Strange Company by Nick Cole (best way to read ebooks TXT) 📗

of concrete blocks that must’ve once reminded the residents how fortunate they were to live in such a tranquil place. In the end, Sergeant Hannibal ordered up one of our ATs on the fortified position at the center that must have once been some kind of building security position in that long-ago opulence. Glass and concrete exploded in every direction a second after the missile streaked in, smoking through the shadows of the dark and ruined place, and found its mark. Afterward, there wasn’t much left of anyone inside.

The worst moment for me came later. Within the hour we had the building. Once Ghost gained the roof and started shooting down into the central well at the defenders, it was ours. A firefight between both sides of the building had broken out as those in Grau with nowhere to run decided to shoot it out and bargain at the same time.

“Hey,” a croaky voice called out in a brief lull in which we’d all been reloading or shifting positions. The Old Man was busy identifying concentrations of the enemy and assigning teams to go in and root them out on the upper levels. “Hey!” shouted the croaky voice. Bouncing off ruined concrete corridors and shattered doors and walls.

“You guys Strange Company?”

I was with First and Second Squads now. We were stacked at the entrance to a long hall of apartments high up in the structure. It led deeper into the far side of the ruined building. Shattered plaster and savaged wall art hung grimly in the darkness up there. The captain had sent us in to take them out. We were not taking prisoners tonight.

Yeah, I know…

I knew that voice. Couldn’t remember the name. But I knew it from back on Blue. I felt bad hearing it as the guy called out to us in the reloading silence. The guy knew he was on the wrong end of this whole thing. I could tell that from here in the hall, stacked and waiting to murder him and his buddies. But he was still playing his cards like he’d been there before and walked away from it.

“Yeah. It’s us,” I said and eyed my squads, directing them with hand signals. Making last-second adjustments before we went in, blazing. Automatic leader stuff you don’t even think about as you get it done.

Silence.

Maybe the guy just wanted to know who we were that had come to kill him and his brothers. And maybe the knowing was enough. Or maybe he was trying to buy some time to pull a trick. Get some directional magnetic mines in place and stall our assault with about ten thousand steel mini-balls moving at a couple thousand kilometers a second inside a tight corridor.

A real damper on our day.

“Orion, is that you?” said the croak-voice down the dark and ruined corridor after a moment.

Jingo shot me a smile. Like this was fun for him now that we were winning. Having the upper hand instead of the fear I’d seen in his eyes just after the breach when it felt like the building was going to come down on us. His emotional outlook swung like a pendulum that way. He was like that.

“Yeah. It’s me. Who’s that?” I shouted down the hall, wiping sweat from my throat.

“It’s me… Steadly. ’Member we did patrol together that night during Certain End? Ended up in that firefight till dawn near Red Circle Temple Complex that got hit three days later or so? Remember, Orion?”

I remembered.

“Yeah.”

“That was somethin’, wasn’t it?” he said after a long moment of silence.

It had been. We’d fought for our lives together. Blue was a beautiful world. It was the war that ruined it. Best night sky you ever saw. Full of stars like someone broke an expensive chandelier all just for you to look at.

“Yeah. It was,” I admitted and thought about some way out of this for the both of us.

What was I supposed to say? How have things been, Stead? Doesn’t look too good for you. What? I held up my hand to my squads. But I didn’t know why at the time. Now I realize it was my body taking over. Saying, Don’t kill this guy. I know him. We were once in it together. In it really deep one long and very dark night when neither of us thought we were gonna make it to see a sunrise.

And that was it. That was all he said. He didn’t ask for a way out. Didn’t try to surrender. Thinking back on it, as we secured the building later and waited for the new day, I heard his voice, replaying it in my head. Not grim fatalism. But a kind of practical, well, this is it, isn’t it?

“You guys comin’ in?” Steadly asked finally.

I hesitated for a long moment and then I must’ve mumbled or not shouted loud enough down the corridor where we were. That we had to.

“What?” he yelled back.

“Yeah,” I told him. “We’re comin’ in. Got to, Stead. You know how it is.”

I was sorry about that. But I couldn’t tell him.

You become a paid private military contractor, this is how it shakes out sometimes. You know that going in. You know that all along. We weren’t here to take prisoners. We needed to own this loc for the next two weeks. Until the big show.

“Figured,” he said back down the hall.

“How many you got in there?” I asked. But why? Why did I ask? Like if he gave the right number was I gonna dare call it into the captain and say Hey we couldn’t kill twelve guys we once knew on another contract? Or did I do it because I was just desperate to survive a fight? This was a fight and maybe I needed to know how many he had in there. If I could trick him into giving me a number, using sentimentality like maybe that might humanize the defenders a little more and buy them some mercy, then