Death's Head by David Gunn

Author:David Gunn [Gunn, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Science Fiction, War & Military, Adventure, Fiction
ISBN: 9780593058336
Google: YopdAAAACAAJ
Amazon: 0345503767
Publisher: Del Rey
Published: 2007-05-01T05:00:00+00:00

“TVESKOEG.” The voice is warm, amused. “I’m Captain Roccaforte. Come in. We’re all dying to meet you.” The captain is immaculately dressed, and his feet rest on a leather stool. I double-check that his chair really is sitting on an ornate and probably priceless rug. It is.

“You look a mess.”

“Been killing things,” I tell him.

The others are watching with interest. All that telling Neen and Shil to use sir, and I’ve forgotten to do it myself.

“What things?”

“Long, ugly bastard. Eight feet long and a big mouth.” I point to the newly mended rip in my uniform. “We’re eating it at the moment. Well, my men are. I’m here, obviously.”

The captain smiles. “Your men,” he says, then nods to the lieutenant who came to collect me. “Miles mentioned them. I didn’t think we gave you any men.”

“I found them. Their sergeant got killed and then their corporal; they lost half their troop and needed commanding.” I look at him. “I’d like to keep them. They’ve got the makings of a good unit.”

Someone snorts, and I glare into the darkness.

“We took out a belt-fed,” I say. “Used it to take down a plasma cannon. Killed a few batwings, too…”

“That was you?”

“Yes, sir,” I say. “That was us. I’m co-opting them.”

The captain looks interested and I’m glad he doesn’t ask me what co-opting means, because I don’t know. It’s a word the legion use to describe the tribes who take guns and flags and silver in return for fighting the ferox.

“What does co-opting them involve?”

“I’ve told them to make Death’s Head shoulder patches.”

Someone protests, and the captain silences them. “From what?”

“Ugly bastard skin.”

“Who’s doing it?”

“Two of the women. One of them helped hunt the beast.”

Captain Roccaforte starts. “You’ve co-opted women into the Death’s Head?” He’s looking at me slightly strangely.

“They’re auxiliaries,” I say, using another legion word. “I’m Death’s Head; they just owe me their allegiance.”

The captain nods, apparently satisfied. “This beast of yours, how big was it again?”

“About the same size as me. But a lot uglier.”

Behind us someone laughs and comes out of a tent. It’s Major Silva, who seems to have acquired a pair of spectacles, much like those worn by Colonel Nuevo. They’re reflecting in the firelight.

“Dylidae lagarto,” he says. “Deadly creatures.”

“This one was half asleep,” I say, adding, “sir.”

“I’m sure it was,” says the major. “Probably dying of old age like that ferox you killed.”

A couple of Death’s Head officers glance at each other. The smartly dressed lieutenant gets slightly less arrogant. The major’s telling them I might dress like shit but I also come with a health warning.

“We’ve got a job for you.”

I wait.

“Something unexpected.”

He wants me to ask, and it seems rude to refuse. “Unexpected, sir?”

“We’ve captured a ferox.”

“Fuck,” I say without thinking. “It must be half dead with cold.” It’s a weird metabolism the ferox have, one that needs heat and cold in equal measure. Without both the beasts die. “Where’s it being held?”

“In a pod. We’ve glue-gunned the lid shut. I’ll have Miles take you there.

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