The Burning Skies Read Online Free PDF Page A

here is a shitload of Praetorian marines. I’ve never seen anything like—”
    “Is that what you are?”
    “Sorry?”
    “A Praetorian marine—is that what you are?”
    “Meaning
is that what I appear to be?”
    “Just answer the fucking question.”
    “Sure, Spencer. I’m decked out as a Praetorian marine. I’m surrounded by the motherfuckers. We’re all just hanging out. Awaiting orders, apparently. Christ man, if you weren’t even briefed on
me
then we are fucking
dead
—”
    “Just
tell me what you remember.”
    “They fucking reconditioned me!”
    “Who?”
    “Your own team. InfoCom. Orders from that whoreMontrose, I’m sure. Trance, drugs, the works. They said I’d be loyal to them from now on. Loyal to
you
. They said I’d be the perfect bitch for you, you fucking bitch—”
    “Will you calm
down?
All they told me is that it was going to be some off-Earth operation. Next thing I know I’m waking up from cryo-sleep with the identity of a Praetorian razor.”
    “That makes me feel so much fucking better.”
    “How long were you trying to find me?”
    “I wasn’t. You know I’m no razor, Spencer. First thing I knew of a zone connection is when you suddenly activated it.”
    “How long had you been awake before I called you?”
    “About twenty minutes.”
    “Looks like they’re waking up this ship in batches,” says Spencer. “What do you know about this craft?”
    “From the inside, it looks like a Praetorian warship.”
    “And from the outside?”
    “Who the fuck knows?”
    “Based on what you’ve seen so far, what class of warship?”
    “Been trying to find out. It doesn’t conform to any specifications I know. What are you seeing on the zone?”
    “Not much,” says Spencer. “All I can see are parts of this ship’s microzone. Nothing outside a very local firewall.”
    “And what you can see doesn’t help?”
    “Not really. The ship’s obviously in lockdown. And specs on the interiors of these things aren’t exactly a matter of public record—”
    “And your side doesn’t have them?”
    “My side’s your side now,” Spencer reminds him. “And the answer’s no.”
    “The list of bosses I’m gonna fuck over before it’s all over just gets bigger and bigger.”
    “I’m sure Montrose is quaking in her boots.”
    “But she didn’t give you the specs of this ship.”
    “Goddammit, Linehan! She didn’t give me
shit
. We’re going to have to figure this one out for ourselves. Working with what we know. We’re InfoCom operatives—”
    “You’re taking that on faith.”
    “If we’re no longer InfoCom then we may as well give up trying to figure out anything.”
    “Have it your way” says Linehan. “We’re InfoCom operatives. We’re on board a Praetorian ship. A ship that must be getting close to wherever the fuck it’s heading because everybody’s getting woken up. Maybe we’re part of some Montrose power play aimed at setting the Throne back a notch or two.”
    “Montrose has been the Throne’s most loyal supporter,” says Spencer.
    “Who better to fuck him over?”
    “If we’re a weapon aimed against these Praetorians, then—”
    “We’re meat,” says Linehan.
    “Probably,” replies Spencer.
    “Can you think of any
other
reason we’re here?”
    “Don’t know if this is just me rationalizing, but we could be a hedge.”
    “A what?”
    “The Throne might be using InfoCom the way he used to use CICom. As a hedge against potential disloyal elements.”
    “You’re saying that the Throne might suspect his own guys.”
    “I’m saying I don’t know.”
    “Damn right you don’t. Keep in mind that the Throne dumped CICom’s whole crew into the furnaces.”
    “No one ever said this game wasn’t twisted.”
    “Twisted enough to make me wonder whether there might be someone
else
on this ship who isn’t a Praetorian,” says Linehan.
    “Can’t rule it out,” replies Spencer.
    “I’d say it’s one of the more likely