Starfist: Wings of Hell Read Online Free PDF Page A

Captain. I’m representing him at the assumption of command,” Small answered.
    “Fine, sir, uh, just is…”
    “Yes?”
    “Well, sir, the general, he’s—”
    “He’s indisposed, Captain. You stay back here and look after him. Tell the division sergeant major to join me in ten minutes.”
    More than 110,000 men, the infantry and Marines along with representatives from the navy air wings, stood assembled on Hurlburt Field that morning. The formation had been called at an early hour so the men could be off the field before the heat and humidity began to rise.
    “Where’s General Kocks?” Lieutenant General Carano asked when he saw Brigadier General Small and the Eighty-seventh Division’s sergeant major.
    “He’s not well, sir.”
    “Oh? Nothing serious, I hope?”
    “Oh, no, sir, it’ll pass.”
    “Fine. But Al, when the ceremony’s over I’ll just stop by and make sure there isn’t anything I can do for him. You and Top come with me.” He nodded at the division sergeant major.
    “Oh,” Brigadier General Small said quickly, “he’ll be just fine, sir.” He smiled lopsidedly.
    “Well, Kocks and I go back a long, long way, Al. Least I can do for him.” Carano smiled and took his place before the corps.
    The sergeant major raised an eyebrow and General Small thought to himself, Uh-oh.
    The ceremony went off without a hitch. As the units assembled, the bands played old military airs, “Bold Sojer Boy,” “Garryowen,” “The Rock O’ Silvasia,” and others. Then General Aguinaldo formally presented General Carano with the XVIII Corps guidon. The bands struck up the Confederation Anthem, and all colors dipped as 110,000 men snapped to attention and saluted. General Carano passed the guidon to the corps sergeant major and, together with General Aguinaldo, conducted a motorized review of the troops, passing down the division fronts slowly, as honors were rendered. An artillery piece slowly fired fifteen rounds, the traditional salute for an arriving army lieutenant general, while with three ruffles and flourishes, each divisional band struck up “The General’s March” as the inspection vehicle drew abreast of its front. And then it was all over.
    General Carano visibly recoiled upon entering General Kocks’s trailer. “Smells like a distillery in here,” he muttered. Kocks’s aide gestured helplessly at Brigadier Small. “I couldn’t get him up,” he whispered.
    “Reggie? Reggie?” General Carano touched Kocks’s shoulder and shook him gently.
    Kocks mumbled, then rolled over. “Whaaa?” he gasped, staring up at his corps commander, eyes red-rimmed and bleary. He blinked. “Carano. Fuck you, asshole!” he mumbled, and rolled back over.
    Carano stepped back quickly. “General, you are drunk, ” Carano said. “Is this what you meant when you said he was indisposed, Al?” he asked Brigadier General Small.
    “Well, hungover, sir, actually, is what I meant,” Small answered. “Rather badly hungover, sir.”
    “I can see that, and smell it,” Carano answered. “Outside,” he nodded toward the door. “Brigadier General Small,” he said formally once they were outside, and Small snapped to attention, “you are now in command of the Eighty-seventh Division. I am going to have General Kocks’s reassignment orders cut immediately. I want him out of here as soon as you receive them, in fifteen minutes, in an hour, whenever. I’ll square this away with General Aguinaldo personally. I’m going to ask personnel to expedite his orders. So, get him up, clean him up, get his things packed, and stand by to take him to the space port.
    “Very well, gentlemen.” Carano came to attention and saluted the small group of officers. “Carry on.” He did a smart about-face and marched off.
    Some people just do not know how to handle forgiveness.

CHAPTER THREE

    “Our Certificate of Intention to Wed.” Cynthia Suelee Chang-Sturdevant held up the flimsiplast document. She carefully put