Big Pete (Privateer Tales Book 4) Read Free Page A

conversation.
    The pavement in front of us exploded, throwing us to the side. I adjusted easily since I wasn’t carrying anyone, but Methane and Mulehog couldn’t, with Patch between them. Frak! How many things could I deal with at a single time? Time to simplify.
    Combat HUD . My AI immediately switched my comm to squad-only and pulled up an overlay view of the immediate area. We’d run into a nest of bogies. My HUD projected a contrail of the rocket’s path from a nearby building.
    “Return fire!” I jammed my foot into the pavement and used the momentum to spin me around. I brought the A3 up to my shoulder in one fluid movement and switched to full auto. There is no better way to limit the effectiveness of someone who is firing at you than to send a bunch of rounds back their way.
    “Frak! Outta frags,” Methane complained as he faced the target. It wasn’t completely necessary as I could see his ammo level, but I was busy and he wanted to give me a warning.
    If you’ve ever heard the sound of a SAW machine gun firing, you won’t forget it. Mulehog’s load-out was different than ours in that he carried the much heavier X203, and the requisite additional ordinance load. Like a sewing machine from hell, he opened up on the side of the building which I’d marked as our primary. I had to mute his audio feed. The man really didn’t have the ability to limit his verbal stream of expletives and manic cackling. God help the dumbass who’d fired on us.
    With Methane and Mulehog up, I worked on the situation. We were five kilometers from the extraction zone and could cover that distance in twenty minutes since I'd be carrying Patch. I needed Methane and Mulehog available to return fire. We’d been lucky only one grenade had been fired and that it hadn’t hit any closer.
    I found Patch lying face down on the pavement, so I stowed my A3 and picked him up. The armor suit was actually designed so we could mount a soldier on our back. It’s quite a load, but for twenty minutes I could endure it. Lieutenant Irawan would have to wait. I had to focus on what I knew: Patch was going down if he didn’t get help.
    I looked through Methane’s visor at the now-ruined building. There were no signs of the bogies who’d ambushed us. “Cease fire.” I only had to say it twice as Mulehog’s blood lust had fortunately abated. “On my six, we’re Charlie Mike.” With a younger group I might have worried someone in the squad could miss the command, but not these two guys. Either one could have run the squad just as well as or better than I. Hell, they’d already anticipated our next move.
    Now, I might have overstated the ease with which you can run carrying another Marine on your back. It’s one of those things we train for, hoping it’ll never come up. My lungs were ready to explode by the time we were ten minutes out. We’d seen a few signs of squishies, but apparently these were new-and-improved squishies who were able to recognize an armor signature. They didn’t challenge us.
    It’s hard to describe the joy that fills a soldier’s heart when they first catch sight of a transport in hostile territory. When we reached the open doors, Mulehog and Methane pulled the unconscious Patch off my back. It was an incredible relief. We quickly boarded the ship, dragging Patch through the door as the transport lifted off.
    The transport was a small drop ship with armor rails inside. We pushed Patch up into position on the rail and locked him in. The ship’s AI immediately started diagnostic and supportive care.
    “Snap in, men,” I ordered.
    “What about the pilot?” Methane asked.
    “Cent-Comm says she’s down,” I answered. I had to be careful. Methane could sniff out a lie at a hundred meters. I helped push him up on the rail as he was a little shorter than Mulehog, who only had to raise up on his toes to get snapped in.
    “You aren’t buying that shit, are you?” Methane asked.
    I pulled up the jump-master on my