Scourge: A Military Sci-Fi Series (Territory Wars Book 1) by Devon C. Ford

Author:Devon C. Ford [Ford, Devon C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aethon Books
Published: 2021-10-18T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

Barton

Quarry Tunnels, BG-192

I’ll be honest, going back underground in the quarry didn’t fill me with happy feelings.

Quite the opposite, in fact, because each step deeper down the gentle slope not only made the world a darker and colder place but changed the odds of what would happen first.

I tried to raise the subject of seismic activity like I’d felt last time, but to press that subject would only highlight my fear and weakness. Besides, Mark said that there hadn’t been any more tremors recorded so that was apparently the end of it.

Right then, it was a straight tie between shitting my pants and throwing up, with fifty to one on a complete mental breakdown which would likely involve me throwing up and shitting my pants anyway.

Bravery, though, was something you couldn’t show unless you felt fear. At least that was some bullshit that guys who’d never been in combat, or who “almost served” wore on t-shirts.

Now fear is a very real motivator. It dumps all kinds of stuff into your bloodstream to sharpen your senses and prepare your muscles to get you the hell out of a situation or to fight so hard you won. It was like running an engine at a hundred and thirty percent for a short time, and like an engine, a body needed upgraded heat syncs to be able to cope, which was probably why I was leaking sweat like someone had left a hose on.

“Hold,” Mark said as he took a knee, switched the larger rifle for the sidearm, and flipped down the helmet visor. I did the same, showing me IR on the left side and leaving my right eye free to aim my weapon, but instead of moving off, Mark put his right hand flat on the rough ground of the tunnel.

“What is it?” Mac asked, earning a sharp noise to hush him.

“There’s movement,” Mark said confidently. “Not close, but something’s moving down here.”

I did not like the sound of that. Not at all. I was about to suggest that maybe we ran the half mile back up the gentle slope to get out of there when Mark stood and gestured the team onward.

My feet went with him, completely betraying the rest of me that wanted to voice a number of counter arguments in favor of going home.

“Four hundred colonists, eighty NRC paratroopers,” Mark said. “How many do you think your guys took out again?” It took me a second to realize he was talking to me.

“Oh, err, had to be close to a hundred, I reckon.”

“Mac? Anders?” Mark asked, obviously wanting a second opinion.

“Sounds right,” Mac said. “Probably more after I hit them on the heavy.”

I wanted to point out that those numbers still left us at almost a hundred to one, but it seemed like I could either move my feet or talk at that point, not do both.

“Anders?” Mark asked, stopping and holding out a hand behind him. Anders stepped up and put a device in his outstretched palm that looked very much like it wasn’t standard issue.

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