Storm Surge (LAND&SEA Book 3)

Contents Cycle I Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Cycle II Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Cycle III Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Cycle IV Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Cycle V Epilogue Acknowledgments: About the Author: About the Creator: Storm Surge Book Three of Land & Sea Blaine Lee Pardoe Copyright © 2023 Creative Juggernaut LOGO—is a registered trademark of Creative Juggernaut ASHUR is a registered trademark of Creative Juggernaut Paperback ISBN: 979-8-88922-023-7 Hardcover ISBN: 979-8-88922-024-4 Printed in the United States of America Land & Sea created by Brent Evans Without limiting the rights under copyright restricted above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, digital, audio recording) without the prior written permission of by the copyright owner and the above publisher of the book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, or government agencies, is entirely coincidental. Any duplication and/or distribution of this book digitally or any by other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and prohibited by law. To the BattleTech fans who have chosen to join me on this journey into a new universe with Mecha, aliens, and cool things to blow up. The outpouring of support from my readers helped me get through the last year. You wanted to read good stories and all I have wanted to do is tell those tales. Cycle I Brooks Park, AIZ (Alien Incursion Zone), San Francisco, California Corporal Lacy “Pandora” Wallace of the 7th Infantry Division took point as her squad moved up into the hills of Brooks Park in San Francisco. Her hulking Mamba ASHUR rig slid through the scrub of the park, taking position near a copse of trees. In the darkness, the park didn’t look like much more than a block or two of hilltops covered with brush and trees. It was good high ground surrounded by two-story houses, now mostly abandoned. “Deploy in a W formation,” she said to her squad as she bent the Mamba’s knees to assume a lower profile. For the last three months, the fight for San Francisco had been brutal. The hills provided a third dimension to the urban combat environment. The Fish had surrounded the defenders in the heart of the city in their initial attack. The Army’s relief thrust from the south had been successful, but it left the heart of the city in the humans’ control, with all the bordering waterfront areas in possession of the aliens. As Wallace turned her Mamba and surveyed the terrain below her, she found it hard to remember what San Francisco looked like before the alien incursion. Many houses were rubble, while the fires that had torn through the city during the invasion gutted others. The darkness, the lack of lights, was creepy and hard to get used to. Big cities were supposed to be bright and full of life. What she saw below her was black devastation. Lightless, cold. These Fish are going to pay for what they did. Their mission, Operational Plan 210B-Red Sparkler, was a short recon of the enemy lines. An Air Force Havoc drone had picked up an alien patrol somewhere below. Red Sparkler was supposed to locate the enemy and report back on their size and disposition. The military actions of the aliens were puzzling to Wallace. Fighting other humans was predictable, but the aliens were inconsistent. The way they poked and prodded at the front lines was odd. Their offenses were in places a human enemy wouldn’t choose. There’s a lot about them we don’t understand yet—but we’re learning. With her hand control, she activated the tactical channel. “Alright, folks, it’s time we earned our pay. Drone intel shows enemy activity below us. We are going to move in, observe, gather data, and only engage if necessary. Engage your ACSes, check your squad mates—I don’t want a glitch exposing us all.” The adaptive camouflage system could make a soldier or ASHUR rig almost invisible. It had some quirks, though, and was not durable once the fighting started. The infantry of her squad, decked out in their STG-N and armed to the hilt, were quiet for a few moments. “We have any idea of what we are facing down there?” “If we did,” Corporal Wallace replied, “we wouldn’t be on the mission. Now then, maintain tight contact with each other. Troops on the flanks, watch to your rear as well; they can skirt behind us pretty fast. We’ve got two GRDs tonight, Spanky; I want you to deploy them out on point.” The ground robotic drones, or GRDs, were becoming a precious commodity. Many had been lost in the initial invasion. There were rumors of new models being issued, but Lacy knew better than to trust rumors. Talk and speculation is cheap at the front. The pair of drones moved out first. The combat-ready Pit Bull had seen so much action that it’d had an almost complete replacement of its armor. The sensor-equipped Greyhound had two replacement legs, the fresh paint making them stand out. Spanky, the squad’s drone operator, maneuvered them down the hillside and into the ruins of the neighborhood. Corporal Wallace watched her battlespace display as they moved, each yard giving her a more complete picture of the ground below. They made their way toward the heart of San Francisco, creeping down a block and a half. So far, so good. “Weapons hot, people,” she commanded, bringing her big-barreled ACR-30 online. The Mamba