Night Song (The Guild Wars Book 9) by Mark Wandrey (best management books of all time .txt) 📗

waiting for the thunk and flash of green confirming she’d been properly sealed.

“Well done, Sonya. Don’t try to move anything yet, we’re going to sync your readings first.” Now that the CASPer was locked, Dailey was all professional. Sonya both appreciated the quick shift and wished she had a tech who wouldn’t give her an absolute metric ton of shit if she messed up. When, she corrected herself ruefully, thinking of all the training sessions she’d watched over the years.

“This would be easier if I had pinplants,” she pointed out.

“Take the win you have,” her father cut into the channel, a hint of amusement under his command voice. “And don’t make excuses.”

She mouthed the last words along with him, knowing them by heart.

“Aye, Dad, no excuses.”

“Colonel, trooper.”

“Aye, Colonel.” She smiled to herself and ran through the connection confirmations with Dailey.

“All green,” Dailey answered. “You’ve got enough room between suits if you don’t go flailing. Let’s calibrate. Left arm.”

Sonya lifted her left arm slowly and felt the CASPer answer, matching her gesture and pace perfectly. Keeping her jaw clenched tight, she obeyed every motion check Dailey called for, not straining for more. Shadow, furthest down the line from her, balanced his armor perfectly on one leg, his enormous mechanical arms stretched above. Each of the rest of her siblings held the line, all of them following commands, no one pushing it. The idea of an actual deployment bounced through her thoughts, making everything weightier.

“All right, let’s move that metal arse. Five steps, left, right!”

Sonya startled out of her own head, stepping forward so quickly, the entire CASPer leaned too far forward. She overcompensated, throwing herself back in her supports, then caught herself on the third step of her stagger. Breathing heavily, she waited for Dailey’s snide comment, but nothing came.

Right, the command was five steps forward. Careful. Deliberate.

By the time they got to running, she was grinning.

* * *

After a single stumble, Drake had the balance down. Surfing had served him well, and he idly considered Ripley’s point about taking a CASPer on the waves. Impossible to get further from a shark biscuit, and so easy to crush the smug skin-smiles of the human pups who heckled him all too often.

He lifted his arm and squeezed his hand, firing without targeting. They’d started with lasers, but quickly moved on to training blanks to learn the recoil and reload factors. Rex was a better shot than him, but not for long.

“You’d get a tighter cluster if you use the targeting,” Salerson interjected over comms.

“I’ve heard the targeting system goes out more than anything, so I’m not going to get used to it.” He’d rather ignore the tiny Human entirely, but Drake couldn’t risk access to this marvelous machine now that it was his. He’d listen and respond and put all his feet right, and before long, he’d be off Earth and shooting this for real, somewhere far, far away.

Plenty of planets out there had sizable oceans. He wondered how many would be good for surfing. How many could he land this CASPer on, run its paces, lose himself learning alien tides?

“There’ll be times accuracy will matter just as much, so get used to it. Not the same as relying on it.”

Drake wrinkled his muzzle, impressed. Salerson had some wisdom in him after all. He supposed he didn’t often see the Humans in their actual element, and of course his father wouldn’t surround himself with incompetent minions. Fair enough.

He flipped on the targeting system, and indeed it took a few bursts before he got the hang of it. As he opened his mouth to ask if they could take the show to the range, his father cut in.

“Team Alpha: Rex, Ripley, Drake, Sonya, Shadow. Team Omega: Hewers, Paulson, Dyffid, Meyll, Gibbs. Omega has a green flag on their side of the bay. Alpha has a purple flag. Load your secondary weapons, aim only for CASPers. Friendly fire loses you points. You know the drill. Get it.” The unarmored Humans jogged to the nearest door, retreating to a safe observation area. They could take cover behind some of the crated stores, but everyone was aware how half-trained this group was—better to be safe than pulped.

Drake lifted his arms, clenched fists, and jerked down. A hefty thunk and a quick flash on the control panel confirmed the weapons switch, and he immediately sent a spray across the bay, catching Hewers in the arm. The arm splattered purple and clunked dead against the CASPer’s side.

“We got some tiny EMPs,” he said over his siblings’ channel.

“Knowing Dad, they’re temporary. Drake, you up for a charge?” Rex asked, hunger for the hunt carrying clearly through comms.

“You know it.”

“Sunny and I have the flank,” Ripley announced.

The Humans in their CASPers had already scattered, and the Zuul began to move. Alongside his siblings’ sounds of assent came a long, slow chuckle.

“I’m going high,” Shadow announced, just before the roar of his jets kicked in.

True to Shadow, he seesawed a bit, but caught himself and flew low and fast toward the two Humans who’d broken right.

Sonya and Ripley laid covering fire and sidled to the sides, and Drake committed to the charge, moving fast beside Rex.

“Go for their legs!” Ripley called, and Drake grinned. Of course the legs. The Humans had a little more training than they did, but not much—though they could keep shooting if downed, losing their legs and freezing in place or crashing to the ground should throw them enough to take advantage.

“Arm for an arm, Drake!” Hewers crowed, getting off a shot from behind a pile of crates. Drake’s left arm became unresponsive, warning lights flashing across his screen, and Hewers nearly howled in glee.

“I can do twice as much with half, Human!” he replied, tucking himself into an almost perfect roll