Read Online Grendels by Zachary Deaderick - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Zachary Deaderick
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outfitting an army of Grendels or something?” Davis asks over the security channel.
Switching to receive only on the mainline Sanders clicks on transmit on the security line, “Looks like it. We uploaded about two hundred units. Maybe a quarter as many suits of armor as battle rifles. Squad leaders only get armor?”
“Screw that,” Thompson snorts.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t go outside without armor anymore,” Allen says switching feet on the platform to shake out his leg.
“Eyes out, we aren’t exactly out of the woods yet,” Sanders interrupts.
“Captain, I think you mean we aren’t in the woods yet,” Thompson lights up in the dialogue box.
Rolling past the last of the buildings, everyone relaxes and sags down inside their armor just a little. Sanders pulls up the aerial scans of the route ahead. Nothing suspicious from the drones chasing the convoy. The imagery from the small robot provides a very close up view all the way for the next fifteen miles to the compound.
The data recording indicates nothing moved along the road the entire time they waited for the meeting.
“Alright Jeff, speed us up. Road is clear.”
Both IFVs tilt back as the massive engines push the crews up and over one hundred and fifty kilometers an hour. The wind roars over the outside of the suit but between the suit and super human strength Sanders nor any of the rest of the team struggle to hold on.
“Open’er up!” Sanders barks into the comm.
Tearing into the open, the convoy crosses the empty killing field before the large twelve foot concrete outer wall. Ahead a gate wide enough for both IFVs to travel through at the same time slides open. Manning the weapon mounts on top of the wall are several unarmored guards. Sanders wonders how they feel watching the convoy and the superior equipment.
Behind them the gate closes back down and the weapon crews turn back to watch the perimeter.
“Must be nice to be an arms dealer,” Sanders murmurs.
Pulling into the main courtyard of the house the security detail disembarks from the fighting vehicles and gathers around waiting for Mr. O. to step out of the vehicle and head inside.
After several minutes waiting, the door swings open and O steps out, “Sanders, My daughter needs a ride to her class.”
“Roger that sir,” Sanders says keying in the codes for Davis and Allen to accompany him.
“Babysitter duty,” Thompson laughs and points at Allen.
Davis shunts Thompson’s comms, “Taking just one of the IFVs?”
“Yeah, we can’t fit in the car without taking the armor off. I’d prefer not to ride around with her without armor on. I’d also prefer to have the firepower of the Hunter if anything goes wrong.”
“Alright Miller, keep your sled running. Smith put yours in the shed and check the maintenance on it. Thompson take a four-by and do a patrol of the wall. Everybody else post up on watch in the armory for three hour stints.”
Sanders nods his approval of Davis’ orders.
It may have been decades since the war but squad wouldn’t have acted any different if it were still going on.
Sanders and Davis walk to the back of the Hunter and open the cargo compartment. Each looks over the various equipment in the trunk ensuring that the med kit, spare tire, extra munitions for the thirty millimeter cannon, and a full load out of ammo for one battle rifle are still in the trunk.
“Sir, you know we haven’t taken a truck out without all the gear since that shit show back on Caldera when that other unit loaned us their jacked up truck.”
Sanders laughs, “You know why we haven’t had that happen since?”
Allen shrugs.
“Because the captain and I always check to make sure it's there after we got screwed,” Davis says.
“Alright, alright, alright everybody give me a sitrep.”
After a second of glancing over his gear Davis responds, “Three hundred rounds primary, seventy-five secondary and suit still reads ninety-two
Switching to receive only on the mainline Sanders clicks on transmit on the security line, “Looks like it. We uploaded about two hundred units. Maybe a quarter as many suits of armor as battle rifles. Squad leaders only get armor?”
“Screw that,” Thompson snorts.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t go outside without armor anymore,” Allen says switching feet on the platform to shake out his leg.
“Eyes out, we aren’t exactly out of the woods yet,” Sanders interrupts.
“Captain, I think you mean we aren’t in the woods yet,” Thompson lights up in the dialogue box.
Rolling past the last of the buildings, everyone relaxes and sags down inside their armor just a little. Sanders pulls up the aerial scans of the route ahead. Nothing suspicious from the drones chasing the convoy. The imagery from the small robot provides a very close up view all the way for the next fifteen miles to the compound.
The data recording indicates nothing moved along the road the entire time they waited for the meeting.
“Alright Jeff, speed us up. Road is clear.”
Both IFVs tilt back as the massive engines push the crews up and over one hundred and fifty kilometers an hour. The wind roars over the outside of the suit but between the suit and super human strength Sanders nor any of the rest of the team struggle to hold on.
“Open’er up!” Sanders barks into the comm.
Tearing into the open, the convoy crosses the empty killing field before the large twelve foot concrete outer wall. Ahead a gate wide enough for both IFVs to travel through at the same time slides open. Manning the weapon mounts on top of the wall are several unarmored guards. Sanders wonders how they feel watching the convoy and the superior equipment.
Behind them the gate closes back down and the weapon crews turn back to watch the perimeter.
“Must be nice to be an arms dealer,” Sanders murmurs.
Pulling into the main courtyard of the house the security detail disembarks from the fighting vehicles and gathers around waiting for Mr. O. to step out of the vehicle and head inside.
After several minutes waiting, the door swings open and O steps out, “Sanders, My daughter needs a ride to her class.”
“Roger that sir,” Sanders says keying in the codes for Davis and Allen to accompany him.
“Babysitter duty,” Thompson laughs and points at Allen.
Davis shunts Thompson’s comms, “Taking just one of the IFVs?”
“Yeah, we can’t fit in the car without taking the armor off. I’d prefer not to ride around with her without armor on. I’d also prefer to have the firepower of the Hunter if anything goes wrong.”
“Alright Miller, keep your sled running. Smith put yours in the shed and check the maintenance on it. Thompson take a four-by and do a patrol of the wall. Everybody else post up on watch in the armory for three hour stints.”
Sanders nods his approval of Davis’ orders.
It may have been decades since the war but squad wouldn’t have acted any different if it were still going on.
Sanders and Davis walk to the back of the Hunter and open the cargo compartment. Each looks over the various equipment in the trunk ensuring that the med kit, spare tire, extra munitions for the thirty millimeter cannon, and a full load out of ammo for one battle rifle are still in the trunk.
“Sir, you know we haven’t taken a truck out without all the gear since that shit show back on Caldera when that other unit loaned us their jacked up truck.”
Sanders laughs, “You know why we haven’t had that happen since?”
Allen shrugs.
“Because the captain and I always check to make sure it's there after we got screwed,” Davis says.
“Alright, alright, alright everybody give me a sitrep.”
After a second of glancing over his gear Davis responds, “Three hundred rounds primary, seventy-five secondary and suit still reads ninety-two
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