Void Wraith (The Void Wraith Trilogy Book 2) Read Free

squad on the run. Nolan went into a slide, rolling behind a robotic assembly arm. He sucked in greedy lungfuls of air, wiping sweat from his eyes.
    "Contact," Hannan yelled from across the room. She was crouched behind a stack of crates containing parts for constructing Judicators. The soft lights set in the ceiling glinted off her bare scalp, painting her features with a determined brush.
    Nolan gripped his plasma rifle in both hands, taking aim at the top of the stairwell. Just in time. Three Judicators prowled into the room, their plasma rifles sweeping slowly back and forth as they sought targets. He resisted the urge to give the order to fire. Not yet.
    Two more Judicators joined the first three, and all five began fanning out across the room. Nolan paused one moment longer. Should he wait to see if they could draw more into the trap? No, that was too risky. They needed to deal with them now, even if they didn't catch them all.
    "Now!" Nolan barked.
    He leaned out of cover, just far enough to begin firing. The plasma rifle vibrated, and a ball of shimmering blue plasma shot from the muzzle. The weapon was quite unlike standard UFC weaponry. There was no kick, and no clip to swap out. It had a battery capable of generating dozens of shots before it needed to be recharged or replaced.
    Nolan's shot took the lead Judicator in the face, picking it up and hurling it back down the stairs. It tumbled out of sight with a thunderous crash, but the others were already firing. Nolan ducked hastily behind cover, conscious of the robotic assembly heating up from repeated plasma shots.
    Then Hannan burst from cover. She fired two quick bursts, each downing one of the Judicators. The remaining two tried to take aim at her, but she was already behind cover again. Nolan smiled grimly, lining up a shot on the first one. He squeezed the trigger, and his shot caught the Judicator in the midsection. It went down, leaving only one target.
    "Clever," a voice whispered from above.  
    Nolan jerked erect, trying to bring up the barrel of his rifle. He was conscious of something falling toward him, and caught sight of golden fur as Fizgig knocked him to the deck. His rifle skittered away across the floor, and Nolan reached immediately for his sidearm. The plasma pistols were less powerful, but still nasty in close quarters.
    "Don't," Fizgig said, placing a humming plasma blade against his throat. The blade extended from a blue metal bracelet wrapped around her wrist.
    "I yield," Nolan said, uttering the ritual Tigris words with a sigh.
    "Your confidence--" Fizgig began.
    A volley of plasma came from the far side of the room as a twelve-foot-tall machine lurched into view. The Alpha Judicator let out burst after burst of plasma. The first caught Fizgig in the chest, hurling her off him and into the robotic assembly. The second caught Izzy, who was peeking over the stairs. The third took out the last of the Judicators.
    "--is well placed, apparently. Nice work, Edwards," Nolan said, rolling to his feet with grin. He walked over to Fizgig, offering her a hand. Her fur stood on end, like she'd put her tail in a light socket.  
    Edwards lumbered closer, the massive Alpha stepping daintily between crates.
    "Your confidence," Fizgig said again, as if he hadn't spoken, "borders on arrogance. I am disappointed, Nolan." Her tail swished back and forth, expressing her agitation.
    "We won," Nolan said, resting the barrel of his rifle against his shoulder. "Isn't that what counts?"
    "Did you?" Fizgig said, a low growl coming from deep in her chest. It was damned unnerving, and Nolan had to resist taking a step backward. "You led a single enemy squad into a trap, and while you successfully executed the trap, you sacrificed your life to do it. If this was war--a real war--what would your troops do now? You are dead. Would Hannan take over? Is she capable of leading your forces?"
    "I'm just a squad leader, not a captain," Hannan said, rolling her shoulder