The Clone Betrayal by Steven L Kent

Author:Steven L Kent
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: PENGUIN group
Published: 2011-11-19T06:24:17+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“You need to bust that prick down,” Thomer said, once the sailors left the room. “Slam his gay ass in the brig.”

“He isn’t gay,” said Hollingsworth.

“What do you mean he isn’t gay?” Thomer asked. “The son of a bitch comes to staff meetings wearing makeup.”

“Why do you think he wants to get to Norristown so bad?” Hollingsworth shouted the question. “Thomer, you don’t know how good you had it.”

As always, Thomer received that last comment with a certain lethargy. In an unnaturally subdued voice, he said, “We were massacred by aliens and locked in relocation camps.”

“That’s not what I meant. I know they ran you through the wringer.” Thomer’s slow demeanor had a calming effect on Hollingsworth. He lowered his voice.

“The enlisted men on this ship have not seen a woman for four years. Until you guys came with plans to retake Terraneau, we had no reason to think any of us would ever see one again. Do you know what that does to a man?

“They’re clones, Thomer, not eunuchs. If anything, their gonads are too active.

“Given a choice between a few months in a prison camp and a life sentence on a ship with nothing but men, which way would you go?”

“What about the makeup?” I asked.

Hollingsworth shrugged his shoulders and said, “Most clones would much rather give than receive. Men who are a little more, er, uh, flexible wear makeup to identify themselves.”

“You thought you would never see a woman again?” Thomer asked. Sympathy showed in his eyes, but the downturn at the corners of his mouth made it clear he found the whole thing revolting.

“Wait, now . . . You and Fahey didn’t . . . you know?” I asked.

“No,” Hollingsworth said. “We weren’t even on the same ship.”

“Did you . . . you know?”

“Thomer, I didn’t think I’d ever see any scrub again.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Thomer said, sounding unconvinced.

It was time to put my cards on the table.

I looked over at Thomer and said, “Sergeant, I need to have a private chat with Sergeant Hollingsworth.” He left without saying a word.

I could not trust Fahey and probably not Warshaw. Lilburn Franks seemed more interested in running the fleet than politics, but he was the only one. Because of the normally adversarial relationship between swabbies and sea soldiers, I thought I could count on Hollingsworth and the other Marines who came with the fleet. I hoped I could.

Now that it was just me and Hollingsworth in the room, I turned to him, and said, “Do you know what happens if you kill all the rattlesnakes? You get silent snakes instead.

“The only reason I didn’t bust Fahey on the spot was because I always know where he stands. He’s an asshole, but he telegraphs his punches, and that makes him useful. Warshaw’s a different story.”

“Warshaw’s all right,” Hollingsworth said. Nervous that I had asked Thomer to leave, Hollingsworth went into full-fledged fight-or-flight mode. He paced the floor, rapped his knuckles on the table, and spoke in an unnecessarily loud voice.

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