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you back. Nothing wrong with that. Maybe if more of us did that the galaxy might change and be something better without superweapons and ideological concepts to kill one another over. Wars would become obsolete and Strange Company would sit in bars and tell stories growing old. And I knew that… sometimes… sometimes you go do dumb stuff trying to become a hero like that’ll make a difference in the choices that were made. Like you’ll prove something to those who dismissed you. Or you’ll do dumb stuff trying to prove something to yourself. Even though you lie and tell yourself you’re trying to prove something to everyone else except yourself.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him she doesn’t care anymore. And that no, she never thinks of him.

Sometimes, you do make a difference. Just not where you expect. And what you do on a bad LZ, echoes in eternity.

Chapter Forty-Nine

Everything went wrong from the start. We hustled away from the idle-roaring dropship not taking fire yet. But there was lots of flying lead and bright tracers going in every direction. Both gunners were bleeding brass and Chief Cook was shouting “Go go go!” over the comm as the hijacked drop made ready to go back into action and buy us some airborne covering fire.

A rocket smacked into one of the distant hangars and exploded the thin roof in every direction.

“Just in time for the party, Sarge,” yelled Punch as he took the tip of the spear for our hijacking ground force to secure the armored transport dropship that would get us back onto the Spider.

Once we were clear I heard both door gunners, Hustle and Hoser, give the “down and clear,” signaling we were far away enough from the drop for it to take off again. We were fifty meters away from our target moving in a combat wedge to intercept. Both gunners opened fire as the drop climbed above our heads and out over the battle.

The captain, with his Hardballer out, gave the signal for his three killers, Punch, Choker, and Jacks, to light up the ground crew as we approached. They made short work of them and took the rear boarding ramp, dusting the crew chief as they did so.

Jacks grabbed the dude and tossed him off the back ramp.

The captain ordered the next phase of the takeover as we hit our first snag. The Little Girl had come with us. Everyone had just assumed she’d stay on the Ultra drop we’d hijacked. The one that was gonna go and do gun runs over the top of a citywide firefight. Because we’re good with children like that. Now she was crouching low and keeping behind me, and Hauser was bringing up rear security. Hauser there only because he was moving slow with a limp on the bad articulating joint in his shot-to-hell leg.

“Take her!” I shouted at the combat cyborg once we reached the deck.

“Negative,” shouted the Old Man over the rage and thunder of the battle in all directions. Hauser, myself, and the Monarch were Team Two. We’d be clearing the forward compartments and the flight deck of the armored transport the company needed if we were to make the rendezvous with the Spider. Hauser because he could still take more damage. And he had the combat shotgun which was perfect for that kind of close-quarters work now that the Pig was bone-dry on ammo.

“Message from XO,” shouted the First Sergeant over the company comm. “Spider entering outer atmosphere now for rendezvous. He’s got interceptors inbound and we are to get the hustle on, Strange Company. Ain’t no time to dally.”

The Old Man looked at all of us with disgust as he tried to figure out what to do with the Little Girl.

“Come here!” he snapped at her and held out one wounded hand.

Jacks got shot at that point by a sniper somewhere among the terminals. He was on the rear deck, holding the perimeter there with Punch and Choker. Punch, who’d grabbed the deck gun, a thirty-millimeter eight-barreled rotating minigun, opened up on the sniper team that had nailed Jacks. They disappeared in a hail of outgoing angry black wasp bullets as Punch worked over the hangar they were firing from. Something deep inside exploded a second later and sent flaming jet fuel across the floor over there.

“That’ll give ’em something to think about!”

Choker was on Jacks and stabilizing him immediately. He was hit bad and I helped drag him onto the aft cargo deck, leaving a bloody trail. The Kid was returning fire from behind the massive portside landing gear as we started to get pushed by a four-man team of Ultras who were inside the perimeter now and trying to shut down our escape. One of them had an anti-ship launcher and was getting ready to deploy.

Punch saw the attack, swung the long deck gun, and opened up with everything he had in a sudden blur of violent fire. No short bursts. The gun killed them all as they scattered, and Punch carefully murdered them with traversing fire.

The Old Man was in my face, dragging the Little Girl.

“Need you to organize the load. Crawler’s broke down out there on the departure apron. Took a direct hit from AT. Dog is coming in under fire, but they’re pinned down. Ghost is working counter-sniper but running low. They have vehicles to come in at the last second. See what you can do, Sergeant. Take the cyborg. The Monarch and I will clear the ship.”

“On it, sir!”

Which is all you can say when everyone is stretched thin.

The captain bent down to the Little Girl.

“Go sit over there in that jump seat. We’re leaving soon.” And then he added “Honey” like it was the most alien and least likely thing he’d ever utter.

She did, and leaves only I could see lay on the cargo deck. She buckled in and waited, watching me with her big dark eyes. She swallowed hard and nodded.

I knew what she was

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