Night Song (The Guild Wars Book 9) Mark Wandrey (christmas read aloud txt) 📖

words in the Human’s prime language. It was harder to read the simians than it was a Zuul. Still, Crent was rather sure his reaction was one of suspicion or anger.

“I’m sorry,” Porter said. “I don’t follow you.”

“You heard me well,” Crent said. “Six companies of Besquith landed on the Eastern Plateau four hours ago. They came in low over the hill, unnoticed by our ships because they were on the far side of the planet.”

“Jesus Christ,” one of the Human tactical crew said.

Crent cocked his head and raised his ears in curiosity. Whose name was that, another company commander, maybe?

“Janet, put those forces on the board,” Porter ordered, and a Human worked on the computer. More markers appeared, causing others to flash angry shades of red. Porter examined the new display.

“If you’re correct about these new forces—”

“I am correct,” Crent assured him, holding his tail still.

“Then your tactical assessment is also correct.” Porter glanced once more at the map. “We need to begin evacuating immediately or risk being overrun.”

“The Besquith are masters of high-speed strikes,” Fronth said and pointed at the Tri-V. “We’ve already intercepted and destroyed one of their spy drones.”

“That means there are dozens more that weren’t caught,” Porter said. Both Crent and Fronth nodded.

“They will attack swiftly, as soon as half of our forces are on dropships,” Crent explained. “They will know we don’t have enough dropships to get all our forces off at once.”

“We can bring our cruiser down to provide fire support,” another Human tactical person suggested.

“With all due respect,” Crent said. “Your ship is Human design. In order to reach altitude below 10 miles, and thus legally engage ground targets, it will barely be able to maintain altitude and will have minimal power left for weapons and shields.”

The officer who’d mentioned the tactic scowled, a facial expression Crent recognized. However, Porter shook his head.

“No, Commander Crent is correct. The Enterprise class hasn’t stood up well against the alien designs.” He shrugged. “It’s all irrelevant to us anyway.” He looked at Crent. “Commander, I know we’re on separate contracts for this assignment, but I believe we need to work together to evacuate successfully.”

“Zuul don’t run,” Fronth said.

“Even when you’re guaranteed to lose?” Porter asked.

“Especially when we are guaranteed to lose,” Crent agreed.

“Okay,” Porter said. “Thank you for the information, but why did you come in person? We share comms because of the contract. You could have just sent the intel in a message.”

“The Krif’Hosh are an old company among the Zuul,” Crent said. “We have a special place among our peoples.”

“Silent Night is, as well,” Porter said. “We date back to 40 years after first contact, 60 plus years now.”

Crent dropped his jaw, and his tongue lolled for a moment. “Pardon my laughter,” he said. “Sixty years may be a long time to Humans. Krif’Hosh dates to the founding of Zuul as a merc race, 3,500 years ago.”

“Wow,” Porter said. “Yeah, that’s a long time.”

“There are much older in the Mercenary Guild. The Veetanho go back to the First Republic, 20,000 years or more. However, I did not come to brag. You see, though Krif’Hosh is old, it is not immune to the winds of fate.” Or the whims of the gods, he thought. “We only have this one battalion right now. Should the light of our spirits be snuffed here, Krif’Hosh will be no more.

“Our lives are merely our own, but Krif’Hosh belongs to Zuul. We aren’t like you Humans; you cannot simply join Krif’Hosh or any of the Three Hosh. You must be born of our line, able to prove the bloodline. If we few perish, Krif’Hosh perishes with us.”

“That is unfortunate,” Porter said. “What do you propose?”

Crent was sure the Human didn’t understand. He wasn’t surprised.

“We will hold the Besquith.”

“By yourselves?” Porter’s assistant asked. “That’s suicide.”

“No, it’s dying for a purpose,” Fronth said.

“What purpose?” Commander Porter asked.

“The survival of Krif’Hosh,” Crent said.

“But if your troopers die, how will your company survive?”

Crent told him.

“All we have to do is take them with us?” Crent nodded. “Then what?”

“Coshke will see to the rest,” Crent said. Fronth’s head spun around to look at his commander, ears back and shoulders slumped.

“What is Coshke?”

“The question will answer itself.” Crent stared at the Human, his ears up in intense interest. “Your company, its name translates as Quiet Night?”

“Silent Night,” Porter corrected. “It’s part of an old religious song.”

Crent looked at Fronth, the two exchanging pointed stares. He touched his translator, pausing it and talking to Fronth. “Can you still doubt the hand of Coshke?”

“It seems there is a path to follow,” Fronth said, lowering his eyes and baring his throat in acquiescence.

“Will you take them and do as we ask?” Crent asked the Human after reactivating his translator.

Porter looked at his second in command, then at the command center full of company staff. Despite ongoing operations, they were all watching the exchange in silence.

“We’ll do it,” he said. “All units, prepare for evacuation.”

Crent touched his comm link. “Bring them in.”

Porter followed the two Zuul to the command center door, where an APC had just come to a stop. The two Human powered-armor troopers were watching it with concern as a door opened. Porter went to the APC and looked inside at the responsibility he’d just taken on.

* * *

The dropship settled with a roar of descent engines, big legs flexing to absorb its mass as power was cut. Porter waved the CASPers forward to begin loading equipment. Even with the new Mk 7 Combat Assault System, Personal, they’d been unable to hold the line. The Besquith were insane fighters and particularly tough to kill.

“Get them on the dropship, too,” he said to his XO, Captain Tucker.

“Why don’t