Machine World (Undying Mercenaries Book 4) Read Online Free PDF

tried again and gotten another red hand symbol.
    The mystery was immediately solved when I realized two Veterans had opened the door from the inside. They were Hegemony, and they were all out of smiles today.
    “Specialist James McGill?” the closest man asked.
    “That’s me, Hog.”
    His face darkened a shade or two. Calling a Hegemony man a “Hog” was an insult that had preceded countless bar-fights.
    “From Legion Varus?” he asked.
    I slapped my Wolfshead patch and looked at him like he was an idiot.
    Roughly, the two men reached for me.
    Now, at this point, I feel I have to explain myself. I’ve not had an easy life in the legions. Far from it. When faced by others from diverse outfits, I’d never been treated well. In fact, the last time Hegemony had sent MPs to my house down in southern Georgia District, I’d sent them home for a revive. All three of them.
    On top of this history of bad blood, I had a hangover today, and I was steaming mad at that damned door.
    I broke the first man’s arm. That was something of a surprise to me as well as to him. I did it on reflex. He reached, and I grabbed his wrist and pulled him forward, off-balance. I brought my knee up and his extended arm down. The two parts met around where his elbow was—bending it backward until it snapped. This action took about a half-second.
    Shocked by this turn of events, the second man backed up and reached for his sidearm. I put my hand on my own in response. Neither of us drew, we just stared at one another for maybe two long seconds.
    The first guy was on his knees, hissing like a snake. He was too concerned about his dangling arm to do much else.
    “McGill?” asked the second man. “Why the hell did you do that?”
    “You don’t just grab a man from Varus. And you don’t draw on him either, not unless you want to run yourself through the guts of a revival machine for fun. Now, Hog, why don’t you tell me what this is all about?”
    The hog swallowed hard. “We’ve got orders to bring you up to the Equestrian’s office. That’s why the door stopped you until we could get here.”
    The Equestrian. I let that roll around in my head for a second. The rank of Equestrian was one notch higher than Imperator, which was Turov’s rank. True brass. I’d never even laid eyes on an Equestrian. Outwardly, I didn’t let any of these thoughts show, but it was a struggle not to look impressed.
    “Am I under arrest?” I asked.
    “No—not officially.”
    “Can I see your orders?”
    With a look of concern for his arm, the man showed me his tapper. I nodded.
    “Seems like you’ve got the right of it,” I said. “Lead the way.”
    “That’s it? You’re happy now? Why didn’t you just submit to us when we asked the first time?”
    “Because you didn’t ask , that’s why. You tried to grab me.”
    He grumbled but led the way. I followed him into the Hall and up an escalator. Behind me, the hog with the broken arm staggered in the rear.
    “I’m going to have you up on charges, McGill,” the injured man said.
    “Uh-huh. You didn’t identify yourself or your purpose. I’m a member of an independent legion, and you tried to grab hold of me without cause. That’s assault, Hog. Look it up.”
    He shut his mouth but kept following. I wondered if he might burn a hole in my spine. If he did so, I would respect him for it—but I didn’t think he had the balls. Hegemony troops rarely did. The sort of man that opted for the softer duty of guarding Earth wasn’t the kind to break the rules right here in the Mustering Hall.
    We reached the Equestrian’s office without further incident. I was surprised to find a familiar face there, that of Tribune Drusus, overall commander of Legion Varus.
    “Ah, there you are—damn it, McGill,” Drusus said, catching sight of the hog with the broken arm.
    I couldn’t recall ever having heard Drusus curse before in my presence. He was a naturally calm man despite his high rank.
    “Sorry