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Payback: A Military Sci-Fi Series (Earth Legions Book 2), page 1

 

Payback: A Military Sci-Fi Series (Earth Legions Book 2)
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Payback: A Military Sci-Fi Series (Earth Legions Book 2)


  PAYBACK

  ©2023 M.V. Viltch

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the authors.

  Aethon Books supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact editor@aethonbooks.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Aethon Books

  www.aethonbooks.com

  Typography, Print and eBook formatting by Steve Beaulieu. Artwork provided by Vivid Covers.

  Published by Aethon Books LLC.

  Aethon Books is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead is coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  ALSO IN SERIES

  Also in series:

  Gold Squad

  Payback

  Turning Point

  CONTENTS

  Timeline of events

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Thank you for reading Payback

  TIMELINE OF EVENTS

  2132: The Synths, originally dubbed ‘The Others,’ invade an isolated planet in the Sol System, populated by a primitive species just starting to venture out into the cosmos. War ensues as humanity scrambles to resist, unifying under Earth-Gov.

  2141: The sleeks, agents of the ancients tasked with maintaining a balance between the species of the Milky Way, stick their snake snouts into the fray. They see something in humanity—a high population count and a timeless propensity for war and conflict. They see troops. Millions of them. They make Earth a deal it can’t refuse; advanced tech, weapons, and improved jump drives. All of which can be bought using the galactic credit, a currency that can be earned from them. Treaties and contracts are signed, and arrangements made. The Legions come into being, with the Galactic Senate for oversight.

  2142: Earth is liberated of the Synths and now indentured like so many others. The advanced tech required to keep the human Legions a relevant force amongst the galaxy is proprietary to the sleeks and is banned from replication.

  2183: The Galactic Senate, residing on the now-inhabited Mars, is full thrust ahead on their quest to rid the galaxy of the Synths. The three cohorts of Legion Invictus, aboard the troop carrier Venator, achieve a record-time victory on planet Atlas, prompting a visit from the Legion’s Legate. She is coming to congratulate the ranks, and one trooper in particular—Jake Adlar.

  “Arms and laws do not flourish together.”

  - Julius Caesar

  CHAPTER

  ONE

  Over the past few days, I’d survived countless nightmares much: gargantuan cyclopean monsters whom the Synths purchased and enslaved, a near-death in an explosion, carnivorous moths that peeled a man’s flesh off him in a matter of seconds as if he were a banana, and one crazy-as-shit, treasonous Centurion who was handing people to the Synths and had been determined to murder me.

  Fortunately, Centurion Fallon not only failed, but her evil scheme of transferring a newb like me to Gold Squad had completely backfired. I was now a hero of sorts, sitting amidst the brass to meet the exalted ruler of Legion, Invictus, herself.

  Did I feel like a hero? Not really. I hadn’t gallantly charged the Synth’s Synths’ shield screaming adulations to the Legion. More like butterfingered my own frag, fell into the crater it had blown, then had no other place to run but inside the shield if I didn’t want to sizzle like a strip of bacon inside my armor from incoming fire.

  Though the chair in Centurion Braves’ office was comfortable and the alcohol he kept pouring into my glass satisfying, I shuddered. I thought back to that wretched planet and my dance with death. I’d skirted the flame for sure. Still, I was happy with my choice and knew I’d make the same one if I had a redo. did it all again. I trusted Centurion Paxton, and if his premonition about the ancients coming out of the shadows was to pass, each and every victory mattered.

  Now, if only such a victory hadn’t involved us decimating a chunk of an inhabited planet. That part churned my gut. As disgusting and vicious as those bugs had been, they were still civilians, and we’d ravaged their home without a moment’s thought. We’d caused more havoc than the Synths themselves. It didn’t sit right with me, but as always, no one was asking the opinion of the rank and file.

  The three Centurions in the office with me, Braves, Fallon, and Paxton, were busy celebrating. Even Fallon slowly but surely recovered from her sour mood and joined in on the conversation, between glaring at me that is. She was fifth unit’s Centurion. A witchy kind of woman with claws out, hissing and threatening and the like.

  I returned her stink-eye with one of my own. Then, I got bored and made it a point to ignore the vile witch. She and I still had one hell of a conversation to get to about her extracurriculars, but not now. I wanted to relax.

  Upending the rest of my drink in one swallow, I was about to ask Braves for a top-off when every electronic device rattled and buzzed at once. I knew the ruckus could only mean one thing, Legate Maldovi was about to grace Venator with her presence.

  The mood in the room immediately tensed as Centurion Paxton ran up to me and relieved me of my glass. He was my unit’s Centurion, square-jawed, built like a dump-truck, and as by the book as they came. Unfortunately, he was also Centurion Fallon’s bunkmate, or whatever strange, twisted relationship they had going on.

  “I think you’ve had enough,” Paxton said, placing the glass on Braves’ desk as I longingly followed it with my eyes.

  There were still a few drops I hadn’t gotten to.

  With an exasperated sigh, Fallon rose from the couch. “It starts. Time to pucker up, gentlemen. After all, we can’t have the Legate feeling unwelcome.”

  She reached her arms up in a long stretch, then, for some strange and unsavory reason, strode in my direction. Clenching my jaw tight in irritation, my head whipped to look away as I pretended to be mesmerized by the deck. I figured maybe if I didn’t look the beast in the eye, it would simply venture past. I wasn’t so lucky. A shadow fell over me, and I felt the heat of another body.

  Suppressing a groan, I glanced up at Fallon’s petite form hovering over me, hands on her hips and a disapproving scowl on her face. Basically, her usual expression.

  “Paxton, I can’t wait to tell you I told you so. I can’t imagine who thought introducing this one to the Legate was a good idea.”

  Feeling a bit on the brave side, considering the crow had been knocked down a few pegs here in the last hour, I decided to try something.

  “Aww… now, Centurion,” I said with feigned pleasantness and a brimming grin. “I bet I’m going to make a great impression, you just watch.”

  The woman had blackmailed me into committing treason, and it was about time I stood up to her.

  My sudden bravado caught Paxton off-guard. He’d already started making his way to the door but upon my proclamation, stopped abruptly and spun with a squeak of his boots.

  He studied me with narrowed eyes. “Is there something wrong with you, Adlar?”

  I placed a hand over my chest in innocence. “No, sir! Just ready for this grand event, that’s all.”

  Paxton’s eyes narrowed further as they darted between the glass on the desk and me.

  “You have to be ki
dding.” He threw Braves a dirty look.

  Braves answered Paxton’s disapproval with a clueless shrug, while throwing me a wink out of Paxton’s view. I resisted a smile. Centurion Braves was sixth unit’s Centurion. An older guy with silver hair, an Australian accent, and was hardly ever without a bottle. He was Paxton’s close friend and as cheerful as could be. as they came. He’d refilled my empty glass each and every time I placed it on his desk without pausing the conversation.

  Face tight with concern, Paxton rushed to a drawer and tossed me a bottle of water. “Here, drink this. Then let’s go. This is no joking matter, trooper. The Legate is…”

  He paused. “Well, she’s the Legate. The boss. Bigger than that, in fact. Whatever deity you believe in, trooper, replace them with her. It’s imperative everything goes smoothly.”

  As I was busy snagging the flying bottle out of the air, a mumbled “Yes, sir,” was all I managed.

  Braves chuckled in the background. “The Legate likes to make an entrance, that’s for sure. Wonder what shenanigans she’ll bring with her this time. She’s not traveling all this way just to shake hands. Something’s up.”

  Fallon scoffed. “As long as we’re all left out of it, who gives a fuck?”

  She eyed me rudely as I slurped my water. “Disgusting.”

  Her lip twisted. “In conclusion, don’t fuck this up, hero.”

  I used my sleeve to wipe the water dripping off my chin, then grinned at her. “I wouldn’t dream of it, sir. But just in case, maybe I can stand by you, so you can show me the ropes.”

  Fallon’s face flushed, which egged me on.

  “Perhaps, I’ll throw in a good word for you, sir,” I said between gulps. “For seeing my potential before anyone else did. Responsible for that transfer—”

  “Don’t you dare!” Fallon cut me off with a hiss, her jaw clenched tight enough to crack a tooth.

  It was all I could do to keep a straight face, and I wasn’t the only one enjoying the show. Whereas Paxton was loitering by the door impatiently, waiting for me to finish my water, Braves was still behind his desk, sipping his drink casually as he eyed Billy with admiration. Billy was the stuffed kangaroo with a bullet hole in its head he had in his office. Apparently, the two were mates back on Earth, and he decided the thing should join him in space the only way it could—dead.

  Braves chuckled as his attention veered from Billy to watching Fallon and me with rapt amusement. If there was anyone on the ship—in the entire galaxy, in fact—who hated Centurion Fallon more than I did, it was Braves. I didn’t know the history there, but I wanted to. I bet it was juicy.

  “You leave me out of this, you little twirp!” Fallon exclaimed as her head twisted between the other Centurions. “Leave us all out of it!”

  Her gaze froze on Paxton with a demanding expression, but Paxton had no intention of dealing with the trivial matter. He was now standing in the hall, brimming with impatience.

  “All right, enough dillydallying,” he snapped, sweeping a hand towards the elevators. “Let’s go. All of you. You can bicker later.”

  Chuckling, Braves obliged, but not before downing the rest of his drink in one swallow and slamming his glass down on his desk with a clatter. He smacked his lips and hissed with satisfaction.

  “What was it I said earlier about entertainment?”

  He threw me a smirk and another wink over his shoulder as he strolled to the door.

  Disposing of the empty water bottle, I darted into the hall after them. My eyebrows shot up at the unexpected change of scenery. The security seemed to have increased tenfold with both Fleet MPs and Marines stationed throughout the hall. It was as if I’d been transported to a different ship altogether. A prisoner transport by the looks of it.

  I wasn’t surprised to see the Marines. Since they were under the ship captain’s authority and not the Legions, it made sense he’d want them deployed to protect Fleet personnel from the unpredictable sleeping lions that were the Legionnaires. Who knew what kind of wild ideas this Legate was going to have or what personal guard or forces were going to be in her posse?

  We piled into the elevator, and I couldn’t help but grin when I saw which option Paxton’s finger had jabbed on the control panel, nor could I hold back my commentary. Uncensored words fueled by intrigue, and perhaps whiskey, spilled out before I could stop myself.

  “We’re going all the way up to bridge deck?” I whistled. “I bet they have some cool tech up there, don’t they? You think I’ll be able to wrangle a tour from them Fleet types?”

  I’d never been on the bridge of a troop carrier before, or any carrier for that matter.

  “After the meet and greet, of course,” I rushed to add when I saw my enthusiasm hadn’t gone down so well. The three Centurions looked kind of sour. Even Braves’ cheery mood had dulled a notch.

  The three exchanged concerned glances.

  “Look, Adlar,” Centurion Paxton started. “I know you’re not exactly… uhm… how do I say this.”

  His eyes flicked to the ceiling, then back to me.

  “A prime example of discipline. A fact I don’t hold against you, considering the minimal training you’ve received, but I’m going to need you to pull it together, at least for now. Then, after this debacle concludes, you may go back to being…”

  He rubbed his chin. “You.”

  The elevator glided to a stop, and the doors slid open. This deck was as lavish as the one below, carpeted, with paintings adorning the walls. The one I could just glimpse from the elevator was of a battle group approaching a hazy orange planet.

  Instead of exiting, Paxton continued to stare at me. “And I think it will be in everyone’s best interest if you keep your mouth shut from now on. In fact, consider that an order. Is that understood, trooper?”

  “Uh…” I shuffled in place.

  How was I supposed to answer his questions when he’d just ordered me to keep my mouth shut? None of the Centurions made a move to exit and continued to stare at me expectantly, even as the MPs posted by the elevator peeked in with curious glances.

  Deciding it was best not to test Paxton, I nodded silently. After all, the man was right, it would be in everyone’s best interest if I kept my mouth shut. Then all this would conclude, and I’d be free to skedaddle. I wasn’t getting that bridge tour, the Centurion’s onery expressions had said as much, but that was fine. I’d find Taylor, the green-eyed Fleet pilot I started a thing with, maybe invite her to spend the night.

  Satisfied with my nonverbal reply, our group finally exited the elevator, and I reluctantly—and silently—tailed the Centurions down the hall. Unfortunately, we walked the opposite way of the bridge and joined a mob of Legion brass and SF officers gathered in an opulent lobby next to an airlock. Springy carpet was under my boots, and the walls were overlaid with a tan marble material that glistened in the bright overhead lights.

  It even smelled better here, like fresh linen and mint, without a hint of the stale stench of old sweat, entrails, and burnt ozone that was customary to the trooper decks.

  Tribune Gallus was already present, milling next to a pair of floor-to-ceiling columns partially embedded into the wall with golden vines engraved into the marble. He was the head Legion officer aboard Venator, in charge of every Legionnaire; a dark-skinned man with gallant features whose face was plastered on every Legion site and recruitment ad there was.

 
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