War Criminals by Gavin Smith (uplifting novels TXT) 📗

to the stomach doubled her over. A knee to the face straightened her up again, broke her nose and sent her staggering backwards.

Duellona was making this look effortless but Miska just couldn’t move fast enough to block. She tried to counter but Duellona battered the blows aside as though they weren’t there. Miska grabbed for her SIG. ‘I don’t think so,’ Duellona said. She kicked Miska in the hand, breaking it, and bouncing her off the wall. The last time she had felt this outclassed was when she had fought whatever it was that had inhabited Teramoto’s dead body back on Barney Prime.

Miska was aware of other people joining the crowd to watch the fight, including some of her Bastards.

‘Small Gods …’ Miska slurred. Duellona’s elbow caught her under the chin with enough to force to launch her into the air. She was unconscious before she hit the ground.

‘Do you ever win a fight?’

Her headache wasn’t getting any better. She tried opening her eyes but the white strip lighting of the Hangman’s Daughter’s medical bay felt like knives being pushed through the soft part of her head.

‘Your fight’s all over the net. It’s being hailed as a triumph of real soldiers over criminal wannabes.’

It was with a not inconsiderable degree of irritation that Miska recognised Torricone’s voice. She suspected it was her own fault. Her dad had probably assigned him to assist the Doc after she’d cancelled his leave.

‘Win-lots-of-fights,’ she slurred and then managed to push through the pain and open her eyes again. Though she almost puked when she sat up.

The operating theatre was stark, grey and very institutional, all the surgical instruments held in locked cabinets and drawers. The robot arms of the operating theatre’s built-in automed were poised over her like a long-limbed predatory insect.

Doc, still the most non-descript man that Miska had ever met, was attaching a medpak to drive the gel that covered her hand. MACE’s medical facilities were rudimentary at best. The Bastards had been making do with combat medics in the field. Anyone seriously wounded was medevac’d to the Daughter and the Doc’s tender mercies. Everyone tried not to get medevac’d. The Doc had killed sixty of his patients with nearly untraceable poisons made from genetically modified plants that he had engineered himself, before he had been caught. He had told the court that poisoning his victims had been the only way to preserve their beauty. He was one of the more prolific serial killers on board. The Ultra had asked for the Doc for his Nightmare Squad but he was more valuable to the Legion as a medic. Though if anyone was going to get away with killing someone on her watch, it would be the Doc. He finished attaching the medpak, and his colourless eyes looked down at her.

‘The hand will take a day or two to heal. You’re probably still concussed but the swelling is now under control, and I’ve done what I can for the bruising. You’ve got micro fractures in the reinforcement material on your jaw, but you’ll either need to upgrade the facilities here, or take yourself to a ’ware clinic to get that seen to,’ he told her. She wasn’t sure why, but of all the criminals, even those with much higher body counts like the Ultra, it was the Doc who creeped her out the most.

‘Thanks,’ she said. He continued looking at her. Irritated that he was making her uncomfortable she instead looked over at Torricone. He was leaning against the reinforced doorframe. He smiled at her, irritating her further.

‘You properly and publicly got your ass kicked,’ he told her.

‘Yeah, I was there. She was made of nanotech. She’s either a demigod or one of the Small Gods.’ Her mounting irritation wasn’t helped by the defensive tone she heard in her voice.

‘Was my mom a Small God as well?’ Torricone asked with mock innocence.

The Small Gods were AIs of still unknown origin who had grown their own bodies from the Grey Goo Wastelands that had resulted from the nanobombing of Earth during the War in Heaven.

Grinding her teeth made pain shoot through her head. The Doc was still watching her.

‘That was different, and I got some good shots in on your mom! Besides, it’s not like hiding behind your mom makes you look cool, is it?’ she demanded.

Torricone was laughing.

‘I’m not trying to look cool,’ he said. Miska just stared at him. ‘I am saying if you go around claiming that she’s a Small God, it’s just going to look like you’re a sore loser.’

He was right. She knew he was right. That annoyed her more.

‘Just fuck off will you, T?’ she told him. His smile faltered but he nodded and left the OT.

‘People have noticed,’ the Doc said quietly. Miska turned to stare at him. She assumed what he saw was a mass of swellpatches and bruises looking back at him.

‘Noticed what?’ she growled. The Doc just looked at her.

‘You’ll get him killed,’ he finally said.

‘You care about that?’ she asked. Because she really didn’t right then and there.

‘He is useful. This work is more interesting to me than the alternative. I like the fungal infections on this world. They have a compelling and alien beauty.’

Miska squeezed her eyes shut as the throbbing in her head intensified. She opened her eyes again as Nyukuti entered the OT. He had not timed it well.

‘Some fucking bodyguard you are!’

Nyukuti looked between Miska and the Doc. Then he backed out of the OT.

Miska slid off the operating table. Her legs almost went from underneath her and she had to steady herself by holding on to the table. It was only then she realised that she was just wearing a backless hospital gown.

‘Who undressed me?’ she asked. The Doc opened his mouth to answer. ‘Wait, I don’t want to know. Are you trained to do forensics?’ It was a long shot, she knew.

‘Not specifically, though I did spend some time working with the coroner’s office in Capital City.’

‘Of