Taking Shield 01: Gyrfalcon

By Anna Butler

Earth’s last known colony, Albion, is fighting an alien enemy. In the first of the Taking Shield series, Shield Captain Bennet is dropped behind the lines to steal priceless intelligence. A dangerous job, and Bennet doesn’t need the distractions of changing relationships with his long-term partner, Joss, or with his father—or with Flynn, the new lover who will turn his world upside-down.

He expects to risk his life. He expects the data will alter the course of the war. What he doesn’t expect is that it will change his life or that Flynn will be impossible to forget.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anna Butler
• Release date: May 30, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370118519

Anna Butler

Anna was a communications specialist for many years, working in various UK government departments on everything from marketing employment schemes to organizing conferences for 10,000 civil servants to running an internal TV service. These days, though, she is writing full time. She lives in a quiet village tucked deep in the Nottinghamshire countryside with her husband. She’s supported there by the Deputy Editor, aka Molly the cockerpoo, who is assisted by the lovely Mavis, a Yorkie-Bichon cross with a bark several sizes larger than she is but no opinion whatsoever on the placement of semi-colons.

Book preview

SECTION ONE: SHIELD

21 Quartus 7486: Uninhabited planet, designation A2T-486G

Chapter One

Something broke out of the bushes, wings beating, tooth-ringed mouth gaping wide on a hoarse shriek. The Maess drone appeared so suddenly behind it, plunging through the thick forest undergrowth, that Shield Captain Bennet just had time to hurl himself sideways. The photon pistol built into the cyborg’s right arm spat a plasma bolt that smacked so close to his ribs, it punched a grunt out of him. The air stank: burnt ozone, rank vegetation, fear.

Bennet landed rolling, twisting to fetch up on one knee and face the drone, the barrel of his laser rifle slapping into his gloved right hand. No time for finesse. The drone was already moving, the business end of its laser coming around in an arc as it swung its arm. That barrel mouth looked big enough to swallow a space shuttle.

He fired from the hip.

He was faster than it was. Drones were bigger than humans, taller and wider, but slower to move and not nearly as well motivated to survive. Bennet snapped off two shots while it was still turning, laser pulses straight to the chest to take out the cyborg’s main processing unit.

The drone stopped dead. The outstretched arm wavered and dropped.

Over to his right came a shout and the shrill whine of laser rifles. Bennet took his third shot with more care, blasting straight though the cyborg drone’s simulacrum of a head and tearing through the little group of organic cells that gave it a feeble travesty of life. Almost simultaneously, another couple of laser rifles sounded from one side, hitting the drone square on.

It went down without a sound.

Twenty minutes earlier, the Shield ship Hyperion’s cutter had dropped Bennet’s raiding party on A2T-486G, a small planet in the disputed territory between Maess space and the outermost colonies belonging to Albion, his home planet. The Maess had seeded the system with spy satellites, feeding back data to an automated listening post. A2T-486G might be a couple of dozen systems from Albion itself, but this put the Maess uncomfortably close. Almost on the doorstep.

One day they’d be back to blow the place, but Shield’s job that day was to sneak around the satellites and scout the listening post as a possible target for the infiltration job that Bennet would be carrying out for the Military Strategy Unit as soon as HQ gave the go-ahead. It should have been an easy run in and out, with no local resistance—A2T-486G had no recorded sentient life forms. The numeric designation on the star charts translated to ‘breathable atmosphere, no intelligent life.’

A perfect place for the Maess, Bennet had said at the pre-mission briefing on the Hyperion as they approached fixed orbit, given their strategy toward the rest of the galaxy.

As hundreds of human dead and dozens of ruined colonies could testify, the Maess embraced xenophobic paranoia with passion. Out to destroy humanity, the Maess weren’t likely to stop until Albion, too, could be reduced to ‘breathable atmosphere, no intelligent life.’

And in Bennet’s opinion, they probably weren’t too fussy about leaving Albion with an atmosphere.

Shit, but he’d been careless, letting the drone get that close. He’d been damn lucky. Bennet breathed out the air he’d been holding, flipped up his face shield and spat to get the acid taste out of his mouth. He looked around to check on his unit.

A second drone was down like the first, lying on its back with its legs kicking and twitching. The unit sergeant stood over it, delivering the coup de grâce with his laser pistol.

Bennet used the pad in his chinstrap to toggle to the command comms channel. Sit rep!

Shield Lieutenant Rosamund had her back to the second drone, her rifle still aimed at the one that had almost got Bennet. Two. She lowered the rifle. Both down. We’re clean. No casualties.

Stay sharp! Bennet flicked down his visor and pressed his chin into the sensor control on his chinstrap. The display showed him the all clear for the immediate vicinity. He’d left Second Lieutenant Chivers in command of the Hype, holding her with most of her company and the squad of small Mosquito fighter craft in geostationary orbit a few thousand miles from the listening post. Chivers! Anything on the sensors?

Single energy pulse from the base about forty seconds ago, sir. We’re jamming it. Nothing’s getting out now.

Shit.

What happened, sir?

We ran into a couple of drones. Keep jamming, Lieutenant. Go to red alert and stay sharp. Tell Dieter to get the cutter warmed up and ready for a fast exit. Keep me posted if anything else happens.

Bennet waited for the acknowledgement and returned his attention to the drone at his feet. It looked both disturbingly human sprawled on the ground, arms and legs outspread, and disturbingly wrong and alien. He rolled it over, never more grateful that the shield-suit came with gloves.

His shot had taken out the featureless face and left the head a truncated knob of melted metal. It had only rudimentary hands with weaponry built into stiff, elbow-less arms. The dark grey plasticised skin of its chest had peeled back, revealing circuitry melted into a puddle of metal and wiring. This one was definitely finished.

Even through his gloves the skin felt clammy, dewed with condensation and some sort of dank, greenish residue. He rubbed a fingertip over it. Algae? Was that even possible?

It shouldn’t have seen him. The damn drone just shouldn’t have seen him. His close-fitting shield suit generated a dispersion field that should have scattered any sensors the Maess used: infrared and UV light, radar, sonar and heat sensors. As long as his power pack was still active, he should have been virtually invisible to a drone.

Unless there was something wrong with the suit?

The monitoring meter showed green and the wafer-thin power pack between his shoulder blades would drive the suit for three hours; up to four if he were lucky. The only other possibility was that despite the distortion created by the shield-suit, the drone had been so close Bennet had tripped every sensor it had. But he should have seen the drone first. Their shielding wasn’t nearly as effective as his. The sensor net built into his helmet should have picked it up from miles away. He should have seen it. That he hadn’t until it was on top of him… that was a concern.

He keyed open the command line. Everyone, check your power. Now.

He was cleaning his fingers on his pants leg when Lieutenant Rosamund darted over to join him. All suits are green. Are you all right?

Just a bit singed. Bennet glanced down at the side of his shield-suit. The kick from the Maess laser had left the outer layer crisped and shredded, with some of the masking circuitry exposed. There was no other damage to the suit, or to him. Thanks for the assist, Rosie.

My pleasure. She ran her hand over the hole in his suit, her downturned mouth clearly visible through her transparent face shield. As she took her hand away, she patted his arm. It was the most she’d allow herself in the field and Bennet wasn’t certain if the comfort was for him or her. She gave him a slight smile, light years away from her usual grin. I'm not one to grumble, you know, but Shield is not Infantry. We're supposed to do fast scouting runs in and out of enemy territory, not play peek-a-boo with the drones the way mudbrains do.

Someone changed the job description. He rechecked the sensor net. Still nothing close up, but a concentration of signals showed up at the Maess base ahead of them that hadn’t been there five minutes earlier. He fished a handheld scanner out of his pocket to double-check the readings.

Bennet, Rosie said, tone low and urgent. The base!

I’ve got it.

Sir! Sergeant Tim joined them, holstering the pistol he’d used on the second drone. I’m picking up energy surges up ahead.

Yeah. We’ve got ’em, Tim. Drone signatures. Chivers jammed a signal out of the base, but that took a few seconds. This whole job’s going tits up. Bennet watched the sensor display for a second or two. Close in, all he could see were the tiny tracers that his sensor-net was calibrated to pick up—one for each Shield warrior down there. There’s nothing else moving out here but us, that I can see. So far.

How in hell did they spot us? Tim shrugged off his backpack and dug out a maintenance kit. He ran a repair sensor over the gash in the fabric of Bennet’s suit. No damage to the circuits, sir. The dispersion field is still active. Hold still.

Bennet obediently raised his arm and let Tim apply a patch from the repair kit to cover the exposed wiring.

Rosie’s mouth twisted. The damn things just weren’t on our scanners. We should have seen them.

Bennet nudged the drone with his foot. I know. But take a look at this one. It’s covered with algae or lichen or something, like it’s been standing in that bush for weeks. Maybe they were out here on standby, and we activated them by sheer proximity. Hell, I wasn’t as much as a couple of yards from that thing. That close, and not even our suits can hide us fully.

Tim grimaced. That may mean more of them out here. I’ll alert the boys and girls.

Thanks, Sarge.

So much for an unmanned listening post. Tim kicked at the drone’s foot. I was kinda hoping for an afternoon stroll sort of job.

Weren’t we all? Bennet frowned. Not going to happen, not now. Not with drones stirring at the base. They’ll know we fried these two. They’ll know we’re here, even if they can’t see us.

Tim’s grimace deepened. All the suits are green, sir. They can’t track us.

They’ll still be waiting, and on alert. Rosie pushed back her helmet and rubbed at the red mark the edge left on her forehead. They’ll have seen two of their own go dark.

Shield’s normal operative mode was to sneak in and out of bases fast and unnoticed. That had just gone to hell. Tim blew out a sigh. Rosie glanced at the rest of the raiding party, and Bennet could almost feel her calculating if they’d be enough.

They had to be. They had a job to do.

Bennet straightened up. I don’t know what other defences they have here and standing still waiting for them to shoot at us isn’t a good idea. Get Chivers to launch a couple of Mozzies, Lieutenant, and make sure he’s warned Dieter to have the cutter ready. I don’t want the Mozzies too close yet, but if that signal was picked up and we need a fast extraction with air support, I don’t want to be scrabbling around for it later. Get everyone ready to move out, Tim. We’ll have to make this fast. Warn ’em we’ll be zigzagging all the way to evade motion sensors and the Maess will be waiting for us when we get there. On my mark.

Tim threw him a salute and jogged back to the four warriors while Rosie talked with Chivers. Bennet waited until Chivers acknowledged orders and reported that two Mosquitoes had launched and would take up a holding pattern fifty miles to their south.

Good. Let’s get a move on. Bennet waved at Tim and signalled in the direction of the listening post, a mile ahead of them.

Sergeant Tim waved back and started forward. The four Shield warriors in the raiding party went with him, straggling out in a zigzag line, going forward in fifty yard stages. Some stages they ran and some they walked, varying the length of their stride and speed, and some they crawled on their bellies. All random. The Maess motion sensors would have a field day trying to see patterns in that.

Bennet and Rosie did their own zigging and zagging, Rosie tossing questions to Bennet whenever the zigzags converged. Where in hell did they come from? They weren’t there when the Maurice scouted this system last month. Nothing showed when we did our flyover earlier, either.

She was right. Hype hadn’t picked up any anomalous power signatures, or anything more than the usual low-level power outputs Bennet would expect on an automated base. There had been nothing to indicate the drones were here. Maybe the Maess have improved their shields.

Rosie surged forward. I hope not. The bastards are hard enough to fight already.

The alternative is that the drones were all on standby. They wouldn’t churn out enough power to register, then. Falling over those two out there… well, that must have relayed back and the drones re-activated to respond to a perceived threat. Odd, that.

Rosie cocked an eyebrow in Bennet’s direction. Okay, we weren’t expecting to see them here, today, but a post with Maess drones isn’t that unusual. I wish it was.

It’s not their usual MO for an automated post. They normally rely on passive defences. I’ve never heard of them keeping drones around in the undergrowth as a welcoming committee just in case we stroll by.

Rosie blew out a sigh. Like Bennet, she was on her belly now, inching her way across the forest floor. They wouldn’t leave just drones, would they? I mean, I get that they could be pre-programmed to stand around in bushes or be in sleep mode until there’s an alarm, but a drone doesn’t have enough brain to be left in charge. Does this mean there’s a real one on the base somewhere?

Last time I looked, I moonlight with the Strategy Unit as an analyst, not as a psychic. How am I supposed to know if there’s a real Maess there? Bennet relented at the grin she gave him. The scouting reports all point to this not being a critical base, just a standard listening post. That wouldn’t merit much of a Maess presence at all and on past experience, it’s unlikely they’d risk a real one this far forward of their lines. Mind you, while I know there’s nothing to suggest anything more than a few spare drones here, the situation’s not what we expected. Something’s changed about the way they’re operating.

Rosie’s response was most unladylike.

Yeah. It never changes for the better. If they’re building up numbers around here… Bennet grimaced. Let’s not make too big a deal of it now. When we finish here, we’ll take a look around the nearby systems, just in case.

It changes today’s job, though.

Well, they’ll be very suspicious if we waltz in and waltz out and leave the base untouched. With drones there, we’ll probably have to blow it. Which was a damn shame, because on paper at least, the base had looked a strong contender for the infiltration mission the Strategy Unit was lining up for him. We’ll decide when we get there.

What are you planning? she asked. They were running now, weaving from side to side. Now we know we’ll have to fight our way in, I mean?

Bennet grinned. Planning? Who has time to do any planning? It'll be a firefight not a social occasion.

That sounds a bit, you know, spontaneous.

What I do best. Let’s just keep it simple. We go in, take a look, blow it up, and then we go home. If we’re lucky, Chivers’ll have the coffee on.

I like simple. Rosie zigged and waited for Bennet to catch up with her on the zag. So, we run like hell toward that listening post and knock it out?

Sounds like a plan to me.

A hundred yards out, Bennet paused and held up a hand. The Shield warriors slowed, drifting to a stop, staying under cover. From the data collected by previous scouting runs, there wasn’t much of a base to speak of, just a small blockhouse in the middle of a clearing giving access to the main installation below ground.

Mind you, Rosie said in Bennet’s ear. With our luck today, who’s going to trust the scout reports? There’s probably a base down there the size of Sais City.

But there was only the blockhouse, very small and very insignificant. Rosie expressed quiet surprise, the cynic. Bennet fished out a larger, handheld scanner and held it so they could both see it, checking the readings of his helmet sensors. Four drones patrolled the near side of the clearing. They weren’t the only ones.

Two inside the blockhouse, four here and another four on the other side. Ah, there we are. There’s a stronger power reading coming from underground. I guess tripping over those drones out there did wake the baby.

Rosie sighed. The question is, are there more on standby in the woods waiting to come out to play?

Not according to the scanner. Nothing for miles around except our own people. No ships parked anywhere close by, no power sources other than the base.

Rosie merely sniffed, focusing on priming grenades and anti-drone flashbangs. Not sure I trust the scanner any more than the scouting reports. There could be more of them powered down, below ground or in the trees. What are we going to do? Call up the Mozzies?

Bennet was tempted. The Mosquito one-man fighters could level the base without putting the rest of the unit at risk. But it was still worth checking out the place even if he did have to take it off the list of possible targets for the bigger mission. No. Not until we’ve taken a good look at it and collected what intel we can. We’ll take out the drones we can see, then blow it.

Rosie handed him half a dozen grenades. That's a shit plan, Bennet.

It's pretty much yours. The ‘run like hell and take out the base’ plan.

It's still shit. They know we’re here. They aren’t going to stand still and let us shoot them.

Bennet shrugged and attached the grenades to his belt. You take Tim, Kerr and Younis and work your way round to the other side. When you're in position, signal me and cut down the drones on that side when I tell you. Use everything you've got—I want them down and staying down. I'll hang onto Paul and Lydia and get the drones on this side and then meet you at the blockhouse. A nice simple little plan. Bennet reached for the controls to his helmet audios. Switch to battle frequency.

Rosie nodded and complied. Be careful.

She worked her way to Tim and within a few minutes she and her small team melted away into the trees. The remaining two warriors closed up to wait with Bennet and get a quiet briefing on what he expected of them. A seasoned veteran, Lydia barely blinked, focused on priming her own grenades and flashbangs, but Paul was a rookie. This was his first job. He swallowed visibly, the fingers around the stock of his laser rifle whitening. Still, he met Bennet’s gaze and nodded.

Bennet grinned back. Shield warriors. They were the best, even when they were barely out of school, green around the edges, and scared.

He led the way almost to the tree line at the clearing’s edge where they could shelter behind a tree and keep low and watch the clearing where two drones stood in front of the blockhouse. The remaining two paced slowly back and forth.

Rosie's voice sounded in his helmet comlink. We’re in position.

Fine. Bennet kept the tree between him and the four drones. He glanced at Lydia and Paul. They were ready, watching for his signal. He took a deep breath. Go now.

Almost before he finished, the flat crack of two explosions and the unmistakable shrieking whine of a plasma rifle tore through the air on the far side of the clearing. The four drones in front of him froze for an instant, probably processing the data they were getting, and turned, too slowly, toward the noise. Bennet took his chance. He lobbed two flashbangs into the clearing and took off across it almost before they had the chance to hit the ground and explode, firing at the drones as he went. His helmet face shield and earpiece protected him from the flashbangs, but they ripped hell into a drone’s visual and audio circuitry. The drones staggered. Bennet switched to grenades, tossing them at the disorientated drones.

On his right, Lydia hurled a grenade. One drone went down in the massed grenade explosions, disassembled, and a second was disabled. Bennet got one of the remaining drones with his plasma rifle, the one on the left collapsing with its circuitry fried by a plasma bolt to the head, and as the last drone turned, firing, Paul took it out with a shot to the chest. It fell to its knees, sparks shooting out from its chest circuitry.

Bennet ignored it and continued his mad run up to the blockhouse, yelling at Rosie through the comlink. All down! Get round here!

He put a blast from his laser into the door lock and kicked the door open. A flashbang went in first, Bennet following in a smooth dive, landing on his stomach, laser spitting out fire. The answering fire went harmlessly over his head. A drone went down in a shower of sparks but the second… For a split second Bennet stared at the bigger, yellowish drone that swung a laser pistol around with one hand, while clawing at its blank ovoid face with the other.

Hands. It had hands.

Then the adrenaline kicked in and he rolled to one side, taking careful aim for all his speed. He fired once, getting it through the chest. The drone staggered back and went down.

The whole attack had lasted less than thirty seconds.

Paul helped him up, grinning, obviously relieved that he’d got through the little firefight without making a fool of himself.

Bennet grinned back and nodded. Good shot out there. He let the grin widen at Paul’s almost-blush and turned back to the job. His sensor net, both the helmet and the handheld, showed the base was quiet now and empty. That's the lot, I think. He raised his voice. Good work, people! All clear inside.

Rosie appeared behind him. She raised an eyebrow at the yellowy-grey drone. It lay on its back, arms and legs twitching, the big head moving from side to side, making the whirring noise of wheels and gears trying to get a purchase on a slippery surface. The hands clawed at air.

Hands.

Shit. An EDA drone. Didn’t often come across one of them.

Tim had Lydia and Kerr on guard just outside the blockhouse door, watching their backs. Bennet glanced at his remaining troopers. Paul, Younis—you’re on point. The access to the main post is there. He indicated the back of the room. Take a look, but be careful. There may be more down there. Usual drill. Photograph everything, extract anything that you can and set charges. I’ll be there in a minute.

Rosie poked at the drone with her rifle. You don’t often see this kind. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a whole one.

No. EDA drones are rare. Bennet crouched beside the drone and studied it for a moment. There are bits of one or two of these back at the Strategy Unit, but not a whole one. They have better developed arms and hands than usual drones. Look. The hands were fully articulated and he could move and bend each of the fingers. He grasped one of the arms and manoeuvred it. A fully functional elbow joint, too. And it had been holding a laser pistol. That was not usual. He picked up the pistol. Other than the built-in weaponry taken from disassembled drones, the Strategy Unit only had a couple of Maess weapons to study. This was a goldmine. The techs would be kissing his feet in gratitude for months.

Did you name it? Rosie asked.

Bennet blinked. He shrugged out of his backpack and stowed the pistol away safely. No. I have no idea who did. Why?

Enhanced Dactyl-Articulated drone, that’s why. We don’t normally let you name things. You have no imagination.

Very amusing. Bennet reached for his camera. EDAs are probably used for tasks that require using machinery, or fine-tuning things anything that needs better manual dexterity than the usual drones. Maybe a bit more intelligence and initiative than the others, too.

It’s not deactivated yet. Rosie took a step backwards, but her rifle came up, ready.

Bennet nodded. He tugged at the head. It would only come partway free from the short neck, but by tilting it forward he could see inside. The small mass of iridescent tissue beneath was wired into the head and body inside a net of crystalline threads. It quivered rhythmically. You can see where the stuff's wired in. Looks just like every other drone node I’ve seen.

Lovely, Rosie said. Just what I wanted to look at ten minutes before lunch.

Chapter Two

The underground chamber beneath the blockhouse was about the size of the Hyperion’s hangar deck. A smaller chamber ran off to one side with ten drone recharging pods lining the wall. Careful scrutiny and much rechecking of the sensor data confirmed it was the only one. It looked like they didn’t need to worry about waking more drones.

Like all Maess architecture, the chamber looked as if it had been grown, not built.

Bennet laid his hand flat against the smooth greenish-black wall between two arching ribs. Whatever it was—metal? skin?—it was a touch warmer than the air and thrummed under his fingers, giving very slightly when he pressed hard. The surface was unbroken but for one access port to the computer banks behind, with a translucent area above it, about three feet square, running a vertical script. Machine code. Albion’s linguists were still struggling to decipher it. It had only taken them a century so far and they were just about at baby-speak level.

Bennet flicked a fingernail against the screen. Its vibration picked up a little, that was all.

I just don’t get how they think when it comes to stuff like this. Rosie had her laser pistol on focused, narrow beam, carefully cutting around the access port to remove it and taking as much of the crystalline wiring from behind it as she could manage. She used her free hand to gesture around the chamber. There’s nowhere to work down here at all.

It’s just more organic than we’re used to. Seamless. There’s probably a single machine behind these walls, with the chambers hollowed out of it. Bennet glanced into the drone chamber where Kerr and Paul were lacing each pod with explosives. It’s possible the drones get plugged into more than a battery recharger when they’re in the pods. I’ve always wondered if they’re more than just foot-soldiers. Parts of a bigger machine, maybe. Moving computer terminals, with attitude and weapons.

Rosie laughed. Shame we have to strike this place off the list, though. She ignored the sparks spitting and fizzing around her. It was a good candidate for that job of yours.

Too small and quiet, maybe. Bennet focused on the screen. It looked like it was sequencing data from the satellites. If they got the chance, he’d destroy the satellites on the way out of the system.

She raised an eyebrow. The port came free into Younis’s waiting hands. He wrapped it in clear plastic and tucked it into his backpack. Rosie smiled her thanks at him. Is it possible for things to be too quiet when you’re sneaking into a Maess base? She packed a primed stick of solactinite into the hole where the access port had been and switched to formal mode. That’s it, Captain. The place is mined and ready to blow.

Bennet followed her back up top. Too small with only one access port. I may need to make more than one attempt. He glanced at Tim, who sat over the downed EDA drone. Its legs still twitched. Deactivated?

Just about. As Tim gestured to it, the drone stopped moving. Tim grinned.

Bennet grinned back. You can stop smirking. We’ll take it back with us, blow this place and head for home. Move out.

They grumbled a bit—drones were damned heavy—but Younis and Paul took the arms, Kerr and Lydia the legs. Tim rode shotgun, chivvying them along.

A mile from the base, close to where he’d had his own close encounter with the first drone, Bennet called a temporary halt. He handed the remote detonator to Paul. Rookie’s privilege, to celebrate your first job. Blow it up.

Paul grinned and obeyed. The base went up with a very satisfying whump of sound. The warriors greeted the sheet of flame that danced above the treetops with shouts and laughter. It was a cheerful group, still laughing and backslapping, who turned to pick up the heavy drone and resume their trudge back to the cutter.

Bennet breathed out a soft sigh. Shame about scratching the base from his list, but he had other targets and this post had been too close to home for comfort. So, another nose thumbed at the Maess, another base gone, more intel gathered and a whole EDA drone and its laser weapon for the Strategy Unit to take apart. Altogether, a very good day for Shield.

Good work, everyone. Very good work. He slid his right arm through the strap

Reviews for Taking Shield 01

[Ariam · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Loved the whole Lancaster's Luck series so when I saw these books available I decided to try reading them. The first book was very promising. Not as amazing as the Gilded Scarab, but certainly a very interesting beginning. I'm definitely going to read the second book as well and I absolutely recommend it!!