Victory's Wake (Deception Fleet Book 1) by Daniel Gibbs & Steve Rzasa

Author:Daniel Gibbs & Steve Rzasa [Gibbs, Daniel]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2021-07-18T16:00:00+00:00

The warehouse boasted four thousand square meters of storage. Racks towered four stories with conveyors linking the upper levels. Elevators and even more conveyors could shunt whatever goods were needed from one end of the building to the other. The far third of the warehouse opened to allow shuttles to land. Two were nestled in the northwest corner, leaving ample room for one of the barges that had been part of the secret rendezvous the other night.

Sevastopol Rast watched the warehouse from a broken window in a dilapidated structure across the street. His sniper rifle perched on a tripod, the muzzle aimed into the yawning shutters allowing access. He saw people milling about from his vantage point, each of them miniature figures, like toys.

He’d had toys decades ago. He could still feel their rough plastic forms, cooled from his father’s 3D printer. The printer was supposed to be used for his work, creating replacement parts for the local commissar’s robots, but Father would sneak whatever he could to supplement the Rast household’s dreary existence. When everything around them was endless blocks of numbingly uniform concrete housing cubes, lined up in a grid across the outskirts of Warsaw, the blooms of rainbow plastic were luxury.

Rainbow like the flowers in Gina’s apartment. Sev hated them.

His directives were clear. Wait until the barge was being unloaded, then coordinating with Warrant Dwyer, well, he would interrupt the process.

No deaths. Sev would acquiesce. Captain Adams was a good man. Unnecessary death burdened him. He had an artist’s soul, for all he hid behind rules and regulations. He had simply found his true calling then a way to apply that calling to fighting for his nation, for the freedom of his people. Sev admired that. He had learned to do the same.

Sev sighted on a squat robot with broad shoulders as it carried Orbita from the open duffel bag and placed bundles inside various other containers. Some were rugged bags. Others were boxes labeled with local delivery or business markings. Still others had plastic taped over a logo, though he couldn’t make out for what company.

“Sev, when you’re working with clay, you must mind your hands.” Mother worked on a government farm combine. She repaired machinery but nursed a desire to be a potter. A few people paid her in food and other goods for her pieces. Even with his finger poised over the trigger, Sev could feel her warm hands enveloping his tiny ones.

“You need only a little pressure. See what your little hands can do…? No, no, you are tense. Relax. Breathe out.”

Yes, Mother. Sev took a breath then let it out slowly. The air trickled between his lips.

Hold. Pause. Fire. He pulled the trigger. The shot hit the bot’s head in the center of a broad, glassy optical port. The incendiary round ripped the head clean off, tearing it apart even as it exploded in a small but brilliant fireball.

Cartel thugs shouted and scattered. They all ducked—good training. But they drew their guns, close-range plasma weapons, looking for a nearby target.

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