Legion Of The Damned - 06 - For Those Who Fell by William C. Dietz

sir!” followed by more laughter.
    â€œGood,” Calvo concluded soberly, “because where we’re going there aren’t any pre-positioned supplies, shopping malls, or packages from home. Consult your NCOs if you have questions. We’ll be working sixteen hours on and eight hours off until the ships lift. That will be all.”
    The crowd scattered as Calvo stepped down, thought about the task ahead, and looked at Rono-Ra. “So what do you think? Can we pull everything together?”
    The supply officer produced the Hudathan equivalent of a smile. “Oh, we’ll pull it together all right . . . But General Ibo would be well advised to keep one hand on her skivvies. There won’t be much left around here when we’re done.”
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    The Hudathan arrived on time, filled the entrance to the squat with his considerable bulk, and announced his presence. “Gunnery Sergeant Kuga-Ka, reporting as ordered, sir! ”
    Santana was seated behind his folding field desk. Its surface was bare except for a zapper identical to the one that theNCO had used on Haabyand quite possibly others as well. The officer eyed the silhouette, wondered if the meeting was a mistake, and said, “Enter.”
    Kuga-Ka took three Hudathan-sized paces forward, came to attention, and held it. Normally Santana would have said, “At ease,” and invited the NCO to sit down, but the present circumstances were anything but normal. His status as an officer gave him an important advantage—and he had every intention of using it.
    The Hudathan spotted the zapper, knew it was there for a reason, and felt something cold trickle into his veins. How much did the officer know? And more importantly, did he have any proof?
    â€œNo, it isn’t yours,” Santana said, taking the remote off the table. “But it’s similar. I wanted to see how hard they were to come by and learned that half a dozen of them were stolen from the military police a few months back. Did you or one of your toadies steal them?”
    â€œSir! No sir!”
    â€œThat’s good, very good,” Santana replied, “not that I’m inclined to believe it. Here’s what I’ve learned so far . . . Ever since you arrived on Adobe you have used your authority to abuse, degrade, and torture the very beings you are sworn to protect. And, because you are so violent, people have been understandably reluctant to file charges against you.
    â€œNow, based on what I’m telling you, a normal person would stop such activities so that he or she wouldn’t get caught. But you believe you’re smarter than your officers are—and take pleasure in carrying out your little games right under their noses. That, plus the fact that you are addicted to the pleasure you derive from abusing others, means that you’ll continue even as some aspect of your tiny little brain tells you that it’s dangerous to do so. And it is dangerous, because I’m going to catch you at it, and bring you up on charges.
    â€œOr, and I suspect you’re thinking about this one rightnow, you can attempt to kill me. I say ‘attempt,’ because a whole lot of people have tried to kill me in the past, and I’m still around. How ’bout it, gunny? Would you like to take a shot at me?”
    Kuga-Ka wanted to kill Santana, was determined to kill Santana, not to mention Haaby. The freak had been warned, the freak had spilled her guts, and the freak was going to suffer. But not here, not now, and not while Santana held all the cards. The squat could be bugged, and there was no guarantee that he would be able to find such a device in the aftermath of the murder. Not only that, but other people were aware of the meeting and could testify to it. He kept his eyes focused on a point over the officer’s head. “Sir! No sir!”
    â€œThat’s what I thought you’d say,” Santana said easily.