take insults from corporate whores! Perhaps Citizen Qwan would like to take it outside, where I would be pleased to kick his pompous ass!”
Pardo started to intervene. but Harco beat her to it. His voice was low but carried to every corner of the room. “Stow the bullshit.”
The room fell silent as the officer stood and clasped his hands behind his back. His eyes were like lasers and probed the faces around him. “Let’s get something straight.... Every damned one of you has an axe to grind. Fine. I accept that. But nothing, I repeat nothing , is going to happen unless my people put their lives on the line and manage to win one hellacious battle.
“ If we survive, if we win, the lot of you can squabble over who gets what, so long as you remember one important fact: We have the weapons, we have the know-how, and we have the final say. Questions? No? Good. Let’s put a wrap on this introductory crap and lay some plans.”
4
He who fires a bullet in the air can never be sure of where it may land.
Hoda Ibin Ragnatha
Turr Truth Sayer
Standard year 2206
Planet Earth, the Confederacy of Sentient Beings
The transport swept in across the sparkling Gulf of Aden and flew so low that Booly had no difficulty making out the fishermen on their wooden dhows. They waved, a sure sign that such flights were relatively rare, and an indicator of how remote his new duty station truly was. The fly form’s passenger compartment, positioned at the front of the aircraft, offered excellent visibility.
Located on the east coast of Africa, the ancient country of Djibouti had once been an important port, but that was a long time ago. With a population approaching 100,000, and no natural resources to speak of, it was one of the most backward places on Earth. Vegetation was scarce and consisted of hardy grass, thorn trees, and scattered palms. The poor soil and lack of rain made large-scale farming impractical—and nothing had changed in hundreds of years.
None of that had stopped the French from colonizing the place, though, or from installing the Legion to protect it-a a tradition that continued long after France ceased to exist.
The city had long been the home of the 13th Half-Brigade, also know as the 13th DBLE, which had seen action at Bir Hakeim, El Alamein, Dien Bien Phu, Algeria, both Hudathan Wars, the battle of Bakala, and dozens more.
The modern 13th consisted of a command and services company, a works company, a combat company, an infantry company on loan from the 2nd REP, and a reconnaissance squadron. Of interest to Booly, and no one else, was the fact that his father and mother had served in the outfit as well.
Most of what Booly saw as the fly form rumbled in over the Gulf of Tadjoura was tan like his khakis. There were flashes of white, however, including three handsome-looking mosques, a scattering of French colonial buildings, and the fortress to which he had been assigned.
The battlements were circular and sat on the Plateau du Serpent the way a kepi sits on a legionnaire’s head. Not unpleasant to look at, especially from the air, but a dumping ground for troublemakers like Booly.
He examined his fellow passenger, the only other person in the large compartment. The legionnaire seemed to be asleep. His uniform was filthy, a corporal’s chevron had been partially ripped from his sleeve, and he’d been handcuffed to his seat. Drunk, disorderly, and who knew what else. An excellent example of what Booly could expect.
The transport shuddered, started to slow, and dropped toward the ground. Booly saw the tops of palm trees, the flash of white battlements, and the X that marked the fort’s landing platform. There was an intercom, and he touched a button. “This place has an airport, doesn’t it? Let’s land there.”
The pilot, who had been executed for murder, consisted of little more than brain tissue in a nutrient bath. When ordered to choose permanent death, or service as a cyborg, she chose the
Pardo started to intervene. but Harco beat her to it. His voice was low but carried to every corner of the room. “Stow the bullshit.”
The room fell silent as the officer stood and clasped his hands behind his back. His eyes were like lasers and probed the faces around him. “Let’s get something straight.... Every damned one of you has an axe to grind. Fine. I accept that. But nothing, I repeat nothing , is going to happen unless my people put their lives on the line and manage to win one hellacious battle.
“ If we survive, if we win, the lot of you can squabble over who gets what, so long as you remember one important fact: We have the weapons, we have the know-how, and we have the final say. Questions? No? Good. Let’s put a wrap on this introductory crap and lay some plans.”
4
He who fires a bullet in the air can never be sure of where it may land.
Hoda Ibin Ragnatha
Turr Truth Sayer
Standard year 2206
Planet Earth, the Confederacy of Sentient Beings
The transport swept in across the sparkling Gulf of Aden and flew so low that Booly had no difficulty making out the fishermen on their wooden dhows. They waved, a sure sign that such flights were relatively rare, and an indicator of how remote his new duty station truly was. The fly form’s passenger compartment, positioned at the front of the aircraft, offered excellent visibility.
Located on the east coast of Africa, the ancient country of Djibouti had once been an important port, but that was a long time ago. With a population approaching 100,000, and no natural resources to speak of, it was one of the most backward places on Earth. Vegetation was scarce and consisted of hardy grass, thorn trees, and scattered palms. The poor soil and lack of rain made large-scale farming impractical—and nothing had changed in hundreds of years.
None of that had stopped the French from colonizing the place, though, or from installing the Legion to protect it-a a tradition that continued long after France ceased to exist.
The city had long been the home of the 13th Half-Brigade, also know as the 13th DBLE, which had seen action at Bir Hakeim, El Alamein, Dien Bien Phu, Algeria, both Hudathan Wars, the battle of Bakala, and dozens more.
The modern 13th consisted of a command and services company, a works company, a combat company, an infantry company on loan from the 2nd REP, and a reconnaissance squadron. Of interest to Booly, and no one else, was the fact that his father and mother had served in the outfit as well.
Most of what Booly saw as the fly form rumbled in over the Gulf of Tadjoura was tan like his khakis. There were flashes of white, however, including three handsome-looking mosques, a scattering of French colonial buildings, and the fortress to which he had been assigned.
The battlements were circular and sat on the Plateau du Serpent the way a kepi sits on a legionnaire’s head. Not unpleasant to look at, especially from the air, but a dumping ground for troublemakers like Booly.
He examined his fellow passenger, the only other person in the large compartment. The legionnaire seemed to be asleep. His uniform was filthy, a corporal’s chevron had been partially ripped from his sleeve, and he’d been handcuffed to his seat. Drunk, disorderly, and who knew what else. An excellent example of what Booly could expect.
The transport shuddered, started to slow, and dropped toward the ground. Booly saw the tops of palm trees, the flash of white battlements, and the X that marked the fort’s landing platform. There was an intercom, and he touched a button. “This place has an airport, doesn’t it? Let’s land there.”
The pilot, who had been executed for murder, consisted of little more than brain tissue in a nutrient bath. When ordered to choose permanent death, or service as a cyborg, she chose the
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