Damage Control (Valiant Knox) Read Online Free PDF

never.
    She took a breath, no doubt to tell him whatever she had on her mind, but he rubbed his thumb lightly across her palm then stepped away.
    “Good-bye, Mia. Look after yourself.”
    He turned and left the cubicle without looking back at her. If he did, if he saw anything in her dark gaze, he’d end up doing something totally idiotic. Like following up on her posting and then not-so-accidentally arranging to see her. The last thing he needed in his life was a complication like Mia Wolfe.

Chapter Three
    L eigh cut a look over his shoulder at Bren, Seb, and Lawler standing at attention behind him, ready and alert, as they should be.
    He returned his concentration to the unorderly jumble of new soldiers spilling onto the launch deck and scrambling to find their belongings. The maintenance crew had tidied up from the battle chaos of the day before and retrieved luggage from the damaged transporter, leaving a huge pile of bags and other items in the middle of the hangar.
    Usually the arrival of new troops didn’t go down like this. If not for the attack, the transport would have arrived at delta level where all civilian or nonbattle craft docked and departed. Delta level acted more like a terminal, complete with luggage processing and baggage carousels.
    He swallowed an impatient sigh at the pandemonium. The few seasoned officers among them were easily recognizable in the orderly way they found their crap and then went on with their business. Leigh pressed his lips together as a couple of recruits got into an argument over an unmarked rucksack. Morons. First rule of military travel? Always tag your goddamn bag.
    Fresh out of the academy, the recruits would all be twenty-one, maybe a few twenty-two, no real battle experience to speak of. Most of the kids would be heading down to Ilari to make up much needed troop numbers on the ground. The onworld, or ground forces, fought the hard battles in trenches and on front lines, holding the territories the UEF had managed to occupy since the war started.
    However, a small number of soldiers that had been selected by a computerized psyche-eval would be assigned to him. The ones whose profile said they had the grit, determination, smarts, and awareness of their own mortality to become class-A fighter pilots.
    Half of them would wash out. Ninety-five percent of them would hate his guts.
    He glanced back at Bren and returned the flashing grin she sent him. A small rush of anticipation had him clenching his hands tighter together where he had them settled in the small of his back. Okay, so maybe they got some fun out of breaking down the recruits and finding out what they were made of. But the ones who were left, the ones they built back up again, joined one of the most elite fighter-pilot units out of all the battleships in the UEF.
    An announcement echoed in a repeating loop over speakers throughout the hangar, directing people to their destination. Gradually, recruits moved off toward the shuttles being prepped to go onworld, while a handful that had astronomical IQs were led off to be trained up for Command Intelligence postings. CI was a whole other ball game.
    One by one, the latest batch of potential fighter pilots lined up in front of where he stood with the other instructors.
    He sensed Bren leaning closer to him. “Is it just me, or do these recruits get sloppier every year? I mean, where the hell is UEF Command pulling these kids from?”
    With a skeptical eye, Leigh ran his gaze down the line of fifty or so recruits. Uniforms worn incorrectly. Hair not to UEF standard. Personal items and fashion accessories worn in a blatant disregard of uniform regulations. His head started aching behind his temples. Hell yeah, they were a sorry bunch this year.
    “I think you’re right. These slags would have to be the worst we’ve seen yet. Even more inferior than the class of thirty-three.”
    Bren swore. “And we only got four damned pilots out of that lot. Less than ten percent