StarCraft II: Heaven's Devils by William C. Dietz

Author:William C. Dietz
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 2010-03-25T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“No question about it; I’m gonna be strong and tough and smart, and I’m gonna help all the farmers here get free from them bankers. Stick by your people: that’s what Pa says.”

Tom Omer, in an excerpt from a 5th grade report entitled “When I Grow Up”

June 2478

FORT HOWE, ON THE PLANET TURAXIS II

The sun was low in the sky, shadows lay long on the ground, and the air was starting to cool as Lisa Cassidy prepared to leave the base. Although the nearby city of Whitford lay in ruins, and the Honky Tonk District that adjoined Fort Howe had suffered some collateral damage during the recent attack, the HTD—as the troops referred to it—was not only resilient but still open twenty-five hours a day. And as Doc slipped out through the west gate, the two-block-deep strip of tawdry bars, strip joints, and flophouses took her in.

The HTD was her real home in many respects, since none of the bartenders, thieves, or hookers who lived there thought less of Cassidy because she was a crab addict. On the contrary, they understood her in a way that her military buddies couldn’t. And that granted Doc a sort of sleazy legitimacy her fellow rangers couldn’t hope for and weren’t seeking.

Still, Cassidy liked the other members of her squad well enough, even if they were absurdly easy to manipulate. Something that made her feel slightly guilty but a bit smug, too. Because, at the end of the day, it was each person’s responsibility to look out for themselves.

And in her case that meant feeding Colonel Vanderspool a steady stream of information in return for relative freedom and a steady supply of crab. And that was a delicate task. Because if she said too much, her squad mates might find out, and if she said too little, Vanderspool would send her to a work camp.

“Hey, hottie, you need some company?” a soldier inquired hopefully, as Doc made her way past the sidewalk table where he and his buddies were seated.

“I’ll let you know if I get that desperate,” the medic said as she cleared the bar and took a right. She could hear the soldiers laughing as she followed a narrow passageway back between two buildings. It reeked of urine, was littered with empties, and decorated with graffiti.

The walkway emptied into a rather pleasant courtyard that fronted a restaurant called The Gourmand. The establishment was way too expensive for enlisted people, which was one of the reasons Vanderspool chose to eat there. That and the fact that his mistress had an apartment on the second floor.

So Cassidy weaved between linen-covered tables to the restaurant’s south wall, climbed a set of stairs to the second floor, and followed a wraparound balcony to the front of the building, just as she had on prior occasions. Vanderspool was sitting on a wicker chair near a pair of glass doors. They were open to the apartment beyond, and the faint strains of classical music could be heard from within.

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