War Criminals Gavin Smith (best novels for teenagers .TXT) đ
- Author: Gavin Smith
Book online «War Criminals Gavin Smith (best novels for teenagers .TXT) đ». Author Gavin Smith
âTell your boys good work. Gear cleaned, upload their after-action reports and then youâre stood down for twenty-four hours. Iâll put some money in your commissary accounts above and beyond your combat pay. Have some drinks and then get some sleep.â
The platoon commander just nodded â he looked bone weary â and then turned and headed for the platoonâs hooch.
âI donât get it,â Raffâs voice said behind her. Miska didnât turn to look at him. Instead she was concentrating on the Offensive Bastards waiting in the landing padâs ready area, most of them leaning on their packs. The Offensive Bastards were her rifle company, the conventional force that was forming the backbone of her fledgling legion. The legion she didnât have enough volunteers to bring to full strength, or enough resources to fully equip. Currently they were one full fighting company, the Offensive Bastards; their recon platoon, the Sneaky Bastards; an under-strength combat exoskeleton squad, the Armoured Bastards; and their two brand-new mech platoons, the Heavy Bastards. In addition they had a significant amount of support staff, which included the ground crews for the two Pegasi and the recently up-armoured prison shuttle. With only two Armoured Personnel Carriers, they were, however, significantly under-equipped vehicle-wise and of course, all of this had on-going costs, most of which was being met by stealing the stuff they captured. The Ephesus conflict had been a boon in some ways, particularly financially, but it had also been something of a baptism of fire. In the two months theyâd been in-country some of their leadership choices were working out, other not so much.
âBeat it, lenshead.â The Cyclopsâs voice modulator really was excellent quality. It picked out her dadâs gruffness so clearly.
âItâs all right, LSM,â Miska told her dad. âGo and speak to the company commander, make sure theyâre ready to go.â The Cyclops glanced suspiciously at Raff. Not even her dad knew that the entire Bastard Legion was a deniable CIA black op. He just thought Raff was another annoying war correspondent.
âYes, boss,â her dad said and then made his way towards the Offensive Bastardsâ company commander.
Miska turned to Raff. At least he wasnât looking at her with puppy-dog eyes. She hoped sheâd beaten that out of him.
âYouâre going for FOB Trafalgar, right?â he asked. âYou think youâve found it. Thatâs why you were running the mechs, bringing them through the jungle.â
Trafalgar was a concealed Triple S forward operating base on the wrong side of the Turquoise River, somewhere in the held territory of the Ephesus Colonial Administration, the legionsâ current employers. MACE, or Military Active Command Ephesus, knew roughly where FOB Trafalgar was, but had yet to pinpoint it. The Sneaky Bastards were about to be tasked to look for it again. She wanted to join them but knew that sort of thing wasnât really her job any more.
âMcWilliams, Perez, howâre you guys doing?â Miska subvocalised over comms. She was watching Raff but not answering him. She could see the Colonial Administrationâs ground crews hooking up heavy gauge power cables to the Pegasi. Cargo exoskeletons were loading new missiles into the empty racks.
âWeâre good, boss,â Perez told her.
âNeed time to recharge the point defence lasers and re-arm and then weâre good to go,â McWilliams added.
âAll right, stretch your legs and get some coffee,â she told the pilots.
âSo why is your rifle company ready to ship out?â Raff asked. Miska just looked at him.
âYouâre not going after Trafalgar, are you?â he said slowly. They werenât, but the feintâs secondary objective had been to try and get a reaction from FOB Trafalgar. Currently stealthed spotter drones were going through the area where MACE suspected the enemy FOB was located, using heat sensors to try and find it.
Miska still didnât say anything. Instead she just pointed at the newly christened Harpy 1. Raff turned to look at the huge heavy lift drop shuttle. The modular cargo bays were open. They could see the low loaders but the mech cradles were empty.
âWhere are your mechs?â Raff asked.
Miska just smiled.
Nyukuti was waiting for her. The big Aborigine wore full combat armour, inertial armour battle dress with hard plates over the top, and a half-helmet, rather than the full-threat helmet that most of the Offensive Bastards preferred. He almost looked like a marine, except for the circuit tattoos on the nearly-black skin of his face. His eyes, implants, were unnaturally dark as well, presumably to enhance the intimidation factor. Before heâd been imprisoned on the Hangmanâs Daughter heâd been a stand-over man in the Lalande system, meaning heâd âstood overâ criminals as he tortured them into handing over their ill-gotten gains. A criminal dangerous enough to steal from other criminals, he was feared and respected as much as he was disliked onboard the Hangmanâs Daughter.
âHey, Nyukuti, you want something?â Miska asked. She liked Nyukuti. He was weird but capable, and appeared enthusiastically loyal for someone with a nanobomb implanted in his head. On the other hand, Miska knew she couldnât trust any of them. Still, she was glad to see heâd recovered from the quite serious wounds that he had received on Faigroe Station at the hands of Triple S contractors.
Nyukuti was staring over her head. He towered over her, but then everyone did. She turned to see what he was looking at. One of the WhÄnau was walking by. She guessed he had been the member of the Heavy Bastards who hadnât got a mech because Mass had taken out the eighth Medusa. The Maori mech-jockey was glaring at Nyukuti, his face made all the more fierce because of his tÄ moko facial tattoos. Miska knew that in his stand-over days Nyukuti had targeted the WhÄnau often enough to gain their enmity. It was the
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