Galactic Shield by J.N. Chaney & Scott Moon

Author:J.N. Chaney & Scott Moon [Chaney, J.N.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Variant Publications
Published: 2022-11-26T16:00:00+00:00

17

Omar pressed forward with the bunker. Fathers followed close enough behind to hold his back-strap. I went next, mixing up the order from the original stack. Yolo and Nova came close behind me, eager to flood the room and put more rails in the fight.

Automatic rail fire sprayed the shield, blowing pieces of carbon fiber into the air. Omar holstered his pistol and held on with both hands. A red mist filled the air, but no one went down. I felt something bite me but didn’t think I was the one contributing to the crimson cloud.

“Move to cover!” I ordered.

“This way!” Nova called out behind me, then pushed, pulled, and bullied people into the last room before the threshold we were trying to reach.

I grabbed Fathers while he still held onto Omar. Walking backward, I dragged them to safety. Lehman crowded his way forward to relieve Omar of the shield. Yolo helped me force the bunker team—Omar and Fathers—to the center of the room to check their wounds.

Sweat ran down my face. My ears rang worse than normal. Every few seconds, our enemies took a shot at our doorway, pinning us down. Not only had we failed to dominate their stronghold, now we needed rescue. I made sure Omar and Fathers were being taken care of by Yolo, Cates, and Woods. Kyn stood ready to help Lehman.

I pulled Nova aside and realized she was breathing as hard as I was. I’d never seen that before.

“How bad do we want this arrest?” she asked when there were a few seconds of relative silence. “It might be better to treat wounds and hold what we have. Let someone else make the hook.”

Time slowed. Memories intruded. I forced rational thought to the forefront and reviewed our mission. We were here to arrest Henry Saint and William Benedict III. The former had nothing and no one. All these defenses belonged to the latter target. Benedict had the money and the motivation to hire mercenaries when most drug lords would have been satisfied with rent-a-cops or street thugs.

We needed to force Benedict’s cooperation to get to Trace. A failed assault wasn’t the way to do it. I needed leverage to force his cooperation.

For a few heartbeats, the idea of storming Trace’s stronghold was too much—and I was a Breaker.

“Well?” Nova insisted.

“I’m not calling Kalchev up,” I said. “The hallway is too small for him to maneuver.”

“Is it?” she asked.

I swore like a Breaker stuck in an airlock. “Chev, get up here. We need your help.”

“Already halfway there.” His answer sounded cheerful.

“Breaker mech coming up behind us,” I warned.

Less than a minute later, Kalchev stomped into the hallway, unconcerned with multiple streams of rail gun bolts smacking his armor. “Is this where the party is? Ah, look at that squad automatic rail team. How cute.” He advanced with the shield half deployed due to the space limitations.

Rage fought to control me. Resisting seemed to make it worse. I needed to do something. The bunker was meant to stop light rail weapons, not a SAR.

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