Hostile Genus: An Epic Military Sci-Fi Series (Invasive Species Book 2) by Ben Stevens (historical books to read TXT) 📕

Squinting against the pre-dawn gloom, he popped the access plate off the back of his tent’s heater and frowned. No fuel.

Making a mental note to get more before he retired the next night, Martin finished dressing and, pulling away the flap to his tent, stepped out into a miserable early morning.

Freezing rain came down steadily all over his camp. The walking paths between his tents looked like off-road ATV trails. The rain had turned the dirt to mud, and sentries’ footsteps had turned that mud into a topographical landscape in miniature, complete with mountain peaks, saddles, and valleys. Then the nightly drop in temperature had frozen both the mud and moisture that sat atop it, creating crystal-like growths of ice that pushed the mud out into strange honeycomb-like formations, as well as puddle-sized lakes of sheer ice. The rain flap of his tent, and the others around it were all decorated with stubby, wet icicles that drip, drip, dripped onto the ground, joining their drops with those of the persistent rainfall.

This sucks, Martin thought, and then frowned deeply. His reflexive inner dialogue complaint about the weather—behavior he abhorred in any soldier, especially himself—brought back memories of Nguyen, and the horror-show images from his dream.

He wondered then, and not for the first time since his rendezvous with Matiaba, the Provocateur, if his devil deal, his agreement to work with the former aide, and his use of Invasive Drop-trash would prevent him from seeing a good night’s sleep ever again. He shuddered once more, this time not just from the cold.

Shaking off his troublesome musings for the time being, Martin pulled his overcoat tighter around him and made his way to the quartermaster’s supply tent.

“Attention!” Quartermaster Irsik announced when he noticed Martin entering the tent.

“At ease, soldier. Cold morning, eh?”

“You got that right, sir,” Irsik said, visibly relaxing and going back to what he had previously been occupied with.

“What you got there, Todd? Breakfast?” Martin asked, lifting his chin to better smell the pleasant aroma.

“Yes, sir! Just beans, but you’re welcome to some.”

“Just beans?” Martin asked, closing the gap and coming up alongside Irsik and the gas stove he manned.

“Yeah, sorry to say. But we are just about out of food. It’s going to be a long winter, I fear. What brings you here so early?”

“Tent’s heater is out of fuel,” Martin reported.

“Oh, uh. Well, you can have what’s left of this.” Irsik gestured to the small canister plumbed into the side of the small stove.

“What? That’s it?” Martin asked.

“Afraid so. I hate to say it, sir. But we didn’t bring nearly enough supplies with us from Home.”

Martin scowled, and his belly rumbled. Suddenly, he found his reservations about working with Matiaba and his willingness to partner with Drop-trash not quite as unpalatable. Besides, he thought, it’s only a means to a greater end.

“Don’t fret, buddy. Things are going to start getting better for us real quick. And we will have plenty to see us through till spring. After that? We will retake the Zigg.”

“Sir?” Irsik said, his eyes growing with excitement.

“That’s right, soldier, things are now in motion that will all but guarantee our success. As for supplies in the meantime? Hang on.”

Martin broke away from the cook and his beans and went to the supply tent’s radio table. Picking up the handset with one hand, he punched in the number for Lincoln’s forward guard.

“Forney, you got a copy? Forney? This is Martin, do you copy?”

The speakers crackled with static for half a minute then popped to life with another man’s voice.

“Loud and clear, sir. Forney here. Good morning, sir.”

“Don’t lie, soldier. It’s a shit morning, but maybe you have some good news for me. Have the eagles come home to roost?”

“Yes, sir, they have! I just received word an hour ago that they are due back in Lincoln by thirteen hundred hours,” Forney reported, his voice sounding quite chipper.

“Excellent news, soldier. Carry on, Martin out.” Martin sat the handset back into its cradle and faced his quartermaster.

“You’re going to have a busy day today, Irsik.”

“Sir?”

“Phase one of the plan is done. We have successfully raided the supply caravan from the farmlands that was en route to the Ziggurat.”

Irsik’s eyes grew even wider than before.

“We will have all the food and fuel we require for some time,” Martin said.

“But, sir! Won’t theft provoke Home into open hostilities with us?” the young quartermaster asked.

“I certainly hope so, Irsik. I certainly hope so.”

It wasn’t until they had found Carbine alive, bruised and beat up, but alive nonetheless, that they relaxed enough to let the real hurt of their moral defeat sink in.

After walking out the gates of the city, concern weighed heavy on Jon’s mind. Carbine’s railgun had fallen silent after Fernando had returned fire. It was hard not to fear the worst when hope was in such short supply.

Making their way up the hillside by memory, Jon unslung his hammer and allowed its million pinpricks of swirling blue-white light to serve as a lantern. He held it high above his head, hoping its glow would help his companions as well.

Lucy, not needing light to see, made better time and moved on up ahead, finding Carbine first and calling out to the others.

“Is he okay?” Jon called up the slope.

“Yes, but he’s hurt. Get up here quick,” she called back.

A long minute later, Jon, Maya, and Ratt approached Lucy and the supine form of Carbine. A chunk of what used to be railgun jutted out of a black mass of scab on his friend’s right hip. On the ground lay the scattered remains of both the railgun and its incredible scope.

Although unconscious, Carbine still stubbornly clung to a hand-held torch.

“Oh man, what did you do to yourself?” Jon asked aloud, already knowing the answer. It was clear that Don Luis Fernando’s shot had re-traced the exact path of Carbine’s last slug, disintegrating the railgun and severely wounding Carbine. “Carbine must have used the torch to cauterize the