Sky City (The Rise of an Orphan series Book 1) by R. D. Hale

Author:R. D. Hale [Hale, R. D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Laniakea Publishing
Published: 2014-08-28T07:00:00+00:00

The First Mission

Oscar squeezes the headless chicken into a cupboard as a bellowing voice causes me to shudder: 'Hellooo Arturooo!' My heart jumps as the assignment, which should have been dismissed out of hand, becomes a tangible prospect.

The traitor and the lifelong bullshitter are standing at the doorway in green camouflage fatigues. Turbo towers over his cousin and his gaze bears the trauma of frontline action, but Smig grins as though the planned raid on a military base is just a game.

'Broken hand, Arturo? Who ya been fighting this time?' Smig asks as I rise from the couch.

'I'll tell you later. It's a long and scarcely believable story, even by my standards,' I reply.

'Is that a headless chicken? Funny. We've got Turbo's jeep waiting outside, you still up for it?'

'I'm one handed, it'll be a struggle. How's this gonna work?'

'Don't be soft, Arturo. We'll drive to the barracks like I do every day, no-one'll suspect a thing. We'll go straight into the weapons cache, fill the jeep and leave,' Turbo's forced gruffness masks the high pitch of his voice.

'I don't even know how much use I'll be, but if you want me to come... as long as you make it worth my while.'

'We can sell these guns for a lot of money. You two will get six thousand credits each for helping out,' Turbo explains.

'Sounds good to me.' I fail to restrain a snort.

'Thought that'd change ya tune, Arturo, get changed into these.' Turbo removes green camouflage fatigues from his rucksack and passes them over.

Upon grasping the garments, I grimace at the smell of stale sweat - this uniform is a little too authentic. I hurry to the bathroom to get changed, but the mirror fails to reveal my transformation into a soldier. Bagginess emphasises my undeveloped jawline, youthful complexion and lack of stature, and I return downstairs feeling like a child in a fancy dress outfit.

'Right guys, we're off now. You all know why. Make sure you don't annoy the new girl... for your own safety,' I yell.

Smig and I follow Turbo into a jeep for an assignment which is daunting, even for a pair of chancers led by minefield fodder. Failure would be equivalent to suicide and I struggle to understand why I cannot walk away from this idiocy. Turbo presses the auto-drive button and says: 'Hawksmoor Barracks.'

The navigation system replies: 'Hawksmoor Barracks, twenty nine point six miles. Estimated arrival time: nineteen twenty four.'

The vehicle drags me along with mixed emotions as a premonition of being blindfolded and riddled with bullets fades into a dream of money, money, money. It is 18:47 and the roads are quiet.

'Arturo, I haven't seen ya in a while. How's it going?' Turbo's eyes veer from the road and his faith in the auto-driver invokes jitters.

'I've had an interesting few days. Broke my hand punching a guy full of GEDs.' I gesture a right cross with my cast.

'Same old Arturo, eh? Still punching above your weight.'

'And living to tell the tale...'

'Just so ya know, this is nowt to worry about.

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