The Street Survivors (The Guild Wars Book 12) Ian Malone (the false prince series txt) 📖

no such luck.” Stan worked his console. “The climate on Droxis appears to be almost universally subarctic with average surface temps rangin’ from 19 degrees Fahrenheit to minus 30, depending on elevation and time of day.”

“That’s it.” Frank put up a hand. “I vote we come back when it’s summertime.”

“Pretty sure that’s what summer looks like on this planet, Birdman,” Stan said. “On the upshot, the air is breathable enough.”

Taylor drummed his fingers on his chair arm. “What about life signs?”

“None that I can find, no,” Stan said.

Ruiz wrinkled his nose at comm station. “I don’t get it. If this is where the Dutya told us to come, where are all the captives?”

Taylor was wondering that very thing.

“Everybody hold on for a second.” Stan swiped a series of hand gestures over his display, then waited for a pair of fresh data streams to appear. He cocked his head. “Well, now. That’s interesting.”

“Do share,” Taylor said.

“Sensors are detectin’ faint traces of carbon fibers about 30 miles out from one of the mountains on the southwest continent,” Stan said.

“Okay?” Taylor scratched his temple. “Carbon fibers are used for all sorts of stuff, everything from run-of-the-mill shipyard materials to the storage bins we use to keep our food supplies fresh outside the galley. Why are these significant?”

“Maybe it’s a crash site,” Ruiz suggested.

“I don’t think so.” Stan pointed to his display. “These readings are way too small to be a downed ship. And yet there they are, a bunch of artificial elements plain as day in an otherwise natural environment.”

Taylor was starting to see where this was headed.

“Passive sensors.” Jack snapped his fingers. “Gotta be.”

“It makes sense,” Stan agreed. “Establishin’ an early warning system in space would tip off anybody passin’ by that something or somebody is down on the surface. With some passive sensors on the surface, the KzSha would at least get the benefit of an early heads-up if somebody touched down on their doorstep.”

Taylor hunched forward onto his elbows. “What if we touch down in their neighborhood but not on their doorstep?”

“Say what?” Jack asked.

Taylor swiped at the display on his command chair and mirrored the data from science station onto the main Tri-V.

“What if we land our dropships somewhere around…here?” He pointed to a spot on the image that was roughly 300 miles south of the mountain. “That puts us well beyond the reach of their sensors, but not so far out we can’t make the trek to the sensor site via APC.”

Stan rubbed his chin. “Trail makin’ certainly wouldn’t be an issue. Not in those conditions, anyway.”

“Agreed,” Jack said. “Trouble is, those same conditions also make for a helluva carrier ride to reach the target.” He pointed to the Tri-V. “That’s 12 hours, easy. Plus we’ll have to take the final three miles or so on foot so the KzSha don’t detect our approach.”

“That’s if these aliens are even down there,” Frank added. “For all we know, this whole thing is a wild goose chase led by Sluggo and his slimeball minions back at the starport.”

Taylor had spent the last week weighing that very possibility. Still, a lead was a lead, and as things stood, Droxis was the only one they had. He keyed the ship’s intercom. “Bridge to Sergeant Reigns. Assemble your teams, then gear up for extreme cold weather, and report to drop room Alpha for immediate deployment. Be advised, we’ve got a bit of a hike ahead of us once we’re topside, so pack accordingly.”

“Ayew,” Reigns answered. “We’ll be ready.”

Taylor acknowledged, then shifted channels. “Bridge to Corporal Newhouse.”

A pause.

“House here.”

“Report to drop room Alpha at once and coordinate with the flight crew to prep three birds for immediate release. We’ll also need three armored personnel carriers fueled up and ready to roll as soon as we reach the surface. Sergeant Reigns will fill you in on the rest as soon as she arrives.”

“Ayew,” House said. “Consider it done, sir.”

Taylor took off his belts and pushed himself airborne. “Frank, lay in a course for Droxis, put us in a geosync orbit, then gear up for drop. You’re comin’ with us.”

The Buma winced.

“Jack, Stan, you’re with me,” Taylor said. “Ruiz, you have the con. Let’s roll.”

* * *

The descent to the planet’s surface felt like an eternity on account of the enormous amounts of wind shear and turbulence that slammed the Eagles’ dropships as soon as they touched atmo. According to Stan, a nasty storm had kicked up in the target’s vicinity, and while that hadn’t been enough to scrub the mission, it had made the already miserable experience of dropping 60 troops with supplies in a trio of air-tight tin cans that much worse. Eventually the ride came to an end when the thrusters for all three ships fired before easing their passengers down to the snowy landing zone.

“And we’re clear,” Jack called from the cockpit.

“All right, listen up,” Taylor announced. “Night has officially fallen outside, so I’d highly recommend you do not dally after you exit the ship. Once the APCs are unloaded, grab your trash and head straight to your designed transport. Is that clear?”

“Ayew,” 18 troopers chorused.

The rumble of vehicle engines fired beyond the bulkhead, then subsided once the craft they’d brought from the Osyrys had vacated the hold.

“APCs are clear,” House said via comms.

“You heard the man!” Jack barked. “Let’s mount up!”

The gust of wind that slashed at Taylor’s face once his boots reached the boarding ramp might’ve sawed a polar bear in two were it any more brutal. He winced hard, briefly hitting a knee, then shot to his feet and jogged through the snow toward the center APC of their three-vehicle caravan.

“A little brisk out today, huh Chief?” House asked once his CO had sealed the hatch.

“That’s