When All Seems Lost: A Novel of the Legion of the Damned by William C. Dietz

Author:William C. Dietz [Dietz, William H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science fiction, Fantasy, Science Fiction - General, Adventure
ISBN: 9780441016242
Publisher: Ace
Published: 2014-12-23T00:00:00+00:00

11.

You cannot run faster than a bullet.

—Idi Amin

Ugandan dictator

Standard year 1955 (approximate)

ABOARD THE FREIGHTER SOLAR ECLIPSE, IN HYPERSPACE

The Solar Eclipse hummed to herself as she passed through hyperspace and entered Ramanthian-held territory. Thanks to intelligence received from agent Oliver Batkin, General Booly and his staff knew Thraki merchant vessels were used to bring much-needed supplies to Jericho, thereby freeing the Ramanthian navy to use its assets elsewhere. Which was why Chien-Chu Enterprises purchased a Thraki-built ship on behalf of the Confederacy and crewed it with Thraki mercenaries for the trip to Jericho. Where, if everything went as planned, Team Zebra would land undetected. Unfortunately, that meant living and working aboard a vessel designed for beings who averaged fi?ve feet in height, which explained why Santana’s knees wouldn’t fi?t under the fold-down desk. But if there was a shortage of space, there was no shortage of work, a great deal of which had been generated by Major DeCosta. A man who, in addition to his overbearing religiosity, loved to produce plans for every possible contingency. All these plans had to be written, edited, and rewritten to the offi?cer’s often arbitrary standards before being electronically fi?led. And, because much of this work fell to the XO, Santana was cooped up in his tiny cabin, plowing through the latest iteration of crap, when someone rapped on the metal next to the open hatch. It was a welcome diversion—and the offi?cer turned to see who it was. Maria Gomez came to attention, or was in the process of doing so, when Santana said, “At ease, Sergeant. Have a seat on my bunk, couch, and worktable.”

The surface of the neatly made fi?ve-and-a-half-footlong bunk was covered with printouts, aerial photos of Jericho, and pieces of standard-issue gear that Santana planned to modify prior to landing. The noncom made a space for herself and sat down. It was her opinion that Santana looked tired, which was troublesome, because if there was any hope for Team Zebra, it lay with him. Given her feelings for Santana, Gomez wanted to take the offi?cer in her arms and comfort him. But that was impossible, and rather than make Santana’s life easier as she wished to, the noncom knew she was about to make it more diffi?cult.

“So,” Santana said facetiously. “I hope this isn’t about the chow—because it isn’t going to get any better.”

“No, sir. It’s not about the food,” Gomez answered seriously.

The noncom was pretty in a no-frills sort of way. A fact Santana had been aware of all along but never allowed himself to think about. Because offi?cers weren’t allowed to fraternize with enlisted people, especially those in their own chain of command, no matter how pretty their big brown eyes might be. “Okay,” Santana responded. “If it isn’t about the chow, then what’s up?”

Gomez looked him in the eye. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

Santana felt a sudden sense of foreboding. “Permission granted.”

“It’s about the major, sir,” Gomez said gravely. “I think he’s crazy.”

DeCosta was annoying, not to mention eccentric, but crazy? No, Santana hadn’t seen any evidence of that.

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