Writer
Set in the Freehold universe, told from the point of view of Captain Chinran, who led the covert attack on Earth.
Kirby and company slid in behind us, the cats crouching atop the log while getting low. They understand the risk of bullets just fine. They also prefer height so they can see. It’s how they operate, and anyone who works with them learns quickly not to argue with a leopard’s tactics. It wastes your time and annoys the leopard. I could hear them panting when the fire slacked at brief intervals.
Glen rose with me, we jumped clear to minimize our targetability, then resumed long lopes. I enjoyed this about the exomusculature. Seven League Boots. Then I saw a cluster of troops and captives massing and kicked in the Combat NeuroStimulant.
We were all but invisible until it was too late, then we were on them. Three or four of them caught bare movement from the corners of their eyes, but it would do them no good. I braked my jump by drop kicking a tree and snapping my legs down. I smashed my hip against it as I landed but the armor took some of the blow and the Boost turned the pain to a ripple of secondary endorphin. I was chemically and mechanically enhanced, alert and in peak physical condition on a low gravity planet. My visor overlay showed me everything in the universe and for a few seconds I was the God of War.
Up came my weapon and I snapped of shots as I panned across. Long practice paid off; I was attentive and not tunneling my vision. As each shot found its mark, I was already plotting the next. After three I twisted behind the tree to shoot from the other side before dropping for cover and firing twice more toward the nearest howitzer. I added a grenade to that, then twitched my feet and shifted three meters forward into the artificial meadow. Two more shots at targets by the generator and I rose as bodies were still falling. Seven troops were crumpling, three prisoners still standing, then throwing themselves down as they realized that rescue was here. The enemy couldn’t shoot with us so close and the panic on their faces was a drug in itself. I’d jumped a bit too hard and was looking down at them from three meters instead of two.
Behind me, Kirby said, “Fight!” My henchman and my pet demons sprung like wisps past me. A flash bang exploded, then two more. We expected it and rolled through the concussion wave. More fire sounded from the perimeter, distinct and chosen shots as we took out the wanderers. Two heavy crashes announced Deni’s handiwork with the sniper rifle. Overhead came the crackling of bursting antipersonnel rounds compliments of Major Clavell. They were too high to be a threat, but were a great distraction.
All the enemy before us could hear was the shrieking, snarling roar of leopards craving a kill, and all they could see were the flashing fangs and slashing claws with camouflaged ripples behind them. I stepped in with them and drew my sword.
Weapon in right hand over sword in left, as I’d practiced so often. A body rose to my left, screaming in panic and I chopped its jaw with a controlled snap that brought my arm right back. Two more shots splashed crimson from a target far too close. One beside it was at an awkward angle for a shot but in fine position for a roundhouse kick with hundreds of kilos of exomusculature behind it. The ribs shattered and it bent in half before crumpling. I shot and hacked and kicked across the clearing, then turned to do it again.
I looked around and saw nothing, just guns and trees and dirt and brush, reeking a salty, coppery, iron-tanged sharp propellant smell of death.
Two Operatives, two leopards and an SU ally. Fifty-seven dead soldiers whose only mistake was to be in the area we were assigned. Bodies clutched weapons or had thrown them away. They lay in tangles, faces showing shock, agony or absolutely nothing, having died too fast to comprehend. Very few of them were alive. Boost was fading, my vision in waves. I gasped for breath, and hearing the leopards pant, I looked them over. Claws and muzzles greasy red with blood. Blood in splashes that appeared to float in midair where it had landed on the chameleon camouflage they wore. Very macabre. They heaved for breath themselves. Sphinx favored a paw that had gotten smashed against something, and had a nick that made his tail tip thrash angrily. That and my throbbing, burning hip were our only casualties.
“Son of a bitch!” Glen muttered, making it sound like a prayer. I faced him. He said, “I’ve never seen anyone move so fast. You bastards are terrifying.” The grin on his face was a protective and hopeful one.
I smiled back. “Lots of practice,” I said. He finally understood what I’d known my whole career: the swords, guns, grenades, sensors and armor were tools. There was only one weapon in this battle. That weapon was me."
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