Nell's Tavern: Gatori, #1

By Larry Brasington

 
On a rural roadside while relieving your morning coffee, Constable Mike Boone not expect to find a bloody human arm and a growling seven-foot tall alien.
His quiet morning ride to investigate rumors of dead livestock took a grim turn. Confronted by aliens totting weapons Boone and his squad found themselves in a war, out gunned and outnumbered.
His planet was supposed to be a quiet backwater world were nothing happen. Too bad the chamber of commerce didn't tell the aliens! To them a frontier planet without a military looked like lunch.
Boone realizes he is on his own if the aliens are to be repelled and enlists the aid of an old soldier banished to this world for his part in a bloody stellar conflict. Though on opposite sides two decades ago, the pair works together to build up resistance to the aliens and make a stand.
Matter are complicated by the aliens strange ally, dragons who appear to want to change sides, at a price.
    As the aliens press to finish off Boone and his defenders a human fleet enters the star system bent on driving the alien invasion away. With battles in space and on the planet the action rushes to a climax.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Larry Brasington
• Release date: Oct 20, 2014
• ISBN: 9781501463143

Larry Brasington

As an author I the stories I write are ones I want to read. Having grown up in the Black and White movie days I saw every black and white Horror film, Detective Story and war movie I could. The Thin Man, Kansas City Connection, Maltese Falcon, Creature from the Black Lagoon, The Original Thing, the Day the Earth Stood Still, D-Day, Iwo Jima, Rhodan, Godzilla, just to name a few. I devoured books about American history. My first published story in 1968, “Temple in the Swamp”, a H. P. Lovecraft like tale, which might have been the start of my zombie phase. I enjoy writing stories that I would like to read. Currently I have published three novels: “Alien Madness” a science fiction tale, “Unholy War: the Brandenburgers—Russia 41” an alternative history-fantasy, and “Beyond the Wall” a historical adventure set in 168 AD in Scotland. I currently have a series of stories about Shane Eiland, Elf Detective called “Sum Yung Gye” and “The Case of the Missing Husband”. These are Noir style mysteries with a super hero flavor are my favorites and I hope the reader will enjoy them to.

Book preview

Larry Brasington

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The Gatori Series

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Author’s Note

Brasington Books © 2013 Ironclad Publishing ©2013

Claymore Map of Doom by Lucas Shields

All rights reserved. North American and International Cover design by SelfPubBookCovers.com/Norman1

THIS BOOK IS FICTION. The characters, places, and events are prod- ucts of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual locales, or living persons, is entirely coincidental.

Acknowledgements

I WOULD LIKE TO THANK my novel Pod for putting up with my crazy story and me. Thank you Wendy, Gene, Mary and Penny. I appreci- ate your encouragement and ideas.

I would like to also thank my long-suffering friend Roger Camp- bell, a fellow traveler on the writer’s road for helping me. He has gra- ciously allowed me to add his Black Water History to this story.

My son Frank and daughters Lauren and Angela for letting me still be a kid.

Lucas for his map of Claymore

Last to my editors, Katie, Wendy and Nick. Without you, well this would have been a lot harder. Thanks.

1. http://SelfPubBookCovers.com/Norman

4 LARRY BRASINGTON

Nell’s Tavern Prologue

A short six light year jump from Caledonian claimed territory a yellow star with five planets marks the end of charted space. Beyond was the vast Milky Way and undiscovered worlds. The planet’s name was Nell’s Tavern. A strange name for a world, which abounds in vast forest, majestic mountains and clear rivers, but Nell, had an unusual beginning.

A free trader, more a shady entrepreneur, named Dunstan O’Bri- an found NT, Nell’s nickname, by accident when he jumped into the star’s system while evading a Royal Caledonian Revenue Cutter. De- lighted with his find Dunstan decided to set up camp.

With his crew of adventures they established a trading post that grew into a town they called Claymore. As other adventures and a sprinkling of war veterans joined O’Brian’s mates a loose government formed. Claymore became the de facto capitol.

With civilization came laws and bureaucrats, life changed. For one thing Nell’s formed a mutual trade and defense alliance with her two neighbors, Caledonia and Roma. For another Claymore took on the trappings – high rise buildings, a spaceport, suburbs and con- stables. In one generation this sleepy trading post rivaled any city in colonized space. Still, nothing unusual ever happened on Nell's Tav- ern—until now.

Something was wrong.

Chapter One

WITH MOUNTING ALARM, Captain Rodney McMillan, read his reports: livestock missing, children disappearing, and homesteads aban- doned. What was happening? He thought.

Neighbors who normally talked several times a week had not been heard from. Calls started trickling in to the Constabulary, Clay- more’s equivalent of police and military, from worried citizens. Each call was more desperate than the last.

Normally, Captain McMillan would have dismissed such fantas- tic claims of monsters in the woods as campfire ghost stories told to scare children, but now Government House wanted things checked out and called him. Great. So he had to go himself or pick someone to do it. That was the long and short of it. Who? He sure as hell didn’t want to the job, what if the stories were true.

He stared at his desk phone hoping to find a solution. My sergeant, Boone, yep that’s the ticket. Punching in his sergeant’s exten- sion he said, Sergeant Boone, please come to my office.

Be right there Cap, Sergeant Boone said. Moments later the station captain glanced up as his door opened to reveal a bear size man who entered, his tawny colored hair trimmed in a buzz, tight and short, his scarred face a road map of his pugilist career, large hard hands and imposing shoulders added to his bear like qualities. He sat down across from the Captain; his deep blue eyes flickered with a wild fire.

Sergeant Boone, I just got off the phone with Governor Rig- gins. She wants us to send a patrol out to Dawson. I picked you. Put a team together and get out there, find out what’s going on in the woods. Got any questions sergeant?

No Cap, Boone said rising.

Good. Carry on, sergeant. With the baton passed Captain McMillan’s task was complete. He reached down into his bottom

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drawer for his whiskey. Admiring Boone’s massive arms McMillan mused, I wouldn't want to step in the ring and go a few with that man, not an all.

Boone walked into the squad room. Five constables sat lounging, one watched the big video screen showing local news. Boone shut off the vid-screen and was met with a chorus of complaints.

Okay, get your kit and draw weapons. We’re taking a road trip to Dawson. Everyone outside and ready to go in five.

No one moved. NOW.

This time the constables stopped what they were doing and hur- ried to their lockers. Sergeant Boone turned toward the front desk, where Corporal Shanna McCloud sat typing the nights’ reports: domestic fights, drunk and disorderly conduct, and petty theft. Sergeant Boone’s eyes drank her in. Shanna was a stunner, one of those girls’ who looked so good it took your breath away. If I was younger, Boone thought. Heck, who am I kidding my divorce isn’t  fi-  nal. Still.

She looked up and smiled at him, her green eyes and red hair an Irish vision. Shanna was hot, even in a uniform, she was a girl men would conqueror worlds for and never look back. He fingered his wedding ring, the touch of the cold metal, snapped him back to real- ity.

Shanna, grab your gear. Get us a ride from the motor pool,

Boone said.

Dawson? She said.

You’re clairvoyant, Boone said back.

From her bottom drawer she took out her, 50-caliber automatic pistol and slapped it into a holster and belted them on her hip. She headed out the door with a purpose leaving Boone by himself.

A gun, not a bad idea, but it’s been a longtime since I’ve carried, Boone thought. A Longtime. Generally, he used his size to intimidate criminals and it worked. He walked over to his desk, a drab green

metal affair next to the wall and grabbed his gun belt and strapped it on. The belt carried three standard issue twenty round clips and he pulled one. The voice of his old platoon sergeant drummed in his head. Check you ammo son. He pulled a clip. Full. Satisfied he head- ed for the armory to get a shock-gun.

Going wolf hunting Michael? the armory clerk asked, using Boone’s first name to annoy him. The clerk’s breath smelled of old coffee and cheap booze.

"Very funny, Sean. There hasn’t been a sighting of wolves in three years. My gun please he said. With the speed of a dying sloth, the ar- mory clerk pulled down an automatic standard issue Mark 9 shock gun and handed the gun to Sergeant Boone. Boone checked the set- tings – kill and stun – and flick the switch to stun.

Ammo?

Sean picked up two bandoleers and passed them through. Don't shoot your foot off Michael, Johnny laughed.

The armors words annoyed Boone and he fired back over his shoulder, I was in the war, but his comment was lost on the clerk for he had already turned back to his soap vids.

Jerk.

Outside in the parking lot, Sergeant Boone saw a ground truck idling with Shanna in the driver’s seat with constables standing around close by.

What are you waiting for, get your Asses in the truck, he yelled. Sergeant Boone watched the others long enough to make sure they were climbing into the back. His fellow constables were loaded down with gear: laser-rifles, shock-guns, water, field rations and packs. See- ing the water and food packs he paused to turn around to get some.

Shanna pushed the passenger door open and said, Got enough for both of us. Get in. He nodded and climbed up.

When he was seated, she put the truck in gear, and drove out of the station yard. Traffic was slow and NT’s sun was out and the air

was clear and bright, a perfect spring morning. He enjoyed the cool air, but the heat of summer was coming and soon.

As they left the city Boone watched Shanna drive and let his cloudy thoughts be absorbed by the sunshine. Their truck bounced along the roads, city needs to patch these. Everything looked peaceful, people going to work, children playing, and dogs barking, a chamber of commerce day.

Boone liked police work; it was a lot easier than prize fighting, not as much wear and tear on the body. As for the war, that was two years of hell. He preferred police work. Most of the time his job was sorting out who stole whose prize chicken or vid-screen, domes- tic fights and occasionally vehicles stolen. Last year there had been a murder, two blokes got into a fight over a woman or money and bang one of them was dead, but that had been last year.

His sixth sense told him that this time, things were differ- ent—very different. People were missing; farms abandoned. Some- thing bad was happening.

What?

He rechecked his pistol the clip was full. I just did that, he thought. Then he slid the gun into its holster and sat back. Got any theories, Corporal?

She flashed him a luminous smile and shifted the big truck. No, Boone I don't. If it was one person, maybe one of those big wolf things, but this isn't like that. Not with a whole homestead missing. Most farmers out that far are armed and they’d be hard to take by surprise. They know about things. How about you? Any thoughts you care to share with a lowly corporal? Shanna said her mood play- ful.

Boone looked at her. They had been partners for three years. And for those three years he wished they had been lovers. His marriage had stalled. Yes, he had some thoughts, but not on the case. He shook his head.

They crossed a wooden trestle bridge over a river called Clear River by the locals – a joke because the mud from up stream gave the wide river a dark brown tint. The truck clattered over the bridge. They were officially in the country now. In the distance the moun- tains loomed, Dawson lay at the foot of the nearest one, Mary’s Peak. In a field men stopped working and watched their truck go by.

They waved. Boone gestured back. They rounded a curve and the road began a slow upward grade as it climbed the base of Mary’s Peak. The roadside fields gave way to the thickets of evergreens. Houses disappeared.

The truck hit a bump and Boone felt his bladder called him. Damn too much coffee. Another jolt and he would be in serious trou- ble.

Shanna, pull over I need to powder my nose, he said.

She laughed. Spotting a grassy patch large enough for the truck she steered off the road. There you go, my lord, she said and did a gesture with her arm. He nodded his thanks and opened the door.

Before his feet hit the ground someone shouted at him from the back, probably Perkins yelled out. Hey, we are getting out too, sergeant?

Sure, everyone take five. Don't get lost though. A chorus of boos answered him.

The corporal too?

Definitely, that smart ass Perkins, yet, he pitied anyone trying to catch a glimpse of Shanna taking a comfort break. She would tattoo her foot beside his head and take no prisoners. He had spared with her enough to know she could handle herself. Yet, as good a fighter as she was both knew if he landed a good right cross the fight was over.

Spotting a place, he climbed, slid down the embankment using his hands to push back the thick branches. The smell of evergreens filled the air. Boone stopped and prepared to relieve himself. Idly, he gazed around him. Trees, shrubs, and rocks nothing unusual, but it

was quiet, too quiet. No animal or bird sounds. Uneasy, he brought his eyes back to where he stood and glanced down.

What the heck? Not four feet from him was an object, the bloody stump of a human arm, from hand to elbow. Oh, my god. Struggling not to wet himself, Boone finished and starred at the arm. He zipped his pants up, drew his weapon and yelled. Shanna, get over here.

It must have been something in the tone of his voice because she came crashing down the bank her shock-gun at the ready. Shanna stopped. Stared. For a moment they both studied the arm.

Get Perkins. Tell him to bring the evidence kit. I want Jones and Smith too. We need to sweep the area and see if any other body parts are out here. She nodded and was gone. His comfort break had sud- denly become a crime scene.

Carefully turning, trying not to disturb the forest floor around him he searched the ground with his eyes for clues. The ground showed footprints, tracks, but the fur needles made it difficult for him to tell if the marks were boot tracks or animal prints. About all he could tell was they were big. He placed his own foot beside one. The footprint was a good four inches longer. Boone drew his pistol.

From his pocket he took out a pen, squatted and lifted up the arm. The arm was muscular and tanned. The dead man had been good size. On the victim’s knuckles were black and blue bruises. The Vic tried to defend himself and got in a few good licks. Next, he exam- ined the upper arm, blood still oozing out. Fresh. The wound looked like the limb had been torn off, or bitten. Boone held his arm out and measured. The victim had been nearly his own height, a big man. What could have torn off a large man’s arm? Nothing he knew off. He continued his search scanning outward further away, nothing. With a wound like this there should be plenty of blood. Where's the blood, there should be a lot of blood?

Shanna returned with Perkins, Jones and Smith in tow. "Perkins, bag the arm. Shanna, circle to the left, I'll go straight ahead. Jones,

you take the right side of the clearing. Smith I want pictures of every- thing. Careful, this is a crime scene now, look for anything, anything at all."

Slowly he pushed the next bush back, Shanna was on his left side. The forest floor was covered in needles and small ferns. Fifty feet away from where he found the arm, next to a tree he found an all- in-one watch covered in dried blood and bits of clothing scattered around.

Perkins over here, he said and squatted down to get a better take on the human debris. A chill came over him and he glanced around. I must be getting jumpy in my old age. Still he kept his pistol out as Perkins came up behind him.

Nice watch, Perkins said looking at the timepiece. No souvenirs. Bag it Perkins.

Boone, over here I found the torso, Shanna said her voice rising higher with fear. Leaving Perkins to his bagging, Boone hustled his way over to Shanna. She stood next to a tree throwing up. Boone saw the upper portion of a man half eaten, the ribs exposed. Though the war had hardened Boone to death, too many grizzly sights, yet he nearly gagged.

Something, a beast, had literally torn this man apart and feasted on him. Yet what frightened him most was the pooled blood of the victim was still fresh, the copper smell was strong. This was a fresh kill. Had they disturbed the attacker?

Stay sharp, the assailant might still be around, he said not wanting to panic the others. Two steps away under a bush he found the man's double barrel shock-gun; instinctively he picked it up and checked. Both power cartridges were empty. The victim had man- aged to empty his gun at whatever had attacked him.

Glancing up at Shanna he saw her face was still green. You okay? She held one hand over her mouth and nodded. Behind him

he heard Perkins puking. Boone waited for the others to compose themselves.

When you finish Perkins, head back to the truck. Call this in, he said. Suddenly, two rapid shots rang out followed by a high- pitched scream. The first scream was followed by another scream both from the direction of truck.

Where were Jones and Smith? Not  good,  someone  or  something was attacking armed police officers. Boone gave Perkins and Shanna a quick look and signaled them to follow him. He ran toward the sounds of the shots, but he angled off in a direction to bring him out about ten meters to the left of where their had parked the truck He slowed and picked his way with all the stealth a big man could. Near the road he stopped. Behind him Shanna followed with Perkins in the rear carrying his evidence kit.

Using as much cover as possible, Boone eased his head out to get a good view of the truck. Two bodies lay next to the vehicle, both torn and ripped, one’s head ten feet from the torso. Jones and Smith? It was too late for either one. They were dead.

Abruptly, a large shadow darted across the road. The shadow was big, very big, maybe seven feet tall and thick like a horse, but on two legs like a bear. Boone hesitated. Do I run for the truck or wait? It took all of his will power not to run.

Beside him, at the sight their gutted teammates, Shanna and Perkins had their own struggles, white with fear breathing became shallow and rapid. Boone had to do something and quick. When you’re in charge, led. He moved his gun’s setting to kill and stepped out of his cover. Slowly, cautiously he walked toward the truck. His eyes swept both sides of the road, gun at the ready braced on his shoulder. He knew leaving cover when your enemy is unseen was stu- pid, but it was all he could think to do and maybe he, just maybe he would get the first shot in.

He felt the attack before he saw it, his old boxing instincts kick- ing in. Pivoting he fired three quick shots and heard the energized rounds smack solid flesh. His attacker ducked back into the bush. Sensing it was now or never, he sprinted to the vehicle and shouted over his shoulder, RUN.

Shanna and Perkins broke cover and sprinted after him. Boone pulled the door open and grabbed the laser rifle off the floorboard. He tossed the weapon to Perkins who disappeared around the back. Then he climbed in. Shanna gritting her teeth, climbed up and cranked the truck.

Go, he said.

Where? Shanna asked.

Back to the bridge. Get the hell out of here! he said.

Fear added strength to Shanna’s arms as she spun the steering wheel, the big service truck swung around back toward the bridge. Boone’s eyes scanned the trees next to the road and spotted a big, green, crocodile thing munching on a human leg.

A second creature joined the first and this one carried a long metal tub that he raised to point straight at Boone. A flash of blue shot from the tube striking the side of the truck with a sizzle next to Boone’s head. They have weapons too! Crap this keeps getting better and better.

Boone raised his shock-gun, braced on the window frame and fired at the creature, showering the area with rounds. His bullets tore great chunks from the tree next to the lizard men and made the crea- tures duck for cover. At the sight of the two aliens Shanna put the pedal to the metal, running over saplings and tearing down bushes, before the truck regained the road again. The front bumper nearly clipped the alien with the tube, as it reemerged from the trees, forc- ing him to jump out of the way. Then the truck was past, racing away.

Boone leaned out and fired a parting shot before sitting back. In his mind the sight of the creature eating a human leg made him feel

ill, but he fought the urge, later he thought. Now, he had to call the incident in. Tears formed in his eyes. Mechanically, he reached for the radio. Station house, this is Sergeant Boone. Come in.

The dispatcher answered in her disdainful voice, Go ahead Sergeant Boone, this is the Station House.

We have been attacked approximately ten miles from base. Two men are dead. Request back up.

There was a pause then a voice said, Repeat that, Sergeant. You have been attacked?

Yes, two dead, Constables Jones and Smith. Killed by what ap- pears to be. God, they were going to love this. Aliens.

Aliens? What kind of aliens?

What kind of alien? How the hell do I know they did not give me  ID cards? Boone wanted to scream. He calmed his voice. Big, green, angry aliens that eat people! They killed Jones and Smith and dis- membered them. The creatures are large aggressive things that look like crocodiles standing up right. You know of anything on this plan- et that looks like THAT? Are you going to send help or not.

Another voice came on the radio, What’s you location?

Good, Captain McMillan, Boone thought. Now we’ll get some ac- tion.

Near the Clear River Bridge, Boone said.

Hang on Boone. I’ll be there ASAP. This is Captain McMillan. Acknowledged, Boone said to Shanna, After we cross the bridge find a spot to turn this truck around. Neither spoke. They crossed the bridge. Seeing an open field Shanna did a 180-degree turn letting the truck bounced over a slight embankment and slammed on brakes. Not one spoke. Perkins got out of the back first. He dropped on his knees. Boone and Shanna followed. Boone’s mouth was dry and he took a swig from his canteen, and then passed it to Perkins. Shanna just stood staring down the road they had just come from and where the bodies of Constables Smith and Jones lay.

Chapter Two

WHILE HE WAITED, BOONE took inventory: four concussion grenades, one Darkov laser-rifle with two bandoleers, two shock-guns, four shock-gun bandoleers and each constable had their side arm. Boone decided to keep his 12-gauge shock-gun with a folding stock because even though it was a short-range weapon the firepower was deadly up close. He put a pair of shock-gun bandoleers over his head and then glanced at himself in the truck’s side mirror. Staring back was an image of a desperado from an old earth cowboy vid. Boone liked the affect.

A half hour passed before they heard the deep rumble of vehicles, a six wheel armored carrier and a truck. When the carrier pulled up next to him, the hatch threw open and Captain McMillan appeared. The Captain waved Boone over.

Sergeant Boone, you up to taking the lead and showing us where you saw the aliens? Captain McMillan asked. Captain McMillan racked back the bolt on the armored carrier’s heavy ma- chine gun for emphasis. Boone said yes.

Then over the police net McMillan said, Get ready to move out, Boone’s in the lead. Everyone look sharp, no surprises.

Boone said to Shanna, You heard the man, She grimaced.

I don’t like this, she said, She gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles blanched. Shanna ground the gears. Boone did his best to ignore her and stuck his shock-gun out the window searching the woods for signs of the enemy. Soon the distance to the scene of the murder narrowed and they reached the spot.

Shanna pulled up next to a patch of blood that marked the spot Jones and Smiths had died, but their bodies were gone. Unbidden Shanna’s mind conjured up visions of huge aliens gnawing on poor Jones and Smith filled. This is not good? She glanced at Boone.

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"Drive a little farther