Control Point Read Online Free PDF Page B

dog’s age.”
    “I’ll put in for him to get Physiomantic treatment later.”
    Cheatham shook his head. “That’s a long line to wait on, sir.”
    Britton knew Cheatham wasn’t kidding. Physiomancy was a rare talent. Britton shook his head, adrenaline giving way to helpless exhaustion.
A girl’s murdered, and the world just keeps on turning,
Britton thought. Dawes’s plight added to the load.
    “I know you did your best up there, sir,” Cheatham said. “I’ve run with a lot of officers in my day, and even the best lose men sometimes. Dawes signed up for air assault, same as the rest of us. He knew the risks.”
    Britton was silent. He knew the warrant officer was right, but it was too much just then.
    “That girl, Dan,” he finally said. “I can’t believe that just happened.”
    Cheatham nodded. “I know it’s rough, sir. I’m not saying it isn’t. But Probes are Probes, and the ROE’s clear. You know I’ve got your back, and I admire you for what you did and what you’re doing, but she was dead the moment she pulled our Kiowa down.
    “That doesn’t mean he’s not an ass.” Cheatham jerked his thumb at Harlequin, standing beside the Kiowa and berating his assaulter, a Rump Latency whose magic had never Manifested powerfully enough to actually use. By law he still served in the Corps, but would never make Sorcerer, and instead toiled among the SOC’s cadre of gunslingers, administrators, and auxiliaries.
    “Poor guy,” Britton said. “Shame he’s stuck working for a bastard like Harlequin. He’s got the infantryman’s job without the infantryman’s badge.”
    “Or the infantryman’s brotherhood,” Cheatham said.
    Britton nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “You’re right, Dan.”
    “Course I am, sir, that’s why they assigned me to you. Somebody on the team has to know what the hell is going on.”
    Britton nodded, trying to accept Cheatham’s attempt to cheer him and failing. “Well, let’s go show some of that brotherhood. I’m camping out by Dawes’s bed.”
    Cheatham nodded. “And that means we all are.”

CHAPTER II
LOSS
    …that’s crap! What choice do you really have if you don’t want to join the army? Life as a Suppressed Marine is scarcely better than a prison inmate, and the civilian monitoring program at NIH spawns pariahs—broke and ostracized. A choice between bad and worse is no choice at all!
    —Loretta Kiwan, Vice President
Council on Latent-American Rights
Appearing on WorldSpan Networks
Counterpoint
    Dawes stabilized enough to be moved to the proper infirmary at the 158th Fighter Wing. The entire team wanted to join Britton in his vigil beside Dawes’s bed. He had to force them to stow their gear, shower, and change first. Britton skipped the shower and sat in his dirty flight suit, pistol still on his thigh, brooding, as Dawes stirred in drugged sleep.
    He permitted himself the luxury of kicking off his boots as he reflected on the girl’s death, too rattled to concentrate on the after-action report. A newspaper lay on the stand beside his chair, the front page reading MESCALERO INSURGENCY FLARES. TWO SOLDIERS KILLED IN SELFER AMBUSH. The article featured a picture of an Apache Selfer, his long hair whipped by a summoned storm cloud. Lightning arced from his fingers.
    He looked at the headline.
They may send me there someday. How can I go after this?
    Eventually, exhaustion overcame grief, and Britton’s head drooped to the windowsill. He was only dimly aware of Cheatham entering with a sleeping bag. “Sent the rest off tobed,” the warrant officer said. “No sense in all of us crowding in here.”
    Britton mumbled thanks and drifted off to sleep.
    A breeze washed over his face, and the low rumble of the salvage truck woke him. He opened his eyes, looking out the window to the flight line for his battered Kiowa, but there was no sign of the truck. His eyes swept over the digital billboard at the center of the tree-lined swath of lawn abutting the flight