Free The Biomass Revolution (The Tisaian Chronicles) by Nicholas Smith

It was the unfortunate fate of so many young people trapped in a never ending war. Nathar should have been in college or starting a career, but instead he was forced to fight.
    I bet he misses his family.
    All Obi knew was that Nathar’s family had been killed in the first part of the Biomass Wars in the last offensive of the United States Army, just months before most of the country collapsed into ashes. Nathar sought refuge at a camp in New York City, before it was leveled by a tactical nuclear weapon.
    Obi knew loss wasn’t specific to Nathar. His entire squad had lost their families. They were all orphans now. Sasa had been too, like so many others, their innocence robbed from them at an early age. In an odd way Obi thought of them as his children, wanting more than anything to protect them and keep them safe. If it came down to it he would take a bullet for any one of them, but he couldn’t save them all—he couldn’t even save Sasa.
    In his mind the only difference between his men and his biological son h e chose to hide with a Rohanian family years ago was blood.
    The thought of his estranged son filled his eyes with tears. It was a painful memory, recalling the look in his son’s eyes when he was forced to say goodbye. It was a decision he lived with every day, but he sought comfort in the reality of the situation—giving up his son had saved him from the world of constant war. And growing up without a father wasn’t as bad as not growing up at all.
    Obi closed his tired eyes and massaged his temples in an attempt to relieve the pain of the past and his worries of the future. He thought once more of his duty to Tisaia and Squad 19 before he drifted off to sleep.
     
    Time : 7:01 a.m. January 28, 2071
    Location : The Wastelands
     
    Obi’s radio blared to life, the static crackling over the fierce wind.
    “Obi, this is Jackson, standby for report. Over.”
    “Roger, Obi here. Standby to copy. Over.”
           “Reports of a convoy of Scorpions heading your way. Over.”
           “Copy that. Standby.”
    Obi crawled out onto the edge of the massive bluff overlooking an abandoned highway below. He covered his mouth with his bandana and glassed the valley, watching a trail of dust follow a few black specks in the distance. They were still about two clicks from the western wall surrounding the border of Tisaia.
    He discarded his binoculars and pushed a button on his goggles, zooming in to get a better look. Sure enough a convoy of CRK Scorpions was racing towards their location.
    The dune buggies were covered in gmetal, equipped with .50 cal machine guns, shocks for off-roading and massive Biomass fed engines. Their most infamous trait, however, wasn’t their deadly equipment, it was the humming their engines made. Any reasonable TDU soldier knew when you heard that humming, you didn’t stand your ground; you ran, or hid.
    Scorpions were one of the most effective weapons the CRK had in its arsenal against the TDU , who primarily traveled by horseback, by foot, or in a vehicle if they were fortunate enough to steal one. 
    “Jackson, this is Obi. We have four CRK Scorpions heading our way, waiting for your orders. Over.”
    “Roger , Obi, sit tight, we’re on our way with armor piercing rounds. Prepare to defend your location; we’re still about three hours away, over.”
    Three hours? We aren’t going to last 30 minutes against that type of firepower .
    “Hurry the hell up , Jackson,” Obi said, grabbing his rifle. He rose to his feet and stumbled over the broken ground.
    “Nathar, you and Creo take up positions on the highest part of that rock formation you can find. Creo, you take my sniper rifle; I’m going to use our missile launcher,” he said, pointing into the distance.
    “Yes sir,” they said simultaneously as they raced off towards a narrow path leading up to the rock formation. Obi watched them leave, his eyes following them as they turned their backs and began to climb up