap judgement call had changed the dynamics of the entire guild. Overnight.

  ‘Over here,’ NG sent, wanting them with him on this side of the room.

&nbs
p; Martinez had seen him anyway and led them over, looking bemused as she edged in next to him.

  “What?” he said.

  “They think we’re JU?”

  That wasn’t exactly what he’d said but he just shrugged. She’d been talking to the marine sergeant. One of her own. Making allies. Especially now they were all tagged as the same side.

  “Where’s Elliott?”

  “He’s gone to the stores. Said he didn’t want to waste any time and he didn’t trust anyone else to get the right parts that he needs.” She nudged his arm. “Are you okay?”

  It felt like his head was going to split in two.

  “I could do with a drink. And I need to talk to Elliott. Can you get a message to him? Ask him to get over here or call me on the landline. I don’t care.” He looked across at Fiorrentino who was staring, eyes narrowing further as he saw LC push back his hood.

  Luka was wearing more body armour than he was comfortable with, carrying way more weapons than he was used to and his arm was still strapped tight to incapacitate the collarbone. For a kid that was renowned for being laid back and cocky whatever was thrown at him, he wasn’t happy.

  Fiorrentino was thinking that he couldn’t believe it, that right here in front of him was the little shit he’d been chasing across half the galaxy.

  NG picked up the cold pack and pressed it against his eyes.

  It was obvious that LC had recognised Fiorrentino and overheard that last, but the kid just started to shrug out of the cape and thought at NG, ‘What happened?’ He didn’t like it that Hil was missing, a pang of guilt that it should have been him up there on the battle cruiser, watching Hilyer’s back, not NG.

  ‘You wouldn’t have been able to do anything different,’ NG thought.

  I wouldn’t have left him, flashed into LC’s mind but he shut it down fast, thinking again, intently, ‘What happened?’

  ‘The virus kicked in.’

  ‘Is he still alive?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ NG looked around the room, eyes settling on Fiorrentino, and consciously shared with LC and Duncan flashes of that scene on the bridge of the Expedience. He wanted them to know what they were dealing with here.

  LC looked across, caught Fiorrentino’s eye and for a moment, NG wasn’t sure if the kid was going to freak out and pull a gun or shudder and shut down.

  It was a knife-edge which way this could go but he just turned to NG and said calmly and quietly, “What’s the plan?”

  Hones walked up behind them. “The plan is that we’re going to nuke their damned ship and you’re going to make a stand here until we can get back and get that damned freighter fixed to get home. Sound good?”

  NG stared at the colonel. He’d never been totally honest with anyone in his entire life and now this larger than life figure who was about to hand over command of his troops knew more than anyone outside the guild had ever known about him, except who he was.

  Apparently Hones had a sixth sense of his own and looked back at him. “What?”

  NG looked him in the eye. “I’m not JU,” he admitted.

  Hones snorted and leaned in close. “I know that, son. What do you take me for? I know fine well who you are, NG. Thieves’ Guild, head of operations. I might not be a bloody mind-reader but I have my methods. Bloody Thieves’ Guild.”

  He grinned and slapped NG on the shoulder. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  Chapter 35

  “The corporations have much to answer for.” She was thinking of Hilyer and, again, there was an element of regret there.

  The Man stood and wandered away to fetch another bottle of wine. “The financial loss of that battle cruiser alone will set Zang Enterprises back months if not years. We don’t know if Zang himself was on board but I suspect not. That Fiorrentino was shows how deep the cracks extend within that repulsive corporation. Power means little when you are trying to cling onto it with your dying fingers.”

  “With Zang out of the picture, the balance of power within the Wintran coalition changes significantly, does it not?”

  “”It would. But Zang is not out of the picture. Men like that are irrepressible in the worst possible way. They do not surrender. They do not give in. Zang even looks to defeat death. He has no idea what he has been chasing.”

  •

  NG sat with his elbows leaning on the table and head held in upturned hands. His head was pounding. He felt Martinez return to his side and rest a hand on the back of his shoulders. Not quite the way Devon used to but more contact than he was used to from her.

  He squinted open one eye and watched her place a glass and bottle in front of him.

  “This is the best I could find,” she muttered. “There’s rations if you need to eat. Gallagher’s talking to the crew here. He’s helping get the civilians and wounded ready to evacuate to the freighter. He’s fine. The runners have called in. Hones got away okay and LC and Duncan are in position.”

  “I know.” He’d sent them out, each with a rapid response fire team, runners and a brief to stand by. It was going to be their only chance at coordinating some kind of mobile communications. He’d also talked with Elliott through the shit landline these people relied on. It was like going back in time. Elliott had already grabbed the parts he needed but it hadn’t taken much persuading to get him to stay once NG explained that they needed to draw as many of the Bhenykhn away from the Tangiers as possible to give Hones a fighting chance of getting to the nukes. Elliott had laughed and said simply, “You intrigue me. You want me to stay and help? Why the hell not?” He’d called back twenty minutes later from the mine’s control room, said he was hacked into Erica’s systems and had control of the mining bots with their heavy lasers. He’d set them up in defensive positions and said if NG had anything new to add, he was welcome to make the request. The guy was an arrogant ass but it seemed he knew warfare, that was evident.

  NG reached for the glass.

  Martinez pulled out a chair and sat next to him. She was worried that LC wasn’t fit to be out in the field.

  “He isn’t,” he said, “but he’s completed tabs in a worse state. He’ll be fine.”

  The kid was out there in the middle of a full on combat situation, wishing he was running a tab, something he’d missed desperately. It was easy to see why. Field-op work was the toughest and easiest in the guild. Two extremes. You had no one scrutinising what you did every minute, no one shooting at you – most of the time – and it was up to you to do it. You got the goods or you didn’t. LC always did. When NG had worked as a field-op, he always had.

  This was a whole different plate of bananas. He’d outlined the plan to them, in brief, as best as he could manage with spindles of pain stabbing into his eyeballs and half of his concentration on the facility and half on what was going on out beyond the perimeter. At one point, he’d heard LC whisper to Martinez, “What the fuck is wrong with NG?” She’d asked him back, couldn’t he hear the aliens, weren’t they frying his brain because that’s what was fucking wrong with NG.

  They couldn’t. Neither of them, LC or Duncan. He’d realised that as soon as they’d made contact. The virus was actively and voraciously shielding them from it. What he didn’t know was if it would protect them from being detected. He’d tried asking Sebastian about it but had no response. Sebastian was quiet and had been for a while, thinking about it.

  There was a pause then, ‘You have no idea what it’s taking me right now to keep you alive.’

  Ah.

  Martinez picked up the bottle and poured him a shot. She was worried about him too, thinking that he hadn’t been straight with them about the whole of his plan and frustrated that they were sitting here waiting for an attack in a position they knew was indefensible.

  “We have no choice,” he said quietly.

  “What are you not telling me, NG?”

  ‘That you can’t do this for much longer?’ Sebastian hissed. ‘You might as well tell her, she’ll find out soon enough, Nikolai, when
those ground troops descend on us.’

  He took a sip from the glass. It was whisky and rough as hell but gave him a hit of heat in his stomach.

  He drew his attention back to the facility, checking out the frantic activity as he deployed all the troops left here, Earth and Winter, in defensive positions. They hadn’t questioned his plan and were implementing it with fury.

  ‘Incoming. Do you want to see?’

  Sebastian didn’t wait for an answer.

  Lightning flashed. Cold, damp air whistled around his senses in a dizzying swirl. He could feel adrenaline pumping through his heart, muscles flexing, rain streaming off his face. He could smell the figures around him as they stood shoulder to shoulder, almost taste the dank, cold breath they exhaled.

  His vision swam as the view suddenly swept left and right along the line extending to either side in the darkness.

  They were huge.

  Twisted silhouettes with massive rifles that defied gravity, belts slung with guns, knives, machetes, axes, crossbows and god knows what else. Energy shields and crossbows. Seriously? What the hell were they fighting here? Tattered, hooded cloaks streamed and whipped behind them.

  ‘The Devourers. They wear the pelts of their conquests.’

  And eat children. It was like a hideous fairytale. Monsters with far better tech and a perfect means of communication.

  ‘You’re in its head?’ NG murmured, internal temperature rising.

  Sebastian was revelling in the moment. ‘Know thy enemy, Nikolai. Rule number one.’

  He knew that. He’d lived it, had it drummed into him, and he didn’t need to be mocked with it now.

  ‘But you do not know thyself,’ Sebastian whispered, ‘and that is what will lose you this battle.’

  ‘I’m you, Sebastian, you keep telling me that.’

  Sebastian laughed and threw a shit load of intel straight at him, no sifting or processing, just a pure information dump direct from its mind.