Hidden Nemesis by Thomas Webb

Author:Thomas Webb [Webb, Thomas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Valiant House Press
Published: 2019-10-18T22:00:00+00:00

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The spray of lake water struck Hale’s face, cold against his skin. A chill permeated the air. The autumnal phase had reached this side of the planet, bringing with it the bite of cooler weather. Odd, leaving Earth in the summer and landing in another place during the fall. Hale was used to it though. He’d deployed that way many times while on active duty in the Corps.

The sun’s rays dipped below the horizon, leaving only a line of red flame against the black mountains behind them. The trees surrounding the lake were now little more than silhouettes. Beneath their boughs, darkness cloaked the forest. The watercraft surged forward at a fifteen-knot clip, barreling toward their objective. Hale eyed a particularly large outcropping to the southwest, noting their location. He keyed up his comms.

“TOC this is Razor One. Passing checkpoint Alpha. How copy? Over.”

“Razor One this is the TOC,” Silvio’s Brazilian accent crackled in Hale’s ear. “That is a good copy. Read you Lima Charlie as passing checkpoint Alpha. Over.”

Good. Silvio was tracking from the temporary Tactical Operations Center they’d set. He read loud and clear from the air and space port outside New Canaan, the capital city of Outer Colonies planet Haven.

Hale surveyed the area as the watercraft sped forward. “Valkyrie this is Razor One. You got a visual on us? Over.”

“Razor One this is Valkyrie,” Shane’s voice popped to life. Three thousand kilometers above in a spacecraft, and she sounded as crisp as if she were sitting right next to him. “You’re registering bright as day on our optics. Gotcha covered. Looks like you’re cleared hot to proceed. Over.”

Hale glanced around the boat. Zombie, Lash, and Kris, all in grey sub light fatigues and black modular body armor, sat on benches positioned around the edge of the sleek watercraft. Lash had eschewed the 267 tonight in favor of a standard Special Operations Tactical Assault pulse Rifle, or STAR, with a shortened stock for close quarters battle. It looked like a toy in the big Salayan’s hands. Kris had her Tauranian long rifle, looking more like a work of alien art than a weapon, complete with a genetically-bonded optic on top. Zombie had opted for the exact same loadout as Hale—pulse rifle, sidearm, and both non-lethal stun and hi-burn plasma grenades. The only difference was her combat knife. Where Hale carried a standard Ka-Bar, the same knife Marines had carried for centuries, Zombie had gone for one of the more modern, hybrid off-world metal jobs, the blade so sharp it would cut you today and you wouldn’t bleed ’til Tuesday.

Atop their helmets, Zombie and Hale wore night vision holo-visors. Neither Lash nor Kris needed them. Lash had the ability to see heat signatures, a throwback to the evolution of his people from reptilian stock. And Kris could see as well in the dark as in the light, a byproduct of the planet she hailed from having been plunged into shadow during a point in its planetary history.

Hale glanced at the approaching shore, then at the boat captain.

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