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

“Now, one last thing, is the company full up? Or do we have some open slots?”
    â€œWe have three open slots, sir.”
    â€œGood. I have excellent candidates for two of them. I will provide their names to Captain Gaphy—and you will endorse them. Gaphy owns the company, but I run one-third of it, and I can find ways to make your life a living hell. Do we understand each other?”
    â€œSir! Yes sir!”
    â€œExcellent. Now, get out of here before the very sight of you causes me to throw up.”
    The Hudathan executed a perfect about-face, marched out of the tent, and soon disappeared from sight.
    Santana let out a long slow breath, removed the pistol from his lap, and placed it on the desk. It had taken the better part of two hours to coax the truth out of Haaby—and only after a promise that he wouldn’t take the matter upstairs. Not only was the cyborg afraid of Kuga-Ka, but had the Hudathan’s toadies to consider, along with one of the Legion’s most venerable laws. Members of the enlisted ranks solved their own problems, never took interpersonalissues up the chain of command, and were sanctioned if they did.
    Was it right? No. Was it real? Yes. That was why Santana had decided to bait the Hudathan and lure the noncom out into the open, where official action could be taken. Would Kuga-Ka move against his enemies before the battalion lifted off? The cavalry officer believed that he would because once the techs jerked Haaby’s brain box the zapper wouldn’t work, and the noncom’s leverage would be lost. Not only that, but the T-2’s brain box would be racked along with all the others, and kept under lock and key until just prior to landing.
    All of which meant that, in addition to preparing his platoon for deployment and trying to snatch a few hours of sleep every now and then, Santana had to protect both the cyborg and himself. No small task with a potentially homicidal Hudathan on the loose.
    The officer rose, slipped the pistol into the shoulder holster that most members of the 1st REC preferred, and left the squat. There was a whole lot of work to do—and less than three standard days in which to get it done.
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    The sun had gone down, the air had started to cool, and it was as if the entire planet had heaved a sigh of relief as the evening breezes started to stir. There were no Ramanthians in-system, not yet anyway, which meant the streetlights were on. They created pools of green luminescence linked by areas of darkness. Gunnery Sergeant Kuga-Ka paused in one such refuge and froze. There was noise, plenty of it, including the sound of a fly-form passing over head, the growl of a truck engine, and the distant blare of Earth music. None of which held any interest for the NCO. He was listening for more subtle sounds. The scrape of a boot on gravel, the clink of metal, or the distinctive click that a safety made as it was released. But there were no suspicious sounds, which meant Kuga-Ka was free to focus his attention on the four-personsquat and the dim glow within. The officer was present—but was he alone?
    The Hudathan could move with considerable speed given the size of his body. He dashed through the intervening pool of light, entered the shadow that bordered the tent, and crept up to a window. It was open to let the cool evening air flood in. A single glance was sufficient to establish that the human was all by himself.
    Thus reassured, Kuga-Ka withdrew the specially engineered tube from the cargo pocket on the side of his pant leg and approached the door. The duralon whispered as he slipped inside. The officer sat in semidarkness, shoulders slumped, eyes focused on the desk in front of him. He heard the slither of fabric and looked up. Something big blocked the streetlight beyond. “Kuga-Ka? Is that you?”
    â€œYes sir,” the Hudathan replied gently. “It’s me.”
    â€œDid you bring it?”
    The cylinder felt cool