Free Battlegroup (StarFight Series Book 2) by T. Jackson King Page A

Signal to every caste that they must sting these invaders! Let them suffer the death of a hundred stings!”
    Excitement flowed from the Servant. He flapped his wings and rose up above his bench even as one of his thorax arms touched a control panel. “Yes, yes, the Swarm will fly to kill all these intruders!”
    Seven looked back to the perception imagers that showed the three tubeways where Soft Skins had entered his nest. He gave thanks to the skies of Nest that the entry points were on the outer portions of his nest. The larval chamber was deeply located, as was his Flight Chamber. There were many six-groups of Swarmers spread through his flying nest. Surely they would overcome these invaders. And though the Soft Skins wore outer shells that looked metal hard, his Fighters had weapons of their own, in addition to the tail stinger possessed by every Swarmer. He wondered whether one of these large Soft Skins could survive multiple stings. If one did, or several survived, he would enjoy counting the number of stings he could inflict before a Soft Skin became still and dead.
     
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    Jane stopped ahead of him. She gestured left. “Chief, the entry hatch there is three times the size of the ones we’ve passed. Might be an important room. Do we enter?”
    “We enter,” he said, motioning Jack forward. “Lance corporal, put one of your magnetic mines against that hatch. Let’s see how big a hole you can make.”
    “Right.”
    The Marine moved forward and pulled a dome-shaped mine loose from his waist. Every combat hard shell carried two mines in addition to tubes of C4. They were for close-up entry. The rockets in each backpack were intended to handle distant entries, or groups of soldiers. To him, every wasp they met was an enemy soldier. They were on the wasp ship, therefore they were combatants. Briefly he recalled the hysteria earlier in the century when a prior American president had withdrawn America’s enrollment in the UN Convention on Certain Conventional Weapons. Protocols in the CCW had limited the use of landmines and cluster bombs against other militaries, and napalm against civies. While the CCW never prohibited the use of napalm and landmines against enemy militaries, still, that had been the media interpretation. He felt glad that the enrollment action by the former President Obama had been reversed decades ago. Also reversed was the reduction in American navy, air and ground forces. Actions that had been vital during the Mauritius landing against the jihadists, the massive air battle over the Strait of Malacca, and against other whackos elsewhere in the world. While he had no issue with enemy civilians, anyone who supported an enemy he counted as a combatant. Whether they wore a uniform or were ‘official’ according to the world media, he didn’t give a damn. Fortunately, other presidents had shared his pragmatism.
    Jack stepped back. “Chief, it’s ready to blow.”
    Richard scanned his troops. Jane was facing the tubeway that ran beyond the big hatch, ready to kill any new wasp that appeared. Didier was doing the same on the tubeway section that led back to their Dart, which Howard was keeping the Dart hot and ready for their return. Standing against either tubeway wall were Tim and Jack, who held a detonator switch. Both had their arms aimed at the six meter wide circular hatch that filled one side of the tubeway.
    “Jerry, going forced entry here,” he said, giving thanks the AI blocked any outside transmission of what he said to it. It prevented his troops from being confused by chatter meant just for the AI.
    “Understood,” the AI said brightly. “All sensors continue active. All weapons systems are operational. As are the jet packs on your legs. Any chance we’ll go flying?”
    He smiled to himself. The hard shell’s AI had a fixation with the suit’s ability to fly short distances, using liquid fuel jets affixed to each of his legs. They were a standard feature