Read Online Free Fleet #03 No Rest for the Wicked by Michael Chatfield - Free Book Online

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    “More use fighting then sitting up there,” he said as someone behind him calmly swung a staff with rounded ornaments on either end.
    “Akatski has everything in hand,” Monk said as he rested on his staff. Monk's mecha was heavily armoured, but with an exoskeleton that would fit an Avar, and gave him more power. Salchar's was similarly massive due to the exoskeleton, but it had less armour in areas to provide greater mobility.
    “You two are essential to the Fleet,” he said.
    “Every person in the Free Fleet is essential to it,” Salchar said. “We found that other people could do our jobs up there, freeing us from those responsibilities. Now, use us. We're pretty good at taking orders still.”
    Henry was distinctly unhappy with the entire thing, but he knew there was no deterring Salchar once he had made up his mind.
    Plus if the Syndicates overrun us it won't matter who someone is, or what their rank is; they'll die all the same.
    “Alright, you stubborn bastards. You'll be under Shminkt,” Henry said, knowing it was a bad idea as soon as the words had left his mouth, but also knowing that they'd take no less.
    “Thank you, Henry,” Salchar said grinning, turning to go find Shminkt and his company.
    Indicators started appearing on Henry's screen as Commandos started pulling back to fourth line. He pressed icons on his data pad connecting him to different units.
    “Pull back to fourth line,” he said. As he cut the channel, units that had been waiting now met up with their fellow Commando's, waiting for the Syndicate's troops.
     
    ***
     
    Falesh was altogether done with running around and finding booby traps in the rooms, hallways and waiting at every corner. He now had only thirty people doing as he said, his turnover rate had grown to almost four hundred percent.
    The weight of the extra gravities made him sluggish, tired and pissed off as he gasped for air. Fighting these bastards was like fighting an invisible enemy. They'd gotten to a corridor that ran through a large open area and finally met their enemy. They'd had shield generators inside the station, which was something that Falesh had never seen or heard of before, and three weapon systems firing continuously. There was always one firing and at least one ready.
    “General, from what I've seen these guys are at home with the higher gravity hell they've turned the station into,” he communicated to higher command. Captain Kelu wanted to know everything and anything about these mysterious defenders, making sure Falesh's information went to the highest levels.
    “Why do you think that, Sergeant?” the nameless general asked, sounding skeptical. I don't have time to give you a dark-cursed written report you pencil pushing shit, h e thought, forcing himself to breathe.
    “The speed with which they switched barrels and reloaded their weapons makes me believe that,” Falesh panted, talking had become much more difficult.
    “Sarge, they're leaving,” one of Falesh's grenade throwers said. Thankfully grenades were one thing that was not in short supply.
    “Keep the pressure up then!”
    One of his men charged the hallway, a burst of beads taking out his face plate. His cries ending in their throat as he dropped to the floor.
    “No one fucking moves until I say so!” Falesh yelled. He didn't care if they lived or died, but to get his share he needed to take this station. For that he needed troops.
    “The shields are spotting!” the grenade thrower from before yelled as they doubled their throwing speed.
    The rail gun fired as Falesh's smirk at the enemy wasting ammo turned to horror. The rounds exploded as soon as they passed the protecting walls, killing troops on either side with the blast and shards.
    As soon as we change to their tactics, they change them again.
    Falesh wanted to beat the crap out of something, anything. He hit the wall a few times but found himself exhausted as the heavier gravity weighed on him.
    It's