Blue Force

CONTENTS ALSO IN THE SERIES 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 Also by Rick Partlow ALSO IN THE SERIES FROM THE PUBLISHER About Rick Partlow BLUE FORCE ©2023 RICK PARTLOW 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 [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights. Aethon Books www.aethonbooks.com Print and eBook formatting by Steve Beaulieu. 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 THE SERIES CONTACT FRONT KINETIC STRIKE DANGER CLOSE DIRECT FIRE HOME FRONT FIRE BASE SHOCK ACTION RELEASE POINT KILL BOX DROP ZONE TANGO DOWN BLUE FORCE WEAPONS FREE 1 My opponent’s eyes locked on mine, daring me to keep my gaze there. It was a trick. The late Sgt.-Major Ellen Campbell had told me that the temptation to watch the enemy’s eyes was a trap. The eyes could deceive, could feint, could lead you astray. You didn’t watch their feet either, because if they were good, their footwork could be just as deceptive. No, you watched their hips, their center of gravity. When their weight shifted, you knew they were going to strike, and when you saw which way they were distributing their balance, you knew which side the hit would come from. Of course, these particular hips were pretty distracting all on their own, and it was all I could do to keep my attention on the fight instead of on Victoria Sandoval’s legs. She grinned under those dark, intense eyes. “You’re not thinking with your big head, Cam,” she warned me. I laughed, though I didn’t lose my concentration. She was trying to distract me. That’s why she’d worn the tight gym shorts and cut-off t-shirt instead of her usual sweats. “You really want to win that bet, don’t you?” I replied softly, the padded mats on the gym deck squeaking beneath my bare feet as I shifted my weight, circling around her. “All or nothing,” she confirmed. “We’re tied at three matches apiece, and we arrive back at Yfingam in three hours.” It was a tribute both to our boredom and my own need to relieve the nearly constant tension of the last few weeks when we’d made the bet in the first place. We’d been sparring with each other for years, of course, just to keep in shape, and we were probably more serious about it than most Drop Troopers. That was mostly due to Top’s influence, her conviction that a Marine was always a Marine, whether in or out of their battlesuit, and they should always be ready to fight even if they were naked. But the bet… that was taking things to a new level. Vicky moved. She was damned fast, and if I outweighed her by eighteen kilos, well, the speed made up for some of that. The kick was the snap of a bullwhip, and if I’d tried to block it, it would have likely made my whole arm go numb for a second. Luckily, I didn’t try. Bruce Lee once said the best way to block a strike is not to be there when it lands. He probably meant something philosophical by that, something about avoiding fights when possible, but I was a Marine and fighting was what I did, so I chose to interpret the advice in my own way. I’d sidestepped the second I saw her weight shift and her foot snapped through empty space, the wind of its passage cool against the sweat beading on my face. A push to the back of her leg, just enough of a brush to send her off-balance, make her take an extra second to regain her footing. Enough for me to duck into a leg sweep on her plant foot. She cursed loudly, slapping an arm on the mat to spread out the impact. I lunged toward her, grabbing her in a rear naked choke before she could get her feet back under her. She patted my arm immediately, sighing in disgust. “Why the hell did I do that?” she asked, slapping the plastic again as she sat up. “That was stupid, just showing off.” “Top always said don’t kick someone above the waist,” I agreed, clambering to my feet and offering her a hand up. “Of course, I kind of broke that rule myself when I was fighting Colonel Hachette in his office.” It seemed like years ago, not weeks, when I’d had to resort to smacking Hachette upside the head to