Desolate Tides (Earth Exiles Book 5)

By Mark Harritt

Mike's life was shattered by the Sh'raithe. Mike awakened, battered, bruised, and broken, eyes slowly focused as he looked around. He was naked, in a rusting, banded iron cage. Dim light trickled through open windows in the wide, cylindrical shaft. Dust motes swam in the wane light, growing weaker as it approached Mike’s cage, barely disturbing the gloom. As Mike took in his new surroundings, he realized that he had only one thing left to live for, and that was to seek vengeance for the people that he'd lost. He didn't know how he was going to get out of this cage, but he knew, if it was the last thing he did in his life, he would kill every last one of them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark Harritt
• Release date: Jan 12, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463958902

Mark Harritt

Mark Harritt is currently an over the road Truck Driver who is frequently found at the end of a 400 to 500 mile day trying to peck out one to two thousand words on a new book. He’s an Army paratrooper with a background in intelligence operations. He spent six years in Iraq and Afghanistan, in uniform and out. Currently, his greatest challenges are black ice, lake effect snow, and uploading word documents to E-reader format, all equally treacherous endeavors. His greatest hope is to write stories that his readers enjoy.

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Desolate Tides

This book is the fifth book in the Earth Exiles Series

Copyright 2016 Mark Harritt

Acknowledgement

People sleep peacefully in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.

– Richard Grenier –

This book is dedicated to those rough men and women who stand guard.

I want to thank my readers. Your kind words inspire me to put pen to paper, or, in this case, finger to keyboard.

Table of Contents

Title

Acknowledgment

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilog

Chapter One

Jennifer came to, face down, head canted to the side. Her breath was labored, the air thick and warm, making her cough. Barely conscious, she couldn’t remember where she was, why she was here. She opened her eyes, but all she saw were flashes of red. She tried to put her hand out, but she was in some sort of enclosed space. She started to struggle as claustrophobia began to overwhelm her, then everything came rushing back, hitting her like a freight train. She remembered the attack, the artillery barrage, the dead and the dying, Mike and the others trying to get out of the canyon before the barrage overwhelmed them. She remembered Mike and the others getting up to run, almost at the end of the canyon, but that was the last thing she could recall. She didn’t know if they’d gotten out or not.

Jennifer yelled, sobbing, Mike! Are you all right?

She jerked her head around, trying to see. The flashes of red were abruptly interspersed by bright white lights. Her skull felt like it was splitting, the intense pain making her cry out in agony. Suddenly weak, her head fell and cracked against the side of the mech. There was pain, but not as much as there should have been. She realized why she couldn’t breathe. She still had her helmet on and the fan that circulated fresh air was switched off.

She fumbled at the helmet strap, her fingers cumbersome and unresponsive. A moment felt like a lifetime before she was able to wrench the helmet off. The quick movement sent a shooting pain through the top of her head. Her hair was stuck to the inside of the helmet, pulling free as she pushed the helmet away. She gritted her teeth and shut her eyes, feeling tears squeeze out to run down her face, dripping off her nose onto the mech. The white lights flashed against her eyelids, tightly closed. She whimpered as the pain slowly subsided. She opened her eyes to darkness interspersed by the white flashes of pain.

The pain subsided and she tentatively probed her scalp. Her hair was matted, sticky. She thought she was bleeding from a scalp wound, amazing considering how much padding was in the helmet and the mech. The mech must have taken a direct hit from the mortar rounds, maybe even more than one. As the pain in her head subsided, other, duller pains made themselves known to her. Her entire body ached. She felt like she’d been beaten with a baseball bat. Thank God for the mech. Whatever had done this to her, she had no doubt that the mech had taken the brunt of the damage. She could only imagine what the outside of the mech looked like. Hank had been right when he’d boasted about the inside of the mech being the safest place on the battlefield

Then she remembered. The baby! Her hands went to her stomach, and the tears intensified, this time from emotion instead of physical pain. The way her body felt, she knew that she’d experienced overpressure from an explosion. She hoped that the foam had done its job and absorbed the shock. She didn’t care if she was knocked around, as long as it didn’t affect her child. She whispered to the baby through her tears, Please be okay, little one. Your time isn’t done yet. You have to meet your mother and father.

She realized that she was curled in the fetal position. Most people wouldn’t be able to do that in the mech, but she was a lot smaller than the other mech drivers. That led her to the realization that the foam was deflated, which meant that the electrical system wasn’t on.

Damn it!

She didn’t know what to do. Usually, the electrical engineers and the programmers did all the systems’ checks before she took it out for a spin. She had to think back to when she first started with the mech program, trying to remember how to restart the mech and get the command system up and running.

She cursed. Mike was right; Murphy is always on your ass. That bastard’s not going to get me today, though, She muttered to herself.

There was only one thing to do. She’d have to open the door and take a look around. She prayed that the enemy wasn’t in sight. She rolled over and felt for the release handle. She pulled the padding aside, grabbed the handle and pulled up. She heard a satisfying ‘THUNK’ as the lock disengaged. The door didn’t open, though. She felt panic start to take hold of her, then she gritted her teeth and it went away. The door was supposed to open. As soon as she released the handle, the door should have started opening, assisted by hydraulics. It was too heavy to be opened easily by the driver. The door was designed so hydraulic pressure and the mech operator working in tandem could open the hatch. The hatch was designed like that to ensure, if the mech driver was severely injured, he or she wouldn’t be trapped inside.

She felt around in the dark, tracing the outline of the door with her fingers. Once she was sure she was in the right place, she started pushing, hoping to get the hydraulics started. The door still didn’t budge. It didn’t make sense. The mech was lying on its belly, so there shouldn’t be a problem opening the door. She cursed again, frustrated.

Well, she knew one thing. She needed light. The only light that she could think of was the HUD or heads up display in the helmet. She’d have to talk to the engineers about putting pen lights in the mechs. She grabbed the helmet and turned the switch off, and then back on, to reboot it. She looked at the screen, and a flashing bar appeared, indicating the battery was operating at very low levels. That explained the red light she saw when she woke up. She turned the helmet off to save what little energy was left.

She frowned, wondering how long she’d been out. The helmets could operate for a long time without being attached to the mech. More importantly, though, she wondered why no one had come back for her. With that thought, she started worrying about Mike and the others again. She had no idea what had happened to them after she was knocked unconscious.

She felt around until she found the USB plug. She plugged the helmet in, biting her lip in anticipation. She didn’t know if it would charge or not. She waited until she thought it had a small charge, then she turned it back on. The inside lit up as the computer booted up. The light was minimal, and it went through a series of light and dark illumination as various programs started running in turn. Finally, when all of that finished, a steady light came on while the helmet’s computer tried to make a connection to the mech’s. A small, turning wheel indicated that there was no connection. She frowned. Things were not going her way. At least she had light, though, as dim as it was.

She looked around the inside the mech. Nothing looked any different. There were no holes or gouges in the mech itself. The mech’s armor hadn’t been compromised. There just wasn’t any power. She turned her attention to the computer access panel. It sat down low, below where her butt rode while she drove the mech.

Once again, her small size was a blessing. She could turn around inside the mech and crawl down to the access panel. She thumbed open the latches and looked inside. Unfortunately, the helmet didn’t cast enough light, and it hadn’t been plugged in long enough to unhook the USB. She had to wait.

She sighed and laid back against the deflated cushion in the mech. She fingered her scalp again, testing the tenderness of the wound. It wasn’t as wet as it had been. It felt like it was drying, coagulating.

She didn’t know how long she lay there in the darkness. Her thoughts darted around, tangled threads that she was afraid to tug at. She had no way of knowing what was going on outside. The last thing she remembered was the shelling intensifying and being worried that Mike and his team wouldn’t get out of the canyon fast enough. She didn’t know if he was alive or dead. She didn’t know if the people that she’d thought of as family were safe. She put her hands on her stomach, and started talking to the baby, praying for the baby’s health in her mind while she talked. Then she nodded off, exhausted.

She woke with a start. She’d been so tired that she hadn’t realized she was falling asleep. She didn’t know if sleep was a good thing or a bad thing. If she had a concussion, it was probably not a good idea to fall asleep, at least until Joan or Joel checked her out. If they were even alive.

She reversed her position in the mech again, checking the helmet. She slipped the helmet on without attaching the strap. She spoke, Systems check.

The display responded by showing her the limited systems it had available. It still wasn’t attached to the larger mech computer. Without the mech’s computer, she wouldn’t be able to see the area around the mech, move the mech, or communicate outside the mech. More importantly, she wouldn’t know why the door was jammed, or how to fix it. Plus, the air inside the mech was getting stuffy. It would be great if she could open the door and get some fresh air.

She slipped the helmet off and unplugged it. She realized that there wouldn’t be much room to spare, but she didn’t have a choice. She started pushing the helmet down into the body of the mech. It was a damn tight fit with her and the helmet inside the torso. She had to take shallow breathes as she maneuvered the helmet down past her chest and body to the lower torso. She felt like she’d scraped off a good portion of skin by the time she got it past her thighs. It was only then that she realized what she’d done.

She stared at the helmet and realized that she could have simply just worn it as she turned around.

She talked to the baby, Your momma’s losing it, child.

Once again, she had to twist her body around to face the other direction. She pushed the helmet in front of her to get it down to the computer compartment. She moved to the open panel and maneuvered the helmet so that the light illuminated the inner compartment.

She saw the sweetest sight she’d ever seen. She started to tear up. There were two breakers, and both were in the off position.

She stroked her stomach, God bless, honey. I hope it works.

She reached in and turned the breaker to the on position. Immediately, she could tell a difference. The mech felt different. Now it had life to it. She felt a weak vibration that was always present when she drove the mech. Somewhere, a fan started blowing, and the breeze felt good across her face. Faint green light permeated the interior of the mech. Now she could see the world around her.

Thank God. We may actually live through this, she said out loud.

Then, she heard a loud ‘click’ and the lights shut off again. Panicked, she felt around for the breakers. One of them had switched into the off position again. She wasn’t positive, but she thought it might be the breaker for the electronics that powered the mech mechanics. The one that supplied electricity to the computers seemed to still be on. She clicked the one that was off back into the on position. The same thing happened again. The system started to power on, and then the breaker clicked and the electronics shut down.

Damn it, there’s a short in the system! Jen fumed.

She put the helmet back on and switched her position again. Now, with her HUD, she could see the regular display, flickering off and on, more on than off as the faulty electronics stuttered and blinked. There was definitely a short in the system somewhere. The computer didn’t seem to have a problem, though. It kept spooling through the startup menu, but as it spooled through the different sub routines, she could see that there were problems. A series of red lights showed her that systems were damaged. She hoped that there was one system that still worked, though. If it didn’t work, she was a dead woman.

Weapons were offline, there were problems with the mechanicals, so she didn’t think the mech was functional enough to move.

C’mon, don’t let me down. I need you to work. Please, please, work for me.

The red and amber lights kept lighting up, and her hope was sinking fast. Then, the one light she was waiting for appeared. It went from red, to amber. It stayed on amber for a very, long time. When it turned green, she realized that she’d been holding her breath in anticipation.

She quickly keyed the control with a thought, and said, Mayday, mayday, I need help.

----------------------------------------------------

The world blinked. Mickey felt nauseous. For a moment, he felt extremely light, almost like he was floating, and then gravity returned and he felt normal again. That’s when he heard the screaming. He whipped his head around just in time to see Ed’s head slam back into the side of the shuttle. Ed slumped over and the white, cloudy globe slipped out of his hand to bounce and roll across the floor. Mickey grabbed his medic bag and ran over to him.

Bob, on one side of him, reached over to keep Ed from falling from his seat into the floor. John, on the other side, grabbed him also. Mickey stood in front of him, worried about the way that Ed’s head had slammed into the side of the shuttle, running his hands over Ed’s skull to make sure there weren’t any fractures. There was bleeding, but Mickey didn’t feel anything to indicate there was anything broken.

Mickey looked at John, who was younger and stronger than Bob, Here, help me get him on the floor so he doesn’t hurt himself.

Bob looked concerned, so Mickey told him, Watch his head. Make sure he doesn’t hit it again when we move him.

Everyone in the shuttle clustered around Mickey, crowding him. Tom spoke, Alright, we’re all worried about Ed, but you can’t help him by crowding Mickey. Unless Mickey asks you to do something, please remain seated.

Everyone sat back down. Mickey and John maneuvered Ed to the floor. It was good that Bob was controlling the head, because Ed had no control over his body. His head lolled around, and serious damage could have occurred to his spine if Bob wasn’t controlling his head. They got him on the ground, and Ed went into a seizure. Saliva foamed up in his mouth and drool ran down his face.

Shit, shit, roll him onto his side. Bob, continue to watch his head. Roll it as we roll the body. Don’t hold too tightly. That’s it, make sure his head doesn’t hit the deck.

Mickey waited until the seizure passed, then he tried to look at Ed’s eyes to check for a concussion. He thumbed back one eye lid, but he couldn’t get a good check because Ed’s eye rolled in the socket. He checked for a pulse. Ed’s pulse was strong, but arrhythmic.

Bob looked at Mickey, a pleading look on his face, What can we do?

Mickey shook his head, Nothing right now. I don’t know what caused this. That bump on his head isn’t enough to give him a concussion. At least, I don’t think it is.

John looked at Mickey, I don’t think that’s the problem. He screamed right when we went into alt-space.

A look of concern crossed Mickey’s features, I didn’t think it’s the slide into alt-space. We’ve all been through before, with no problems. Mickey looked down at Ed, He’s older, though. Maybe the more it happens, the more it can affect you.

Mike Crandall spoke up, He was holding that sphere when we shifted through alt-space. Maybe that has something to do with it.

Mickey looked around and saw that Weitz had picked up the sphere. Weitz’ face paled, and he gingerly sat the sphere back down on the floor, staring at it as if he was afraid it was going to explode.

Mickey looked back down at Ed. The seizures had stopped, and his breathing was steady. Mickey felt for a pulse. It was regular, the arrhythmia gone, but it was weaker than it should have been.

Mickey looked up at Bob, Does he have a history of seizures? Has he ever had an epileptic fit before?

Bob looked over at Mike Crandall in confusion and Bob answered while Mike shook his head, No, I don’t think so. He never mentioned it to us, and I’ve never seen him have one.

Mickey looked down at Ed. He thumbed the eyelid open again. This time, the eye was steady, unmoving. He took his small flashlight and moved it back and forth across the eye, checking for dilation and any indication of a concussion.

Mickey spoke, more to reassure everybody else, Well, good news is that he doesn’t have a concussion. Hopefully he’ll recover and he won’t have any more problems like this again. When we get back, we’ll get Joel and Joan to take a look. Good thing we have world class neurologists with us.

He looked back around at the white globe. He looked at Weitz, Make sure that thing is secured somewhere, and that nobody touches it during the transition when we go back into alt-space.

Weitz shook his head, I don’t want to touch the thing.

Mickey looked at Bobby, who grinned, No problem. I’ll make sure it’s secured.

Mickey looked at Tom, We need to get Joel or Joan in here.

Tom looked over at Daijj, who shook his head. He looked back at Mickey, You’ll have to convince him.

A puzzled look settled onto Mickey’s face, Why?

Tom shook his head, I’m not really sure. I asked him to lower the ramp, and he wouldn’t do it.

Mickey stood up and walked over to the pilot’s seat. Smarij and Zenj, the two mechs, looked uncomfortable as the giant strode toward them. Mickey smiled to put them at ease, but Mickey’s smile wasn’t one that usually comforted someone unless they knew him well. A smile from Mickey usually meant that he was about to start something. The discomfort displayed on their faces increased. The pouches on their necks started moving quicker. Their discomfort made Mickey frown, which, of course, made the situation worse. The way their neck bladders puffed in and out, Mickey thought they were going to hyperventilate.

He held up his hand, Don’t worry, it’s okay. The two mechanics looked at each other. Their breathing slowed. In the recess of his mind, Mickey wondered if they played poker. If not, he was going to have to teach them. That was one hell of a tell they had there.

Mickey’s attention switched to Daijj, What’s up? How come you won’t lower the ramp?

Daijj had a concerned look on his face. He pointed out the window. Mickey looked out. Now he was concerned, What the hell?

Daijj touched Mickey’s arm, drawing his attention away from the window. He pointed at one of the gauges on the instrument panel.

Mickey didn’t know what the hell the gauge was supposed to measure, and he couldn’t tell from the writing on the panel since he couldn’t read the trade lingo. He could speak it decently, interspersed with the pidgin he used with Caul and his men, but that was about it.

What is it? Mickey asked.

Outside air pressure.

Mickey looked at the gauge. Now that he knew what it was, it was easily readable. It had two red bands with a green band in between. Right now, it was in the low red. If Daijj opened the outer door, they were all dead. Death by hypoxia wasn’t the way that Mickey wanted to go.

As Mickey watched, the air pressure slowly increased. Still, even if the air pressure increased to earth normal, it didn’t necessarily mean that he wanted to open the ramp.

Do you have a way to measure oxygen content? he asked Daijj.

Daijj pointed at a second gauge, That will tell me if it’s safe to breathe.

He turned to smile at Mickey, This shuttle makes trips to low Earth orbit to pick up passengers. Or, it used to. With many thregari from different planets, you can never be too careful. It will check for poisons and allergens in the air as well.

Mickey watched Daijj’s pouch expand and collapse as he breathed in and out, Do you have it set for us?

Daijj nodded, I did that as soon as I started shuttling your men. We are well within the same tolerances.

Mickey patted Daijj on the shoulder, Good. Thanks for looking out for us.

Daijj grinned, One team, one fight.

Mickey’s eyebrow went up, Where did you hear that?

Daijj waved a hand nonchalantly, I’m not sure. One of your men, probably. You have a lot of interesting ideas.

You don’t have a similar idea? Mickey asked.

Daijj snorted with laughter, Oh, no, not at all. You seem to be much more, He paused, mentally searching for the correct term, egalitarian than I am used to.

Mickey chuckled, You have no idea.

Daijj nodded, No, I don’t, but I am taking notes. He held up a leather-bound notebook.

Mickey squeezed Daijj’s shoulder and turned around to walk back over to Bobby and Weitz, We have a problem.

Bobby looked up at Mickey, What’s the problem?

Mickey hooked his thumb back over his shoulder, You need to take a look out the front window.

Bobby studied Mickey for a clue. He didn’t find any, and a puzzled look settled onto his face. Mickey looked over at Weitz, who was busy studying something on the laptop. Mickey leaned over and slowly pushed the back of the laptop down until it closed. Weitz was about to say something, until he saw the look that Mickey was giving him.

You too, Weitz. You both need to go look out the window.

Weitz had a puzzled look on his face also, wondering what was going on. He sat the laptop on the seat beside him, and he got up to follow Bobby to the front of the aircraft.

Tom stepped up to Mickey, What’s going on?

Mickey shrugged and then pointed at Bobby and Weitz, Dunno. Something isn’t quite right. Hopefully they can tell us what the hell’s happening.

Tom studied Mickey, Should I be worried?

Mickey shook his head, and smiled, Nobody’s shooting at us. I wouldn’t worry just yet.

Tom looked at Mickey, unconvinced, but his attention was diverted as they heard cursing from the front of the aircraft. Tom glanced at the front of the shuttle, but Mickey patted Tom on the shoulder and waved for Tom to follow him. Mickey turned toward Ed, and they walked over to him. Mickey knelt next to Ed and started to check his vitals again.

You need me to help you? Tom asked.

Mickey frowned, I don’t know yet, maybe.

Tom kept standing in place in case Mickey need him, ready to move to the floor or to get out of the way.

Mickey looked at Bob and Mike, How’s he doing?

Bob looked down at Ed, He seems to be doing much better now. I think he’s resting.

Okay, just keep an eye on him. Hopefully it was just an epileptic seizure and not something worse. It he has any problems breathing, let me know. If you see anything that gives you concern, you let me know, no matter what the problem or how inconsequential you think it might be. Anything, anything at all, I want you to tell me, okay?

They both nodded.

John pointed at Bobby and Weitz, who were arguing with each other, Is that something we should be worried about?

Mickey looked over at the two men. They were returning to their seats, arguing about what they’d seen through the window. They sat down, picking up their respective laptops, arguing like an old married couple. Fingers flew as they pulled up programs and schematics. Whatever they were doing, they were animated about it, arguing about lines of computer coding. Bobby jabbed his finger at the computer screen, while Weitz seemed to be defensive about what they were looking at.

Mickey looked at them, and then turned back to John and shook his head.

Are you sure? Tom asked.

Mickey looked at him, What?

Tom tilted his head at Bobby and Weitz, Are you going to tell me what the hell’s going on with those two?

Well, I thought I’d let them figure that out, and then, hopefully, tell us.

Mickey, I’m the quiet one, remember? You aren’t. You seem bent on confusing the hell out of me without actually saying anything. Tell us what?

Mickey looked at Tom and sighed, "I don’t know how the hell they did it, but we aren’t in the right place. I have no idea where