Read Online Forged by Battle (WarVerse Book 1) by Patrick J. Loller - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Patrick J. Loller
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opportunities. The mantra sprang unbidden to her thoughts. A lifetime of training took more than banishment to remove. The ship was a mixed compliment, and that meant she would go unnoticed among the humans while hiding herself in the Web from the others. As long as none of them spotted her and saw the mark of the Exile on her, then she would have time to plan.
The first step was to gather intel, to find out what she could about the “Condemned.” Where they were located, and what their mission was. The next step was to find them. A platoon of special ops soldiers would be a powerful tool in her mission.
Although… she did not really have a mission anymore. She was banished from her path, and the ideals she had trained for her entire life had been stripped from her. She was a completely free agent, stripped of her rank, her influence, and even her name. She had no obligation to continue.
She could steal a ship, take as many supplies as she needed, and leave human-controlled space. Everything she had done was for her people, and they had taken everything from her. The Exile ran her hand over the hilt of the dagger she lost everything for. She knew she needed power to combat power, and if she was to prevent what was coming, she needed every advantage. The Shadow and his ilk from beyond the portals were nothing compared to what destroyed her homeworld.
No, she had to continue.
The Exile found herself on a large hangar deck hidden from view by the numerous boxes and machinery that littered the space. She held her Web as close as she could, not wanting to draw her Shell, but knowing that any active pulse would alert other Psykin of her location. The Exile slinked across the bay, moving between shadows to keep out of sight, all the while watching the various crew members as they came and went, mentally mapping out the different routes in and out of the bay.
Intel gathering was simple: watch everyone, memorize patterns. An unsecured computer would allow her to find out more about the Condemned. If that man from the shuttle was moving from Bastogne to the fleet, then they must be either stationed on one of the ships or within a jump of the system. Before she found them, however, she would find resources. Weapons, uniforms, equipment. She was going to impersonate a Special Forces lieutenant, and she would need to look the part.
The Exile felt the analytical calm that took over whenever she set herself to a goal. The constant undercurrent of anger and betrayal was pushed aside for the details she needed to take in.
She could continue her search for the project Rebirth.
Chapter 14
Johnston
A headache had wormed its way into Johnston's skull. It sat right between his eyes, and throbbed whenever he tried to look at his console or even turn on the lights. All the enemy fighters had been recovered, the civilians in the disabled shuttle rescued, and Lieutenant Barkhorn had been found on the planet alive, and had managed to save someone himself. So why was his head splitting open? The ship was hardly damaged, and while the lost pilots were distressing, it was not enough to create such incapacitating pain.
He had experienced these kinds of headaches in the academy, after nights of no sleep and constant study, as though his body were rebelling against him. It had to be stress, only Johnston couldn't figure out what was causing it.
A chime sounded outside his door, and his AMI informed him that it was Commander Belford.
Just what I need. The admiral sighed, a heavy sound in the dark room, and then he pulled a pain reliever from the drawer. He pressed the applicator into his upper arm, and barely felt the pinch of the needle with the pain lancing between his eyes. Thankfully, humanity's allies, the shogoths, were masters of chemical manipulation. His painkiller didn't addle him or cause the euphoria most painkillers did; the shot he took simply blocked the nerves from screaming.
He would need to be careful not to do anything
The first step was to gather intel, to find out what she could about the “Condemned.” Where they were located, and what their mission was. The next step was to find them. A platoon of special ops soldiers would be a powerful tool in her mission.
Although… she did not really have a mission anymore. She was banished from her path, and the ideals she had trained for her entire life had been stripped from her. She was a completely free agent, stripped of her rank, her influence, and even her name. She had no obligation to continue.
She could steal a ship, take as many supplies as she needed, and leave human-controlled space. Everything she had done was for her people, and they had taken everything from her. The Exile ran her hand over the hilt of the dagger she lost everything for. She knew she needed power to combat power, and if she was to prevent what was coming, she needed every advantage. The Shadow and his ilk from beyond the portals were nothing compared to what destroyed her homeworld.
No, she had to continue.
The Exile found herself on a large hangar deck hidden from view by the numerous boxes and machinery that littered the space. She held her Web as close as she could, not wanting to draw her Shell, but knowing that any active pulse would alert other Psykin of her location. The Exile slinked across the bay, moving between shadows to keep out of sight, all the while watching the various crew members as they came and went, mentally mapping out the different routes in and out of the bay.
Intel gathering was simple: watch everyone, memorize patterns. An unsecured computer would allow her to find out more about the Condemned. If that man from the shuttle was moving from Bastogne to the fleet, then they must be either stationed on one of the ships or within a jump of the system. Before she found them, however, she would find resources. Weapons, uniforms, equipment. She was going to impersonate a Special Forces lieutenant, and she would need to look the part.
The Exile felt the analytical calm that took over whenever she set herself to a goal. The constant undercurrent of anger and betrayal was pushed aside for the details she needed to take in.
She could continue her search for the project Rebirth.
Chapter 14
Johnston
A headache had wormed its way into Johnston's skull. It sat right between his eyes, and throbbed whenever he tried to look at his console or even turn on the lights. All the enemy fighters had been recovered, the civilians in the disabled shuttle rescued, and Lieutenant Barkhorn had been found on the planet alive, and had managed to save someone himself. So why was his head splitting open? The ship was hardly damaged, and while the lost pilots were distressing, it was not enough to create such incapacitating pain.
He had experienced these kinds of headaches in the academy, after nights of no sleep and constant study, as though his body were rebelling against him. It had to be stress, only Johnston couldn't figure out what was causing it.
A chime sounded outside his door, and his AMI informed him that it was Commander Belford.
Just what I need. The admiral sighed, a heavy sound in the dark room, and then he pulled a pain reliever from the drawer. He pressed the applicator into his upper arm, and barely felt the pinch of the needle with the pain lancing between his eyes. Thankfully, humanity's allies, the shogoths, were masters of chemical manipulation. His painkiller didn't addle him or cause the euphoria most painkillers did; the shot he took simply blocked the nerves from screaming.
He would need to be careful not to do anything
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