Tank: The Magi's Advent

By Christopher Blankley

The stalemate is over. After their loss at Battle of Brigham Field, the Reds are fleeing back to their America, the Soviet Socialist People's Republic of America, west of the mountains. But the War has only just begun. The Soviet Sickle has been broken, but their Hammer remains – a super, secret weapon, so powerful that it obliterated Denver in the blink of an eye.
What is the Hammer? Only Fate Troop is reequipped and prepared to take on the daring mission, far behind enemy lines, to find out. Can Gunny and the others stop the Hammer before the Reds turn it on another American city?
TANK: The Magi’s Advent is the final installment in the exciting action/adventure series TANK. Follow Gunny and the crew of number Seventy-Seven as they battle the Soviets in an alternate Twenty-First Century.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christopher Blankley
• Release date: Nov 22, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370288632

Christopher Blankley

Seattle is my home and the backdrop of many of my books. I am not a detective, or a zombie, or living in an alternate version of the 21st Century, so my life and my books pretty much just overlap with the Seattle thing. If you like detectives, zombies, alternate histories, even Seattle, you might like my books. I do. I like you. There, I said it. I’ve written over a dozen books, including the aforementioned ones about detectives and zombies and alternate histories. Did I mention Seattle? Seattle's in some of them, too.

Book preview

PART 3

The Magi’s Advent

Chapter 1

Darius worked head down, fumbling with the wires of his T.A.N.K. console, unaware that the crew of Seven-Seven had entered the motor pool. He was clueless to their presence until Gunny was right on top of him. His head came up just in time for Gunny to wrap her arms around his neck.

The hug was nice, the kiss that followed even better.

Gunny couldn’t say exactly what came over her. She didn’t feel like she needed to over think it. The urge to kiss him overwhelmed her the second she caught sight of Darius, sweaty and oily in his Fate suit. He looked terrible, his right eye was ringed with a black bruise, and it was very possible his nose was broken. But Gunny didn’t care. He was alive. He’d survived the Battle of Brigham Field and its aftermath. Gunny was overwhelmed with both relief and rage – relief that Darius was okay and rage at the stupidity of the war that had put him in danger.

So she kissed him. Long and hard. As if she knew, somehow, that she wouldn’t get the chance to kiss him again. Darius didn’t resist. He even enjoyed it. The perfect moment went on and on, only broken by the Lieutenant uncomfortably clearing his throat.

Gunny pulled back. Darius stared at her, shell-shocked. Iskra let out a catcall. Morgans stifled a smirk.

I... Darius gasped for air.

Suddenly, Gunny was self-conscious. Everyone was staring. Iskra and Morgans seemed to find it funny, even Darius was smiling, but the Lieutenant looked upset. Gunny could feel herself beginning to blush. She tried to find somewhere, anywhere else to look except up into Darius’ restless, brown eyes. Her gaze fell on the shiny, new T.A.N.K. console.

The Mark VII? she asked, flipping open the top access hatch.

Yes! Darius replied, with far too much vigor. "Just came up from Special Projects. My old one is...well, out there somewhere, with Fifty-Three, Darius pointed off to the west, toward Brigham Field. How about your bucket?" Darius asked Gunny, studying her face with his regular inquisitiveness. It only made Gunny blush still more.

Seventy-Seven made it home, Lieutenant Heidegger answered, an edge to his voice. But she won’t be seeing any more action. Gunny sensed the tension and turned to her commanding officer. His blue eyes were fierce and studying Darius. We’re here to re-equip.

Well, there’s no shortage of options, Darius waved back at the motor pool. It was self-evident. Behind the canvas tent, the M60 Pattons were packed like cord-wood. Plenty of buckets but no crews.

Heidegger stepped past the corporal and looked over the parking lot. The plan was to load up on fresh steel and push on for Denver, the Lieutenant said, wistfully. Now, that’s not going to happen.

Isn’t it? Darius started, then tried a different tack. They’re saying we won...out there...

We sure did, Heidegger answered. But are you familiar with King Pyrrhus, Corporal?

Darius looked confused. Heidegger looked smug. Iskra spoke up.

Third Herd now be just Fate Troop and many empty tank, she sighed. "Maybe if each G.I. Joe drive own tank, we look like bigger threat to Reds?"

The 82nd will move up with the daylight, Morgans assured. They’re not heavy armor, but we won’t be alone for long.

If only we could drive and shoot at the same time, Darius dismissed.

Lapushka already expert! Iskra chuckled.

What? Darius looked at Gunny.

Gunny shook her head It’s a long story...

We can’t wait for the 82nd, Heidegger said, ignoring the banter. We need to roll out in sixty. Can you hook that thing up to one of them? he asked Darius, pointing at the T.A.N.K. console and then at the field of M60s.

In an hour? Darius ran a hand through his dirty hair. Gunny couldn’t help but swoon a little on the inside. All these months and she’d never realized that Darius was so...handsome. Even with his black eye and his nose swollen to twice its usual width. I can give it a shot.

And you? the lieutenant asked Gunny.

Check, Gunny answered, not looking away from Darius.

Then, let’s get to work. Heidegger strode toward the field of tanks. We can be pretty sure the Reds aren’t taking any make-out breaks.

#

What do you think? Heidegger asked Morgans, as they walked the length of the motor pool. It was their third time across the open field, with Morgans bouncing up and down like a jackrabbit, checking the treads on each tank and then slipping a hand in the gap between turret and chassis.

I don’t like the welds on these Flint models, Morgans replied, absentmindedly. They’re still using that garbage flux for the welds. Hit some rocks, and they’ll shake themselves apart.

A Pittsburgh then? Heidegger answered, but he could hardly muster any interest in the debate. They just needed a bucket and to be on their way.

You know the Portland plant is still twisting their rifling too tight, Morgans dismissed.

We have Gunny.

Exactly. She’s used to a strict one-in-thirteen. Mess with that and we’re messing with our competitive edge.

Then a Spartanburg...

Maybe, if they’ve upgraded their actuators...

Just pick a tank, Private! Heidegger snapped.

Okay, okay! Morgans held up his hands in surrender. He glared at the Lieutenant and decided not to push his luck. Here. He lowered his right hand and slapped the nearest Patton. She’ll do. I’ll take my chances with the actuators.

Good. Heidegger turned on his heels and started back toward the motor pool’s single tent. Get her out of rank and help Gunny install her console. I want to be loaded for bear and ready to roll in forty-five.

Yes, sir! Morgans snapped a salute. Then, realizing he was about to be left alone to complete his task, quickly sprinted to catch the Lieutenant. Sir, I–

What? Heidegger barked.

Morgans hesitated. Perhaps he should mind his own business, then he thought better of it. Fate Troop was about to get into some pretty crazy behind-enemy-lines, suicide mission sort of stuff and Morgans needed the Lieutenant’s head in the game.

It’s just, sir... Morgans gulped. ...you seem a little...tetchy.

Heidegger stopped mid-step and turned to the Private. We’re about to plow headlong into only the Prophet-knows-what, to find a secret weapon that we know nothing about, that was able to destroy a whole division of our most elite, front-line troops, secure behind the walls of the single most fortified installation in human history, and me with only three buckets, crewed by love-struck teenagers? Yes, Private, I think I have every right to be a little tetchy.

Yes sir, but... Morgans grimaced. This could end with the Lieutenant punching the Private in the teeth. Morgans wouldn’t blame him. Morgans braced himself for the worst. I think, perhaps, you’re distracted...

Distracted? Heidegger feigned ignorance. Or perhaps he really didn’t understand. That worried Morgans. How old was the Lieutenant, after all? Not that much older than Gunny in the grand scheme of things. And how much of the world had he really seen from the commander’s seat of the M60? Distracted by what?

Morgans

Reviews for Tank

[Andy Hughes · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Not as good as the first two books in the series due to the intensification of the teen romance aspect alongside the introduction of Weird War style stuff. I enjoyed reading it but as the series is running the risk of starting to feel like a manga inspired story.