REV Read online

  REV

  The REV Warriors Series

  TR Harris

  Book 1

  Contents

  Email List

  Novels by T.R. Harris

  REV

  Notes

  Chapter 1

  Notes

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Notes

  Chapter 4

  Notes

  Chapter 5

  Notes

  Chapter 6

  Notes

  Chapter 7

  Notes

  Chapter 8

  Notes

  Chapter 9

  Notes

  Chapter 10

  Notes

  Chapter 11

  Notes

  Chapter 12

  Notes

  Chapter 13

  Notes

  Chapter 14

  Notes

  Chapter 15

  Notes

  Chapter 16

  Notes

  Chapter 17

  Notes

  Chapter 18

  Notes

  Chapter 19

  Notes

  Chapter 20

  Notes

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Notes

  Chapter 23

  Notes

  Chapter 24

  Notes

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  The REV Saga continues…

  The Next Adam Cain Adventure

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  Novels by T.R. Harris

  Copyright 2018 by T.R. Harris

  All rights reserved, without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanically, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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  Novels by T.R. Harris

  The Human Chronicles Saga – Continuum

  Mission Critical (An Adam Cain Adventure)

  The Human Chronicles Saga (original series)

  The Fringe Worlds

  Alien Assassin

  The War of Pawns

  The Tactics of Revenge

  The Legend of Earth

  Cain’s Crusaders

  The Apex Predator

  A Galaxy to Conquer

  The Masters of War

  Prelude to War

  The Unreachable Stars

  When Earth Reigned Supreme

  A Clash of Aliens

  Battlelines

  The Copernicus Deception

  Scorched Earth

  Alien Games

  The Cain Legacy

  The Andromeda Mission

  Last Species Standing

  Invasion Force

  Force of Gravity

  REV Warriors Series

  Rev

  Jason King – Agent to the Stars Series

  The Enclaves of Sylox

  Treasure of the Galactic Lights

  The Drone Wars Series

  Day of the Drone

  In collaboration with George Wier…

  The Liberation Series

  Captains Malicious

  Available exclusively on Amazon.com and

  Kindle Unlimited.

  REV

  The Beginning

  Limited function biobots, controlled with attractant chemotaxis, are used to temporarily enhance and balance specific hormones in those individuals capable of surviving pre-NT-4 screening and training. Successful graduates of the Program have life expectancy—or length of active duty—based on their body’s continuing ability to manage the stressors on specific organs.

  Dr. Clifford Slater (Basic NT-4 Considerations and Contraindications, Third Edition, 2083)

  1

  “You okay in there, Gunny?”

  Gunnery Sergeant Zac Murphy craned his neck so he could see his squad commander, Captain Tom Keller, through the tiny window in the pod. “Snug as a bug, sir,” he replied with a smile. “Anxious to get some alien blood on my hands. It’s been a while.”

  “Patience; another fifteen minutes and you’ll be neck deep in the stuff.”

  “You promise? Don’t be teasing me, sir. You know what happens when I get mad.”

  The last sentence was a standing joke within the unit, and one based more on reality than bravado.

  “Just keep it pointed in the right direction, sergeant, and I’ll be happy.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Zac was ensconced inside an eight-meter-long, by three-meter-wide pod called an Ejection Capsule (EC), locked down, plugged in and five minutes from drop. Through the narrow viewport inches from his face, he glimpsed men from the RU—the recovery unit—loading into a landing shuttle in the next station over. They would follow him to the surface only minutes behind. After that, the main Marine force would sweep in through the breach—if there was a breach—and do the cleanup.

  Nothing like having the weight of the entire operation riding on your shoulders….

  Captain Keller was encased in his battle armor as well, ready to lead the RU to the surface. He leaned in closer to the window. “Thirty seconds to initial boost…three minutes to drop.”

  Zac nodded as best he could inside his battle helmet. The grey metal headrest was secured to the form-fitting body cushion lining the back of the capsule, so it was only his head that moved. His movements were also restricted by the thin, fused metal collar he wore around his neck which would administer the drugs as the mission proceeded. It also contained his battle computer. There were four tiny cameras embedded in the collar—two looking forward and two back. They would transmit real-time video of the Run, both for operational archives and debrief. He also had thin transducer wires plugged into the back of his skull, allowing subconscious instructions to be relayed should they become necessary. On a conscious level, he would be oblivious to the commands, but his instincts would obey—at least to a point. The computer would also track his ammo usage and signal the various stages of the assault.

  Two other men appeared outside the capsule, crowding out the Marine officer, each waving one-finger salutes through the thick plate-glass viewport. Captain Keller grinned and gave them the right-of-way.

  “Semper Fi, mo-fo!” they yelled in unison. “Don’t let your wheelchair get in the way, old man. You’re a pitiful excuse for a Marine! Your momma should have drowned you at birth. I thought she did!”

  “You sick bastards!” Zac shot back. “Just wait until I get back. They’ll be some major ass-whooping when I do.”

  Corporal Danny Gains and Staff Sergeant Manny Hernandez waved their hands in mock horror. “Watch out, Jog,” Hernandez said. “He might come back and beat us over the head with his cane.”

  This was a ritual all REVs followed; a promise to return from the near-suicidal Run to the safety of the ship, if only to seek revenge for the insults. It was all good-natured taunting in the face of incredible danger.

  There were only three REVs aboard the huge battle-carrier Olympus, making for a small, tight-knit group with their own rituals a
nd nomenclature. Danny was the Jogger—Jog—a rookie with less than ten Runs to his name. Manny had a couple of dozen under his belt and was called Bolt. Zac was the most-senior of the small cadre. He was a Ram, having earned his horns long before the other two even joined the Corps. In fact, he was…

  Zac felt a slight pinch on the back of his neck as the first of the pre-drugs was administered, a variant of dopamine and other proprietary ingredients. A feeling of calm swept over him. He looked out at his companions with a silly grin on his face.

  “He’s gone,” Manny said, as the humor vanished from his voice and expression.

  Captain Keller returned to the view plate.

  “Confirm status,” he ordered solemnly.

  “Status green,” Zac mumbled. “Standing by.”

  Keller nodded. This initial injection was just the warmup, something to make the ride to the surface more bearable. Once on the planet, he’d get the good stuff—and that’s when the real show would begin.

  An opening in the bulkhead spiraled open and the EC slid inside. It was pitch black in the chamber, with the only light coming from the dim Heads-Up Display that flashed on once the capsule was placed in the launch tube. Zac was alone now. He wasn’t afraid or apprehensive; he preferred it this way. It was safer for everyone involved.

  “Drop in ten,” said Keller’s voice through the comm speakers in Zac’s helmet. “Good luck, Gunny. See you on the other side.”

  “Roger that, sir.” Zac was feeling giddy now, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Yippee-ki-yay, mother—”

  The air was suddenly sucked out of his lungs as the tiny pod shot from the side of the battle-carrier. It received a major acceleration boost from the mag-rails, before falling of its own accord through the thin upper atmosphere of ES-8. Tiny air jets controlled the angle of entry, and moments later, the view through the pressure window was streaked with brilliant torrents of yellow and red flame.

  The drugs in Zac’s system helped him endure the nine-g entry and violent buffeting taking place without passing out…or losing his lunch. Even then, this was his one hundred fourth drop, and if it wasn’t for the brief duration of the transit, he would have fallen asleep on the ride down.

  Four minutes later, the assault capsule entered the lower atmosphere and began to slow down. Stubby wings extended from the fuselage, providing more control for the transition toward the landing zone.

  It would be early morning at the LZ—two hours before sunrise; even so it was a good bet the Qwin were already tracking his approach. Any minute now they would send a variety of flak in his direction. The threat-avoidance system of the EC was one of the most-advanced, and in all the history of orbital drops of this sort, only twenty-four had been taken out by enemy countermeasures prior to landing. Out of over two thousand sorties, that wasn’t a bad percentage. Unfortunately, Zac had known seven of the REVs who bought it, so he was aware that at any time his check could get cashed. Hell, even aliens got lucky now and then.

  The pod suddenly shifted course to avoid a series of roiling balls of plasma lifting up from the surface. Zac gnashed his teeth and took in a few quick breaths to compensate for the extreme g-forces that slammed his body from side to side in his restrictive container. Then within a second, the pod dropped straight down several thousand feet, pulling Zac’s stomach into his throat. The landing drugs were good, but even they had limits. Blood trickled from Zac’s nose and splattered on the faceplate of his helmet. Sensors detected the obstruction and a chemical agent on the glass burned away the red liquid.

  Zac watched with almost hypnotic intensity as the concentric squares on the HUD cycled relentlessly toward the LZ. The pod jogged again, following a jagged course toward the ground, dancing between ballistic balls of fire sent from the surface.

  Two more contacts appeared, causing alarms to sound within the capsule. These were tracking missiles and much harder to avoid. Zac often wondered why alarms were needed to warn him of the weapons. He was at the mercy of the pod’s guidance computer and helpless to do anything to affect its course. Perhaps the alarms were there to let him know he was in some really deep shit now, rather than just your ordinary run-of-the-mill shallow shit….

  The evasive maneuvers became even more abrupt and erratic, as the computer directed diversionary countermeasures to explode from the surface of the pod. Most were tiny drones, designed to mimic the signature of the entry capsule. Others carried heat sources which would ionize the near-by atmosphere and confuse the pressure readers on the ground and in the missiles. The missiles changed course, leaving the EC falling even faster toward the surface.

  Once Zac dropped below five thousand feet, the capsule would be safe from this particular type of defensive system. After that, everything sent by the Qwin would be aimed at him personally.

  As the capsule dropped lower, Zac knew the time was near. He readied himself for the change….

  Unlike the entry drugs, Zac didn’t feel the NT-4 when it was injected into his system—that was the idea, no feelings at all—but for a moment he was aware of its presence. A jolt of electric energy and savage strength surged through every part of his body as his biology cascaded, so all-consuming and frenetic that it evoked the primal scream endemic to REVs everywhere. Through the comm, the Marines on the orbiting battle-carrier heard the blood-curdling shriek. At that moment Gunnery Sergeant Zac Murphy was no longer the man they’d known only a few minutes before.

  He was now a REV.

  The landing came with an abrupt deceleration as the pod shifted orientation to a steep forty-five degree angle. Just as the bottom skids contacted the surface, two sharp titanium blades extended below the capsule, designed to plow into the soil and slow the vehicle. A huge cloud of dust and dirt marked the passage of the EC as it chewed through small hills and fields of grass and dark soil. The parallel tracks left by the blades pointed directly at a large dam and hydroelectric-conversion complex holding back a massive lake. It had once provided power to the alien city fifteen klicks away, which spanned a wide valley between two modest rows of grassy hills. If Zac had awareness, he would have found the scene pleasing, even tranquil. As it was, he felt no such emotion. All he felt was rage.

  Even before the cloud of dust could catch up to the pod, the forward section blew off, sending Zac soaring into the air. With the momentum of the landing and the force of his ejection, he reached the grassy surface next to a drainage river already in full stride, sprinting across the star-lit ground in a blur. His right arm was encased in an MD-104 auto pulse-rifle and on his left, a Mod-9 grenade/flamethrower unit. When added to his body armor and natural weight, Zac carried a load of just under five hundred pounds.

  The field around him exploded in geysers of gunfire as the Qwin released round after round in his direction from defensive batteries placed along the higher levels of the dam. The matte gray of his armor and the electronic jammers in his collar made him a hard target to track, allowing him to deftly dodge the incoming fire. He covered the remaining one hundred-eighty meters of open terrain in nine seconds flat.

  A week before, the aliens had abandoned the nearby city, left in ruins and darkened by the Qwin’s savage revenge against their once-loyal Enif followers who now sided with the Humans. They occupied the settlement initially, until ships from Earth arrived and began flooding the streets with killer drones and raining bombardments down on them from space. The vast size of the power plant, along with miles of internal passageways within the dam, offered protection and a base of operations as the aliens and their remaining native allies regrouped. It was Zac’s job to make sure they didn’t get too comfortable in their new surroundings.

  As he approached the barricaded entrance to the sprawling complex, he sighted a squad of Qwin and Enif flanking the main gate. Q-90’s mounted on tripods whirled in his direction. Zac lifted the Mod-9 and launched four grenades at the alien positions while continuing his headlong race to the gate. That was the purpose of a Run—not to stop. His job was to penet
rate enemy lines and create chaos within the ranks, prompting a panicked retreat. The main Marine force would then pour in and herd the enemy farther into their hideout. There they would be trapped or attempt to escape into space. Waiting buzzships would do the clean up after that.