Broken Glass (Glass Complex Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

are already filtering to us of executions. Murders, more like.” The innkeeper spat out the words. He was careful to look away from Steg, who was showing obvious signs of shock and growing anger.
    “What about the Imperials here?” queried Thomas, also keen to explore the possibility of revenge.
    “Two young soldiers and an officer, wearing Alutan house colors. We could take them out, but they would have more here tomorrow—we will wait until the time is right. Pretending to be awed, we are. My platoon will be ready when we are needed. Militia Captain, I am.”
    “Good,” affirmed Steg. He had his anger under control. “You need to co-ordinate with Militia Control. It should not be too long before a counter strike is ready.” He spoke with a firmly optimistic tone. “Now we want a few hours sleep. Then we’ll leave, hopefully without being discovered by your Imperial guests. We’ll need some help to reach Castlehome.”
    “Sir, you will be safe here. We have comfortable rooms, and welcome, you are. We all support the Earl’s men.” The innkeeper nodded his reassurance. “And his family too, the rightful heirs.”
    The innkeeper left the table without further comment and Steg watched as he moved around the taproom, conferring with different groups. The inn slowly emptied as the villagers departed. Steg enjoyed the meal, relaxed in the certainty that the villagers would keep careful watch through the night. At last the innkeeper’s wife came forward to show them to their rooms. Thomas spoke briefly with the innkeeper before he followed.
    ******

Chapter 3
     
    Steg woke abruptly, struggling for air. A hand was clasped tightly across his mouth, and was removed as the muted voice of the drill sergeant penetrated the fog of deep slumber. Steg sat up, momentarily confused.
    “Quiet, Steg. Dawn is only thirty minutes away and we need to move out of the village before the Imperials begin to stir. They—er—consumed a rather large amount of our host’s special brew last night and will be somewhat the worse for it this morning. Come along. There’s a tractor and trailer load waiting to be taken into Castlehome. You are now a hard working farm hand and,” he smiled, “very poor. Here, wear these, so that you look the part.”
    Steg donned the proffered clothes. They were clean and the fabric felt rough. The shirt and jacket were loose fitting and would hide his chainmail vest from any but a full inspection.
    His breakfast was a rushed meal of bread and cold meats and he watched Thomas examine and select a variety of weapons from their packs. The pile of discarded items grew steadily; they would provide extra supplies for the local militia. The remainder—two short blades, a stunner each and—from the locals—some HEx—would suffice. A larger selection of weapons would be difficult to hide and if discovered by Imperial troops, would invite disaster. Thomas prepared a separate personal pack that he handed to Steg to carry.
    An apprehensive farmer was waiting for them outside the inn. He was standing by a tractor and trailer unit, which was burdened with large, round, and ripening cheeses. They were in the early stages of the special processes that finally would produce the Homeworld product for which chefs on many planets would pay a small fortune. Steg almost gagged as he unexpectedly encountered a waft of an especially strong odor.
    The tractor was fitted with a sturdy electric motor, which would propel them along at a modest pace. Fully charged, the batteries had a range of a hundred hours of operation which was more than enough to reach their destination. The tractor controls were minimalistic: a throttle lever for speed, another lever that provided one forward and one reverse gear, a brake pedal and a steering wheel. The seats were shaped and marginally padded. With wheels of heavy rubber and springs instead of shock absorbers, their ride would not be comfortable. The tractor and trailer would suffice for