Author/Uploaded by James Rosone; Miranda Watson
********** Into the Terror Book Eight of Rise of the Republic By James Rosone and Miranda Watson ********** Illustration © Tom Edwards Tom EdwardsDesign.com ********** Published in conjunction with Front Line Publishing, Inc. Manuscript Copyright Notice ©2023, James Rosone and Miranda Watson, in conjunction with Front Line Publishing, Inc. Except as provided by the Copyright Act, no part of this...
********** Into the Terror Book Eight of Rise of the Republic By James Rosone and Miranda Watson ********** Illustration © Tom Edwards Tom EdwardsDesign.com ********** Published in conjunction with Front Line Publishing, Inc. Manuscript Copyright Notice ©2023, James Rosone and Miranda Watson, in conjunction with Front Line Publishing, Inc. Except as provided by the Copyright Act, 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 written permission of the publisher. All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-957634-59-3 Sun City Center, Florida, United States of America Library of Congress Control Number: 2022917263 Table of Contents Prologue Chapter One: Peeling Back the Onion Chapter Two: Back at the Capital Chapter Three: Feeling Green Chapter Four: Potsdam Cookout Chapter Five: Sky Towers Chapter Six: Bad News and a Message Chapter Seven: Unwrapping the Gift Chapter Eight: Get to the Bunker Chapter Nine: This Might Work Chapter Ten: The Plan Chapter Eleven: Welcome Home Chapter Twelve: Another Plot Chapter Thirteen: Where Have You Been? Chapter Fourteen: Phantoms in the Night Chapter Fifteen: Taking Flight Chapter Sixteen: First Blood Chapter Seventeen: You Got a Mission Chapter Eighteen: Let Me Show You, Son Chapter Nineteen: The Freedom Fleet Chapter Twenty: The Meeting Chapter Twenty-One: A Mission to Mars Chapter Twenty-Two: Why Now? Why Gurista? Chapter Twenty-Three: Infestation Chapter Twenty-Four: The Guristas Chapter Twenty-Five: State of the Republic Chapter Twenty-Six: Gurista Prep Chapter Twenty-Seven: Clearing the Districts Chapter Twenty-Eight: Staging Grounds Chapter Twenty-Nine: Deliverance Chapter Thirty: Vanguard Makes a Stand Abbreviation Key Prologue Before the Zodark Attacks Sumer, Qatana System The Interstellar Marshal Service had been tracking a known member of the Mukhabarat for some time, collecting data about his contacts, places of business, and activities—whether he knew it or not, Odeh was a marked man. Every person he interacted with either became a mark in their own right or was quietly “disappeared” on the side, eliminated from the chessboard. Kamran had been a part of the IMS contingent on Sumer since the service had begun incorporating Sumerians, and he loved a good stakeout. He had been following Odeh for weeks now, tracking his movements, learning his habits, and monitoring his communications. He knew when he went to bed, when he took a morning jog, how he took his coffee, and most importantly, what parts of his business were legitimate and which were not, and how he was furthering Mukhabarat activity. So, when a shipment arrived at the back of Odeh’s restaurant on a Tuesday, late in the evening, Kamran knew something was up. “We’ve got three small packages, about the size of a flower vase,” Kamran announced over the comms. “Any idea what they are?” asked his team lead. Kamran was situated in a van in a parking garage nearby, looking at footage of the scene taken from various angles. He glanced at some of the monitors that held additional tools such as infrared and radiation imagery. He rubbed his eyes. “I’m seeing an odd signature here, boss. I’m running it through our systems now…” Kamran swore. “This can’t be real—” “What? What is it?” pressed the team lead. “It’s—it’s those energy bombs,” Kamran stammered. “You mean EMPs?” “I think that’s what you Terrans call them, but they don’t work exactly the same. I think they’re Zodark tech—anyway, that doesn’t matter. We need to contain this!” “Hold your horses there, Kamran,” said the team lead. “If we take it all down now, we lose this gravy train we’ve got going.” Kamran took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He knew that was how the IMS operated, but he also knew what could happen if these things got out. “We need to lock this down, boss. Put the best teams on it. You don’t want to see the level of destruction these little jars can unleash.” “Don’t get your panties in a wad, Kamran. Remember your training and just focus on your next task. Now, where exactly is Odeh putting these things?” ******* One Week Later Office of the IMS Director Jacksonville, Arkansas Earth, Sol System IMS Director Reinhard Gehlen was waiting for the agent in charge on the ground to call him with the news that they’d nabbed their HVI, but the call hadn’t happened yet. Last week on Sumer, they’d discovered three energy weapons that were Zodark technology, similar to EMPs—fortunately, two of those weapons had been captured before they’d left the planet, along with the Ani operatives that had been sent to collect them. Those Ani were now sitting in interrogation booths. However, the third operative had managed to evade the IMS personnel on Sumer, and he had slipped away into a freighter, lost in the wind—that was, until a few hours ago, when his biometrics had been flagged on the John Glenn. He’d exited a freighter from Sumer and was now on his way down the space elevator, hopefully into the waiting arms of his agent in charge and the team Gehlen had hastily put together. Gehlen had had to suppress the urge to micromanage the hell out of that operation, but he’d settled for putting the fear of God in his people that this must be contained. Gehlen’s neurolink alerted him to an incoming call. “Yeah?” he asked, forgoing the more standard etiquette with voice conversations. “Boss, I don’t know what happened, but he’s slipped past us. We’ve been scouring the area and scanning through the CCTV footage—he’s just disappeared.” “Damn it!” Gehlen roared. “Keep searching—he has to be there, somewhere.” “Yes, boss. We’ll exhaust all options.” The call disconnected. Gehlen swore loudly. He picked up his coffee and threw it at the wall. The Republic-issued mug didn’t break, but a huge mess remained. He sat back down and put his head in his hands. His secretary must have heard the racket and cautiously walked in. “Sir, is everything OK?” “No, it most certainly is not,” he replied, calming himself down. “But unfortunately, I don’t think