Strange Company Nick Cole (best classic novels TXT) 📖

I took another hit of the hot coffee, expelled a big “ahhh,” and knew I felt that right combination of tiredness and devil-may-care to just NCO my way through a conversation with a real live Monarch.

What did I have to lose?

“Aren’t the Ultras your guard dogs, lady? Wasn’t that you shooting them down with the fifty last night? I don’t know what deal you made with our captain… but I don’t need to. Not my job. Captain makes the contract, Strange Company abides by the rules. That’s law around here. So I don’t need to know anything, but having said that, it sure would be nice to know what we’re getting ourselves into fooling around with you. Strange Company has a very important rule. Hell, it ain’t even a rule. Might as well be a damned law. Everyone knows the mission. That’s it. Now granted, things were a bit chaotic yesterday… thought we’d be driving the MSR on a victory parade this morning and doing the last of the mop-up. But lo and behold, the whole thing and months of planning go sideways at the very same moment a Battle Spire shows up and Ultra death squads start dropping all over the field. Then you, a Monarch, also show up, and suddenly, again, the company’s hired for a super-secret gig in order to get ourselves off-world. I don’t believe in much, lady. And one of the things I don’t believe in is coincidences. A bunch of ’em all going in the same direction ain’t a coincidence. It’s a plan. So why don’t you save this tired old soldier some guesswork and just tell me what the game actually is so I can help you do it better and get my men back to the Spider and off to deep space, and somewhere twenty-five to sixty years from now we can get ourselves involved in another loser conflict. Okay? That’d be real helpful this morning, if you know what I mean.”

She unslung the submachine gun, like I said matte-black and wicked, with a hexagonal ventilated barrel, a tri-dot laser acquisition system, and a collapsible stock. A weapon like that would’ve been more than any killer in Strange Company would want to spend. Even if he could find it to spend his imaginary money on it.

“So what’s really going on?” I asked one more time.

She turned and leaned against the Mule, facing the dawn that was little more than a thin red strip along the cracked and broken horizon of the desert wastes we’d be heading into today. East toward the Crash. One of the Nineteen Wonders of the Universe, some said.

“Everything you know—” She stopped abruptly. Her voice strong. And warm at the same time. It didn’t match the ice queen features. But later, when I thought about her, and all that would come of the dark intersection of fate and tragedy that marked this unholy alliance between Monarch and a down-and-out mercenary company with a fabled past, it was the only voice I could hear at times. The voice of doom. Ours and everything that was known then.

“Everything you know… is a lie, Sergeant Orion. It’s all lies. And it’s time for the lies to die.”

She looked at me for a moment to try and see if her words had left some impact. Some crater the result of artillery falling from far away to close at hand. Distant to near. To see if I was damaged or ruined. To see if I’d survived a direct hit from the truth.

But I’m a sergeant. My day doesn’t get ruined just because someone told me the plan ain’t the plan anymore. And I already figured it was all a lie. I didn’t need anyone to spell that out. I’d seen enough dead kids who decided to get involved in the war game to know that on some level, it was always a lie.

And… it wasn’t. There’s that. But that doesn’t have anything to do with the lies. There are deeper truths the universe can’t do anything about. Ain’t no lie about being a soldier. Win, lose, or die. Being a soldier is just about the truest thing I’ve ever seen in the galaxy. Fear, gunfire, and the suck get you real honest about the situation regardless of what you’re being sold.

So there’s that. I’ve been saying that a lot to myself. It’s not contained within these writings, but I’ll note it for the record, not that it means anything. Just some detail about me for whatever that’s worth.

“There is that.”

“There’s what?” someone will ask when they hear me muttering to myself.

“That.” And then I’ll just get busy doing another thing that needs to be done to keep Reaper alive and fighting another day. No explanations. I don’t owe anyone anything.

“Do you believe in anything, Sergeant?”

“Just Orion. Okay? You’re a Monarch. Kings and queens of all the human expansion as far as the jump drive can see, right?”

She nodded and sighed, “Something like that.” Then she continued, “What if I told you it isn’t one big team… Orion. That all the Monarchs don’t live in peace and harmony like you’ve been led to believe. That what you’ve been told… that the pantheon of the ‘benevolent gods,’ who have the best interests of the galaxy by having their own best interests first, are what keep us from annihilating ourselves out here in the dark frontiers of space… is a lie. If I told you that… you’d say, well that makes sense. And then you’d think we were just like you. Some other advanced tribe warring within itself, and all of this, all the wars your company fights, all the corruption around the galaxy and the general lack of freedom… or rather let’s say it this way. The freedom that’s allowed is because the Monarchs are fighting and winning, or losing, in some hidden battle none of you are allowed to see because Earth is a big giant no-go