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RAZOR 1-7

RAZOR 1-7 is just about finished, started on the last chapter yesterday. This is my first step into the world of strictly science fiction, no paranormal bent. Time travel is the name of the game. The story revolves round a modern day special operations team that is sent back to 1589 while testing a new piece of war fighting equipment. Should be done soon, here's a shot from the final chapter:


“Where’s Jeremy?” Johnson asked as the rest of the team moved up next to them.

“About 15 minutes ago a male came running onto the first ship. Then a group of ten, all armed, came off and ran into the woods about 250 yards to our left. Both our radios are dead, Jeremy took off to get some eyes on them. He said that when the shooting starts, he’ll hustle back and for us not to leave without him.”

“No promises.” Johnson said in a hushed tone as he took one last look around, “You cover Thad while he hits the first two ships. Dave and I will board that smaller one and take it room-to-room. Once Walter and his folks are on board and underway, we’re gonna go get back on those horses and find us a nice spot to wait for Metis to call.”

“I got it.” Hollocut replied in a tone of voice that was all business.

“Nick, once we’re done you grab ahold of Jennifer and Harvey. All our comm’s are out of juice except for the SAT-COMM so don’t get separated!”

“Whenever your ready boss.” White said as he knelt next to Johnson and Hollocut, flipping up the sight on his M203 grenade launcher.

“Burn those fuckers to the water line! Expend everything you need to, we’ve got more cached back at the colony.” Johnson hissed as he smacked both men on the shoulder and ran in a crouched position over to Writer.

“Where’s Jeremy?” Writer asked as Johnson knelt next to him.

“They had a squad come off in a hurry. He’s putting eyes on them, making sure they don’t get behind us.”

“You ready?” Johnson asked, not taking his eyes of the ramp leading from the riverbank up onto the smaller ship.

“Yes, Sergeant, I am.” Writer replied with a slight sneer.

The stillness of the late morning air was shattered as the first of two high explosive rounds from White’s grenade launcher impacted on the top deck of the first ship. The loud explosion was amplified as the second round impacted just forward of the first. Chunks of wood and deck planking went flying in every direction as the forward mast came toppling down into a growing fire.

Reaching into a side pouch on his vest White pulled out a third grenade round. He kissed the gold colored head on the grenade, winked at Hollocut, and quickly stood up out of the grass. Taking aim, he fired the round directly into the side of the first ship near the stern. The explosion rocked the entire vessel, igniting secondary explosions, which blew a hole in the side of the ship at and below the water line.

“Contact, second target!” Hollocut barked as he took aim and began firing at several sailors who had come up onto the deck of the second ship. With two of the sailors dropped dead from rifle fire, some ran back below, two jumped into the river, and a few others just stood there and watched in disbelief as their sister ship listed, and then stern first, sank into the river.

“Now!” Johnson yelled as he and White stood and ran from the cover of the tall grass towards the ramp leading up onto the third, smaller ship.

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