Cry Havoc (Secret Files of the League of Silence Book 1)

By Jack Hanson

“Join the military, see the world” still has the same draw in the future of 2410 as it did all the ages in the past. When the military consists of cosmopolitan alien races, conflict on the borders, and intelligent dinosaurs fighting alongside you, it is only that much more enticing.

Yet for the cadets in their last year of Ganymede Military Academy, they have other worries than simply what the next year in the Janissary Corps will bring. Jane Harper is a master tactician, but cannot look someone in the eye to speak. Paris Fairnought is greater in all physical aspects to his fellow cadets, but hates the price that was paid for his
superior abilities. Salem Winchester is pretty, poised, and looks perfect on the outside, but inside she fears that she will fail as a Janissary. Sand Falconer has a smile for everyone, but his small stature makes him a target for malcontents.

Into the midst of these four teenagers, full of self doubts, steps Assault Sergeant Alexander Black, on special detail to instruct them. The veteran of over a hundred close combat assaults, he has been tasked with molding them into an elite fighting quartet, and he will not be alone in this endeavor.
A deadly Khajali Schismatic will show them the meaning of conviction and how to apply to their battles on and off the battlefield. Having turned his back on the wanton, pillaging culture of his people, he knows what it means to walk away from everything to be true to yourself.

Two Old Blooded, the self aware and intelligent dinosaurs who fight alongside humanity, will teach them the wisdom they've learned through hard struggle in over sixty years of combat.

These external forces act upon Epsilon Squad, and the four cadets begin to bond in spite of themselves. That bond allows them to survive a disastrous live patrol, and brings them together when a monster from Black's past arrives and brings all the dark secrets of the Terran Empire with it. Can they overcome their flaws and become the heroes they were born to be? Will the legacy that they are tainted with bring them down, or will it raise them up to become the greatest champions humanity could ever ask for?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Permuted Press
• Release date: Oct 14, 2014

Book preview

Part 1

Falling Down

Chapter One

Return

Everything I learned about treachery, covert actions, and the power of indirect influence I learned at the Academy. I also learned how to tell who my friends were, and who was trying to use me. I doubt much has changed since I left those hallowed halls.

—Fletcher, Arch Strategos of the League of Silence

The shuttle was full, but not uncomfortably so. Jane had space to herself as she buried her nose in a reader, tilting her head in minute jerks to the left or the right to turn a page. She tried to lose herself in the history of the most recent, and some said final, chapter in the Empire-Federation War. It was hard though, with the noise and laughter that flowed around her from her fellow cadets.

Everyone was returning from their time home, wherever that may be, and was excited to meet their old friends again for their last year of Academy, so there was an excess of chattering and a certain loosening of the military bearing that all the cadets were expected to maintain. Of course, most of that was due to the fact that they were trusted enough to take the shuttle from the cruiser Pride of Scylla down to the surface of Ganymede III alone. Generally there was a grizzled non-commissioned officer at one end, somehow managing to stare at everyone while calling attention to individual infractions at the same time.

Jane was not interested in taking the time to loosen the mandarin collar of her grey service blouse, to lean over to the person next to her and ask how her time at Exodus went. Her few acquaintances had gotten on another shuttle, and she had no wish to open up to strangers. Instead the slender girl forced her attention deeper into the reader, absently adjusting the brown bun at the back of her head so that it didn’t brush her collar.

* * *

At the opposite end of the shuttle, Salem held court. Her utility grays were tailored, which technically wasn’t against regulations, but frowned upon unless you were a member of a ceremonial detail. However the tightening around the seams of the legs, the reduction of the flaring of the blouse, and the ultrafine cotton on the inside of her collar weren’t enough to draw the notice of anyone unless they were looking for it.

If she had been a year younger, her hair would have been up in a single bun like Jane’s was. Instead, she had taken advantage of the freedom given to Senior Cadets and worked her long mane of glossy black hair into twin ox horns for the ride to the Academy. They framed her heart shaped face, with her green eyes and high cheekbones, and seemed a fitting complement to her athletic body. At least the four male cadets who were tripping over themselves to impress her and her friends thought so. Leaning forwards, Salem rested her chin on one manicured hand, judging individual stories with a smile or a roll of her eyes towards Laila or Petra, her best friends.

Salem would have had to admit to herself that she felt a growing knot of apprehension about what lay at the end of this year. It had always been with her since her first year, this self-doubt about her military future when she was so confident in all other aspects of her life. The reports about the colonies going silent at the edge of space, and the realization that the broken Peace Federation wasn’t responsible made the unknown future even more frightening.

* * *

Sand bounced in his seat, feeding off the energy that swirled through the shuttle’s cabin. He had just come off a good Exodus, spending time with his family out on Cassiopeia II and the many beaches there. The months of swimming and riding had done him good and stretched out his frame by a few inches—he was all of five foot nine now, up three inches from last year.

Still, it was hard to get a word in edgewise with the guys and girls he had known from last year. Every time he tried to share a story about what he had done, swimming with some of the aquatic old bloods who made that world their home, for example, someone would barrel over him with another story of getting drunk with their friends.

Sand rolled his eyes at the attempts by some of the boys to impress the girls, who were either fawning or bored, depending on their proclivities and how they liked to play the courting game. Salem Winchester, for instance, was playing queen bee to the hilt, Laila and Petra relishing their roles as judge, jury, and executioner to the poor boys who tried to impress them. Petra especially, the half Terran half Illurian an exotic and intimidating shield against the attempts of lesser boys to approach them. She’d cock her head, push back her neural strands, and whisper something to Salem behind one blue-tinted hand. Sand could almost hear the egos deflating from where he sat, watching the goings on with his big green eyes.

* * *

Paris looked over at Petra as well, and then went back to staring at the bulkhead next to him, thinking that at least he wasn’t the only half breed on the ship. Technically, Paris wasn’t a half breed. He was a rillik, exposed to Khajalian pheromones as a child and throughout adolescence. The massive, humanoid lizards used the pheromones to enslave the females of other races, but in his case it had a profoundly different effect.

He was huge, for one thing. Paris stood at over seven feet tall and with broad shoulders, muscled and hairless all over, with patches of luminous green scales along the backs of his arms and his neck. His eyes were slits, and had a piercing blue quality to them that made it hard to stare at him. Finally, his teeth were razor sharp, just a little shy of being serrated.

Still for all his advantages, Paris wanted to be normal. He wasn’t mad at his tutor, Rhulo, for exposing him. The Khajali was just doing what his parents had asked for in hopes of raising a natural soldier, and a Khajalian’s word was his honor. He felt a little embarrassed at how he had been pushing Rhulo away the last year, but his inner conflict refused to let him do anything about it. He just wanted to be a regular janissary, not a scaled, freakish, loner, and anything that reminded him of his rillik heritage was just too awkward to bear.

* * *

The shuttle shuddered as it started to decelerate, coming in low over a blue ocean that turned into a dry desert, and then became ocean again before turning green with vegetation. As they swooped low over Ganymede III, the spires of the nearby city, Alarius, were at eye level with the Velleyon Mountains sitting idyllically behind it. Finally the walls of Ganymede Military Academy were beneath them, and the shuttle began to land, adjusting itself as it settled onto its designated pad. Finally, there was a hiss, and the hatches opened to allow the cadets to disembark.

There was no pushing, no rousting to be the first one off. Instead the cadets filed off in an orderly fashion, grabbing their satchels as they left the shuttle. This was the discipline that had been instilled over the last three years paying off. Young corporals, actual janissaries who had seen service against pirates and rogue Peace Federation elements, patrolled the strip. They were there to keep discipline among the younger years, and at first might have seemed similar to the senior cadets filing off the shuttle.

There were differences though if one looked more than a second at the superficiality of the uniforms being the same color. The actual janissaries wore the badge of Terra over their hearts, the eagle with crossed swords behind it and a blooming flower below it. They wore rank on their collars, two hash marks with an X beneath them, and their trousers were bloused into their boots. Finally, they carried hickory swagger sticks, used to enforce discipline when words and posture failed. You had to earn a strike from the stick, and one hit was generally enough to correct any serious deficiencies.

Moreover, there was a presence that went beyond mere appearance of uniform. There was a hardness around the eyes, a way of carriage, moving, and talking that made them ages older than the cadets, even though in most cases they didn’t have more than six or seven years on their charges. It wasn’t only their training, top notch, which was responsible for this. They had seen the elephant, as soldiers had referred to their combat experience for centuries, and it left its mark.

So the senior cadets marched in impromptu squads and made formations before breaking apart to see where they were assigned. There was a much larger screen that displayed groups of names, and smaller screens where cadets could check their names on a more personal level. There was still no pushing and shoving, even though the cadre corporals were dealing with organizing the first and second years into rough squads.

Ah, we’re not together in the same team, said Salem, giving a little huff to Petra and Laila as she turned to them. It was only the three girls now, as their entourage had been dismissed when they stepped off of the shuttle.

Well, at least we’re in Draco Barracks, not far from where you are in Orpheus Barracks, said Petra. Her Illurian heritage showed in her upturned nose, blue tinted skin, and ultra-thin neural strands that she had instead of hair. The strands were another sensory organ, and could be made as sensitive as the Illurian wished. Right now they were bound up in maiden braids, curling over each shoulder.

The newer barracks, better than living in those shoddy ones we had to deal with for so long, said Laila, shaking her deep red hair. She was actually from Terra itself, and wore that as a badge of pride. Her blue eyes sparkled, and she glanced around at the students, and picked out Jane.

Do you think they’ll let her into the barracks? asked Laila, smirking as she talked out of the side of her mouth. Jane, if she heard, did not pay any attention to the three who were studying her critically. Her brown hair was dull, in a sloppy bun, and her uniform hung on her so much it was hard to tell what kind of figure she might have. Dutifully, Jane found her name, room assignment, and then walked off without giving any indication that she had heard the snippy comments.

Probably, but does it really matter? asked Salem rhetorically. We have to drop off our stuff and get to First Formation here shortly. The three girls grabbed their duffels and began to hump it towards their quarters, two stout gleaming towers of metal and glass.

Jane ran through a variety of responses she could have given the three catty girls as she made good time towards Orpheus Barracks. Who said I wanted to share it with you? What’s your score on the Tactics Exam? Things she knew mattered to her, and to the Academy, but not to three girls who were more worried about staying pretty and trying to ride out their service on some centrally located planet as aides.

Jane was the third to make it to the team bay, which was a different layout from last year. For the first time, the team members would have their private bedrooms. There were four, and all of them opened onto a squad common area laid out as a lounge. There was a kitchen against one wall, and a back door opened up onto what she assumed was the latrine.

A head poked itself out of one bedroom, the owner possessed a straw colored mess of hair that seemed to go every which way, and the first friendly set of eyes Jane had seen so far. Hi there! the young man said. As he stepped out, she realized that he was eye level with her, quite short for a male.

Hello, she responded blandly. There was a moment of silence that began to stretch into awkwardness before he spoke up again.

So, I see you’re Cadet Harper. I’m Sand. Sand Falconer, he said by way of introduction, offering his hand. Jane looked at it for a second, and then took it in a weak grip, shook it once, and then let it drop.

Jane, she mumbled while not looking at him.

Ah, um, okay, Jane, I’ll just let you pack, said Sand. Deflated, he went back to his room. There was another room occupied, and she looked in to see a massive figure stowing his kit perfunctorily. He turned without warning, obviously finished, and she could see from his hairless features and broad musculature that he wasn’t entirely human. Then the slit eyes and scales hit her, and she realized she was looking at a rillik.

Take a picture if you want to stare, he said gruffly, and grabbed his soft cap before walking out the door, almost bowling over the last member of their team. Jane looked over, curious in spite of herself, and saw Salem walking into the room, trailing her duffels in a small handcart she had procured from somewhere. The two girls locked eyes, and Salem gave a lopsided, friendly smile.

I saw you looking for your room. If I had known you were coming here, we could have walked together. I’m Salem Winchester, and you’re…Harper? What’s the J stand for? Janelle? Juliet? Salem asked, looking at the other girl’s name tape on her uniform.

Jane looked away, annoyed, the retorts she had practiced on the way over to her barracks dying on her tongue, and she heard herself angrily mutter. It’s Jane.

Well, Jane, I hope we become good friends here. It’s up to us girls to keep these two guys straight and not let them leave their underwear all over the place on the weekend, Salem said conspiratorially.

Jane stood there for a moment longer, wanting to tell the pretty, put together girl how she had heard what Salem had really thought about her. She only managed a weak nod and went to her room, breathing hard as she shoved her duffels into place; under her bed would do for now. She felt like she would scream if she had to deal with another fake smile from Salem. Grabbing her soft cap, she tucked the brim low so that her eyes couldn’t be seen and left much like the rillik had before her.

Salem began to offload her duffel bags, and heard a sharp rap on her wall. Turning, she saw a slight, nervous-looking, male figure at her door. Um, Salem? Cadet Winchester? asked Sand.

Just Salem is fine. And you’re... she asked politely, canting her head coyly. This made it even harder for Sand to look directly at her.

Sand. Sand Falconer. I was just wondering if you needed a hand with anything before I left, he said.

You know, I don’t have a problem with my bags, but if you wouldn’t mind waiting for me, I’d appreciate it. You’ve heard the old saying I’m sure: don’t be last, she said as she worked her soft cap between her ox horns, and mentally kicked herself. She’d forgotten to take them out, and there wasn’t enough time to fix her hair.

Sure! said Sand, eager to help out. The two departed, and as they stalked down the hall, definitely among the last stragglers, Sand thought to say So, how was your Exodus?

Oh it was good, and I’m sure we’ll hear all about what we did later, but right now, Salem said as they hit the stairwell, I think we need our wind to jog.

Deftly cut off, Sand nodded glumly. Oh. Right, of course, he agreed as he trailed her down the stairs and jogged out onto the parade field.

Chapter Two

Suicide Silver

Fear and pain are universal languages.

—Saying of the Assault Janissaries

Sand followed close behind Salem, ducking around teams that had formed up already with stern senior sergeants at the head of each one. He almost crashed full into one team as he turned to look at the impressive sight of two old bloods who were attending the formation. One was a towering bladejaw, known more commonly as a tyrannosaurus rex, brightly colored with bits of plumage along the ridges of its head. It was lacking the battle chassis that it would wear to war, only bearing the vox amplifier along its throat that would allow it to communicate.

The young man caught himself at the last minute, only brushing shoulders with another cadet. Both stumbled, and the larger boy took a good look at Sand’s face before pushing him away, leading him to stumble on all fours on the wet grass, staining his uniform. At this level, Sand could see another old blood, a triceratops with a broken horn that snorted and snuffed impatiently, the lancer’s great tusked head swinging from side to side from where it stood next to the bladejaw.

Shaking himself from his reverie, Sand managed to catch a flash of Salem’s unique hairdo, and sprinted after her, catching up in short order and falling into formation at the last minute. Leaning forwards, he tried to catch a glimpse of who their class advisor was, and saw only a nervous looking Jane standing at the head of the formation. Going back to parade rest, Sand wondered at where their advisor was, but not for long. The reveille had begun.

* * *

A trumpet, played by an actual person, blew out the timeless notes. Jane’s eyes cut around as she stood at parade rest, her hands crossed right over left in the small of her back. She had been as surprised as Sand to see the old bloods present. First because they were generally excused from formations except on special occasions due to the sheer logistics involving having them around, but doubly so because they were in the cadre section, meaning they were instructors at the Academy which was odd enough. The old bloods generally didn’t involve themselves too heavily with the administrative side of maintaining the Empire’s war machine, only coming to battle when asked and otherwise staying occupied on the lush worlds they preferred.

More shocking to her was a Khajalian, standing proud in full thrombium armor with his black and yellow scales shining dully. The crocodilian head was covered in a helmet made of the dull grey metal, and it also wore full vambraces, greaves, and breastplate. Jane knew without looking that the breastplate would be marked with the crossed claw marks of the Bastard’s Splinter, the sect of Khajalians that had sided with the Terran Empire against their own people. She wondered what had driven the Bastard Prince, Ianviur, to leave everything he knew behind and embrace something as mundane as monogamy with the fervor his followers had.

* * *

Paris listened to the speech droning on with one ear, lots of talk about how they were the example to the younger students and they would be taking their vows as janissaries at the end of this year. Standard fare for anyone who had spent a year at Ganymede, he thought while he looked over at the Khajalian. He noted a lot more than Jane did. The way he wore his armor and the half cloak of silver and blue meant that he was considered an ar’bakh, an elite soldier, of the Sky Caller Sept. His eyes focused on the rai’lith that the Khajalian held stiffly at his side.

The heavy blade was made out of thrombium as well, which was a holy metal to the Khajalians. They viewed it as their protection and part of the reason for their dominance in war. Below the cleaver like blade was a barrel that was tucked back a bit to allow the blade to sink its full length into the enemy. That cannon, Paris knew, would punch through a shield like a rock thrown through wet paper and most likely have enough force to kill whatever was unfortunate enough to be in the way.

A Khajalian was expected to guard his rai’lith with his life. It was the physical manifestation of his soul, they believed, and to touch one without permission was to invite death. Khajalians didn’t need a rai’lith to be deadly, in Paris’s mind. He had seen what happened when Khajalians sparred with their claws and teeth, and the massive yard his parents had been so proud of had looked like it was hit by a bomb after an hour of ‘practice.’ Suddenly, one of the Khajalian’s eyes rolled over to where Paris stood, and the rillik jumped, not wanting to be noticed by him of all creatures.

* * *

Salem sighed, bobbing her head absent mindedly as she listened to Commandant Welton welcome someone new who was in charge of their year. She could see an older figure walking across the stage to take the much younger Commandant’s hand. He carried a cane in one hand, but it seemed more for show than anything, as he walked upright and with a purposeful gait. She thought she caught the name of the man as Archer, but couldn’t be sure and paid the final minutes of the ceremony no mind.

Instead, she was trying to figure out where their advisor was, so she could ask if they would have pass this weekend so she and her other two friends could go into Alarius. She didn’t have any issue with her other teammates, but she certainly didn’t see herself as having anything in common with them. The rillik seemed unfriendly, Jane couldn’t take a joke, and Sand was helpful, but she had enough boys tripping over their tongues to keep her happy. She hardly needed to have one living with her.

Her last advisor had been a younger corporal, and while he had been fair and stern,

Reviews for Cry Havoc (Secret Files of the League of Silence Book 1)

[Aethor · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

If you thought this is going to be a military sci-fi... you'll be disappointed. It's framed like one, but it's anything but.

The book starts with a quartet of teenagers (17-18 years) in their 3rd year at a military academy. The first 40% of the book deals with usual late adolescence problems - a shy girl, another girl that gathers a troop of boys following her, a guy who's the runt of the litter and everyone beats him up, a big and silent character, and their relations. They talk, they go out to town, etc, etc.

Then they go on their first real patrol and the combat starts. For a short while, maybe 20% of the book, it actually >>is<< mil sci-fi.

Then they find they were in a secret government program to make super soldiers. Each of them got special powers. You get something like X-Men and Fantastic Four. Even the basic archetypes are there - two men, two women, one of the men is big and not quite human, one of the women has psychic powers... there's even their mentor in the background.
Note that they did not have to work for these powers; they were simply injected with something and that's that. Their training was more or less the regular military training. Super powers, they just got.
And it doesn't end there. Next thing, they all get their special armors, each in different color, with a somewhat different mask and decorations. Power Rangers... yes, you really get a blue one and a green one and... blergh.
Next, in the middle of the fight, when the situation gets tough, one of them, anime-style, under pressure suddenly develops the next level of powers, and kills all of the enemies around.
Can it go lower? Well, the next thing after that, our 17-18 year olds get to give commands to experienced troops - yesterday a 17-year cadet, now, she gives orders to a major and his unit, simply based on what they are.

Is it a good book? Well, if you think that Marvel comics are the height of literature, this is the book for you. Otherwise, leave it to the kids.