Free Mako (The Mako Saga: Book 1) by Ian J. Malone Page A

the living room sofa that let out an ominous crack under Lunley’s mountainous form. Watching him for a moment to make sure he wouldn’t be sick, Mac inspected his glazed eyes and contorted expression before finally deciding it was safe to leave.
    “Ma… Maaccccc?” he stammered as she turned to go—his breath reeking of Scotch—his accent, having been dulled somewhat by 10-plus years of living stateside, unmistakably thick and pronounced as it usually was when he was either drunk or highly animated. “Ya’re like… Ya’re like… our very own… Northern Star, ya know that?”
    “Right Hamish, Northern Star. Got it… You’re not gonna hurl, are you?”
    He shook his head and rose to his feet to face her, wobbling for a moment before resting a large paw on her small shoulder to steady himself.
    “Aye, Northern—” (hiccup) “—Star. Because no matter where we are… or whatever childish mischief we manage to get ourselves into… ya’re always there to guide us home, safe and sound.”
    As furious as she’d been with them prior to then, Mac couldn’t help but smile at the sentiment. Granted, there was no denying that he was horrendously trashed, but even still, she could see in his broad, smiling face and glossy brown eyes that he sincerely meant what he said and she was grateful for that. As such, when the time finally came to select a call sign for her character, “Northern Star” was the unanimous pick.
    In contrast, Danny Tucker—who took the call sign of “Hurricane” for his south Florida roots—never had much interest in the game’s arsenal of ships and fighters. Aerial combat had never been his thing, but having spent a considerable amount of time training with his agency’s S.W.A.T. team while in law enforcement, he found himself much more enamored with Mako’s litany of guns and infantry weapons; though his real passion came with its hand-to-hand combat elements. An avid fan of MMA and various forms of martial arts (but never having found the time to master any of them beyond an amateur level), Danny immersed himself in Mako’s close quarters combat module and by the time their squad was officially deployed on its first mission, he was already developing a reputation as one of the game’s fighting elite. This, combined with his ever-growing knowledge of urban warfare, made him the perfect complement to Lee, whose expertise focused on the more aerial, and by their third mission, he had cemented himself as Lee’s second in charge as the group’s Assistant Commander, Ground Operations.
    Next there was Link, call sign “Jester” for his cocky attitude and lifelong fear of clowns, a mysterious loathing he’d had since childhood and one that, to this day, he’d refused to elaborate on. Having grown up on Star Wars as a kid, his favorite character had always been Han Solo, the cocky captain of the Millennium Falcon and a self-proclaimed scoundrel at heart. Personality similarities aside, Link always preferred the bulkier, bruising style of Mako’s larger crew-manned vessels, his favorite being the SB-40 Tuskan Starbomber, a heavily armed fortress of an aircraft he’d long described as “a really pissed-off AC-130 in space.” Unlike Lee and Mac, who opted for the high-performance speed and precision of Assault’s fighters, such as the signature SF-13 Mako, Link had always said his fondness for the bigger ships stemmed from their brute-like strength, awesome firepower, and overall durability in a firefight—not that this explanation ever pacified the others, who claimed he was just overcompensating for his small stature… among other things.
    Outside the cockpit, Link was nothing short of a lethal marksman. His years of hunting with his father in the forests of Colorado made him an excellent shot with a sniper rifle, and he quickly adapted to Mako’s myriad environmental and technological options for the role. But beside the technicalities of his craft, there was just something