The Street Survivors (The Guild Wars Book 12) by Ian Malone (great books of all time TXT) 📕

Taylor put a finger over his lips, not because it was some universal sign for silence, but because he honestly couldn’t think of anything else to do in the moment.

It must have worked, because the Goka bobbed its head, then surreptitiously pointed to Taylor then back to himself. The gesture’s meaning was clear. Rescue me, or I’ll tell them you’re here.

Taylor nodded, and the Goka returned to its feet in time to be snatched back into line with the other prisoners as the group started out. A loud door slammed some 30 seconds later, and silence returned to the warehouse.

“About time,” Frank murmured after another half minute.

“Amen to that,” Taylor agreed.

The duo dropped their slings and quietly got to their feet, while the others did the same—first House, then Jack and Stan.

“Where the hell’s your partner?” Taylor asked House.

“You mean the bumblin’ buffoon who botched his assignment?” The corporal snorted. “Genovese missed his rig hookup outside the dome. I tried to help him, but by the time I got turned around in my sling, it was too late. He got left behind in the snow.”

“Dumbass ijit,” Jack muttered.

“It’s fine,” Taylor said. “Genovese can circle back to the hilltop and regroup with Reigns and the others. We’ll just have to move on without him.”

The conversation paused while the group took stock of their surroundings.

Although the walls enclosed a lot of square footage, the roof overhead was lower than what they’d seen on Piquaw at a mere 15 feet high. A walkway ran around the wall, and a gantry crossed from side to side in several places. Except for the four carrier trucks, the space was empty.

“I’ll tell ya, gents,” Frank said with a sigh, “for a second there, I thought we were toast outside the gate.”

“How do you mean?” House asked.

“Our driver got out and spoke to his pals from the other trucks, only nobody was talkin’,” Frank said. “It was like they were using telepathy or something.”

“Not exactly,” Stan said. “Jack and me caught a glimpse of the KzSha as they filed out with the prisoners. Each one of ‘em has a set of long antennae with lights on them. Those lights seemed to flash in patterns, which I’m guessin’ is how they communicate.”

“So no verbal communications, then,” Taylor said.

Stan shook his head.

“What else did you see about them?” House asked.

“I saw enough to know I won’t sleep for a month after we get back from this mission.” Stan grunted. “These bastards are every bit as big as we are, and a lot nastier.”

Jack rubbed his whiskers. “If the bugs don’t speak out loud, that’ll make it difficult to sneak up on them, should it come to that.”

“Agreed,” Taylor said. “We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it. For now, let’s spread out and see what we can learn about this place. Meet back here in two minutes.”

Taylor jogged to the wall and raced up the steps to the walkway. Although widespread, there were a few windows that looked out of the warehouse, thus presenting a bird’s eye view of the complex outside.

The area under the dome was a massive mining facility.

Glancing down one of the roads across from his warehouse perch, Taylor saw where the pathway went down into the earth before reaching the side of the dome. A line of large trucks—empty—were going below the planet’s surface, while others returned full. It was the same for the rail cars moving into and out of the passage to Taylor’s right. All told, if the amount of traffic on both was any indication, the mine was operating full bore.

That certainly explains why the KzSha would take a bunch of Caroons captive, Taylor thought. Why they’d want a Sumatozou to work an underground dig site, though, is anybody’s guess. He watched the traffic for a few more moments—including a large ore-carrying train that emerged from underground—then decided it was time to loop the rest of his company in. “Tomahawk to Osyrys.”

No one from the ship answered his hail.

“Tomahawk to Ryley Osyrys. Do you read?”

Again, no response.

What the hell? It occurred to Taylor that the dome could be causing issues with his attempts to reach a ship in orbit, so he shifted channels to his troops who were already on the surface. “Tomahawk to War Eagle. You got your ears on?”

Sergeant Reigns didn’t answer, either.

“Tomahawk to War Eagle. I need a copy, and I need it now.”

Nothing.

Taylor swallowed and tuned his pinplant comms to one of his own team members just a few feet away. “Jack, can you hear me?”

The cowboy didn’t even flinch.

We’re being jammed. Now beyond worried, Taylor trotted back to the group as Stan was starting to speak.

“Looks like a minin’ town,” the Mississippian said. “I took a quick gander through the far side window across from the chief and saw a bunch of trucks filled with ore headed to what looks like a processin’ plant. It looks like they’ve got a decent-sized manufactory out there, too, so there’s no tellin’ what they’re doing with the stuff they’re diggin’ up out of the ground.”

“Whatever it is, they’re extracting it in spades.” Taylor aimed a thumb over his shoulder. “I spotted the entrance to the mine over on this side of the dome. The KzSha have haulers and a freight train comin’ in and out of it like a damn assembly line.”

“That would explain the need for slaves,” Frank said.

“Yep,” Jack said. “Speakin’ of, I think I know where the KzSha took this latest batch of prisoners after they left the trucks.” He pointed to the sliding metal door on the wall opposite of the one they’d entered through. “There’s a big hatch in the ground on the other side of that exit. My guess is we’ll find the bees’