The Many Deaths of Joe Buckley Read Online Free PDF Page B

to extract ourselves from the rubble, which we did by blowing through with our grenades and stuff, not a technique I suggest to the unarmored.”
    “ Oui , they are after all . . .”
    “. . . antimatter!” Mike finished. “Right. So, everybody was able to figure out how to do this successfully except the unfortunate Private Buckley, or Lefty as we came to call him. Private ‘Lefty’ Buckley, on his first try, slipped out his grenade, extended it as far away as he could, since it was, after all . . .”
    “. . . antimatter!” chorused Géneral Crenaus and his aide.
    “Right. So he sticks his arm out as far as it will go, pushing through the rubble, and thumbs the activator.”
    “ Oui , oui! Only to find that he can’t retract his arm!” crowed the French general, belly laughing.
    “Yeah! The rubble shifted and it’s caught. So, like, this is gonna huuurt, right? Actually, it only hurts for a second ’cause of all the suit systems. Blocks the nerve, shuts down the bleeding, debrides and disinfects the wound, all in seconds. But, ya know, ya got to imagine, I mean . . .”
    “It’s a ten-second count?” asked General Horner, looking grim, which for him was the same as smiling.
    “Right, right. So like . . .”
    “ Dix, neuf, huit, sept . . .” interjected Crenaus, with tears of laughter in his eyes.
    “Right, ten, nine . . .” Mike translated, “and then . . .”
    “Wham!” interjected General Taylor, laughing.
    “Right. Like, ‘Whoa, is this a Monday or what?’ Anyway, it didn’t, doesn’t really hurt, or it wouldn’t be so funny. Just the really brief but memorable sensation of your hand vaporizing.”
    “So, what does that have to do with the command ship detonation?” asked one of the surrounding aides.
    “Well,” continued Mike, with another sip of bourbon. “Lefty has made it to the perimeter, and performed a really decent private’s job, as well as he can left-handed. And when the command ship lifts he’s one of the guys that goes with Sergeant Green.” Mike paused and solemnly lifted his glass. “Absent companions . . .”
    “Absent companions,” the officers chorused.
    “. . . he went with Staff Sergeant Alonisus Green to distract the command ship away from the Main Line of Resistance and focus its attention so that I could attempt to plant a friggin’ antimatter mine on its side,” he ended, quite solemnly.
    “There was supposed to be a humorous punch line,” said General Horner as the pause became elongated.
    “Right, sir,” said Captain O’Neal after a sip of his sour mash. “. . . so anyway the whole cockamamie thing works, I get through the defenses, plant the mine and do my now famous imitation of a piece of radioactive fallout . . .”
    “Ten seconds early, might I add!” interjected Géneral Crenaus.
    “Man, some people wouldn’t be happy if you hanged them with a gold rope! I go ‘to infinity and beyond’ and all the friggin’ Frenchie can do is complain about premature detonations. Where was I, sirs?”
    “Detonation,” answered a very junior aide, a mere stripling of a major.
    “Right,” said the captain. “Well, the mine works like a charm, except for some minor little secondary effects . . .”
    “Another three meters and I would have been steak tartare!” the general shouted, holding his arms in the air.
    “With all due respect: Quit interrupting, General, sir. Anyway it packs about the wallop of a Class Three Space Mine and it causes some nasty secondaries, most of which are, fortunately, directed away from the MLR and certain unnamed ungrateful Frenchmen . . .” commented Captain O’Neal, rolling his eyes.
    “Did I say I was ungrateful? General Taylor, General Horner, I call you to witness, I never have said I was ungrateful. Nervous? A touch. Frightened? Merde , yes! But not ungrateful, you dwarf poltroon!”
    “Hah, stork! Anyway, it tears the living shit out of the command ship, but about a third of the ship hangs together. It