War Criminals by Gavin Smith (ereader for textbooks .TXT) 📕

the image of her dad exhorted them to try harder in the way that only a Corps training sergeant could. His voice echoed through the hangar. She opened a comms link to her dad.

‘Gunny … sorry, force of habit, LSM, I need to speak to Private Corenbloom.’

‘I prefer Gunny,’ her dad’s gruff voice replied. Miska smiled. ‘Where are you?’

‘Over by the Centaurs,’ she told him as she made her way towards the two captured Martian-built eight-wheeled armoured personnel carriers. She leant against the one that had been configured as a mobile command post and waited. Her hand felt numb now but the rest of her still hurt from the beating, despite the painkillers. She could see a figure jogging towards her.

Corenbloom had been a big, powerfully built man when he’d gone to college on a football scholarship. Judging by the images she’d seen of him during his FBI days he’d tried to keep himself fit but too much riding around in cars and sitting behind desks and he’d surrendered to middle age spread. Her father’s punishing PT schedule, however, was slowly turning him back into the man he had once been.

Corenbloom reached the APC covered in sweat. He held his hand up, asking for a moment. Miska nodded. He bent at the waist as he fought to recover his breath.

‘You want to ditch the pack, private?’ Miska asked.

He just nodded, hit the quick-release straps and shrugged out of it and then looked her up and down.

‘Who kicked your ass?’ he asked. Miska didn’t answer. He shrugged as if it wasn’t important. ‘This about Trafalgar?’ he asked. He wasn’t an unattractive man, Miska decided, despite his age. His close cropped hair and carefully trimmed goatee were both more salt than pepper. It was the eyes that bothered her, again. They were like black chips of ice. It wasn’t that they made him look evil or insane. Just calculating. Like he was measuring you all the time.

‘Yeah. Salik reckons he can get you and the Doc on the investigation team. I want to know what happened.’

‘Why?’ he asked. Miska decided that this was a guy that she would not like to play poker with.

‘Because we’re getting blamed.’

‘So? Ride it out, nobody believes the propaganda.’

Miska thought back to what Jones had said to her, to Duellona playing to the crowd.

‘You believe that?’ she asked.

He thought about it briefly and then shook his head.

‘No, people believe what they want to believe. Truth, facts, actual information often have very little to do with it until you’re trying to prove something in a court of law, and even then …’

‘Such cynicism,’ Miska said.

Corenbloom just shrugged.

‘This an order?’ he asked.

Here we go, Miska thought.

‘And if it is?’

‘I thought active service was only for volunteers,’ he said.

‘Yes, but the deal for active service remains the same, shore leave and share of the money. I’m not negotiating.’

He nodded, mulling over what she had told him.

‘Can I show you something?’ he finally said.

‘I don’t have time for games,’ she said.

‘It’s no game and I promise you it’ll be worth it.’

Now it was Miska’s turn to study the disgraced FBI agent. She was really struggling to get a read on the guy, though if she was honest, working out what other people were thinking or feeling had never been her strong point. She was, however, mildly curious.

‘Fine,’ she relented. He picked up his pack and made his way across the hangar deck. He moved over to the bulkhead close to one of the shuttle airlocks. Then he looked at her expectantly.

‘What?’ she demanded.

‘We have a lot in common, you and me. Both disgraced ex-employees of the United States Government. Both people that the rest of the Legion would like to see dead.’

‘Well, let’s be besties,’ Miska suggested. ‘We could have a sleepover and you could braid my hair.’

‘I was sorry to hear about your father’s murder.’

It was like someone had thrown a cold bucket of water over her. Then she got angry.

‘Don’t let the hand fool you, motherfucker, I’m still more than capable of beating you down.’

He made a calming motion.

‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to upset you. The fact that you’re asking me to look into the massacre means that you know what I used to do for a living.’

‘What makes you think that’s anything to do …’

‘Because I play Go with Kaneda, and before him, Teramoto. I know you believe that your father’s killers are on board, and I’m guessing that you think it’s all part of a black op of some kind.’

‘So you decided to cut out the middle man?’ Miska asked. It was clear that the Yakuza had Corenbloom looking into her father’s murder for leverage. She didn’t like this, didn’t like it all.

‘Yes, though they did hire me so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell Kaneda that I’ve come direct to you.’

‘The Yakuza have been keeping you alive in here, haven’t they?’ Miska asked. He didn’t answer. It made sense. Most of the Yakuza on board came from the Lalande system. They’d never crossed paths with Corenbloom, and the disgraced FBI agent’s problems with the Mafia would only have made him more attractive as an ally. ‘What do you want?’ She was starting to feel that she had been utterly played. As though Corenbloom had been waiting for an opportunity to have this talk.

‘First of all I want a commission. Second lieutenant’s fine. I’ll work my way up.’

‘As what? You want a squad?’ she asked.

‘Intel. It’s where all the best people go and hide from combat, as I understand it.’

Miska resisted the absurd urge to defend Uncle V.

‘That means you’d be reporting to Major Cofino,’ Miska pointed out.

The smile that played briefly across his lips seemed to contain little in the way of actual humour.

‘Major Cofino,’ he mused. ‘You know he once tried to have me killed?’

‘I have no time for your prison yard bullshit,’ she told him. He shrugged.

‘Just business, never personal,’ he said, ‘but I want something else.’

‘What?’ she asked.

‘I want you to