Desperado (Murphy's Lawless: Watch the Skies Book 2), Kevin Ikenberry [reading the story of the txt] 📗

Bo’s heart leapt at the sound of her voice. He could tell she was whispering, and he didn’t want to yelp or excitedly ask how she was doing. They didn’t have much time. “I’m here. How are things? Over.”

“The same as yesterday. More forces coming in. I’d say we’re at a couple of hundred now. Heavier weapons have arrived, too. Mainly rockets from what I could tell. Over.”

Bo’s gut tightened. Rockets meant standoff distance. Standoff distance meant it would be harder for his vehicles to get close enough to capture the town for the strike team.

“I understand. What about the other priorities? Over.”

“Nothing. My contacts have not identified anybody, yet. I was able to get eyes on Foxtrot today, but none of his entourage. There are at least two new ‘players’ of interest who arrived today. No names on the new players yet. Over.”

She’d at least been able to identify F’ahdn, the town’s mayor, for lack of a better term. That was good news.

“Let me know when you know something about them. Over.”

“I will. Hopefully tomorrow. How are you? Over,” Aliza whispered.

Bo chewed his lower lip for a moment. I miss you. I love you. I’m sorry. I really need to do better at everything.

With all the thoughts in his head, Bo’s sense of caution swelled. “Everything’s fine here. We’ll talk tomorrow. Over.”

“Okay. Good night, cowboy.” Her voice was hesitant and shaky. Maybe, just maybe, she felt something similar and couldn’t articulate it. But he didn’t wait to find out.

“Desperado Six, out.”

Bo leaned forward and turned the radio off. He sat forward and rested his face in his hands, his elbows on his knees. A soft noise came from behind him. No matter how many times he heard it, he couldn’t help but think it sounded like a cross between a neighing horse and a purring cat.

Bo lifted his head. “It’s okay, Scout. Everything’s okay.”

The gentle whinaalani call came again, and Bo realized Scout knew him almost better than he knew himself. Over the last several months, he and the other Lost Soldiers had gotten to know quite a bit about the whinnies. The animals were far more intelligent than they’d assumed, and while they had had little luck in developing true communications between the two species, there was no doubt the whinnies understood them and often anticipated the humans. Bo looked over his right shoulder and saw Scout peering intently at him in the near darkness.

“You don’t have any expert advice about dealing with women, do you?”

Bo saw the alien blink slowly, but there was no other display of understanding or emotion.

“Of course, you don’t, buddy. I’m all alone in this kind of shit again, huh?”

Scout didn’t respond.

“I know I have to tell her.” Bo sighed.

There had been plenty of opportunities for him to have similar conversations with his ex-wife while he was deployed. He’d chosen not to. While he had forgiven Sharron for her decision to leave him, and he regretted not having the opportunity to reconcile with her, there were some things that made him feel helpless. Articulating his feelings—communicating what was on his mind without filtering it—was still something that needed a tremendous amount of work. He believed Aliza would be patient. They loved each other. At one time, he’d believed love would be enough for anything, but losing Sharron proved otherwise.

Let’s just get through this operation and I’ll do it. The fact that there will be another mission can’t stop me again. There’s always gonna be another mission. I might not get another chance to let her know.

You ain’t getting no younger, Bo.

Scout made his restless noise again and came forward to sit next to Bo and looked across the valley. Bo followed his gaze and realized the time had come for him to put together the plan. He’d been thinking about the possibility of a raid across the valley since their deployment, but it was clear they were going to have a target soon. It was only a matter of time until Aliza got the intelligence they needed, and rather than sit in the dark and wonder about the rest of his life, Bo needed to decide on a course of action. He would ensure it took care of the people, and Aliza, as best as possible.

At the top of the next hour, Bo and Scout were still sitting on top of the rock, looking across the valley at the town. This time Bo reached for the PFM, the sardonic acronym they’d adopted for the space-capable radio. The joke of alien technology referred to as “pure fucking magic” never failed to bring a smile to his face. While it didn’t have the same power requirements or perishable power supply as the Vietnam-era PRC-77s, it was still something he didn’t want to turn on until necessary. From everything they knew about the inhabitants of the town, his own communications capabilities did not appear to be at any risk of enemy jamming or compromise. But Bo also knew Murphy would’ve been happier if they’d been able to just use UHF; the PFM operated somewhere north of the S band. Either way, Bo didn’t really know that much about the electromagnetic spectrum. All he knew was that when he turned on the radio, it worked, even though Murphy was hundreds of miles away.

“Home Plate, this is Fenway Park. Over.”

Surprisingly, Colonel Murphy himself responded. “Fenway, Home Plate Umpire. What are the balls and strikes?”

 Callsigns and radio procedures were always designed to confuse the enemy, but in this case, Bo had taken an extra step. He’d set up his unit with a second set of references that would totally bewilder anyone who might be listening. He doubted anyone outside of his forces knew who the Eagles were. They’d have no idea about baseball, either. And if