Free Coming Home (Free Fleet Book 2) by Michael Chatfield Page B

disabling rounds which had knocked him out.
    A Mecha strode into the room with a few others around him as well as a massive creature wearing what looked like a simple coverall. He strode through the Mechas as the last Marine made it aboard.
    The Mechas moved out of the way, pushing others out of respect of the new arrival that walked through them, like his men would for himself, but this was more than just respect for rank. He could see by the way all of them turned to the arrival and then snapped back to work. All of them moved to do different jobs as Connolly started to hear a heavy mechanical noise of something moving.
    A disabled shuttle came into view. Some Mechas moved to either side of the shuttle as Connolly felt a tug on his suit, and then he was in the air, stuck to the bottom of the shuttle’s pads. They’d used the shuttles gravitational fields or magnetic clamps to clean them all up. A group of Mechas pulled his men from their armor and Mechas kicking and screaming as they where quickly and deftly handcuffed or stunned again, dropping limply to the floor. Connolly watched as the second group came through the airlock. This time they didn’t even fire as they were pulled into the pads of the shuttle, stunned, and then sorted as Connolly's team was after everyone had left the shuttle. Mechas ran into the shuttle, dragging out the pilots. Connolly saw Captain Smith was already cuffed behind him, for once not saying a word.
     
    “Alright, get these guys out of the way. Those of you assigned for relief, get a move on!”
    The leader that had walked through the other Mecha's yelled as more Mechas poured into the shuttle bay and moved on to further hangars as shuttles waited, ready to launch, and hangar doors sealed Connolly, his men, and the remaining Mechas in the hangar bay. Connolly didn't have much time to think on it as he was roughly pulled from his armor.
    “Fuck you, you alien piece of shit!” he said, spitting on the Mecha as he struggled against the strength that seemed impossible.
    “Damn, Frank, I thought Avar’s were violent; you humans are crazy! And the amount you spit!”
    “Hey! I don’t spit everywhere. I told you yesterday that was Bob that spit in the hangar. It's not like you Sarenmenti are any better at eating.” T he man’s accent was clearly American. The aliens where making some damned scary translator tech, Connolly thought as the Sarenmenti made some comment about delicate salad chompers. They secured Connolly and then attached him to the posts in the floor the rest of his men were attached to. They weren't uncomfortable, but they were far enough away from one another that they couldn’t touch or talk without raising their voices.
    Whoever these aliens, were, they knew their shit. About a half hour later the section of wall that had closed opened and Connolly looked at the eight Earth shuttles that were now there, their crews being systematically searched. He made a rough head count and it looked like everyone was there, if not for some loud cursing, yelling and screaming, as well as spitting, kicking, punching, and biting in one case—he was going to need a damned good dentist.
    The man that was the leader pulled off his helmet, flicking his emo slice to one side, revealing blood red eyes which seemed to pierce Connolly's skull as they flicked over him.
     
    “Shut the fuck up!” he yelled, subsonics shaking Connolly’s very bones as he was reminded of his non-commissioned officer yelling at him in basic training and putting the fear of god and the Marines into him.
    Silence descended as the man looked over them, studying them as much as they studied him. He looked human, but for the eyes and the fact he was on a Planetary Defense Force ship, Connolly wasn't sure. Maybe he's one of the recruits? He thought with shame as he wondered how much the PDF had changed this kid to make him like that.
    “My name is Commander Salchar, yes, the gamer. Now, Marines, I welcome you to the