Sleepwalkers: A Military Space Opera Series (Gravity City Book 2) by CJ Valin & Artie Cabrera

Author:CJ Valin & Artie Cabrera [Valin, CJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aethon Books
Published: 2022-11-21T16:00:00+00:00

At a quarter after five, the kids playing ball in the street scattered when the fleet of anticrime police vehicles converged on the slum. Samconi hopped out of the truck, honed in, hardvest on, and signaled the uniformed officers to take tactical positions and secure both sides of Building 36.

“I want this area cleared. Push everyone back!” he said.

Police had already cordoned off the street with holotape. A curious crowd returned and gathered on the sidewalks—onlookers were shoved back to the other side of the street.

Knox pointed up at the building when he joined Samconi. “The Soulless are holed up on the top floor.”

“How many?”

“Small group. No more than ten, I was told.”

“Anyone but Soulless up there?”

Knox shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“You trust your source?”

“I have no reason not to.”

Four sniper drones circled the rooftop of the dilapidated tower, their lights shining down and sweeping the building. The five-story walk-up was brick-brown with rusty fire escapes, and it leaned slightly to the left like a drunk ready to fall over because Yobotown was sinking more and more each year. In its own time, it would either collapse into a sinkhole or burn or both—and it might just be better off for it.

All the windows from the second floor and up were covered with iron grilles, except for the fifth-floor loft. Those windows were sealed with cinder blocks. There were only two ways in and out of the complex—the front and rear exits.

“There are at least seventy residents in there, not including the top floor, and I want them out,” Samconi said, mapping out the plan. “I want everyone to keep their eyes sharp and watch those windows. It’s too risky to go in there blind. Miller, are the drones picking anything up?”

Miller held up his tablet at Samconi, the screen showing only static. “I’ve got nothin’, Sarge. It’s a wash. The targets are using a thermo-scrambler.”

“Eastside fortified, sir,” an officer crackled into Samconi’s earpiece.

“Westside fortified, sir,” a second officer confirmed. “Ready on your command.”

“Stand by,” Samconi called back. “Miller—”

“Way ahead of you.” Miller thumbed a command on his tablet, and the side doors of the utility truck whooshed open.

Another command and the CDUs powered to life, detached from their hitches, hopped out, and obediently lined up at Miller’s feet. From left to right—Dice, Sprocket, Foxy, and Patches. Patches had the most distinguishable markings of the pack because he’d been refurbished several times throughout his tenure. He’d been in more sieges than any other CDU on the force and had earned more medals than most cops.

Miller ran a cache diagnostic on the CDUs, and everything was up to standard. When it all checked out, he called up the priority targets profile on the tablet and uploaded them to the CDU command hub.

“WANTED: HIGH PROFILE: MULTIPLE HOMICIDES–HUMAN AND DRUG TRAFFICKING.”

“I want Target 1 alive,” Samconi said to Miller and the CDUs. “Try to locate the thermal scrambler and shut it down. Proceed, and good luck.”

The CDUs acknowledged their commands and entered the building in a stealthy single file.

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