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

“Mom…”

“How are you?” There was a fierceness in Dana’s voice, but her hand on Sonya’s cheek was gentle. “Really?”

“Sore,” she replied, leaning into her mother’s touch. “Nervous. Excited.”

“Worried?”

“I thought…” Sonya sighed. The words crowded in her throat, eager to be spoken out here, in the dark, alone with her mom. But shame piled close behind them, and she froze.

“You thought you’d be happier to go with the Zuul? Or worried that we would send you away?” That ferocity remained in her tone, the sharpened edge that always underlay her mother’s love, and it eased her tension.

“Yes,” she whispered. “It’s stupid, I know it is, and—”

“Sonya Porter, you listen to me. You’ve never, as long as I’ve known you, been stupid or weak. The Zuul are giving us a ride, maybe in part so they can spend more time with you and your siblings, but they have a stake in this as well, and there’s a clear contract. You can spend time with them, or not, however you choose. You are my daughter, you are Silent Night, not theirs, until and unless you choose different. You hear me?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“And if you ever, ever believe that I’d willingly send you away, any of you, ever…” her voice broke ever so subtly, and Sonya squeezed her eyes closed. “You haven’t been stupid yet, Sonya. Don’t start now.”

“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, sweet girl. Always. Help Rex take care of your brothers and sister. Come home.”

“I will, I promise.”

* * *

Alan looked up from his dinner and his wife. Dana hadn’t touched her food. She simply sat staring at the food without reaction. “You okay, honey?”

“You’re taking my children to war,” she said. “Why would there be anything wrong?”

“Dana…”

“Don’t ‘Dana’ me,” she said, her voice like razor wire. Alan cringed a little. “Why does it have to be this way?”

“We’ve talked and talked about it.”

“And I never agreed it was the best solution.”

“No,” he said. “But it’s the only one. Like it or not, we have over 200 of our people lost out in the galaxy.” He pointed up at the sky outside. “They’re lost, alone, maybe in mortal peril. How do we turn our backs on them?” Dana looked back down at her food. “We’ll have the Zuul with us, their own merc cruiser, and a whole battalion of their troopers. We’ll be ready for trouble.”

“Our company was ready for trouble, too; where are they?”

“Hopefully waiting for us.” Alan sighed and looked at his own food. Despite knowing he was lifting with the company tomorrow, and food was going to be more difficult and not as palatable, his appetite was gone. “It’s a chance for the kids to learn about their culture, at the very least.”

They sat in silence for a time. Dana finally took a few bites of her meal, and Alan picked at his in a reversal of their roles.

“Launch 0600?” Dana asked.

“Yeah,” Alan replied.

“Bring my kids back.” She looked him in the eye, her feeling of anguish so tangible he almost gasped. “Please?”

“I’ll do my best.” The remainder of the meal passed in silence.

Afterwards, in the dark of his home, he slipped out of bed and went to the office he shared with his wife. He placed a data chip in the drawer that held the monthly bills. She wouldn’t open the drawer for a week, at least. On the chip was his will, and he had a copy for Tucker as well, to be safe. With that last thing done, he went back to bed with his wife and waited for the dawn.

* * * * *

Chapter 8

Brisbane Australia, Earth, Cresht Region, Tolo Arm

The Phoenix dropship effected a wide banking turn before lining up on the runway for its final approach. Ripley watched as the pilot easily made a smooth, aerodynamic landing on the craft’s wheels and taxied toward the waiting personnel.

“Last load,” Alan called. All their gear was in space already, loaded on board the Paku in orbit, along with First Squad. He and the troopers of Second Squad and their CASPers were left. Twelve men, women, and Zuul in CASPers held a rough line as the Phoenix rumbled to a stop. “By the numbers, Sergeant Bana, load ‘em up!”

“Sir!” Bana barked. The old sergeant turned his CASPer and gestured with a long arm. “You heard the colonel, move it, shovel heads!”

Luckily for the squad, which was mostly cadre and the Zuul, they’d drilled loading into the Phoenix a couple of times. They managed not to trip over each other as they trundled up the big rear ramp in order and backed into the locking frames.

Sergeant Bana was last, after Corporal Plesh and Colonel Porter. He moved down the line, checking each of them to be sure the magnetic grapples had properly locked their mechs into position for launch. Ripley tried to remain calm, but realized she was panting in anticipation. They were going into space in their new CASPers!

“Loaded and locked, Colonel,” Bana said as his own venerable Mk 7 locked into place with a Clang!

“Very good,” her dad said. “Flop, we’re ready to go back here.”

“Roger that, Colonel,” the pilot, Lieutenant Dick “Flop” Prendergast, replied. “We’re refueled and taxiing.” His confident voice helped Ripley calm—she’d seen Flop in action often enough to trust the older pilot.

“You rookies hang on,” Sergeant Bana said over the squadnet.

“First kid pukes in his CASPer buys the drinks!” Corporal Plesh laughed. The only other veteran in their group, she’d come back with Porter after being injured on their last campaign. She had a cybernetic hand as a souvenir.

Everyone laughed, but Ripley dearly hoped she didn’t puke.

Most of their experienced troopers had ridden up to Paku, assigned to First Squad under Captain