Alone and Unafraid (American Praetorians Book 3) by Peter Nealen Page B
Authors: Peter Nealen
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kill a bunch of other fucked up hajjis? More power to ‘em, I say.”
“It ain’t the same and you damned well know it,” Jim growled. “What the fuck is your problem, Cyrus?”
He turned to Jim. “My problem is that I don’t have a death wish like the rest of you apparently do. ‘Oh, here’s a job that calls for us to go alone and unafraid into the worst hornet’s nest in the region! What’s not to like?’ Fuck that. Africa was bad enough. I thought, working with the Kurds, we might have something a little more stable, but no, here we go, Somalia all over again.”
I sighed. I was too damned tired to deal with this. “We’re contracted for this, and for good reasons, Cyrus.”
“And who agreed to that contract, huh?” he demanded, facing me and bowing up a little. “Isn’t this a co-op company? What the fuck makes you think you can agree to contracts without consulting the rest of us?”
“Fine,” I snapped, “all in favor of taking the contract?” Six hands went up. Cyrus’ stayed down, as he glared at me. “All opposed?” He raised his hand. “The ayes have it. Now quit your fucking bitching and get your gear ready, then get some sleep. It’s going to be a long day.”
I actually got up late. The sun was fully up, and when I squinted at my watch, it said it was 0900. Well, I supposed that given what time I’d finally fallen asleep, I’d needed what little I’d gotten. Nick was up and at the radios, while Larry was still snoring on his pad on the floor. I glanced at the door, where Bryan was leaning against the jamb, his belt kit on and his OBR in his hands.
He looked over as I sat up, and shook his head slightly. “Nothing yet,” he said. “Feels like a thunderstorm’s coming, though.”
“I can imagine,” I said. “How many of Hussein Ali’s guys are still around?”
“Not many,” he replied. “They’re mostly out on patrol; it helps that there was a coordinated attack on the PPF base up at the old Shatt al Arab hotel at dawn this morning. Things are stirred up enough that nobody’s noticing anyone missing yet.”
I rubbed some of the sleepy out of my eyes. “Good. Let’s hope it continues.” I realized that I was hoping for more of the violence we’d been working to counteract. Oh, well, that happens when your allies turn against you. Welcome to Tribal Warfare 101.
I got up, scooped up my weapons and vest, and headed into the back. If we were going to take Black with us, he’d have to be brought at least somewhat up to speed. I was already working my mind around how to work him without necessarily trusting him. I was increasingly convinced that his antipathy for Collins and the Project was genuine; that he had gotten into a “wrong place, wrong time” situation, but my responsibility as team lead meant I couldn’t afford to trust him. If I trusted him, and treated him like a teammate, and turned out to be wrong, the lives of my team would be on my hands. Combat’s one thing; getting killed because your team lead made a bad judgment call is something else. I didn’t want that on my conscience.
I didn’t get to finish my ruminations and have that talk with Black. Marcus caught up with me in the hallway. He spoke quietly; there were two PPF troopers walking down the same hallway. “Daoud just showed up at the front door with about twenty troops,” he murmured. “He looks smug as hell, too. We might be out of time.”
“Make sure everybody’s up and ready to move,” I told him, watching the two PPF guys strolling closer. At least one of them I recognized; he was one of Hussein Ali’s. Whether he was one of those coming with us, I couldn’t be sure.
“Already done,” Marcus replied. “Everybody’s up, gear’s packed up aside from the comms, and everybody’s armed. Jim told Daoud that we’re waiting for a report on Abu Issa al Hreitan, and that
“It ain’t the same and you damned well know it,” Jim growled. “What the fuck is your problem, Cyrus?”
He turned to Jim. “My problem is that I don’t have a death wish like the rest of you apparently do. ‘Oh, here’s a job that calls for us to go alone and unafraid into the worst hornet’s nest in the region! What’s not to like?’ Fuck that. Africa was bad enough. I thought, working with the Kurds, we might have something a little more stable, but no, here we go, Somalia all over again.”
I sighed. I was too damned tired to deal with this. “We’re contracted for this, and for good reasons, Cyrus.”
“And who agreed to that contract, huh?” he demanded, facing me and bowing up a little. “Isn’t this a co-op company? What the fuck makes you think you can agree to contracts without consulting the rest of us?”
“Fine,” I snapped, “all in favor of taking the contract?” Six hands went up. Cyrus’ stayed down, as he glared at me. “All opposed?” He raised his hand. “The ayes have it. Now quit your fucking bitching and get your gear ready, then get some sleep. It’s going to be a long day.”
I actually got up late. The sun was fully up, and when I squinted at my watch, it said it was 0900. Well, I supposed that given what time I’d finally fallen asleep, I’d needed what little I’d gotten. Nick was up and at the radios, while Larry was still snoring on his pad on the floor. I glanced at the door, where Bryan was leaning against the jamb, his belt kit on and his OBR in his hands.
He looked over as I sat up, and shook his head slightly. “Nothing yet,” he said. “Feels like a thunderstorm’s coming, though.”
“I can imagine,” I said. “How many of Hussein Ali’s guys are still around?”
“Not many,” he replied. “They’re mostly out on patrol; it helps that there was a coordinated attack on the PPF base up at the old Shatt al Arab hotel at dawn this morning. Things are stirred up enough that nobody’s noticing anyone missing yet.”
I rubbed some of the sleepy out of my eyes. “Good. Let’s hope it continues.” I realized that I was hoping for more of the violence we’d been working to counteract. Oh, well, that happens when your allies turn against you. Welcome to Tribal Warfare 101.
I got up, scooped up my weapons and vest, and headed into the back. If we were going to take Black with us, he’d have to be brought at least somewhat up to speed. I was already working my mind around how to work him without necessarily trusting him. I was increasingly convinced that his antipathy for Collins and the Project was genuine; that he had gotten into a “wrong place, wrong time” situation, but my responsibility as team lead meant I couldn’t afford to trust him. If I trusted him, and treated him like a teammate, and turned out to be wrong, the lives of my team would be on my hands. Combat’s one thing; getting killed because your team lead made a bad judgment call is something else. I didn’t want that on my conscience.
I didn’t get to finish my ruminations and have that talk with Black. Marcus caught up with me in the hallway. He spoke quietly; there were two PPF troopers walking down the same hallway. “Daoud just showed up at the front door with about twenty troops,” he murmured. “He looks smug as hell, too. We might be out of time.”
“Make sure everybody’s up and ready to move,” I told him, watching the two PPF guys strolling closer. At least one of them I recognized; he was one of Hussein Ali’s. Whether he was one of those coming with us, I couldn’t be sure.
“Already done,” Marcus replied. “Everybody’s up, gear’s packed up aside from the comms, and everybody’s armed. Jim told Daoud that we’re waiting for a report on Abu Issa al Hreitan, and that
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