Was Once a Hero Read Online Free PDF Page A

window.
    “Good.   I may even get home in time for the
game.   I know you met Belwin Duna and I
know why.”
    Fenaday
raised an eyebrow.   “And you don’t want
me to help him.”
    “On
the contrary, Captain.   We very much want
you to help him.   We can’t insist on such
a suicide mission.   However, we can give
you additional incentives to go and additional resources, the like of which you
never imagined.”
    “Why?”
Fenaday asked.   “No bullshit, why?”
    Mandela
smiled.   “No bullshit.   Every planetary government in the Confederacy
worries about Enshar.   We don't know what
happened.   We don’t know if it will
happen again.   There’s a threat out
there, Fenaday.   It has to be understood
and if possible, controlled.”
    “Send
the Space Forces.”
    “And
risk having all those nasty pictures from orbit repeated for the folks back
home?” Mandela returned.   “All over the
Daily Vid and the Times?   Reporters and
Congressman howling about why ‘Our Boys and Girls’ are being sacrificed for
foreign worlds after all we lost in the war?   Nope, it’s an election year, Fenaday, bad for the President.”
    “Do
it covert,” said Fenaday.
    “Plug
in your brain, Fenaday.   Every surviving
Enshari is waiting on Duna’s report.   If
he isn’t allowed to go or dies before he gets there, we face mass suicides, or
they send another Enshari.   Same problems
for the President with the newsies.”
    “So,”
Fenaday began, “a highly expendable privateer, who you guys don’t like
anyway...”
    “Civilians
ships running around with chain-guns and mass drivers are a loose end and a
menace,” Mandela said.   “Some have become
private operators.”
    “Not
me,” Fenaday said.   “My wife was ... is
Confed.”
    “Yeah,”
Mandela replied after a few moments, “sorry.”
    “Spare
me.”
    “Here’s
the deal, Fenaday.   For what it’s worth,
I don’t like it.   You may not be a
private operator, but you skate damn close.   There is the little matter of a Dua-Denlenn freighter and a surrendered
crew murdered while under parole.”
    Shock
spread through Fenaday.   Mandela knew Sidhe’s deepest secret.
    “I
don’t know…” Fenaday began.
    “Now
you can spare me,” Mandela fixed him with a glare as he settled further into
the chair.   “Your pet amazon, Shasti
Rainhell, polished off the crew.   You
covered it up, even hired her as head of security.   I’m sure she is quite effective.   Not many people can boast a genetically
enhanced assassin for their crew.   Olympians are mercifully rare off their mad homeworld.   Still, that’s accessory after the fact for
you, beingslaughter, at best, for her.   We are aware of your relationship with her.”
    “Past
tense,” said Fenaday tightly, wondering how in God’s name Mandela had ferreted
that out.
    “On
the disk Duna gave you,” Mandela continued, “are plans Telisan stole for a new
stealth electromagnetic emissions masking program.   Doubtless he hoped it might help you sneak up
on Enshar and whatever killed everyone.   He needn’t have bothered.   We’ll
give your ship a far better EME holosystem.   All factory assembled, even has a warranty.
    “You’ll
have trouble getting a crew and keeping it once they figure out where you’re
going.   We will give you additional
people.
    “Finally,
we’ll add to that cash offer.   We’ll
throw in pardons for anything you and your command crew have done to this
point.   Which is more than you have any
idea of, in regard to Rainhell.   It’s
that big, Fenaday.”
    “So,
I take them within shuttle range of Enshar and stand off—” Fenaday began.
    Mandela
laughed.   “No, Fenaday.   It’s too easy for an accident to occur.   A shuttle explosion, perhaps?   You’re not going to drop a decorated war hero
and a Nobel Laureate on Enshar and watch the show.   You’ll scout Enshar before they land.   You personally, so we know there won’t be