Armageddon's Pall : A Military Sci-Fi Thriller Space Opera (Spiral War - Liberators Book 4) Read online

  ARMAGEDDON’S PALL

  LIBERATORS: BOOK 4

  SJ SCHAUER

  ARMAGEDDON’S PALL

  Text Copyright © 2017 by S.J. Schauer

  All rights reserved. This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles, reviews, or promotions.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  www.spiralwar.com

  Published by Noble Storm Books

  Cover & Formatting by AKD Designs

  Rereleased June 17, 2022

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Key Terms

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  GLOSSARY

  Dramatis Personae

  Spiral War Historic Timeline

  About the Author

  Key Terms

  Time and Measure Conversion Factors

  Time:

  1 pulse = 100 centipulse/cents = 0.48 minutes

  1 hectapulse/hect = 100 pulses = 0.8 hours

  1 cycle = 30 hects = 1 cycle

  1 decacycle/decle = 10 cycles

  1 tridecacycle/tridec = 30 cycles

  1 annura = 390 cycles = 1 year, 25 cycles

  Distances:

  1 metra = 100 centimetra = 1 foot = 0.3048 meters

  1 kilometra/kimet = 1000 metra = 0.19 miles = 0.30 kilometers

  PROLOGUE

  UCSB Date: 999.389

  Tyre Hill, Planet Cersei, Larristen System

  Seaver Acknit gazed out across the darkening foothills, his close-cropped red hair highlighted by the flickering flames of a small cook stove. “It just doesn’t add up.”

  “What doesn’t?” His old friend, Mikle Tager, pushed a lock of dark hair out of his face.

  Frankly, nothing about the assignment made sense to Acknit. Stress and worry were normally dirty words, but this assignment had him on edge. Even the busiest cycles aboard his parent’s old refueling depot hadn’t gotten him this worked up.

  “We haven’t made any contact with Geffers in our sector,” Acknit expounded. “They have to know we’re here.”

  “All of the other units have encountered resistance, so we eventually will, too.”

  Acknit let out a yawn he’d stifled for far too long; he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been able to sneak a nap. “I guess I won’t be getting much sleep until then. All this waiting is making me too restless.”

  Mikle leaned back and laughed. “Yeah, I noticed that you’d only been getting what; eighteen hects of sleep a cycle? That does seem short for you.”

  Ignoring his old friend, Acknit looked over to the summit. Work lights signaled the location where the engineering corps had set about clearing and expanding a nearby cliff face for the new Confed base. He hoped it would have more amenities than their trio of dropships and prefab storage sheds afforded them. “What’s the latest word on the base?”

  Mikle looked back up the dimming mountainside, the small meal he had on his cooker sizzling before him. “No base now. They’re going to bring down one of those big Resrim Assault Landers instead.”

  Acknit shrugged and looked over at the rest of their squad. “I bet it’ll be the first time these guys have seen anything that big make an atmo drop. That thing’s the size of a light carrier.”

  “Yep,” Mikle replied, sticking a fork into the patty on his cooker. “This is looking about done. Hand me your plate.”

  Acknit unfolded his plate and handed it to Mikle. He didn’t like that Mikle insisted on cooking out in the open like this. The pre-cooked meals just needed to be reheated. Still, the spices and tender care Mikle treated the food with helped make it more palatable. “Speaking of drops, any word on our applications to warrant school?”

  Mikle scoffed and handed Acknit back his plate. “You know the drill Seaver; two more decles for processing. I still say we should have applied for the academy.” Mikle took a bite of his patty and swallowed as fast as possible, a light in his eyes. “Officers get all the chicks, man. Warrants? You have to explain what the Sheol you are.”

  Acknit shook his head and watched the distant light of a ship breaking orbit as it descended through the atmosphere. After being a grunt for five annura, he just wanted to get back into the cockpit instead of riding in the back of a dropship all over the place. Transferring to the ground forces from maintenance duties hadn’t helped. It wouldn’t even be that bad if they’d gotten some better assignments. He’d expected to have at least seen some action. The thought of that got him pumped, but then there was always the inevitable letdown. The odd lack of contact just didn’t sit right with him.

  He shook his head; he couldn’t dwell on it. “Officers also get all the responsibility and a lot more work to do that we don’t have to see. I just want to fly again, Mikle.”

  “Me too, Seaver, me too. But hey, in the meantime, I gotta go find a bush to water. I won’t be long.”

  Acknit watched Mikle head down the slope until he’d disappeared into the darkness. He took another bite of his food and instantly regretted letting it start to cool. Mikle always took forever to go pee; shy bladder.

  Acknit tapped a stud on the forearm of his ACHES. A holographic display appeared, showing that his own bladder relief catch had reached half capacity. He’d have to make a trip to the recycler soon to purify the contents into freshwater. Why doesn’t Mikle ever do that? He grew up on a freighter; it should be second nature to him.

  He decided not to dwell on it and finished his dinner.

  A few pulses later, the crunching of boots on the rocky soil drew Acknit’s attention. He turned to find their squad leader approaching. “Evening, LT, anything you need?”

  The young officer looked Acknit over for a moment, disapproval on his face. “Where’s your buddy, Mikle?”

  “Went to go pee, should be back soon.”

  “I see. Well, sensor three is on the fritz again. It won’t come back up at all.”

  Acknit thought about that for a moment. When they’d set up camp on this hill, they’d installed sensors all around the perimeter. Sensor three kept going out every 1.2 hects, almost on the dot. It tended to only go down for a pulse or two, though there was the time that it had stayed down for ten pulses before restarting. “How long’s it been out this time?”

  “Pushing twenty pulses. Golen was going to send up a drone to check it out, but all his birds need time on the recharger now that the sun’s down.”

  Acknit shook his head. “I told Golen he was putting them up too long.”

  “I agree. Go grab Mikle and check it out. We’ve got a hole in our perimeter now.”

  “Yes, sir,” Acknit replied and climbed to his feet, exaggerating the movement just enough in the hopes that the sensor would come back online. He picked up his rifle and realized that Mikle had left his behind. He grabbed it as well, drawing another displeased look from his squad leader. Realizing there was no getting out of tracking Mikle down now, he trudged off into the dark and flipped his visor into place. Activating the thermal scan, Mikle’s footprints jumped out at him. Mikle always set his thermals to shed through his feet and keep them warm.

  Making his way through the brush in the dying light, he thought about the sensor. He and Mikle had tried to repair it two cycles earlier; hadn’t been able to find anything wrong with it. A failed sensor on its own wasn’t such a big deal, but every time it went offline, the other sensors would bleed power at a prodigious rate. Now that the local sun was going down, they risked draining their batteries if the draw went on too long.

  He pulled up the status of the other sensors; there was no such load this time. Maybe that means that sensor three is dead for good. He accessed the sensor logs to check the outages; sure enough, each started 1.2 hects after the last. The duration of the drop always varied, but each one occurred every 1.2 hects. That can’t be a random glitch, can it?

  The sound of voices ahead brought Acknit’s attention to rapt focus. The re
st of the squad was back at base camp, and he recognized Mikle’s voice for sure, but who are the others?

  Acknit slowed his pace and activated his thermal mask, cooling the suit to ambient temperature and dumping his thermal emissions into his heat sinks. He pulled up his thermal hood as well - it made no sense to cool his suit if his head remained a hot spot. He wished he’d worn a helmet instead, at least the hood closes to my visor.

  Dropping into a low crouch, Acknit proceeded ahead. The signatures of ten hominid forms lit up his visor. One rifle at the ready and the other at his back, he approached the sources of the voices. The voices cleared as he neared them, but the language sounded unfamiliar. It wasn’t Confed standard, but it was something he’d heard Mikle speak before. Was it a Terran tongue? Mikle had a talent for languages, speaking at least six. He’d once petitioned to go into the intel corps to listen in on GF communications.

  A breach in the bushes afforded Acknit a look. He considered contacting the rest of the squad, but he didn’t have any idea if the enemy had jammers or signal interceptors. Instead, he held off, creeping to a spot where he could observe the group. The scene matched the thermals.

  Mikle stood before two four-man GF fire teams and another individual in an officer’s uniform.

  Acknit couldn’t make out the insignia on the Terran officer’s lapel, but even from this distance, he looked out of place with his cousin race, Thals, in the one fire team and reptilian Krad in the other.

  Geffers!

  Acknit had never liked the idea of facing off against Krad. They reminded him too much of a pet lizard he’d had as a child. The creature was cute enough and liked to stand up on its hind legs to run around the station. Their smooth skin even matched the look of the little reptiles’. Their huge eyes played on his old childhood love of the creature. Were it not for their bulky combat suits; he could have sworn that his sweet little geck had grown and stood amongst them.

  The whole scene felt surreal. Mikle didn’t appear to be in any distress as the officer spoke with him. Even the soldiers holding him at gunpoint didn’t seem overly concerned. Outnumbering the unarmed Mikle the way they did, they had little need to be.

  Acknit felt his ‘game face’ fall into place. They didn’t count on me! He pulled Mikle’s rifle from his back and set it up in the bushes. Syncing his visor with the weapon, he aimed it at the Krad fire team leader, then hurried into a new position a dozen metra away. There he took aim on the Thal fire team leader with his weapon.

  Taking a deep breath, he surveyed the scene one last time; he fired. Both rifles discharged on his single trigger pull. Acknit leapt aside as the two team leaders fell to the ground, dead. Switching to full auto, Acknit opened fire on the Thal team and raced around the clearing. He downed one more as he ran. Glancing toward Mikle, he found his friend on the run as well, back toward his rifle. Good, he figured it out.

  The officer scrambled backward, pulling out his sidearm before he tripped. The shot hit the ground beside Mikle. In his strength augmented Armored Combat Hostile Environment Suit —known as ACHES—however, he could bound into the trees to retrieve his rifle. “Nice setup, buddy! Now let’s take these guys out,” Mikle hollered.

  “I’m already up by three.”

  “You and your math. You just got a good surprise roll.”

  Acknit almost chuckled at that before the last two Thal rushed toward him. He brought his gun up and opened fire. The shots went wide, but they served their purpose, and the two Thal fell back toward the officer. Acknit gave chase and, as he emerged from the brush, found Mikle exchanging fire with the Krad. Two were on the ground, one unmoving. The other crawled away as the survivor bounded back toward a grav-scout hovering nearby.

  Acknit shifted his focus back to the Thal. They were in active retreat, heading over to their downed officer and the scout. I can’t let them escape.

  Ensuring that he loaded it first, Acknit brought his rifle to his shoulder and switched over to the grenade launcher. The reassuring hum of the smart munition reverberated through his suit as he locked it onto the vehicle. A shot rang past his ear. He ignored it and pulled the trigger. The recoil as the miniature missile fired forced Acknit back, and a moment later, the hovering scout vehicle exploded, engulfed in a ball of plasma.

  The blast caught the leading Thal; sent him flying back. The remaining two didn’t stand idly by. Their means of escape destroyed; they laid down covering fire as they moved to rescue the officer. Acknit dove for cover and, looking up, spotted Mikle behind a nearby rock. Static filled his link for a moment.

  Is someone trying to link in? There must be a jammer.

  Acknit held his rifle up and swept the area, the gun camera feeding into his visor. He couldn’t see anything but the faulty sensor and the three Geffers as they fell back toward it. Bugger me with a spiked truncheon. “Mikle, cover me.”

  “Give the word, buddy.”

  Acknit took a deep breath, picturing the scene behind his cover. His target stood like a beacon in his mind’s eye, and he nodded before flashing four fingers to Mikle, who nodded in return. A silent four-count later and Mikle bounded to his feet. He twisted about and opened fire, forcing the Geffers aside a beat. Acknit leapt up and fired off a single high-powered burst at the faulty sensor.

  The metallic stalk exploded, throwing shrapnel all around. Acknit’s link screamed to life with the voice of his squad leader. “Acknit, Tager, status! Do you copy?”

  “We copy, sir!” Acknit replied as both dropped back into cover. “Geffer patrol danger close at our position. Transmitting beacon now. Two fire teams and an unknown officer. Six hostiles down, three including the officer on the run.”

  “Copy that, be on you in five pulses. Do not kill that officer. We’ll want to question him.”

  “Wilco!”

  Acknit looked over to Mikle, his old friend’s eyes wide. What’s his deal?

  “Your turn to cover me,” Mikle called. “I’m going to try and capture that guy.”

  “Are you nuts?”

  “No, but just imagine the babes if I can capture a Geffer intel punk.”

  Before Acknit could protest, Mikle rushed out toward the retreating trio of Geffers, his rifle chattering away in short bursts. Acknit had no choice but to bound after his lifelong friend and squadmate, firing in the air above their enemies to try and get them to take cover. The last thing he expected was for Mikle to throw a grenade at them.

  The fragmentation weapon exploded over the Geffer’s heads, raining high-speed shrapnel down upon them. The Krad loosed an otherworldly scream as it fell back, clutching at the gashes across its face as the Thal just fell, half his face gone. The officer managed to escape the blast and kept running toward the woods in the distance. Acknit brought his rifle up and took aim. If I can take out his legs…

  Before he could finish the thought, multiple rounds tore into the officer, and he went stumbling to the ground. Acknit looked over to Mikle, but he was already running full tilt toward the man. “What did you do that for? We needed him alive.”

  Mikle didn’t answer at first but slowed for a moment to pump three rounds into the injured Krad before continuing on his way. Mikle skidded to a halt beside the officer and rolled the man over. Even from a distance, Acknit could tell that he was dead. Then Mikle began to rummage through the man’s uniform, tearing into his pockets.

  “What are you doing?”

  Mikle didn’t respond at first.

  He pulled a device from the officer’s side pocket a moment later and just stared at it. It looked like a civilian-grade macomm but didn’t feature any visible ports that Acknit could make out. The silicate face was a wreck, bits of it raining out as Mikle held it up.

  “They questioned me,” he said. “I tried not to tell them anything, but I was afraid, and they got me to talk. I was just rambling, but something might have come out. If command found out…”

  Acknit laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, but what do we tell the LT?”

  Before Mikle could reply, the sound of dirt beneath dozens of boots forced both to turn and look. Their lieutenant stood before them, the rest of the squad behind him as he surveyed the scene. “Damn, boys. You two did all this?”