Saturday Snippet and new books

 

Before we get to today's Snippet, let's begin with a few new books by friends that they've launched over the past week or so.  I'll list them in alphabetical order by author.

Regular readers will recall my reviews of Jason Fuesting's first two military science fiction novels, "By Dawn's Early Light" and "Foreign Shores".  They're part of a series he calls "Echoes of Liberty".  The third in the series, "This We'll Defend", has just been published.

The blurb reads:

Captain Eric Friedrich traded his ship to reach the heart of Confederate space and what temporary safety it offered.

Preferring to be the hunter instead of the hunted, Eric now seeks to avenge his fallen and defend his new homeland, but to do that he must plot a course through unfamiliar waters. He will leverage everything he can, bargain with shadowy government agencies, strike deals with politicians, and run head first into danger once again.

Failure will cost him everything he holds dear, but the clock is ticking and the only way to go is forward.

I've read the book twice over the past week.  It's absorbing and interesting, with some plot twists that will keep you guessing.  I'm already looking forward to the next book in the series.

Next, Cedar Sanderson has released a collection of eight fantasy stories that she's titled "Crow Moon".

The blurb reads:

Eight fantastic tales of swords, sorcery, love and justice.

The honeymoon is over.... before it even began. Nico and Emie face the biggest decision of their lives, and hope that it won't kill them.

Cecelia's dowry is a worthless field, and a friendship begun in a macabre deal.

Soleh fights her way out of a cruel marriage and swears vengeance by the lost gods of a dead clan. She rides with the darkest of companions at her side.

In a breath of air on an unmasked face, the worth of a life is laid bare.

Amaya Lombard faces her past, risking her future, in the very place where her magic was stripped from her blood and bone.

He answered his son's call for help, but nothing could have prepared him for what his son had done... and expected him to take care of.

The boyar's son must marry, to save his lands and people. The domovoi bids him wed, but she will only come to him if he fills her every request. Can he swallow his gorge long enough?

Lom rides for the goblin camp, death along the path. His bargain will have a cruel cost...

Cedar always entertains with her fantasy tales, beginning with her first book, "Pixie Noir" (still one of my favorites).  I've only read a few pages of her latest, due to being preoccupied with finishing Jason Fuestings latest (above), but hers is next on my list.  I know I'll enjoy it.

John van Stry is well-known in the independent publishing world.  He's just published his first book for Baen, "Summer's End".

The blurb reads:

Fresh out of college with his Ship Engineer 3rd-Class certificate, Dave Walker’s only thought is to try to find a berth on a corporate ship plying the trade routes between the many habs, orbitals, and moons in the Solar System. The problem for Dave, however, isn't his straight C average; it's that his stepfather, a powerful Earth Senator he’s never met, now wants him dead.

Forced to take the first berth he can find, Dave ends up on the Iowa Hill, an old tramp freighter running with a minimal crew and nearing the end of its useful life, plying the routes that the corporations ignore and visiting the kinds of places that the folks on Earth pretend don’t exist.

Between the assassins, the criminals, and the pirates he needs to deal with, Dave is discovering that there are a lot of things out there that he still needs to learn.

But there’s one hard lesson he learned long ago that he’s being forced to remember: how to be ruthless.

My wife has been enjoying his book, not least because one of the characters in it is strangely like her, even down to the name!  We're going to have to tease the heck out of John when we see him this weekend.  I'll get to it as soon as I've finished Cedar's latest.

For today's Snippet, here's an excerpt from Jason Fuesting's latest, "This We'll Defend".  It's a combined arms exercise scenario.  The author's military background and experience shine through.

Eric nervously paced the roof of the night club. Even though this section of the roof didn’t have clear line of sight to where OPFOR was lurking, he still varied his pace irregularly to complicate anyone taking a shot from long range. He looked to the darkening sky, to the oranges and yellows that lined the horizon, to the trees and grasslands downslope of the mountain. Outside of Solitude, I don’t think I’ve seen a more serene mountainside. Beautiful place to die. God, I hope this works.

Eric’s handheld crackled. “Sir, last of the drums have been emptied.”

“The wood and debris are in place?”

“Aye, sir,” Benson replied.

“And the secondary drums set where I asked?”

“Aye.”

“Light it.” Eric glanced to the silent buildings surrounding him and keyed his radio again. “Jack-in-the-Box, you copy?”

“Jack-in-the-Box copies.”

“You guys stay frosty.”

“Jack-in-the-Box confirms frosty.”

Eric turned on his heel as flames began to lap across the street gutters surrounding the club. It would ignite the debris his men had placed, and eventually climb the sides of several barrels located around the club. The key to all of this would be the enemy attacking while the heat from those barrels still obscured the thermal signatures of his men inside the building along with the surprise he had planned. If OPFOR attacked within the next two hours, there’d likely be enough light from all the fires to render normal night vision useless as well.

Eric stepped through the roof access door and nodded to the marine standing just inside. “Close her up, Marine.”

The private immediately began nailing the door shut while Eric walked down the stairs just inside. When the private finished, he’d place a brace to make kicking it in a much harder proposition. Explosives would still do the job, but anyone blowing the door wouldn’t know about the grenade sim balanced just so above it. “Benson, we remembered to block the back door, right?”

“Yes, sir. Big noisy trash container just like you asked. Stripped the rubber off the wheels myself.”

“Good. Thank God the techno types hated sunlight. Gardiola got that gen set rolling right?”

“Affirmative. Not sure how long it’ll be happy when you throw the switch, but it should be good for a little bit of a show.”

“Good job, Benson. Make sure Gardiola gets some kind of recognition after this if I don’t get to the other side in one piece, would you? You guys have shit luck with officers and that genny determines which side gets slaughtered tonight.”

“Copy, sir.”

“Get everybody to their positions. Make sure they understand we have no idea when the attack will come, but it is coming. Tonight.” God, I hope I’m not wrong.

“Copy that, sir. We’re already set up. Just waiting for you.”

Eric took the last flight of steps at a trot and set up in one of the main hall’s new sandbagged hides as everyone nervously checked magazines one more time. He glanced over to Benson. “Save the blooper for if we’re well and truly fucked. Might as well take the entry team with us if it gets that bad.”

While Eric settled in, he watched the two-man team behind the short sandbag berm in the middle of the stage, directly across from the doors to the lobby. They popped the top on their machinegun and laid in a belt. Eric found something comforting in the sound of the heavy bolt being worked.

Thankfully, the years spent on Solitude and onboard ship had honed Eric’s ability to hurry up and wait without getting so bored he’d get desensitized or sleepy. Slightly over an hour passed when his hand-held, adjusted to the lowest volume, crackled at a whisper, “Dancefloor, belfry. Someone just tried the door.”

“Jack-in-the-Box, any eyes-on?” Eric whispered.

“Negative. Night’s still clear. Plenty of light to see by. Nothing moving.”

Eric swallowed to wet his mouth and quietly said, “Belfry, be ready for frag if they decide to breach.”

“Belfry copies.”

“Rear ushers, be ready to support,” Benson whispered.

Eric’s breath caught when a doorknob on the lobby doors moved just enough to change the glint reflecting into his eyes.

“Queue the music, boys,” Eric whispered and gestured with a hand. He thumbed his rifle off safe as he slumped behind the sandbags in front of him. “Wait for the song to start.”

Moments later the door swung open. Eric heard the glass they’d scattered crunch under boots. He heard the boots halt, all of them, perhaps eight pairs, as they navigated the obvious commo wire tripwire he’d set up. Unfortunately for their guests, the ultralight low-vis fishing line they’d retrieved from the sporting goods store two blocks down was a bit harder to see. With an audible pop, every blacklight and every strobe in the place snapped on. Thirty rifles rose in unison and barked the opening notes of every infantryman’s favorite song to play, Ambush in A-major.

Outside, Jack-in-the-Box’s brevet tank commander flipped the Williamson’s master power breaker from stand-by to on. While the Williamson’s turret servos and targeting systems came fully online, he leaned into the display for the main gun’s optics. Indicators in the edge of the display lit green to green as the gun’s capacitors hit full charge. And then the music started in earnest.

Inside the club, the strobe effect coming from thirty rifles firing alongside actual strobe and black lights made the ambush look like a surreal low-framerate video. OPFOR’s suddenly overwhelmed optical camouflage failed to maintain transparency in the first few moments, creating ghostly man-shaped bends in the air, and several hits later, bleeding afterimages and spectral flickering that carried through the dark moments between the synced strobes. Above it all, the platoon’s machine-gun roared, matched seconds later by its twin and the heavy, repetitive thumping of Jack-in-the-Box’s coaxial machinegun.

“CEASE FIRE!” Eric bellowed moments later when he noted the intruders were all down. The call was quickly taken up by his squad leaders. Outside, the Williamson’s coaxial chewed on, punctuated by the tank’s railgun firing frangible low-impact training rounds.

Heart racing, Eric lifted his handheld. “Jack, Dancefloor. Status?”

“Dancefloor, we’re just mopping up out here. Had a few squirters. F***ing crunchies.”

All the radios in the room barked, “EXCON calls scenario pause for review. All elements stand down.”

Eric gave Benson a knife-hand signal and as their attackers got to their feet someone cut the ambush lighting. Two men materialized as they entered from the lobby. Approaching Eric, they shed the thick overcoat and the bug-like half-mask, half-helmets used for optical camo to reveal black cadre shirts.

“Captain Friedrich?” the older of the two said with no hint of irony at the rank. “Major Tomlin. My second is Master Sergeant Nacy. What exactly did you think you were doing here, Captain?”

The admonition in the man’s tone was unmistakable. Eric went to parade rest. “Sir?”

“I’m fairly certain the folks at TRADOC are crying because of how you just had your way with their doctrine, Captain.”

“In my defense, sir, I was not briefed on which doctrine I should follow. Given the circumstances, it occurred to me that in the real-world execution, doctrine probably went out the window the moment the first transport landed, sir.”

The Major broke into a reluctant grin. “Very true. Based on the circumstances, we expected some non-traditional tactics, but this? This wasn’t it. Seriously, Captain, what were you thinking? How did you know? Walk me through while the data compiles. It’ll be a few minutes before the results are fully processed.”

“Well, to be bluntly honest, I went with my gut. Earlier, when Corporal Benson and I were going over our preps for tonight, he reminded me of a few things.”

“Such as?”

“Well, we were still chewing on what had happened to OP Golf, sir. The conversation strayed into what had actually happened in Fulda the first time around. It just sorta struck me out of nowhere. Thirty marines don’t just disappear. We’re a little hard to kill, as I’m sure everyone just noticed.”

The Major shook his head, “We, Captain? Going native are we?”

“What can I say, sir? Marines are like fungus. They kinda grow on you, and then you can’t get rid of them.” Eric shrugged. A third man in the dead-black of deactivated optical camouflage joined them. In the dim light, the man was solidly built, but appeared otherwise unremarkable.

“Oh, Captain, let me introduce you to the infiltration team leader, Captain Burke. Burke, you got your ass blown right the **** off tonight.”

Burke grinned. “Not every day we get sat on our asses. As if we still had asses to sit on anymore after that.” Burke offered his hand to Eric. “Congratulations, Captain.”

Eric shook the offered hand and pulled away with something in his palm. A coin with a unit symbol he didn’t recognize, a broken triangle with a bayonet driven through it from below.

“You were saying thirty marines simply don’t disappear, Captain?” the Major prompted.

“Right.” Eric redirected his attention to the men as he pocketed the coin. “So I asked myself what would kill thirty marines in a night, no calls for help, and do it quickly, cleanly enough that a corps could make the gap and be in Johnston City by the morning. It all just kinda snapped into place. Optical camo and a raiding team who knew what they were doing.”

“And?”

“And I thought back to a few lessons I’d been taught elsewhere while Benson and I looked over the map. I knew optical camouflage is not fond of UV, and I noticed the club on the map. Black lights emit quite a bit of UV, sir. Add in some strobes for dazzle and you’ve got a pretty good surprise if you can pull it off. I wanted whoever was coming in to be blind on both NV and thermals, so we gathered what we could burn and laid it out. I’d hoped the heat bloom would conceal the fact that the Williamson was manned and on standby while also making it hard for long-term surveillance to figure out where we were inside.”

Major Tomlin’s eyes narrowed a moment and then he slowly shook his head. “A dangerous bet, Captain, bottling your men up here.”

Eric agreed with a slight shrug. “I had contingencies if I was wrong, but ultimately? Audentes Fortuna iuvat.”

Both the Major and Captain Burke nodded.

“That it does, Captain,” Major Tomlin agreed.

That's one of several fun and exciting action sequences in the novel.  Recommended reading, particularly for military veterans.

Peter