Loralynn Kennakris 2: The Morning Which Breaks Read Online Free PDF

and suddenly the whole section, broken along the diagonal, slumped. Together, they levered their knives into the break and twisted. The blades buzzed and crackled, throwing a broad shower of sparks, and all at once a triangular slab shifted, then fell with a crash. The other half, unsupported, followed and Gomez levered himself through the opening onto the rooftop—and almost directly into the path of a soldier who was stepping off the ladder coming up from the second-floor roof, carrying a crate of mortar rounds.
    Turning at the noise of the falling blocks, he gaped and dropped his burden, but in the instant before he could yell or draw his weapon, Gomez sank the plasma knife into his chest. The hissing blade cut through to the spine and he toppled into the hole, narrowly missing Carson, who was just reaching for the broken rim. The man’s two companions at the roof’s southern edge twisted around as one and had hardly more time to regret the fatal mistake of leaning their rifles against the parapet before Gomez’s sidearm barked twice.
    “Hey look! A mortar!” Carson cried as they dragged the bodies to one side. It was—a light two-inch man-portable mortar. Seven boxes of rounds were already open beside it.
    “Set it up,” snapped Gomez—Carson was being unnecessarily gleeful. “I’m gonna raise Bravo.” His system was giving him a position fix now but not much else. He could tell Aries was down and that Bravo had retreated to some rocky ground east of the road; Delta was not showing up at all. He keyed his mike on. “Bravo, this is Six—report status.” He repeated it twice before he got an answer.
    “Six, this is Walsh. Ananian is down! We got ten effectives here. Must’a been two—three hundred of the fuckers came outta nowhere! Another group of about fifty tried to push around us to the north but we took ‘em out. We’re in deep shit here!”
    “Where are the hostiles? Where exactly?”
    “They’re in this gully along the far side of the road. Can you see ‘em from where you are?”
    “Negative. What’s your ammo status?” He heard Walsh calling for an ammo check. “Two mags per man and only eight grenades left.” Bravo had carried eight magazines and fifteen grenades per man into this operation and had expended most of it in a fight that wasn’t ten minutes old yet.
    “Listen, Walsh. We’re on the roof of the main compound building. We’re going to put some fire on that gully. I need to know exactly where they are, understand? Can you spot them for me? Link it to Carson also.”
    “Roger, Six. I’ll mark ‘em for you.”
    “When we get those rounds in effect, you break due east for the high ground there. Save your ammo and do not—repeat do not —converge on X-ray.” If they got to Sergeant Howarth and Delta, he had to assume they knew where the extraction point was too. “You read, Walsh?”
    “I read you, sir.”
    “I’m gonna try to raise Hermes.” The corvette should be in range any minute but if he didn’t get them in five, he’d fire the shrike. “Link us to that spot and when you go, stay low and move fast.”
    “What about you, sir?”
    “I’ll come find you. Get ready. Six out.” He killed the link and was setting an auto-ping for Hermes as Carson tapped his arm. “Look down there,” he said. “Those vehicles got wheels on ‘em.” Gomez risked a glance over the parapet. Soldiers were still swarming around: he saw the group just inside the gate climbing into two air-lorries and another mortar team unloading from one of the trucks Carson was talking about. There were six of them in a line along the west side of the compound toward the gate, big wheeled trucks. Wheels meant hydrocarbon fuel.
    “Light ‘em up?” Carson asked.
    Gomez nodded and Carson rose up, fired two incendiary grenades into the line and ducked back down again as they detonated. The sky lit over the compound as the trucks’ fuel tanks exploded with an enormous brilliance, great gouts