Fireteam Delta by J. Halpin (ebook reader that looks like a book txt) 📕

two companies the army had lost hunting in this world were any indication, a hundred trained soldiers couldn’t stand up against the kinds of things they’d seen. It was easier for a small group to move around, and hopefully avoid any big trouble.

The city had, of course, readily welcomed their barely trained protectors. And Summers had been able to negotiate about five thousand more rounds from the deal. With their reduced body count, that made things a little more manageable.

Most of the elves were grateful, some embarrassingly so. Summers had assumed that Pat would have taken the same deal in a heartbeat, given that this place was his home, his family’s home, and somewhere he could live in comfort for the rest of his life.

He’d been wrong.

Pat must have taken their offer as something of a test of loyalty. The man had pestered, begged, and all but threatened Summers to be brought along when they’d announced that they were leaving. Orvar was so quiet, he really had no idea how or why he’d come. And the twins . . . they’d just talked excitedly between one another as they dragged a large trunk Summers was sure belonged to Pat behind them. Given the snippets of conversation he’d managed to overhear, he could say for certain that they thought of this as an adventure.

“Core Pore El Summers,” Pat amended.

Summers looked at the man as he stood at attention, along with the others.

It occurred to Summers over the last few days that these were probably some of the most elite troops in the city. They’d been trained to fire a gun, and a few had even been decent marksmen.

“Pat, buddy, you know you don’t have to do this, right?”

“I owe you too much to turn away now, my friend.”

“Look, we can’t guarantee we can protect you. I know it seems like—”

“You and your people helped us when you had every reason not to.” Pat looked at both him and Nowak, in turn. “We stood by, knowing what Rhodes was doing, because we were afraid. I won’t make that mistake again.”

Pat bowed low, the others copying him almost immediately.

Summers looked to Nowak, who stepped forward.

“Fine,” Nowak muttered. “I dub thee privates. Get on board.”

He gestured to the boat.

Pat strode forward with more than a little pride.

Summers could only watch as they weaved their way through the bustling crowd.

“Pretty sure it doesn’t work like that.”

“Pretty sure I’m beyond giving a shit,” Nowak replied.

“On the bright side, we’re going to have to explain to the army what happened here. Having a diplomat like Pat to represent the city is probably a plus.” Summers glanced over at Nowak.

“You know it’s probably rude to keep calling him Pat like that, right?” Nowak side-eyed Summers. “I mean, he’s a prince.”

“His full name is Payrst Den Tredje Palna-Toki Klingenbeorn, and I am 90% sure I’m pronouncing that wrong.”

“Pat it is,” Nowak agreed.

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The ship was surprisingly more stable than Summers had expected. What it was not, was comfortable. He sat beside Nowak and Cortez, shoulder to shoulder. They were doing their best to stay out of the way of the sailors who milled around the ship doing whatever it was that sailors did. Every so often, he’d hear a shout from below deck as the rowers moved to keep pace.

“This is hell. I’m in hell, and you people have brought me here.” Cortez glared at them.

She wasn’t doing too well on the water. She’d sat, hunched over, doing her best not to vacate her stomach, for the entire trip.

“Is this why you didn’t want to go?” Nowak looked at her, concerned.

“Maybe.”

Summers watched as a set of sailors busied themselves adjusting the sails to the yells of their captain. He was screaming something about bad omens and spirits, with the occasional glance in their direction. Something told Summers it was more for show than anything. Not that he minded, as there was quite literally nothing for them to do.

“How long do we have to do this again?” Cortez groaned.

“Two months.” Nowak glanced back at the woman. “It’ll get us to the San Francisco Bay, or whatever’s there in this world.”

“Lot of stops along the way,” Summers ventured. “Maybe we can find something for seasickness. If that’s even a thing for elves.”

Cortez only groaned in response.

Summers looked back as Orvar approached from below deck. He spotted them almost immediately, moving to bow in front of them.

“If I could I take a moment of your time . . . ?” Orvar bowed even deeper as he spoke.

Summers quirked an eyebrow before he managed to remember his manners. He’d known the man for about a month now. It was rare to get a word out of Orvar, even at the best of times, let alone a full sentence.

“I was hoping I could continue my training,” Orvar continued.

Summers glanced to the others for a moment before replying.

“Much as I’d like to, I don’t think we can afford to use the ammo. We can try some dry fire drills, but . . .”

“I apologize. I was hoping to train with Ms. Cortez,” Orvar corrected himself.

Summers looked from Orvar to Cortez, then back again.

“I’m only saying this because I like you. If you’re trying to flirt with her, she will kill you.”

“Hand-to-hand combat,” Orvar replied quickly. “The soldiers in the city spoke highly of her. And you as well . . .” he added.

Summers had considered trying a few hand-to-hand classes with his squad during their training, but he was more worried he’d kill one of them by accident, given his “condition.”

“All right, I heard him say my name. What’s going on?” Cortez looked at Summers questioningly.

Summers turned to Cortez, speaking English. “He wants you to train him? Close-quarters