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

by Walt Robillard

  D'Marco moved some pieces around on his battle board. “That's a tall order. Speaking of which, how are you suddenly in charge instead of Marshal Brand?”

  Brand exchanged knowing glances with his counterparts. “Another marshal thing. I'll explain it later over something to drink.”

  “Amen to that, sir. Hey. None of that cheep stuff.” D'Marco called out.

  “Yeah, yeah. Mara, do we have anything that can shore us up?” Brand asked.

  Mara tapped the display in her helmet. “This is Lion Alpha Three to Skycom.”

  “This is Skycom, go.” His voice sounded tired, as though the world had lost its color and all he wanted was sleep.

  “Skycom, this is Lion Alpha Three. The Lion Guard is down. We have six KIA and four wounded. We need a CASEVAC and hot drop, how copy?”

  “Copy, Lion Alpha Three. Hot drop heavy in three mikes. Do we have SITREP on Mongrel?”

  Mara closed her eyes, sending her spirit through the city. “Roger Skycom. I have Mongrel approaching Phase Line Green, over.”

  “Roger, I read Mongrel approaching phase line green. Screen Door opening for fifteen seconds to accommodate resupply. Lion Alpha, If there's a chance to escape, will the target take it if he notices the noose is tightening?”

  “Negative, Skycom. That mag-rat Anaxis came here to win big. No way he goes home without his prize. Still, we don't want any other rats abandoning ship. Open Screen Door for fifteen seconds, then close, how copy?”

  “Copy that. Skycom out.”

  The group turned their attention from watching the mechanized squad negotiate the rubble of the plaza with Sorrin's body to tracking the incoming supply pod. The sky over the city shimmered like carcrete radiating heat lines on a summer day. With power cut to the shield, the drop had no problem passing into the cityscape. Retro thrusters fired, bringing the capsule's speed from out of control to, this is only going to sting a bit. When it hit the ground, it barely displaced any dust from the impact, although the lancers cleared out for safety.

  Lance Sergeant D'Marco was quick to collect his squad leaders. “All right folks, gear up. Be ready to move in five. LaGarron, we have a bunch of the swarmers that Lasher freed. They're awake and wanting to get in on the fight. Organize them into something we can use. A bunch of them are tatted up and look like they know their way around a trigger.”

  “On it, Top.” LaGarron shouted as he moved.

  D'Marco continued to bark orders. “Corvin, Rob Type, one each. You and Bolaji divide up what's left of LaGarron's squad and roll them into yours. Each one gets two Hoplites for heavy weapons. Latisha Corvin. You're with the marshals. You in that hopped up frame will probably be more useful to them. One last thing, everyone pull back from that area. Williams, Frazier, laze a section of the ground for heavy drop.”

  The two lancers looked like they'd just been given the best birthday presents, ever.

  Sergeant LaGarron flashed an expression of utter disgust. “You didn't.”

  “Way I see it, I'm letting my two biggest dogs off the chain.”

  Sergeant Bolaji wagged his hand like a mother ready to chastise her kids. “My ears are still ringing from last time.”

  Williams' fist bumped his team mate, scanning the heavens for the burning embers of their new gear making its way through atmo. “Oh yeah! Come to Daddy!”

  The immense metal talon tested the ground, seeing if it would bear its weight. Stepping onto the slate floor, leg compensators shunted the strain from the heavy armor away from the joints, making what would be a plodding step, elegant and near silent.

  Two squads of black-armored troopers with golden accents moved from the chamber. Their quiet assembly did nothing to take away from the potential for violence they appeared to represent, bearing rifles with wicked looking bayonets fixed to the end. They faced in toward the behemoth clearing its crypt.

  Another step from the monster moving out from the chamber brought it upright, giving itself over to balancing gyros until it ripped free of support rigging and life support lines that spewed a collection of gasses upon its release. It surprised the group when it took several steps forward, dropping to a knee to inspect Katarina. “I know you. Not this face or this body. But you are the Hunter's Host. You are one of ours, yes?”

  “I was,” Kat answered. “When Nomar the Guardian fell before Nasdra Yon, you placed me in his position. I was making headway to negotiate for peaceful trade on the planet Tythian when I was betrayed. This led to the Hunter's Moon being moved off world to seek alternative means of survival. You made Vidar Anaxis head of the Hunter's Security. He suggested the Phalanx proper enter hibernation until such time as he could gain enough materials for repair.”

  The mechanized armor frame stood to its full height, testing all of its servomotor function. “I remember this. I also remember fragments where we were woken and almost immediately put back to sleep. Why?”

  “Madame, I wear a Sentinel Frame. I can give a colony baroness access to a core timeline slide to give you a more broad picture of events from Nasdra Yon until now. Will you trust me?”

  The noble bowed in respect. “As my memory is sorted by my implants, I become more aware of you, and the who of you. You are trusted. Proceed.”

  Katarina stepped beside the monstrous Baroness, raising her arm as one would for a blind person to take hold. Doing so, the hazy face beneath the helmet's shield, closed her eyes. There was a flutter of noise between the two, lasting only a moment before Katarina stepped away to rejoin her Dreadmarr team.

  “How dare he!” The titan whirled out with a fist, striking the wall. If the crater left in several feet of carcrete and resicarbon was any sign, the woman known as the Baroness wasn't enthused.

  Katarina waited for the violence soaked tirade to subside. “Madame, I can take you to the Raven to confront him, but the city is currently resolving a matter of civil unrest and it isn't safe to travel by traditional means.”

  “A civil unrest Anaxis fabricated without my permission! None of this was!” The Baroness roared.

  “If you'll allow me, we can take you to him. Another unit is waiting upstairs to lead us in,” Kat offered.

  “I need no additional protection.”

  The royal commando snapped to face the Dreadmarr, bringing their rifles to the patrol ready. Several assembled in a wedge to the Baroness' front.

  “Be that as it may, Baroness, they're securing the primary entrance to this facility. We came in through the secondary and you definitely won't fit wearing that.”

  “Lead on, Guardian,” the noble acquiesced.

  The procession stopped at a set of blast doors. The Dreadmarr fanned out among the Royal Commandos, interspersing themselves to maximize the Baroness' protection. Zakan left his position to go to the door.

  “No controls this side.” His accented Trade-2 echoed off the heavy Duradium doors.

  “Probably only accessed by the thugs upstairs,” Kat offered. “Madame Tarot, we're in position behind primary exit. Can you hear us?”

  “And see you.” the Dreadmarr warrior said. “Standby.”

  The heavy blast doors opened on rails designed to support their weight. Thrumming hydraulics pushed them apart until slamming into their housings inside the walls. Madame Tarot, Dreadmarr warrior, stood with her assortment of robots, the Card Arkana.

  The Royal Commando parted, making a path for the Baroness to kneel to study her. “I am seeing much of our technology translated to this one. She is similar to the ones with us. Is this an army you've built for yourself while I've been asleep, Guardian?”

  “No, Madame. The Dreadmarr are, well, let's just say it'll take more time than we have to explain. For the time being, they're on our side,” Kat said.

  “And we hope that after the unpleasantness upstairs is dealt with, we can come to an arrangement to keep all of us working together,” said a robed man standing beside them.

  Kat gestured to the robed speaker. “Madame, may I present Chief Inspector Esteban
Castillo of the San Verone Monastery on Elyisum.”

  The Royal guard changed their posture from patrol ready to actively aiming at the inspector.

  “He's a Templar!” the Baroness roared.

  “No ma'am. I'm a monk. One who is extremely excited to meet you. I'm sure Katarina has brought you up to speed regarding our present situation. Working together we can restore order, here. Afterwards, there's no limit to what we could accomplish with an understanding of each other. There are marshals above us, but I'm here to ensure a seamless working relationship with them once you've regained control of the factions.”

  The Baroness' armored gauntlets raked the side of the hall as a show of strength. “What makes you think I've lost control?”

  “To be blunt, Vidar Anaxis has command of the Phalanx under the guise he's acting in your interest. To make matters worse, he has access to nanotechnology infused with native planetary biology that could allow him to seize authority of your forces. Not to mention, make them more dangerous than they already are. He doesn't want to be your Guardian or your Raven. He wants to be the Baron.”

  “Then he's after my crown,” the Baroness growled.

  Castillo looked confused. “Isn't that what I said?”

  “No, Chief Inspector. Do not confuse my position with my possessions. Inside this armor is a crown that many nobles wear. The difference is that mine grants me authority over something precious. It is the very reason we were formed, in addition to why many of us fought, what you call, the Exodus Wars.”

  Kat's face dipped, her face taking on an expression of someone trying to reason through an equation. “When I became the Guardian, you granted me Nobility access to the system. Something called the Ark.”

  “If his plan is to take my crown, then you should escort me far from here.”

  Madame Tarot raised her hand. “What if we could allow you to confront him without being near him?”

  Thirty-One

  “Stop stepping on my foot.” Fluff said.

  “Seriously? You're a three hundred kilogram death machine. My foot on yours bothers you that much?”

  “Kel, are you saying I look fat?”

  “Why do I keep letting you rope me into these conversations, Fluff?

  The panther mech snickered at his friend, trying not to explode into full on hilarity. “Because they're the only way to make your boring life as a hopeless romantic meat sack have meaning.”

  “I am not a hopeless romantic.” Kel said.

  Fluff gave a series of finger jabs to Kel’s bicep. “You like to put your meat parts on Kat's meat parts.”

  “It's called a kiss!”

  “No one ever wants to kiss me.” Fluff lamented.

  “You seriously want someone to kiss you?” Kel asked.

  “Eew! Meat parts!”

  Lasher broke the conversational volley. “The stadium is pretty heavily guarded. We have the drones that Marco was dealing with over there and...”

  Kel caught his friend before he lost his balance. “Whoa. You okay?”

  Lasher’s grip on Kel’s arm faded as his stability returned. “The Crucible. Lots of death in all the fighting. It'll pass.”

  Fluff rubbed up against him. “Is it someone we know?”

  Lasher ignored the question, sweeping across the stadium using the Way. “He's down there. Looks like Jazz did her part pointing them here.”

  “Way to change the subject. How're we going to get in?” Kel asked.

  “The way we usually do.” Lasher offered.

  Kel looked through the advanced optics in his combat helmet. Cyborg commandos and entranced civilians littered the structure. “Sneak past the guards?”

  Fluff made a gagging noise. “Sorry. Must have had a lump of boring caught in my throat.”

  Kel pushed the combat cat. “Fine. What do you think we should do, Mr. Death and Dismemberment?”

  “What if we masked up like we did on Doseidos?” Fluff queried.

  “The only one who'd probably get away with that is me!” Kel countered.

  Lasher stared off into space. Kel pushed him to get his attention. “We lose you?”

  He pointed, directing his friends to follow his gaze.

  “Oh!” Kel and Fluff said in unison.

  “You know they're going to dump boatloads of gunfire our way the second you touch that lever,” Kel said.

  Lasher motioned to the controls. Fluff brought his paws to his chest as though he were a verklempt socialite clutching at pearls. “You want me to touch the button. Oh no, no, no. I couldn't. I shouldn't. Well, maybe I'll just fluff it a bit.”

  “I see what you did there.” Kel said.

  “Slam bam, a diggity!”

  The crane's boom creaked as it rotated away from the building it was feeding materials to. A cumbersome bundle of prosteel beams swung from an extended cable toward the dome of the Sports Complex.

  “Am I going to hit anything with that payload?” Fluff asked.

  Kel scanned the arena with a set of binos. “Looks like you're clear of the roof.”

  “Is it open?” Fluff asked.

  “Yeah. They have drones and vehicles coming and going through the open dome.”

  Fluff thumbed the controls, stopping the rotation. The bundle at the end didn't continue its swing from centrifugal force, coming to rest directly below the crane's boom.

  Kel smirked, patting the man panther on the shoulder plate. “Nicely done, brother. That thing barely swung at the end, there.”

  The Doom Cat flashed Kel a thumbs up. “Orin, I think I did something wrong. No one's shooting at us. Aren't they supposed to be shooting at us?”

  Kel answered him, instead. “Let's not be hasty. We don't always have to go in through a hail of gunfire.”

  Fluff rotated his head at an impossible angle, coming face to face with Lasher. “I didn't have any fun when you were gone.”

  He flicked a control bracket with his talon, triggering a warning light to blink in time with an alarm. A second tap to the controls released the tension on the hoist cable, sending tons of prosteel beams plummeting into the open stadium. “Whoopsie.”

  The load disappeared through the roof, ending in a crash of clanging metal. A hush settled over the cab, the trio waiting through the clanging echoing through the stadium to see if the Doom Cat's antics had sparked any response.

  “Really?” Kel barked.

  “Seriously guys, they must be asleep,” Fluff guessed.

  Lasher pushed past his friends to press his hands against the glass screen of the cab. Four drones on quad repulsors shot into the expanse, parallel to the crane. Under belly rotary phase cannons ripped the air, slipping around the cab along invisible rails of force in the Crucible.

  “This is why we can't have nice things!” Kel Shouted.

  Lasher brought his hands together in a clap. The drones collided, their repulsor fields working against each other in a chaotic ballet shattering circuitry laden resicarbon. One of the power cells was struck by the repulsor on an off kilter drone, exploding in a torrent of scrap that destroyed two of the other machines.

  “Maybe next time just lower the cable so we can climb down?” Lasher asked.

  The glass under his palm vibrated, reaching a crescendo that saw it explode outward, splattering the drone. Lasher rushed forward, jumping from the cab dozens of meters to the floundering craft. He landed on top of it, gripping the forward support wings for stability. Pulling in one direction with the Crucible as much as he was with his arms, the drone veered away toward the open dome.

  “You are not supposed to have this much fun without me!” Fluff roared.

  “What about when he was captured, and we had to fight the Cartels? I seem to remember tons of laughter when you were going full murder mode!” Kel responded.

  “Bro! Murder mode!”

  Kel put his hands forward in a halting gesture. “No, no, no!”

  Fluff jumped from the cab amid a hail of gunfire from Exo Commandos on the groun
d. Shifting shape into his panther form, a tendril slithered from his back to wrap around Kel's waist. The former cartel leader screeched as he was pulled from the cab, narrowly avoiding being struck by a heavy recoilless rifle round destroying where they stood a moment ago.

  The Doom Cat raced along the crane boom, zigging and zagging through the metal rigging, jumping from top to bottom and back again with obstacle course like chaotic motions keeping either of them from being struck.

  Below them, a squad of commandos took to the roof of the stadium, aiming another recoilless rifle at the pair.

  “Fluff!”

  “I see them, grandma! Don't get your knickers in a twist!” The Doom Cat changed shape again, becoming the man panther brachiating through the latticework on the underside of the boom. He locked onto a support strut with his talons, freeing his top half to shoot with his twin shoulder mounted blaster cannons. “Since you're just going to hang around like a screaming purse, I'll take care of the light work!”

  Angry pulses burped from the weapons, shredding a good portion of the roof in a fusillade of bolts that caught the enemy troops on fire while they tumbled from sight. Fluff reformed back into panther mode to finish running across the crane.

  A VTOL capable ship angled its outward engines into sideways flight, facing the running pair. Two drop pods fanned out from the fuselage. The front had seven holes each, hinting at their purpose.

  “Those rocket pods?” Kel shouted.

  “Pretty much,” Fluff quipped.

  “We're so done.”

  “Nah. Stop crying and fly the damned plane.” Fluff tendril-tossed his friend like a fast underhand pass in murderball.

  Kel tumbled in the air as two rockets raced past him. He struck the windshield of the craft, digging his fingers through the ceramaclear view port. He turned back to see his friend leap between the projectiles just ahead of them striking the crane. The explosions wavered the gantry, almost ripping the machine from the building where it was attached. Fluff's massive frame floated in the air for a moment, falling just shy of the hovering craft. He fell past the pilot's line of sight toward the sparkle of the dazzling floodlights shining down on the field.