Strange Company Nick Cole (best classic novels TXT) 📖

it was easy to get it into their hard drive that the Grim Reaper Astronaut had it out, and was coming, for them. Best to keep it light. I told him, “Old Man says if something happens to Slick, he’s moving you into the ASL position for whoever takes Ghost. That way you’ll be ready to take over someday. So hopefully nothing happens to Slick because Reaper needs you forever.”

We clinked bottles over that.

Then, “I don’t really have one, Orion. A story.” He looked at me seriously. And then he nodded to himself like he was checking in to make sure what he said was true. Windage and elevation on the target he’d just selected. Good sight picture. Time and distance to target.

Truth is, a lot of them say just that. That they don’t have a story. Then they go ahead and tell me why they don’t have a story and that, as I point out later, is actually their story.

“No running from the law or lost love like half these guys, y’know, Sarge?” he said. Continuing. Getting ready to tell it all. “Just got tired of what I was doin’ back in the Capellas and decided to do something else. Love shooting. Didn’t want to give that up. Figured merc’n was a way to keep doing it and not have to do what I used to do.”

“What’d you used to do?”

“Big-game hunting guide in the Washataw Basin. Take rich people, and sometimes even the occasional Monarch and their entourage, out to bag a sabresaur or a goliahadon. Real fancy stuff. We worked with an outfitter that turned it into a real… I don’t know what you’d call it… but a party is the word that made me walk away from it all finally. It was pretty high-speed for hunting. So much so that it wasn’t. Hunting, I mean. Not anymore.”

“So, why’d you let it go?” I asked.

He thought about my question for a long time. Went to check some rounds we were working on and came back with two fresh beers. That’s when I knew the meter was running on my job as the keeper of Strange Company stories. I like my job. Sometimes I wish I could stop being a platoon leader and just keep everyone’s histories and even the histories of the company and the conflicts we’ve been involved in. History is very comforting. It’s people that get messy.

“Like I said… no crimes. No heartbreaks, Sarge. Just didn’t like what I was doing with the thing I loved. Shooting. Needed to find another gig for it. Didn’t mind shooting bad guys as much as I was afraid I might.”

“We don’t always shoot bad guys in the company, man.” I know. I’m a killjoy. But I can’t do anything but do me. It’s all I know. Your mileage may vary, as I tell guys when they complain about me raining on life with reality and stuff. “We shoot who we get paid to shoot. It’s best not to think about that too much, Boom, if good guys and bad guys is some kind of criteria for you, I mean.”

He pulled his ear and thought about that.

“Animals, they ain’t bad. They’re just animals. People are different. I like everyone. But, in some way, we’re all bad. Animals… they ain’t. Let me tell you this one. The last gig I’m on as a hunting guide is the same gig I’ve worked since I was fourteen years old. This one was even for a Monarch. Eidi. Heard of him? He’s the one who owns Gold Star. The world and the shipping line and a bunch of other stuff. Real creep. His entourage comes out and we get him all set up. He wants to go deep into the basin and bag one of the biggest predators out there, according to him. But see, the terraclops isn’t what everyone thinks it is. They’ve just seen that flick and they all think it really does breathe fire and it’s impossible to kill and all. Truth is, the terraclops is a gentle giant if you understand them. It does breathe fire, but not like the special-effects fires in the spectacuthrillers. It just burns up tall grass, toasts it because it likes to eat it that way. Something to do with their biology.”

He took a pull of his beer. I did too. When they tell me, I don’t write it down. I just listen. Then put it down later. Check details if I need to.

“But, because of the fog and cloud layers on that world, and the terrain, you really gotta hump through the basin to get to the valley where you’re most likely gonna find a terraclops. My pa gave me that gig. He was getting old that year, last year of his life. And the expeditions went to either me, or my cousin who’s a pretty good guy and an excellent guide also. So, three days up the Saya River and then over a ridge and down into the valley where we’ll find the target. Easy stuff. Problem is Eidi, this Monarch tool, he wants to shoot everything along the way. And I mean everything. Soodaclops. Narledons. Shiftraptos. Even go-weasels that don’t hurt anyone. He bags like thirty running in a herd with a quad fifty his people set up on the bow of the barge. Like he’s playing River Raider in the Sindo. You ever see that show? Was cool. This wasn’t. Know what I mean? Anyway, this Monarch is in the main barge following my aeroskiff up along the easier channels of the Saya to get where we need to go. But he just shoots everything he can lay his sights on. Got a fancy all-gold Lyran heavy sniper rifle chambered in .950.”

And now, as I listen… he’s back there. Telling his story in present tense like he’s watching it all one more time…

“The thing is stupid but it’s a beast, Orion. I’ve seen this before. This type of guy. This