Grunt Traitor Read Online Free PDF Page A

for each of the countries I’d mentioned. The world had forever changed, and like it or not, OMBRA was as much a country as it was a company.
    A man wearing a lab coat and a NY Yankees baseball cap rushed into the room, setting a clipboard down at the other end of the table and taking a seat. “Sorry I’m late.”
    Mr. Pink nodded perfunctorily. “Okay, we’re all here. Everyone introduce yourselves. My name is Wilson.” He glanced at me. “I’m the OMBRA commander here at Special Operations Headquarters North America.”
    Ohirra introduced herself.
    So did the two guys sitting next to her, who turned out to be Lieutenant Rosamilla and Lieutenant Reed—both intel types.
    The bald guy’s name was Drake; whether that was his first or last name, I had no idea. He was OMBRA’s special security liaison and probably specialized in stabbing people in the back.
    The guy who looked like a math teacher was Dr. Norman Dupree and was apparently an ethnobotanist. His voice and demeanor were more like a roughneck than a scientist, though. Could just be his southern drawl, but the way he held his shoulders and hands told me that he could probably hold his own in a fight.
    Interesting.
    Then came Mr. Malrimple. He was OMBRA Special Operations Chief of Science. He spoke fast, used few words, and was very New York in the abruptness of his actions.
    Finally it was my turn. “We’ve all spoken about Master Sergeant Ben Mason. Most of you have seen his file. Although not everyone agrees with my decision,” Mr. Pink said, glancing at Drake, “it’s mine nonetheless. So now that everyone knows the players, let me explain the game.” He turned to me. “This is all for you, Mason, so don’t fall asleep.”
    I held up my coffee and smiled. Jerk.
    “Lt. Ohirra, let’s do big picture. Brief Mason on current Blue Force Order of Battle.”
    She nodded to Reed, who pulled out a map and spread it on the table. It was the world—Mercator projection—with annotated markings.
    She pointed to our location to orient me. “This is where we are. OMBRA has a North American HQ in Buffalo, New York. The rest of the country is red.”
    Red meant enemy forces. Blue meant good. By the looks of it, we had a fingernail hold on the country.
    “The good news is that we now know how to effectively use light against the Cray. NAHQ plans are to retake New England, then Pennsylvania, then New Jersey, then New York.”
    I nodded only because I couldn’t yawn. “Sounds like a great plan.”
    “European command is in Bruges, Belgium. African command is at the Kilimanjaro Complex. Same place we fought, but you wouldn’t believe the upgrades it has now. We have Mediterranean Special Operations HQ in the White Mountains of Crete.”
    She stood back and I noticed that most of Asia was purple, India was yellow, and Australia was gray. I asked about them.
    “OMBRA has no visibility in these areas,” Mr. Pink said. “Prior to the alien invasion, we warned the governments of every country we could what was going to happen. Most of the countries didn’t believe us, but a few did. Sri Lanka has the Clarke Holding Company, named after famed science fiction writer Arthur C. Clarke. They’re much like OMBRA, but one-tenth our size. Still, we passed information to them, in the hopes that they’ll tell us what’s going on in Australia.”
    “We have no information at all about them?”
    “None. Asia is another thing all together. China has an organization three times the size of OMBRA called Shìjiè Xῑn Zhìxù, which means ‘New World Order.’” He shook his head. “At this point they are tight-lipped, unwilling to work with us, and evidentially don’t want to be friends.”
    I grinned a little too maniacally. “That’s a shame. You guys at OMBRA are such nice guys. Too bad no one is left to pay your extortion money.”
    Mr. Pink rolled his eyes.
    Drake jumped in. “Politeness is next to Godliness, just as pain is next to my fist, young man.”
    I