The Sentinel: A Military Sci-Fi Series (Hunter's Moon Book 3)

by Walt Robillard

  Morreau sighed. “I can’t get my people on foot past this corner, how am I supposed to knock out nine ADA sights throughout the city. Twin Hells, our new marshals had to climb a cliff side to get to us so his own shuttle didn’t get fragged.”

  “Do you have drones?” Brand asked.

  “Nothing with combat capability. All of that was spent early on. How about it half-a-marshal?” Morreau asked. “You look like you’re brewing an idea.”

  Beth leaned on the table, taking in the tableau of action going on outside the tent flaps. Being addressed brought her back to the here and now. She shook her head to clear the cobwebs, focusing her attention on the company commander. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I was following a thread in the Crucible. What was the question?”

  “What did you see, Deputy? My grandfather was a first sergeant under Liau and Sorrin. I know that when a marshal sees something in the magic space juice, it’s a good idea to find out what it is and take a drink.”

  Brand, for all the rumor of him being an immovable object in the Crucible, had been very supportive. The look on the Echo Company CO was also earnest. The two officers placing their trust in her emboldened Beth to follow her thoughts to completion. “I started thinking that Marshal Brand and I could sneak through the city and disable some of the air defenses. I’d been memorizing the layout of the city from your holo, ma’am. Every time I start planning a route in my head, I feel a sensation like a tug. I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s almost as if the Crucible wants us to stay put, but not totally put. If that makes sense?”

  “It does. We’re going to rotate out Corvin’s squad because they’ve been holding that corner all night. I’m pulling Sergeant Toda’s crew to relieve them in place.” Morreau frantically worked the holographic images on the table, moving signs and symbols around to meet her criteria. “You can link up with Corvin when they make the switch so you can wait for the Crucible to be more specific.”

  “Your status indicates Toda was on perimeter defense all night.” Brand pointed.

  “He was. They’ve been down this morning, though. I’ll have him spun up and ready to meet you in a few.”

  Beth looked ashamed. “I’m sorry ma’am. I don’t have a plan yet. I would hate to order a unit from their rest just to have them sit.”

  “Deputy, my dad used to say that the Crucible is like a current on a river. Marshals are just really good about knowing when to push the boat in the water. I trust you, Deputy.”

  The weight of the last statement did little to ease the sinking feeling in the apprentice’s stomach. If she hadn’t been so determined to study the floor for answers, she wouldn’t have missed her marshal swelling with pride.

  Marco leaned over the holo table. “Those ADA sites are going to make things rough to get into the city.”

  Ares pointed, highlighting a high orbital route from a drop point roughly ten kilometers up. “What about a high altitude jump?”

  “SATO-7s. Surface to Orbit Missiles. We won’t be able to get within the scanning range.”

  Ares nodded, “Then we come in over the water. Drop to just above the deck and ride the wave in.”

  Ajax’s voice came over the speakers. “Whether we dump you onto the cliff or the beach, are you going to be able to make that climb, old man?”

  “Instead of focusing on me, why don’t you worry about yourself? Everyone always pointing out I’m old, no one ever mentions how I spent the last few decades climbing mountains or wrestling lions.”

  Ares hooked the side of his mouth into a smile, “All this time away and you’re going to start playing the ‘look at how hard I worked’ card?”

  “I’ll have you know I worked hard to get that card.” Marco scoffed.

  The trio laughed. Marco was grateful for his brothers. It didn’t matter how long they spent apart. When they got together, it was like yesterday; it was like family.

  “Put me on this side of the cliff.”

  “Near the sewage processing center?” Ares asked.

  Marco spun the holo, dragging the map over to his desired insertion point. “Most of the fighting is localized to these three areas. The smell of dead bodies and burning trash is bad enough. No one wants to fight around the smell of raw creature waste.”

  “Creature waste?” Ajax asked.

  “I’ve been trying to raise a grandson. Got to keep my mouth on the clean side.”

  Ares studied the board with his arms folded. Without moving, he ordered the system to draw a line from the beach to where the Force Majeure were fighting. “Don’t get used to it. Long road to get to here. You need to make your way in and knock out these three SATO sites. You’re going to be anything but clean when it’s over.”

  Ajax snorted. “I’ll be right behind you for backup once things get heavy. And I mean way behind to avoid the smell.”

  Yaneesa clutched her children tight to her chest. They were both crying into her shirt. She’d begged them not to. She just needed them to be quiet.

  A soldier walked into the room, punching her in the face. “How many times do I tell you? Keep them quiet. We need to concentrate on the fight!”

  “You killed my husband! I do not listen to you!”

  He placed the rifle barrel against her head. Her eye was cut, bleeding over her broken nose. The soot in her hair followed the bloody trail over the cut to her lip, burning her expression into a snarl. Yaneesa leaned into the barrel so he could see the hate in her eyes. “The Crucible will burn your soul straight to the Twin Hells.”

  In turn, the soldier leaned in so she could see his laughter up close. “Really? What god would you call on to pour this fiery justice down my throat, woman?”

  There was a pop, showering her head in dust from the wall. When she opened her eyes, his rifle dropped. A long lance with a bladed end wrapped in golden fire and arcs of electricity had pierced the wall into his mouth. He was spasming at the end of the lance, his flesh cooking in time with his rhythmic death. The pike yanked him back to the wall.

  An energized golden shield shattered the structure in a level of violence that threw the body into the other room. A pistol rose past Yaneesa’s face. Intricate filagree surrounded words in an alien language inscribed on the frame. The wall gave birth to a golden warrior with a crimson blood colored brush crest rising above the shield. “Cover their ears.”

  The pistol dumped a volcanic drumbeat into the close wall, shredding the stone like tissue paper. Another soldier rounded the corner, shooting wildly into the shield. Micro explosions rippled the air in front of it along hexagonal energy patterns. The light show across the power field died away as he emptied his magazine. The warrior's pistol barked again, splattering the assailant into chunky pink mist.

  There was a guttural rumble that escaped the helmet, like an animal warning the area it had killed for its meal and would do so again. Careful to stand, the armored fighter dumped the debris from his armor so as not to harm the woman or her children. A lone gunman in the other room lay gasping for breath. Each ragged wheeze sounded like it might be the man’s last. Pulling the spear out of the far wall, he didn’t energize it when he placed it against the man’s heaving chest. A gurgling protest beneath wide eyes pleaded not to be run through. The gauntlet slowly drove the lance forward. It was just below the rib cage; the blade turning in his abdomen. He writhed against it, finding enough strength to slam his fist into the shaft trying to break it. Every centimeter pushed, forced a new gurgling scream along with more struggling. There was an audible pop as the blade drove through the man’s spine, making contact with the floor. A flash crack sparked a full fledged yell when the blade ignited. The warrior turned on his heal and slashed, ripping the doomed soldier in half.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here in time to help your husband.” The golden soldier apologized. “I am also sorry your children had to witness that. Is there somewhere safe you can go?”

  “Nowhere in Dagoshu is safe right now,” Yaneesa answered. “My children know
what violence is. What they don’t know is the name of the man who saved their mother.”

  “My name is Marco. It is my honor, Yaneesa.”

  “How do you know my name?”

  Marco pointed to one of the few undamaged walls. There was a hand-drawn picture of a family with their names underneath. As Yaneesa gave him a warm smile, her children fled to the corpse of their father, cleaning the violence from him with their tears.

  Marco returned with a blanket. “Help me cover him.”

  “You are obviously here for the outsiders. How can I help you in your mission as thanks for saving my children.”

  The red crested helmet came away from his head, giving Marco room to rub the sweat from his brow. Pulling a scarf from his kit, he wiped his forehead as dry as he could until he noticed the kids were staring. He'd forgotten how curious people were about the scars beneath his eye-patch after using a beard and glasses to hide his appearance for so long. “I didn’t come for the outsiders. I came for Sorkabi’s head. In that way I am here for you.”

  Yaneesa’s expression became grim. “Others have come to do what you say. They have all died.”

  “That’s because they were just men.”

  “And what are you?”

  He reloaded the pistol with a fresh magazine. He tapped the side to show her the inscription. “It says, inevitabilis. It means unavoidable. You can only put so much evil into the world before the Crucible requires balance the other way. I’m the balance.”

  “This is true. My son, Anduro. He can guide you for your mission, or I can hide my children and guide you myself. A debt of honor must be paid.”

  “This is my path, I know the way.” Marco replaced the pistol to recover his spear. “Honor your husband by keeping your family safe. Do you know how to use the dead soldier's weapons?”

  “Since I was a girl.”

  “Good. Be safe, Yaneesa.”

  “May the stars light your way, Marco.”

  Jabari tapped his pipe on the end of the table, dropping out the last bits of ash to the floor. He absently placed the pipe into one of the side pouches on his equipment harness, sticking his thumb on a bit of ash that hadn’t quite got the hint it should be extinguished. He licked his blistered thumb, looking at the map of the city on the wall. “Sorkabi said we had to take the depot by nightfall. It’s one corner! Why have we not taken it yet?”

  One of the junior fighters took a red pencil, circling two buildings on the map. “We sent two platoons of the mercs into those buildings trying to dig out the shaytan. They have a powerful energy cannon in this building, here. Their coordinated attacks is making our advance difficult.”

  Jabari turned his back to his men, a clear sign he wasn’t happy. Placing an earpiece, he dialed up his cell-com. A hard-faced man appeared on the display.

  “I need that corner by the evening, Jabari. Why haven’t you taken it?”

  “General, they have the avenue reinforced with a large energy cannon. We’re having trouble breaking through.”

  “Fine. I’ll divert some of my reserves to your position. Clear that corner. Take the depot. Once we have those supplies, I can take control of the city and force Nakabwe out.”

  “Yes, general.” Jabari shoved the com back into his pocket. “Good news! We’re going to get some of the good stuff!”

  Fist bump accented back pats permeated the laughter and cheering in the room. The same junior fighter wasn’t being lifted by the new spirit.

  “What? What is it now?”

  “I’m sorry, Jabari. We’ve lost contact with SATO position four,” The fighter said sheepishly. “Should I send some men to investigate?”

  “Stupid! Do I have to do everything myself?”

  Jabari walked into the stairwell, careful to avoid the tripwire just outside the door. The warfighter made a show to stomp on every step out of spite for his under-performing men, until he came to the next landing. Taking the stairs two at a time, he came out onto the roof. Clothes hung on a line to dry, which also made incoming sniper fire difficult. Sometimes the simple solutions to problems were best. Moving beside a heavy rug, Jabari sighted down his viewfinder, drawing in the magnification to see several blocks over.

  The launcher was in shambles, torn into a flaming wreck. Smoke rose from the top floor of the building, barely hiding the bodies and parts hanging from the windows. The launcher team on top that should have been guarding the weapon was also dead. He yanked the device away from his eyes, pressing his back against a low wall for cover.

  These systems became his responsibility after Sorkabi had named him Ward Commander. Losing one of the expensive systems could be explained or even apologized for. Losing the four assigned to him would not do. He had to save face in this. He grabbed his cell-com.

  “Nuuda, this is Jabari. I need you to take some men and reinforce SATO five, six, and seven. Somehow, the shaytan got a team past our road block and took out launcher four.”

  “Do you want me to put some of the mercs on it?” Nuuda asked.

  “Yeah. Do that. Make them earn some of that credit we’re paying them.”

  “On it boss.”

  Walking back into his makeshift command center, Jabari sneered at the men who met his gaze. The only one he fixed with a friendly expression was the junior man who’d informed him of the problem. “Good work keeping me informed, brother. It’s Nathaniel, right? I want you to keep in touch with all the groups in the ward. Let me know if you hear of anything happening.”

  “Yes, of course, sir,” Nathaniel said.

  “Good. Only a matter of time until the inevitable. Today we are winning this city!”

  Six

  “Move!” LaCroix pushed the other two troopers with him into the stairwell. The cannon fire sheered off the top of the roof above him, blasting him through the hallway with his friends. “Argh! Broke my arm! The bone is out!”

  LaCroix reached out with his hand, taking hold of the wrist nearest him. A sharp yank sunk the bone back into his arm meat. His scream was something out of a hospital nightmare where there weren't enough pain killers to go around.

  “Aw man! You did that without meds!” Private Sloan said in disbelief.

  “Put a SLAP patch on it. Put a SLAP patch on it!”

  Private Sloan tore Croix’s sleeve, exposing the grizzly tear in the flesh. “Shouldn’t I set the bone first?”

  “You know how to set a bone there, genius?” Corporal Riggs said as he extracted himself from the rubble.

  “No.”

  “Then put on the patch and shut yer pie hole.”Riggs pulled his wounded man into the hall, clearing him from the line of fire that had ruined their perch. The PPC was upended, laying on its side with one of the quadro-pod legs sticking up. Broken ceiling covered part of the barrel. “Power cable looks intact but that power unit is fried. What in the Twin Hells hit us?”

  “Three-Three-Alpha to Three-Charlie. Everyone still wearing their lids? Over.”

  Riggs accessed Corvin’s floating icon. “Yeah, we’re still the prettiest team in the squad, but Croix took a tumble. Arm’s broken. The way he’s Tripple-5 taping that arm to his armor, I’d say he wants to stay in the fight. Over.”

  “Roger that. Can he fight?”

  LaCroix keyed the com-set. “Damn right I can fight. What hit us, Three-Alpha?”

  “Mercs just drove two Dirty Thirties around the corner. I want you three out of the building. Over.”

  The soldiers leveled a confused look at their team leader.

  “It’s an Inix Industries ZX-33 Scorpion tank. Six legs, two High-Cans up front, and a rocket launcher in the back.” Riggs keyed the mic, “Keep your heads down Three-Alpha, those High-Cycle slugger cannons are known to rip up light armor vehicles. Over.”

  “Copy that. I’m more worried about the rocket that blew the roof off the place. Any chance you can get the PPC out? Over?”

  “Standby, Three-Alpha.” Tapping LaCroix on his good shoulder, he said, “Boss lady wants to know i
f we can get the PPC up and out. We could flip it, then run it downstairs, but there’s no way I can do it by myself.”

  “It'll take all three of us to get it up, so let’s get to work. We can drag it to another floor,” LaCroix said.

  Riggs pointed to Croix's arm. “How’re you going to be able to help us?”

  “I drove it in, I’ll drive it out.”

  Riggs grimaced. He wanted to rock star the thing back into the fight. That kind of battlefield mojo would earn him serious points on his way to sergeant. While getting another stripe, the pay, and recognition of hard charging a couple of mechs, he didn’t want it at the expense of his men. “You sure?”

  “Solid.”

  “Three-Three-Alpha this is Three-Three-Charlie. We can put that gun right side up. Just going to need you to take some of the heat off for a tick so we don't get our lids ripped off. Over.”

  “D! Get that other HI-CAB barking. Saikon, talk yours with hers. Coop! Get ready to punch that thing with the duster. It’s got heavy armor and those HI-CANS will shred your melons so shoot, then drop. I want that street bottle necked with the first one so we only have to deal with one at a time. Go!” Latisha Corvin ordered.

  A rocket-propelled grenade fired from above her, the whistling fwoosh sound distinctive for the thirteen-thirteen RPG. The round flew through one of the blasted out-rooms in the building facing them, shattering the wall in the next one over. It ruptured, dumping half of the structure into the street. An explosion from under the road sent two parked cars tumbling, adding to the rubble-strewn log jam. The second mech backed away from the wreckage, launching two drones to search for an alternative path around.

  Members of the squad scattered between the two buildings alternated HI-CAB fire on the approaching vehicle. The vehicle dipped the front of its body, letting the machine blaster fire splash against its upper armor. Bolts pinged off the heavy duradium plating, flying off in different directions as a whining scream. Even the normally brutal heavy blaster machine gun was doing little against the brutish tank.