Click Click Boom (War Wolves Book 2) Read online

  “If I had a physical form, I might have been able to assist in cleaning up the human vomit,” Evonne said. “However, since I am simply an artificial intelligence that lives in the ship, I cannot help.”

  “Yes, we all know you want a body,” Riot said, shaking her head as she rehashed an old topic with the AI. “I’ll put in a request with the general.”

  “I’ll be right back.” Doctor Miller coughed as she picked up the steel bucket they had used to clean the mess. She carried the vessel as if it had the power to vomit on her.

  Rizzo’s text popped up on the screen. The course we’ve plotted will keep us in FTL just over twenty-four hours, with just the one gate to travel through.

  “Good,” Riot said, interlacing the fingers on both hands and cracking her knuckles. “We’ll have plenty of time to rest and prepare.”

  “Sorry, I’m back.” Doctor Miller rushed to her seat. “What did I miss?”

  “We’re going to arrive at wherever it is we’re going, tomorrow,” Wang said, recapping Rizzo’s report. “Warrant Officer Riot was just about to tell us where we’re going and who we’re going to meet.”

  Riot sent an image from her controls to the large window on the ship. A picture of the same stout admiral who had sent them the video in the briefing appeared.

  “They’re called the Grovothe, and they live on a planet called Shaynar,” Riot started. “They’re just as advanced as the Syndicate, maybe even more so. We reached out to them in friendship, and they ignored us for a week. Then we got a message from them asking to meet. We’re on our way now to rendezvous with the Grovothe and see what they want.”

  “How do you know they want something?” Ketrick scratched the underside of his jaw. “They could be simply willing to ally with us.”

  “Possibly,” Riot said, shaking her head, “but in my experience, they didn’t wait a week to respond because they were having problems with their cell phones. They want something from us, or it’s a trap.”

  “Oh, I hope it’s a trap,” Vet sighed, leaning back into his chair daydreaming about the possibility. “We have some new tech I’ve been working on and—”

  “Let’s not hope it’s a trap, but in the same breath, be ready for whatever comes our way,” Riot corrected her executive officer. “We already have the Karnayers to think about, plus let’s not forget about the cryptic race they referred to as the Ancient Ones.”

  “Point taken,” Vet said, sitting straight up in his chair.

  “Weapons when we get there?” Wang asked, looking to Riot with a raised eyebrow. “Armor?”

  Doctor Miller looked up at Riot, her mouth already open, about to interject.

  “We’ll take sidearms only,” Riot said in a voice meant to placate the doctor. “I understand this is a peace-keeping mission, but I think a standard sidearm, holstered, won’t rub our new friends the wrong way.”

  There was a rippling of nods as the Marines, the doctor, and the Trilord agreed with Riot’s plan.

  “All right,” Riot said, rising from her seat. “Rest up. We’re auditioning for new friends tomorrow.”

  Riot passed the rest of her day going over the information they had on the Grovothe one more time. She hadn’t missed anything, but it made her feel better to study the race she would be meeting the next day. The things that stood out to her the most was that fact that the Grovothe had, on their own, been able to conjure up technology that far surpassed anything Earth would’ve been able to create in the absence of the Syndicate.

  The second thing that struck Riot was the level of information they must have, not only in weapons and technology, but also in knowledge of the universe. What would they be able to tell her about the Ancient Ones, or the Karnayers, or the thousands of other alien races who were sure to live amongst the stars.

  After studying and a quick meal at the mess hall, Riot headed for the sparring room. The Valkyrie consisted of three levels, each standing about ten feet in height. These levels met at the rear of the ship to form the cargo bay, which was one wide-open room filled with equipment.

  The sparring room was located on the middle floor, right before the ship opened up into the cargo bay. Riot wasn’t too surprised to find herself alone. The ship was large enough to give them all privacy. She wore a black tank top and pants, with sneakers meant for running.

  The training room was as large as any gym Riot had been to. A square blue mat sat in the middle of the room. Circling the mat was every piece of machinery Riot could ask for: squat bars, dumbbells, kettle bells, battle ropes, and benches were just a few she made mental notes to visit.

  The next hour was spent beating her body into submission. She lifted, squatted, and pressed until her muscles screamed with fiery accomplishment. Sweat trickled down her forehead. Her shoulder-length brown hair tied behind her, Riot ignored the rise in her body’s temperature and kept going.

  “You look like you’re going to hurt someone,” Ketrick said from the doorway. He still wore the same clothes as before, seemingly ill-prepared for exercise.

  “That’s just my normal face,” Riot grunted as she heaved the two black dumbbells in her hands back onto the rack. “What’s up?”

  “I was checking in on Vikta and heard someone moaning in here. I thought I should come to be sure no one was having a stroke.”

  “I was grunting. It’s called working out. You should try it sometime.”

  “You should try sparring sometime.”

  Riot looked up at the playful grin on the Trilord’s face. His short, black beard accented the white teeth and elongated canines as he smiled. Riot took a swig from a water bottle. “Is that a challenge?”

  “I have nothing but respect for you as a Marine, but I don’t think it would be a fair fight. I have nine inches and more than a hundred pounds on you.” Ketrick glanced down at his body, then to hers.

  “You’re just doing this to rile me up.” Riot could read Ketrick like a book. “Let’s go, center of the mat. Let’s see how a Trilord prince stacks up against a Marine.”

  “If you insist,” Ketrick said, grinning even wider as he took off his shirt. His rippling chest was a mix of scars and black tattoos. Riot made out a dragon on his chest that looked like Vikta and numerous words written in what had to be his native tongue.

  Riot took her stance in the middle of the mat, knees bent, hands up. There was no doubt Ketrick was stronger than her, maybe even as fast as her, but she refused to think he was smarter or had more experience.

  Ketrick threw his shirt on the ground and tightened his long, black hair into a knot behind his head. He stood opposite her, grinning, with his own hands in front of his face. He had to look down at her, his six-foot-seven inch frame dwarfing her respectable five-foot-eight.

  “I’m going to knock that stupid grin off your face,” Riot said, unable to stop herself from cracking a grin at her own words. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “Come, then.” Ketrick licked his lips in anticipation. “Let’s see what humans can do in hand-to-hand combat.”

  Riot didn’t waste any time. She ducked and weaved around Ketrick, making him move his feet to keep him off balance. She threw her fists at him, poking and prodding for any openings.

  Ketrick parried her blows while dropping into a low crouch, staying on the balls of his feet, rotating to keep her in front of him. The reach he had on her could only be dealt with in one way.

  The Trilord loosed a flurry of jabs, searching for weak spot, trying to find a crack in Riot’s defenses. Riot returned the favor, batting his fist away or avoiding it altogether. Ketrick kicked out with a right foot. It grazed off Riot’s hands.

  Strong, and just as fast, Riot thought. But he doesn’t have much of an offensive game plan. He’s waiting on you to make the first mistake. We can do that for him.

  The chess match continued, neither scoring any serious strikes, until Riot feigned a trip. Ketrick followed in hard and fast after seeing what he thought was Riot legitimately stumbling on her own footing
. Ketrick closed the distance between them with a right fist.

  Riot sidestepped the block, landing two strikes to his face in quick succession before battering the back of his right knee with her own leg. Stunned, Ketrick went down to a kneeling position.

  If Ketrick thought Riot was going to go easy on him, those thoughts were quickly erased from his mind. Riot placed her right hand on the back of his head and brought her right knee up, making contact with his chin.

  Blood spurted from the Trilord’s split lip. Riot retracted her knee and brought it up again. Ketrick recovered from his brief moment of shock and blocked her second knee by crossing his forearms over his face.

  Ketrick shoved Riot back and rose to his feet.

  Riot wasn’t going to let him separate himself again where he would have the advantage in ranged attacks. She landed two more strikes to his stomach and jaw before he threw a right cross of his own that glanced off her chin.

  The impact of his blow rattled her for a brief moment, and Ketrick took the opportunity to tackle her, taking them both to the ground. Riot used this momentum to fall and roll, landing on top of the Trilord.

  “A human you would beat,” Riot said, fighting through his large arms as he tried to push her off. She dug her legs into either side of his torso pressing hard to hold her top position. “A Marine will give you a run for your money, no matter how big you are.”

  With a grunt, Ketrick bucked up hard with his hips. He combined the action with a roll sending both of them onto their sides. Riot abandoned her position, taking a spot behind his back. She hooked her right arm around his neck, her legs wrapped around him, squeezing hard.

  A few seconds of Riot pressing down on the Trilord’s windpipe was enough for the alien to realize he was beat. He tapped on the forearm wrapped around his throat in sign of surrender.

  Riot released her hold. She scooted out from underneath him and regained her feet.

  “Impressive,” Ketrick said, pushing himself to his feet. He pressed the back of his left hand against his still bleeding lip. “I wasn’t expecting the strategy you used, and your use of grappling skills is something I have never seen.”

  “Trust me.” Riot went to the corner of the room, where a stack of white towels stood ready for use. She grabbed one for herself, and threw another to Ketrick. “You learn fast when you have to. I’ve had plenty of time to practice in the Marines.”

  Ketrick nodded along with her words as he pressed the towel to his lip. “I wouldn’t want to count you among my enemies.”

  7

  That night, Riot slept like a baby. She woke with her dreams a distant memory. Thoughts that she could remember what she had dreamed about caressed her mind, but when she concentrated on bringing those memories to the surface, they fled.

  She spent the day checking the team’s weapons and armor before visiting her crew. Ketrick was in the cargo bay, wrestling with Vikta. Doctor Miller and Wang were in the med bay talking about medical case studies and theories of alien anatomy, and Riot popped her head in and out just as fast before she could be sucked in to the conversation.

  Her last inspection was in the engine room were Vet and Rizzo were hunched over a table. The engine room was a long hall with a strange rotating generator in the middle that hummed in a deep tone. A dark blue glow emanated from the power sources as it propelled the ship through light speed.

  Along the walls, different panels were covered. Other openings showed a series of clean, clear valves and pipes. Vet did an outstanding job of taking care of the engine room.

  The table the two Marines were hunched over was at the back of the room. A dirty blanket obscured something that ran the length of the table, but Riot knew what a body looked like, even if it was covered by a cloth.

  “Are you kidding me?” Riot’s voice made both men spin around. The sounds of her strides had been hidden by the hum of the generator. “Who did you kill and bring on board?”

  Rizzo pointed a finger at Vet.

  “It’s not what you think,” Vet sputtered, trying to keep his cool while being caught red-handed.

  “Really?” Riot said. She couldn’t believe Vet, a trained Marine, would do something so stupid and weird. “Because it looks like there is a body under that blanket.”

  “Okay, well, then maybe it is what you think,” Vet said. He swallowed so hard his Adam's apple bobbed down and back up. “It is a body, but it’s not human.”

  “You’re not making me feel any better,” Riot said, crossing the distance between herself and the Marines standing next to the table. “Who, or what, is under there?”

  It’s not as bad as it looks, Rizzo said with his hands. He signed slow so Riot could understand. Okay … maybe it is.

  Riot reached for the top of the stained blanket concealing the form of a body and pulled it back. Lying in front of her was the figure of a nearly completed robot body. Its head was bald; however, the features made it clear it was a female representation of a human. The torso was missing but a metal skeleton connected completed arms and legs to the rest of the frame.

  “I can explain everything,” Vet said in the same tone a child would use when about to be scolded by a parent. “It’s for Evonne. She wanted a body, so I thought I’d help make her one.”

  Riot looked to Vet and Rizzo, trying to come up with the right words. “Have neither of you seen any old movies about robots, ever?”

  I’m going to wash my hands of all of this, Rizzo signed. I was just checking in on Doctor Frankenstein here, and stumbled in on him and his project.

  “I do not wish to get any one in trouble,” Evonne said, her voice wafting from the walls of the ship itself. “If Corporal Vetash is wrong in trying to fulfill my request for a body, I will take full responsibility for his actions.”

  “No, no. No one is in trouble.” Riot folded her arms over her chest. She looked down on the half finished robot in silence. “It’s just the first time I’ve had to have this conversation.”

  BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

  A red light in the engine room pulsed with a steady beat.

  “As requested, I am warning you fifteen minutes before we are scheduled to exit FTL, Corporal Rizzo,” Evonne said.

  “We’re going to talk about this later,” Riot said to Vet, pointing two fingers to her own eyes before directing them at Vet. She focused in on his one good eye and lowered one of her fingers.

  “Yes, Captain.” Vet pulled the blanket back over the robotic skeleton.

  “Evonne, notify everyone to convene on the bridge,” Riot said, already following Rizzo out of the engine room. “Tell them to gather there in uniform, in ten.”

  Riot took her seat in the captain’s chair again. Her crew sat around her, going through another round of systems checks and monitoring everything from engine strength to the force field shields that would protect their ship when they exited FTL right into the gate. As much as Riot wanted to believe the Grovothe, things just didn’t add up.

  Once they exited the protection of FTL, they had to be ready for anything.

  A timer in red block letters counted down their exit into space. The numbers were at sixty seconds now as they wound down to zero.

  “We’ll need to inject the nanites into Ketrick before we land,” Wang said from his seat to her right. “Until then, he won’t be able to understand or speak to them.”

  Riot nodded along with Wang’s words. The Marines, along with Doctor Miller, had injected tiny robotic nanites that clung to their eardrums and throat both translating words said to them and words they said to others.

  This technology, much like their ship and weapons, had been given to them by the Syndicate. Without the intervention of the Syndicate, they would be in a much less advanced stage in the game. Think whatever you wanted about the aliens who had invaded Earth, they had advanced humanity centuries into the future.

  “Nanites?” Ketrick repeated from the seat behind Vet and to Riot’s right. “The drug you injected into me that helps me heal faster
?”

  “Well…” Wang said, looking over to the alien prince. “Yes and no. A different breed from the ones that help you heal. I’ll explain later. It’s not as bad as it sounds. Microscopic insect-like robots that attach themselves to the inside of your ears and throat… Okay, maybe that does sound bad.”

  “Let’s focus,” Riot reminded her crew as the timer wound down to zero. “Best case scenario we land in a big warm Grovothe hug and all goes as planned. Worst case scenario, we’re walking into an ambush.”

  The countdown screen hit zero.

  The light show that made up FTL travel dissipated around them, and their view went from swirling colorful light to one large gate of purple and turquoise. Then they were through, and into the blackness of space and distant stars once more.

  Except, Riot had been wrong. The worst thing that could happen to them was not walking into a trap. The worst thing was exiting FTL into the middle of a war.

  One second ticked by, introducing Riot to a whole new kind of warfare: a space battle. Through the front windows, Riot could see two massive ships that made the Marine destroyers back in the hangar at the Bulwark look like toy airplanes.

  Around these two juggernauts of war, hundreds of smaller crafts zipped through space. Nearly every craft was exchanging fire with an enemy on the other side of the fight.

  Two seconds ticked by, and Riot knew she had to give orders soon.

  The two factions slugging it out in space were easy to distinguish. On one side, cruisers and fighters looked sleek with smooth lines and various shades of grey paint. Red laser fire peppered the enemy and lanced through space.

  The other side’s ships were made up of sharp edges, black with green lasers hammering into their enemy. Riot witnessed a pair of the black fighters slam into a grey cruiser and lock on to its hull.

  Riot was familiar with this Karnayer tactic. They had used this ploy on her own ship when she and her crew had liberated the Trilords from their rule.

  “Evasive maneuvers, Corporal Rizzo,” Riot shouted. “Vet, give shield control to Doctor Miller, then take the heavy guns. Wang, Ketrick, gear up and bring me my weapons.”