“And my suit?”
“It’s black,” Feek replied, “just like you asked for, with the skull on the visor. It looks so badass, man. Lieutenant Tyson will shit a brick when he sees it—but that’s your problem.”
“Roger that,” Raynor agreed. “It’s time those KM bastards know that death is coming for them.”
“Maybe,” Feek replied doubtfully. “Meanwhile, there’s something else I need to tell you about. Something you should pass on to Tychus.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
Feek looked left and right as if to assure himself that none of the other visitors were close enough to hear before making eye contact with Raynor. “Vanderspool sent a tech I had never met before down to run maintenance checks on about forty sets of armor—including all of the suits that belong to you guys.”
“So?”
“That’s my job. Why send a new guy? Unless somebody doesn’t trust me.
“Once the tech left I went over the suits with a fine-tooth comb. And guess what? The sonofabitch installed kill switches in every hardskin.”
Raynor frowned. “Kill switches?”
“Yeah,” Feek replied. “Meaning remotely operated switches that would enable the colonel to trigger the emergency lockdown mode and freeze your suits.”
Raynor gave a low whistle. “The rotten SOB.”
“Exactly,” the other man agreed. “So I cut the input circuits. Which means Vanderspool can push the button all day long and nothing will happen.”
Raynor grinned. “How many beers do we owe you?”
Feek laughed. “Enough for me to swim in! You watch that bastard, Jim. You watch him real good. He’s up to something and that’s no lie.”
The rest of the fifteen-minute-long visit was spent on more trivial matters, but when it came time for Raynor to hobble out into the prison yard, his mind went back to what Feek had told him. Vanderspool was up to something … but what?
THE CITY OF DARBY, ON THE PLANET TURAXIS II
The city of Darby was located seventy-five miles south of Polk’s Pride, and because it had little to no strategic importance, was almost entirely untouched by the fighting. It was a picturesque place that occupied the western shore of a beautiful lake. It was fed by the Paddick River, which meant dead bodies were swept up in fishing nets from time to time, but the city was otherwise bright and cheerful, even at night when the citizens made use of flashlights to counter the mandatory blackout.
Having completed an uncomfortable truck ride down from Polk’s Pride and checked into a so-called “military hotel,” the Devils had agreed to go their separate ways during the first evening and gather the following night. Tychus, Doc, and Harnack were headed out to sample the city’s nightlife, while Ward was intent on logging some extra rack time, and Kydd was determined to have what he called some “real food.” That left Zander, who offered to accompany the sniper.
After obtaining the name of a good restaurant, Kydd and Zander ventured out onto a busy street. Both wore tasteful civvies, but no one who knew anything about the area would have mistaken them for locals.
Two moons were still up, so there was enough light to see by as the men left their hotel. They had obtained a map and flashlights for later from the concierge, but before they started on their way, Kydd and Zander paused for a moment to look out over the lake. Most of the city’s homes were built on terraces carved out of a large hill, but at least a thousand were perched on pilings and sat directly above the water. Those structures, along with some of the businesses that served them, were connected by a maze of elevated bridges, walkways, and in some cases simple planks. That meant visitors had to be very careful not to get lost or fall into the cold waters below.
It was a possibility that Kydd kept firmly in mind as he and Zander followed the map down to the waterfront, out onto a pedestrian-only causeway, and into the Lakehome neighborhood. Charming homes stood side by side with shops as well as utilitarian buildings that served the city’s extremely important fishing industry.
And farther out, where unobstructed views of the water were available, restaurant row was waiting to be explored. That’s where the young men were headed, to an eatery that was supposed to be one of the best. In the meantime there were cute girls to look at, other soldiers to systematically ignore, and storefronts that sold things other than porno, tattoos, and trashy clothing. All of which was a change for Zander, who had been raised in a slum and was very conscious of his lower-class origins.
Kydd was aware that many of his childhood friends would have seen someone like Zander as “low class,” but after months spent in the military, he no longer cared about such distinctions. Zander was a member of Heaven’s Devils—and that was the only pedigree he had any interest in.
Still, Zander felt the first stirrings of doubt as they arrived in front of the restaurant called Waves, and made for the front door. “I don’t know, Ryk,” he said doubtfully, as a well-dressed couple entered in front of them. “Are you sure about this? What if I use the wrong fork or something?”
“Just do what I do,” Kydd replied confidently. “But even if you make a mistake, who the hell cares? You’re a Heaven’s Devil! That’s an accomplishment that none of the people in this restaurant can match.”
Kydd’s comments made Zander feel better, and he held his head high and shoulders back as they were shown into the dining room. It featured dozens of linen-covered tables, all of which looked out onto a marvelous view. Thousands of jewel fish rose to the surface each evening, and people never tired of looking at the fabulous wash of color generated by their red, green, and blue-tipped feelers.
The most prized seats were directly in front of an enormous window that looked out onto the lake. But such tables were reserved for VIPs, or those willing to slip the maitre d’ some cash. So Kydd and Zander were shown to a small two-person table on the second tier next to the south wall. But the view was still incredible, and as Zander sat down, he knew he’d been correct to accompany Kydd. Because Zander had been to plenty of dives, but here was something completely different, and very special.
Neither one of them was familiar with the local cuisine, so they ordered “Wave Samplers” on the theory that they were sure to like at least part of what the restaurant had to offer. And, based on the deep-fried kitza appetizers that were forthcoming ten minutes later, they were in for a treat.
So there they were, enjoying mugs of locally brewed beer and delicious civilian food, when two men entered and were shown to the best table in the restaurant. A spot centered on the huge window and lit from above. Kydd’s eyes were focused on the view beyond, so Zander was the one to take notice of the newcomers. “Holy crap, Ryk … Colonel Vanderspool just walked in!”
Kydd shifted his gaze, saw Vanderspool, and was about to say something snarky when the other man’s face came into view. That was when Kydd’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. It couldn’t be! Yet there he was, sitting no more than twenty-five feet away! Kydd immediately dropped his gaze down, propped an elbow on the tabletop, and lifted a hand to his forehead.
Zander saw Kydd’s reaction and looked concerned. “Ryk? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
“I know the second man,” Kydd said tightly, “although I’m surprised to see him here.”
“Yeah?” Zander said. “Who is he?”
“His name is Errol Bennet,” Kydd replied, “and he’s my father.”
The second course arrived, but the two soldiers didn’t notice. Zander looked at the man in question and back again. “No way! That’s terrific! Are you going to go over and say hello?”